#long road fic

[loulovingho]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

I was tagged by @loucifersbitch (lmao, same)! Here's another little snippet of my Tommy fic!

“Okay, got it. Our time's almost up, but I did have one more question for you.”

“Oh goody.”

“Hey now, you love my questions.” Cory wrote down a note, then looked back at Tommy. “Why do you think you can't have all that you want?”

Tommy's mouth felt dry. His heart was thumping in his chest. He hated sessions like these. Where he felt like his whole body had been split open and put on display for all the world to see.

“Tommy?”

“I haven't earned it,” he answered, voice just above a whisper.

“Why do you think you have to earn it?”

“I thought your last question was my last question.”

“Stop avoiding.” Cory beckoned toward him with his pen. “Answer. Why do you have to earn the future you want?”

He sat there, staring toward Cory but eyes unfocused. A tear fell down his cheek, then another. He wanted his heart to stop beating so fast. Wanted to have an answer. Wanted to have everything figured out.

Instead, he shrugged. “I don't know.”

[la5pampy]

Tw: blood (just a bit)

HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY! :D to the wondeful fic by @bubbiethesaur

I cannot recommend this fic enought, it’s so well written and has got me in a choke hold (Lra sun my beloved<33)

(Ok now I’m sprinting to the new chap)

[batcavescolony]

A Batfam AU where instead of going to get Dick to be Robin again Tim uses necromancy to bring Jason back from the dead. He just leaves Jason on the Wayne doorstep with a 'do better this time' sticky note. Batman can't find out who did it and Tim stays his little latchkey self with semi ok but distant parents (cus canonical they weren't really abusive just not there which isn't good but they could be worse). His parents bring him along on trips but again they love him but they just leave him to do as he pleases. so in Paris he ends up still getting trained by Lady Shiva. This keeps going and Tim just keeps reviving batfam members, if they fake their deaths and Tim tracks them down to check on them. They still have no idea who their shadow is, they can't find him, Tim likes it this way. Bruce goes MIA and Red Robin happens just minus Tim actually being Red Robin. The JLA doorstep gets a passed-out Batman with a 'I can't believe I have to keep doing this shit' sticky note on his head.

[instantartific]

Reflections

[wangxianficrecs]

patching the road with vague intentions

patching the road with vague intentions

by loosingletters (@loosingmoreletters)

T, WIP, 39k, Wangxian

Summary: “What have you done!?” thundered a voice Wei Wuxian had, frankly speaking, never wanted to hear again. “Old man Lan?” Wei Wuxian blurted out, staring at the aged face of his former teacher. At the back of his mind, Wei Wuxian remembered the cut of his robes, that he wasn’t dressed like a widow at all, but like a Lan. Lan Qiren looked around, his gaze stuck somewhere above Wei Wuxian’s head, most likely the half-ruined summoning array behind him – fucking stupid, Wei Wuxian should’ve gotten rid of it immediately. Just why did it have to be a Lan summoning him, why Lan Qiren his visitor at the door? Wasn’t death enough punishment? “Wei Wuxian?” Lan Qiren asked wearily. Or, Wei Wuxian is summoned back to life in the Cloud Recesses. Unfortunately, the person to find him is Lan Qiren, forcing the unlikely duo to work together to keep the circumstances Wei Wuxian's return undiscovered. Kay's comments: Wei Wuxian and Lan Qiren go on a friendship-roadtrip - the story. I must admit that I'm always a bit hesitant when it comes to good uncle Lan Qiren stories, but so far, this one doesn't disappoint! It's not being too easy on him and it'll certainly take a lot of work (and a very long roadtrip) for him and Wei Wuxian to become friends, but it feels natural in this story. Here, Wei Wuxian gets summoned back earlier and in the body of Lan Wangji's wife. So far, there haven't been any gender-feelings on Wei Wuxian's front apart from him thinking how nice it would be to have a family with Lan Wangji hehe. Excerpt: But the letter was just that, a letter and nothing else. Wei Wuxian was stunned from the first line on. This had to be a joke, right? Wei Wuxian remembered Lan Zhan and Lan Qiren’s handwriting, and it certainly wasn’t theirs, but he doubted any Lan would dare indulge in such a horrible lying scheme. “You’re joking, aren’t you?” Wei Wuxian asked regardless and to his immense horror, Lan Qiren’s expression only tightened and not in the oh-no-I’ve-been-caught way, but the how-dare-you-suggest-this way. “Wang Chunhua is Lan Zhan’s wife?” Wei Wuxian stared down at his hands before catching sight of the bronze mirror again. This was the woman Lan Zhan had married? Wei Wuxian supposed she was pretty enough, with her round face and big eyes. Had the old fuddy-duddy fallen in love after all? Wei Wuxian had assumed Lan Zhan would end up unmarried for his whole life, admired but eternally unattainable. Her personality and skill must be outstanding if they’d married. “Read,” Lan Qiren ordered and for once, Wei Wuxian was inclined to obey.

pov lan qiren, pov wei wuxian, canon divergence, post-first siege of the burial mounds, resurrected wei wuxian, trans wei wuxian, developing friendship, good uncle lan qiren, hurt/comfort, golden core reveal, slow burn, mo xuanyu lives, a-qing lives, case fic, mystery

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[venomous-qwille]

Long Road Ahead eclipse in the weekly magma.

If you haven't read @bubbiethesaur's fic GO DO IT IT'S SO FREAKING GOOD.

[painless-innit-colourful]

Sunset

Their eyes meet, amber flickering in the reflections in Jack’s pupils. Tubbo’s skin is tingling, vision periodically blurring and he feels a little sick: life returning to atoms that were supposed to be done living is a little violent, a little uncomfortable. Tubbo waits for the nausea to subside before he gives Jack a nod, feeling the prickling shimmer of fire resistance in his system, before he turns towards the lava lighting the room and blocking the way. Or, at least, it had been.

“Really?” Tubbo pauses at Jack’s voice breaking the unnatural quiet. “I’m going to go get him.” “How will you get him out? He doesn’t have resistance as well.” “There’s a hole in the cell. We’ll swim out.”

They share a gaze that feels so very final, even after the past few eternities they’ve waited. “I hope you’re right about him.” “I know I am,” Tubbo affirms. “Have a good rest of your life, Jack.” “You too, man. You too.”

—

“You okay?” Tubbo’s voice bounces around the hollow chamber, echoing off warm obsidian. Tommy’s on his knees, cast in light by the fire at his feet, looking up at Tubbo like he’s looking at an angel. Maybe that’s a bit what it looks like. Tubbo’s not completely sure they count as alive anymore.

“Tubbo-” He stumbles as he tries to get up, as Tubbo scrambles down soft-sharp rock to reach him. They each stop a handful of strides from each other, just staring, just breathing, the amber light washing them out and making them look like the ghosts they feel like, and then Tommy closes the distance with a shriek of pained relief and they crash to the floor and they are very corporeal and very real and very alive. 

They are alive.

Tommy’s crying, he realises, tears falling and very quickly drying due to their proximity to the lava in the floor. They almost ended up in the lava due to Tommy’s lunge, but it doesn’t matter because Tubbo’s teary too, and the warm glow around them is nothing to the warmth inside Tubbo that starts in his heart and expands outwards, steadily, steadily, bringing a feeling that might be life back into his bones and sinew. Coming back to life is new to him, but it’s not the worst feeling.

“I’m-” Tommy sputters between sniffs, “I’m sorry-” “Don’t you dare,” Tubbo pulls him closer, tucking him under his chin, like that’s ever had the power to keep him safe before. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t.” “Oh- Okay…” After a moment, he laughs. “Hello stranger.” Tubbo smiles and kisses him on the top of his head. He smells like smoke and death. “Hello. We gotta get out of here-” “Yeah…” “-We gotta get you home.” “Home?”

He kisses him one more time, before shifting to his elbows. Their eyes meet, and the light in Tommy’s eyes outshines everything else in this godforsaken room. “Home. We gotta go home.”

—

The room is golden with a refracted autumn sunset when Tubbo hears the click-clonk of the front door through the house. He’s still adjusting funnels and tubes as he hears the approaching footsteps get louder and louder, until Tommy’s leaning on the only empty counter by the door, smiling.

“You’ll never guess who I ran into.” “Who? No, don’t tell me,” Tubbo swaps a full bottle for an empty one. “Santa Claus?” Tommy splutters, “Obviously not. No, Jack. Jack Manifold.”

Tubbo stops to look at him properly, “Wait, really?” “Yeah, and-” He ‘rounds the counter and leans annoyingly on Tubbo’s shoulder. He’s so annoying. The Most Annoying. Tommy ‘The Most Annoying’ Innit. Tubbo feels that familiar warmth he feels whenever he’s near.  “Get this- He’s been in the casino this whole time. In Las Nevadas. He’s a fucking gambler!”

Tubbo mulls this over for a moment, “Y’know… not what I was expecting.” “Right? But he says he’s happy enough, says he likes who he is now more than who he was before, and, I figured, that’s good enough, right?” Tubbo smiles, turning the knob on his filtration contraption, and the golden liquid thins to a stop. He pulls off his gloves and pulls Tommy into an embrace. “Yeah. Good for him. And, y’know, hopefully he does alright. Financially.” “That’s what I said too. He was pleasant. Much more than I was expecting actually. Y’know, considering.”

Tubbo closes his eyes a moment, thinks back. “He was a good guy. Just- Just another victim of… of that place.” He gives Tommy a squeeze, “I believe it’s your turn to cook tonight, Big Man, and you’re late.” “Bloody hell,” Tommy pulls back. Standing behind Tubbo’s equipment, the light cast through the window is the rich colour of butterscotch, and Tommy looks like he’s been dipped in honey. His eyes, his hair, the buttons on his coat all shine gold. They share a wide smile, and Tubbo would bet his life Tommy’s thinking the same looking at him - that neither could go into the darkness without reaching out for the other.

Except he already did. And won.

[pippuns]

you know i am absolutely delighted by disciples era au. like, for the liushen potential, obviously, but i also can't stop thinking about a situation where sqq spends all of his free time trying to get evidence on sqh being a traitor, while sqh is frantically wondering wtf he did to piss sqq off so bad, because he certainly didn't write sqq having a huge grudge against the original goods!!

and eventually sqq does get definitive proof of sqh's traitorous behavior, only for sqq to discover that sqh is also a transmigrater. probably through sqh doing a harebrained scheme of trying to buy sqq's silence by offering to tell him his future.

and because sqh is a fellow transmigrator (even if he is annoying), sqq has to do a frantic dash to cover for sqh's misdeeds before sqq outs him even more than he already has. he bitches out sqh the entire time as he does this because he COULD have been reading the new installment of whatever fiction came out of xian shu this entire time but nooooooo, he had to waste all of his time chasing after this stupid author who isn't even a good spy and is APPARENTLY just doing the spy work to get some demon ass!! what kind of plotline is this?? of course it came out of the author who gave him the garbage he's stuck living in.

the funny thing is, this is actually what does convince people that sqh is a traitor. because sqq has been talking about his suspicions regarding sqh to the other future peak lords (chief among them being lqg, who obviously believed sqq immediately and has been his accomplice to this point), the complete 180 sqq does from trying to convince everyone that sqh is a rat, to him -- seemingly out of nowhere -- covering for sqh and spending all this time with him and talking in code (modern slang) with him, when everyone knows that sqq HATES sqh is soooooooooo sus.

in other words, everyone is now convinced that sqh is blackmailing sqq, because sqq actually found something to prove sqh's guilt.

and this results in a frantic quest from his friends (the other future peak lords) to try and find out what sqh is using to blackmail sqq so they can get rid of it. this does not go unnoticed by sqh, who demands that sqq fix the mess he got sqh into, and sqq tells him to fix it himself because he's the one stupid enough to become a spy to get some demon ass (which sqh points out is a gross inaccuracy of the situation, he hasn't gotten one iota of ass, not even a glimpse, do you know how difficult it is to pull that off in demon society which might as well not believe in the existence of clothes).

then system shows up and threatens immense bodily harm to them both if sqh is caught by the sect this early. so what are they supposed to do but begrudgingly work together to save sqh's ass so he can get some demon ass.

[sinvulkt]

Self-fulfilling Prophecy by chaosphere ( @the-name-of-the-rose )

“Why did you do it, Jason? Why did you pretend to kill him—why didn’t you fight me back?”

“Fuck you, Bruce! Are you seriously trying to blame me for beating me to death?”

Roy isn't close to come to Jason’s rescue, and by the time Batman stops beating Red Hood for shooting Cobblepot, it’s too late.

Batman kills Red Hood, and a month later, Bruce Wayne starts to hallucinate and see Jason Todd everywhere.That’s how the end starts. Ongoing, 8k words.

*** ** * ** ***

Chap 4:

Jason gestured at the plank. “Are you goddamn insane? Alfred is right! You can’t let one bad night destroy you—destroy Batman. You’ve been beating guys harder now—who fucking cares?” “You were telling me to be careful—” “Because I didn’t know that would make you give up. You can control yourself, Bruce. What you did to me won’t happen again.” Neither of them said anything for some time. “And sure, I screwed up a lot, but I wasn’t worse than many of the people you beat up.” He looked away for a second, and then turned to Bruce again, his eyes wide, almost shining, “or do you think that of me? Do you think I’m like those—those people who murder for fun and giggles, who rape or who fucking act like other people are things, property?” “No!” For all their fundamental disagreements, Bruce had never thought that of Jason. He knew Jason was dangerous, that he’d had a hand in honing that danger, but he also knew that his son was never cruel. “Then what was so wrong with me that I’m the one you killed? The only one.” Bruce didn’t have an answer for that, and neither did he want to follow that line of questioning.   After that, Jason disappeared for a few days.

[loulovingho]

please can i get a little of your tommy fic?? please please please!

Okay! Here's something for you:

“Tommy, I gotta be honest with you,” Cory took off his glasses, resting them on his knee. “I don't think I've seen you this unsure of yourself, maybe ever. Not even during our first session, when you couldn't say the words “I am gay” in the same sentence. You're holding back. Why?”

“Because I've hurt people!” Tommy exclaimed, feeling like his head was about to burst. “It's all I've ever done. I'm not enough, Cory. I have never been enough, and I push people away and I hurt them and he looked at me like I was some sort of hero, he looked at me like I had every answer in damn world and I don't. I don't have all the answers. I don't know what I'm doing. I wake up every fucking morning and I fake it. And he bought it. And I was taking it day by day, enjoying being with him while knowing it wasn't meant to last and somehow six months went by. So when he asked me to move in with him, I knew I couldn't. I couldn't do that. We barely knew each other! Six months and we barely knew each other.”

As always, Cory remained unshaken by the outburst. “That's a lot to hold onto, Tommy.”

Tommy rubbed the palms of his hands into his eyes, trying to make the burning go away. “He saw a future. He saw us living under the same roof. Saw marriage. Saw a whole life.”

“What'd you see?”

Tommy sucked in a shaky breath. “Nothing.”

[arendaes]

By Any Other Name - Prologue and Chapter One

From now on I'm going to be posting my writing exclusively on Tumblr, so I'm transferring over my current long fic and a few other stories that were never posted here in full for continuity's sake.

Fandom: Pathfinder Wrath of the Righteous

Rating: M to be safe

Warnings: None

Relationship: Commander/Daeran/Woljif (F/M/M)

"Oh tell to me Tam Lin” she said "Why came you here to dwell" "The Fairy Queen caught me," he said, "When from my horse I fell. And at the end of seven years She pays a tithe to hell” - The Ballad of Tam Lin

Once upon a time, there was a witch.

She lived deep in the woods, in a small cottage with her daughter. The witch won’t pretend she was good, or kind. That would be a lie. What she was, however, was powerful. So powerful she was forced into hiding, to perform in craft in secret and isolation. That worked for her, though. For the most part.

The only company she had was that of her daughter, whom she raised far from civilization and all its trappings. The girl grew up curious and inquisitive, and in time bloomed into a wild and mischievous personality. The witch did not mind. Many things could be said about her, most of them were horrible, but one of them was this - she loved her daughter very much.

One day, her daughter decided she was tired of living in their small cottage, deep in the woods. There was a whole world out there, or so she’d heard. She wanted to see it, and so she put a plan into motion. She scoured her mother’s spellbooks, day and night ,and formulated a plan. It was brilliant, she thought. Her mother couldn’t possibly be mad at her, not with how clever she was! And even if she was - she’d be gone before she even noticed.

Naturally, this did not go as planned. The plan backfired, and the witch’s daughter paid the ultimate price for it.

In her grief, the witch contemplated many courses of action. What good were all her powers, if she couldn’t save the one person she loved?

It was that thought she held onto, as she began to formulate a plan of her own. One that would see her daughter alive and whole again. One that would take a very long time to set in motion, and require extraordinary effort on her part.

It was brilliant, she thought. No one could possibly fault her for what she was about to do. And even if they did - they’d be gone before they could do anything about it.

Chapter One

“What kind of name is Heaven’s Edge for a village, anyways?”

The question that’d been on Ariadne’s mind was voiced by her mother, who was sitting next to her in the carriage. Judging by the sly, sidelong look she shot her, she knew she’d just been itching to ask this herself. Ariadne smirked in response, which was most inconvenient, since she’d resolved to be as glum and gloomy as possible on this journey.

Her father and stepfather sat across from them, and they exchanged their own look. It was half amusement, half exasperation.

“I believe the name is related to the Arendae ancestral home. The village sprang up around it, and I suppose it’s only natural to adopt the pompous name the landed gentry you tithe to decided was worthy.” Elvandir shot her a conspiratorial grin, which she couldn’t help but return. Damnit, she was supposed to be the picture of a sullen teenager!

“Yes, well, let’s make sure to save those scathing criticisms for the evening over supper, hm? At least until we know how much the town guard expects as a bribe to forget we’ve said anything.” Her father gave Elvandir an admonishing look as he spoke, one that slid effortlessly to her mother a moment later, then her. The twinkle of mischief in his eyes was unmistakable, but it didn’t have the desired effect. Now, instead of her resolve to be the most dour daughter imaginable, she just felt guilty.

It was her fault they were having to pack up and move to the northernmost part of the country, despite what everyone told her. If she’d just been a bit more careful, a bit less invested in her reading and a bit more aware of her surroundings, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Her chest ached, the edges of the closed wound burning faintly in an ever-present reminder of the burden she’d become.

Her father’s mirth dissipated as her demeanor shifted. “Ariadne, are you all right?”

She nodded too quickly, lips pressed into a thin line. It did nothing to reassure anyone. Her mother scooted closer to her, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close. Ariadne let her head rest against her shoulder, all conviction to be morose forgotten.

“We should be arriving soon. Everything in the house is already set up, so how about you get some rest while we get things set up on the farm?” Ariadne started to protest, but the concern on her parents’ faces shot killed the objections in her throat. Instead she nodded slightly, closing her eyes and rubbing her chest through her dress as she let the rocking of the carriage lull her to sleep.

****

If there was one thing Woljif Jefto knew, it was that tieflings got no respect in a place like Heaven’s Edge. So when he overheard two of the town’s biggest gossip mongers trading whispers about a family of tieflings moving into one of the newly established farmsteads outside town, well, he couldn’t resist the urge to sneak out and see for himself.

It was easy enough to sneak away. School had just let out for summer vacation not even a week prior, and Gran didn’t expect, or even want, him back until nightfall. She'd probably kick him out of the house for good if the rumor mill would let her, but sadly for her the family that owned the tavern, the Vaenics, were the pious sort who looked down on things like disowning your flesh and blood. If she wanted to keep easy access to her favorite vice, she had to keep her grandson around, no matter how much she loathed him.

That suited him just fine, because he hated the old windbag too. There was plenty around the town to keep him occupied. Lots of good shops to scope out, lots of annoyed shopkeeps to outrun…why waste his time at home getting knocked about the horns when he could do that in town and maybe get something shiny out of it to boot?

But that did leave one question, one that bounced in his head like the coin he so desperately wished was in his pocket, and that was, what tiefling family in their right mind would move out here? None, it turned out, because it wasn’t a tiefling family. At least, not entirely.

He snuck up to the farmhouse, no easy feat as it was set almost dead center on the small plot of land. As got closer, he heard the voices, just barely managing to hide in the hedges lining the house before a trio of people rounded the corner.

One of them was a tiefling, with dark red skin and curving horns. His dark hair and neatly trimmed beard were shot through with grey, but besides that he didn’t seem terribly old. Walking to one side of him was a woman who seemed human at first glance, until he caught sight of her eyes - one dark brown, the other ice blue. Changeling. Despite having never met one, he just knew that's what she was. She was pretty, but unnerving, and the only plausible explanation his mind came up with was that she had some fey in her. Rounding out the trio was an elven man. He towered over the other two, his dark skin offset by the pure white of his hair. He had a wide, friendly smile, one that didn't alleviate the creepiness of his eyes in the slightest. Woljif had seen an elf before, and he knew those eyes were typical of their kind. Didn't change the fact they were off-putting at the best of times.

So, not a family of tieflings, but not the most usual dynamic either. Woljif watched as they walked past his hiding spot, holding his breath, just waiting to be found out. They just kept walking, though, chatting happily amongst themselves. Woljif sighed with relief when they were out of earshot, pleased he hadn't been found out. That feeling lasted all of five seconds, because just as he opened his eyes again, something slammed into the side of his face.

“Ow! What the -” His curse was cut off by the sight of a girl crawling out of the window above his hiding spot. She stared at him, her expression no doubt mirroring his own. He watched her pupils go from cat-like slits to full blown and back again. In hindsight, that should've been his first clue that there was something different about her, but it wasn't until she launched herself off the windowsill and onto him, her hand clamped over his mouth, that he realized she was a tiefling as well.

“Shh!” Her voice was a harsh whisper, her eyes darting past him. While she attempted to scope out whatever it was that had her spooked, he took in the sight of the small curved horns on top of her head and the tail lashing in the air behind her. If anything was going to give them away, it was that, but with her hand still silencing him he couldn't exactly voice that thought.

After a moment, she pulled her hand away. “I think they’re gone,” she said, tension bleeding out of her. She then turned her gaze to him, looking at him like he was a puzzle or riddle to figure out. “Who’re you and why are you beneath my window?”

He considered turning the question around on her, but that wouldn’t do him any good. Besides the obvious tiefling features, she was the spit of the changeling woman he’d seen. It wasn’t hard to figure out that she belonged here, and he didn’t. That made this situation rather precarious, no matter how relaxed she now seemed.

“I was just comin’ to meet the new folks in town. Ya know, bein’ neighborly and all that.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it still sounded weak to his own ears. If she thought the same, it didn’t show. Instead, she inclined her head slightly, taking him in with interest.

“Is that so? I’m afraid you’re ill-prepared for it,” she said, a small smirk playing on the edge of her lips, “Don’t you know you’re supposed to bring a baked good of some kind?”

“Oh? Well damn, if I’d known that I woulda swiped those cherry rolls from the baker’s after all.” It was strange - normally he’d never admit to something like that to anyone, let alone a stranger, but this girl, with her big, earnest eyes and mischievous smile, made him feel more at ease than anyone else ever had. That probably wasn’t a good thing - he’d heard what happened when people fell for pretty faces and charming smiles, and it’d always been a fate he wished to avoid. But at the moment, he didn't have it in himself to care.

Her eyes lit up. “So there’s a baker’s in town? What else? Is there a bookshop? Or a library? An apothecary?” She leaned further into him, fingers lightly resting on his chest. He blinked. That was not the barrage of questions he had expected to be asked if he got caught, and coupled with her proximity it was making him feel uncomfortably warm in a way that had nothing to do with the summer heat.

“Why you askin’ me? You can just go see for yourself. It’s not like it’s far or anythin’,” he said with a cough, finally breaking eye contact with her and hoping she didn’t clock the blush that now stained his cheeks. After a brief silence from her, he glanced back. She was looking past him again, biting her lip as her tail swayed gently close to the ground. His own was cramped underneath him, but despite the fact it was starting to go numb he didn’t move to shove her off him.

Finally, she looked back at him. “I’m supposed to be resting, but…I really want to see the village. Will you take me?”

Questions upon questions burst forth in his mind. Why did she need to rest? Why was she trusting a boy she just met to guide her? What perfume was she wearing that made her smell so good? Hells, what was her name? He decided to go with the one that was easiest to ask.

“Mind tellin’ me your name first?”

Surprise flitted across her face, quickly replaced by a slightly sheepish smile. “I’m Ariadne. And you are?”

“Woljif. Woljif Jefto.” He said it with as much bravado as he could muster. It was a nothing name that didn’t mean anything to anybody but him, but he liked it all the same. For some reason, he hoped she did too.

****

Daeran Arendae was hopelessly, hideously bored, and he was ready to make it everyone else’s problem.

He stared idly at the window display of the town’s trinket shop - pardon, it’s Antiquities and Mysteries shop. Nothing about any of the items he saw was particularly mysterious; it looked more like a place where passerby could pawn whatever was in their pockets to a proprietor that was no doubt going to spin a yarn and sell it for ten times what it was actually worth.

The gnome who ran the place had just moved to Heaven’s Edge a year or so prior, once word had gotten to Kenabres about how bustling and booming the town was becoming. A part of him wondered if the gnome felt cheated once he got to this backwater and saw the truth. The fact the shop was still in business, and bustling as ever, was answer enough, he assumed. That was for the better, as it was the only store within walking distance to town hall that also offered any shade.

It didn’t take long for him to become aware someone was watching him. Besides the servant his mother had insisted accompany him, that was. She was a pale, silent older woman who stared at him like he was a miracle given flesh. He was used to that reaction by now - aasimar were rare this far north, so he and his mother were likely the first she’d ever met. He had no doubt she had eyes on him, even now, but she likely wasn’t the source of the fervent whispering he was hearing from nearby.

“…do you know he even has anything good on him? He’s the same age as us!” This voice was female, with a light accent he couldn’t quite place. It also sounded fairly incredulous to be having this conversation.

“Yeah, so? That shirt alone’s gotta be worth a fortune. Even if all I get is lint, chances are it’ll be worth its weight in gold!” This one, slightly deeper, was affected by the local accent. Judging by the tone, the person who the voice belonged to was dismayed to find that voicing these words didn’t make this plan sound any better.

“Lint doesn’t weigh anything.”

“Exactly!”

“So you’ll get nothing?”

“Yes! I mean, no.” There was a long pause. “I’m confused now.”

“I’m not. Under no circumstances do I think you should go through with this.”

“You want one of those cherry rolls or not?” More silence, this time from the girl. After a moment, the boy added, “Thought so. Now just wait here, I promise it won’t take long.”

Daeran stood still, pretending he was enamored with one of the objects in the window. It wasn’t an easy task, as every item his gaze landed on was more hideous than the last. Finally, he felt a small, barely perceptible tug on his shirt. He had to hand it to the boy - if he wasn’t aware he was the mark, he might not have even noticed. But he did, and the thrill that ran through him as he casually slid his hand down to grasp the thief by the wrist was addicting.

He turned just as the boy let out a startled yelp. The quip that formulated in his mind comparing his would-be assailant to a dog died in his throat as he caught sight of him. Dark curls, purple skin, golden eyes wide with surprise…he was quite handsome, for a thief. The horns had a certain charm to them too, he supposed. And the tail…! Movement caught his eye and he looked past the thief to see his companion, a tiefling girl of about the same age who was just fetching, her eyes a dark shade of amber with a smattering of freckles across her nose and lips to die for.

A rather strange time to discover he might have a preference, all told, but he wasn’t going to complain. His afternoon had just gone from boring to exciting in a matter of seconds, after all. Now he only needed the perfect opening line.

“If you’re so desperate to see what’s in my pants, you could’ve just asked.” All right, perhaps that was a bit too forward, but the blush that spread across the tiefling boy’s cheeks made it worth it.

“I-I wasn't…I mean, it's not…” The boy spluttered as he broke out of his grasp.

“Not what? What it seems?” His lips twisted in what he hoped was his most charming sneer. Sure, he might find the two of them attractive, but that didn't change the fact they’d just been attempting to rob him. He was the scion of his house, and it was most unbecoming if he just let this slide. And besides, having your pockets rifled through was annoying, no matter how dazzling the perpetrator. “Either you were attempting to grope me, or relieve me of my possessions. So which would it be?

Behind the boy, the girl rolled her eyes. He probably should have been annoyed at the gesture, but instead he found a grin blossoming on his face instead. It grew when she said, “I think you know it was the latter. No one’s gonna try to cop a feel on someone who could clearly have their hands cut off for doing so.”

“By that logic, isn’t your friend’s attempt to pickpocket me equally as likely to result in that outcome, if not more?”

The girl scowled at him, in a manner quite ill-befitting her pretty face. He smiled in return.

“You’re right,” she said, grabbing the boy by the back of his shirt and pulling him away from Daeran. “We’re sorry. We’ll just be on our way.”

“Ari,” the boy hissed, “This is Countess Arendae’s son.” His eyes were wide, his riotous mass of black curls trembling slightly.

“What?” Now it was her turn to look surprised. He found he liked this expression on her much more. “Of all the - why did you try it with him!?”

“I didn’t recognize the back of his head!”

“As amusing as it is for you two to talk as if I’m not here, I really have to insist you stop.” Really, he was genuinely amused by this. It was rare for anyone who wasn’t his mother or his tutors to directly interact with him, and he found he rather liked it when said interaction was with people his own age. Though the alarmed looks they kept giving him would prove to be a problem…

“We’re sorry,” the girl repeated again. After a moment, she added, through gritted teeth, “Lord Arendae.”

That he scoffed at. “Please don’t. Call me Daeran, if it’s all the same to you.”

The tieflings exchanged a glance at that. The boy still looked like he wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole, but the girl’s fear and annoyance was quickly being replaced by what he believed was curiosity.

“All right, Daeran,” she said, “We’re sorry we tried to rob you, and for talking like you weren’t here. Now, mind telling us why you haven’t called a guard or something?”

Daeran had to bite back the immediate retort, which was that he didn’t particularly want to see them arrested. If they knew that, they might just take off. That was precisely what he didn’t want. This was the most fun he’d had in a while, and he wanted to ensure his continued entertainment. And the best way to do that…

“You know, this shop supposedly has wonders from all over the world inside it.” He could tell they didn’t quite believe him. Not that he blamed them - he didn’t quite believe it either. “Why don't we go inside and take a little look? And if you see anything worth taking, well…it would help to have the Countess’ son along, right?”

Part of him didn't believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. He might be a spiteful little shit, as he’d been told, but aiding and abetting thievery was new, even for him. Still, when he saw their faces light up in cautious excitement, he couldn’t help but feel that damned warm, fuzzy feeling that all the books he read claimed existed.

If this was what having friends was going to be like, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret this decision for a moment.

Chapter Two

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Happy anniversary, VII

I cannot believe it's been a whole year since I posted VII. I wrote and posted it at a pretty dark time for me, and figured it'd be a weird little oneshot that some people might like but would ultimately just kind of. exist.

That is not what happened. I'm still overwhelmed by the response it got. To the folks who loved it and left such wonderful comments, you will never know how much that mattered to me -- and still matters to me. And to everyone who has shared their love for the sequel or helped build that world with me, thank you all so, so much. It's been so fun and such a thrill to see your reactions and your support for my codependent trauma buddies.

I was really hoping to have a new chapter of A long, hard road to post today, but the brain is just not braining right now. Fingers crossed for March 19 (the anniversary of ALHR)!

If you haven't read VII/ALHR, you can read them here: Your legs give way, you hit the ground

I cursed my readers with this snippet, so now Tumblr gets cursed too. (If you haven't read any of it yet, this is not indicative of the fic whatsoever):

Maybe-canon-but-probably-not omake: Because no one has any chill whatsoever “Okay, so you think it’s romantic that he would, like, literally sew you two together if he could. We’re going to ignore how weird that is for the moment.” “Ronald…” “But mate, he’s a giant, skeletal snake-man. You can’t honestly say you find him attractive.” Harry mutters something under his breath that sounds a little too much like, “Oh, can’t I?” for his friends’ tastes. “Is this some problematic holdover of your infatuation with the diary horcrux?” Hermione asks as Harry sputters and turns bright red. “No!” he shouts. And, after a suspicious delay, “And I wasn’t ‘infatuated’ with the diary!” Ron and Hermione both give him a look at that. Traitors. “Psychologists would fight to the death for the chance to sort through all your issues, Harry.” “Sy-ko-wha?” “Good to know if I ever decide to hold gladiatorial contests,” Harry says dryly. The topic of conversation dies out for a couple minutes before Ron turns back to Harry and looks him dead in the eye. “So, given the chance – you would bang the snake-man?” Hermione puts her head in her hands and regrets several life choices. Harry sighs. “Like a screen door in a hurricane.” Ron chokes on air.  “Harry!” “He asked!”

[the-daycare-assistant]

A little gift I made for my awesome friend @bubbiethesaur !! I love love LOVE their series Long Road Ahead so much and I’m scratching at the walls of my damn CAGE waiting for the next chapter. If you haven’t read Long Road Ahead go read it!!! It’s well written and it’s one of the few things pushing me to become a better writer!

Finished image is under the cut! CW for blood!

[dreadfutures]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤️

Thanks, Brood!

I just want to say it's been really awesome to see everyone's self recs on my dash. <3 I feel like just a few years ago there was way more self-negging around all of us and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy when my friends and mutuals and acquaintances are proud of their hard work and creativity! I will be sure to spread that around in more inboxes too :)

My own five favorite fics that I've written are:

it ends, or it doesn't | A Felassan Fic written by youworeblue / @dreadfutures | illustrated by @adurna0-art Rating: T | Genre: Mystery | Length: 45k, complete

My favorite story I've written so far. Dragon Age with a Knives Out flavor. I can't give it a better pitch than @anneapocalypse did here, particularly: "Both a thrilling and tightly-paced murder mystery, and a moving and thoughtful piece about personal and cultural identity, confronting the past, and looking to the future." (Thanks, Anne 😭)

Chrysalid Rated: G | Cillian & Solas | Chapters: 9/9

An origin story for how Cillian, the DAI MP character who appears in like, maybe 2 war table missions, learned the path of the Arcane Warrior. A love letter to the monarch butterfly migration.

Death is an Open Door Rated: T | Male Mahariel & Nonbinary Mahariel | Length: 8k

Mahariel steps through an eluvian to begin the journey we hear about in passing during DAI. This was a gift for @ammoniteflesh about both of our Mahariels and how they are mirrors of each other.

the road seems too wild for mixing it with blues Rated: G | F!Lavellan x Solas | Length: 5k

Pure fluff, a happy ending for Lavellan and Solas in a world they're committed to improving together, on the ground, one interaction at a time. But in this fic? They just get to enjoy that world, together, without any pressures upon them.

And I debated whether to put Walkers of the Lonely Path or Comrades in Arms, Brothers in Broken Chains, or…my other favorites on this list... but DPDF is definitely in my top favorite fics I've written, so:

Dead Pasts and Dread Futures Rated: E | FLavellan x Solas, Gen | Length: 600k (incl. TBG: 900k, ongoing)

As the world ends, Ixchel is resurrected under mysterious circumstances and is sent back in time to the Conclave. Ixchel is furious, convinced of her own futility, and yet she cannot give up again. These are the stories of how she gets better.

more rambling about each of these...

it ends, or it doesn't | A Felassan Fic Stories about looking at the past (your own, in general, or in one's culture) and grappling with the good and the bad and trying to find the merit, strength, and identiy that resonates with you? They're my favorite to read, personally, and those themes find their way into most things I write. I feel like I really Did It in this one. And the inspiration for the story had me warm and fuzzy the whole way through: he environments had me looking at photos of the golden hills of my home as well as some of my favorite castles and temples across the world. I love writing a broken Felassan and his relationship to the ancient elves and to modern elves of all flavors. And the process of writing this in my own way and going back and forth with my artist partner for the fic was wonderful.

Chrysalid Cillian discovered the path of the Arcane Warrior by meditating in ruins; when the Breach appeared in the sky, he felt called to lend his skills to the fledgling Inquisition. That’s all we know of his path, as a background NPC in Dragon Age: Inquisition, who appears solely in a war table mission and in the Multiplayer addition. But how did he really get trained as an Arcane Warrior? Honestly. This was Divine Inspiration at its finest. It was summer; I was missing my college town, where monarch butterflies go as a colony on their migration, stopping there to rest. I kept seeing a few of them flying by my current location on their way south. And I had the whimsical thought: isn’t that magical? Then I thought: sure, magical butterflies would work for a story. But what do they lead to? I loved the experience of writing this, I love the idea I had, I love rereading it, and closing my eyes and thinking about the locations.

Death is an Open Door I was so excited to get matched with Faust for our fanfic server's annual OC Swap event, because any time I heard about Ghila Mahariel, I couldn't help but IMMEDIATELY think about how our Mahariels would interact together. Their relationships to Morrigan and Kieran; their different relationships to their Blighted blood and what the future holds for them; their different relationships to the Dalish religion; their different relationships to the possibility of a cure for the Blight. I really got a chance to dig into the dreamy, fairy tale quality that I love to write the most, AND both body and psychological horror which I also love. AND I got to write an actual Dalish fairy tale, basically, inside it all, which is some of my favorite stuff to write. And Faust liked it, and it always makes me feel so happy and warm and fuzzy to reread a fic where I know I managed to make someone (via their OC) feel seen/special in any way at all.

the road seems too wild for mixing it with blues PURE SELF INDULGENT FLUFF. I love building cities and cultures within them, and I was trying to capture a specific kind of summer getaway/stranger in a new place vibe that I love so much when I get to experience it myself. It transports me right to that: to the place I based Cumberland on, to the exact temperature of the nights, to the exact cafe that has that drink and those donuts. I smiled a lot while writing it and I smile a lot while rereading it. Appreciating each other, and every moment of living, and the world that they get to be in - that's what I want, in the end, for Ixchel and Solas.

Dead Pasts and Dread Futures People are probably really tired of hearing me talk about this one, and I feel the most self conscious about it, but. It really is one of my favorite things I've made. I genuinely love rereading it, I have loved writing it, I still love writing it. I think it comes across more shippy when it gets talked about but to me the core of it is Ixchel's relationship to hope, her own personhood, and to her friends (originally there were so many more & pairings before the tag limit was a thing, because man. They all have pretty big arcs with her) (like to the point where sometimes I feel bad for not being More Overwhelmingly Solavellan, as opposed to spending like 20 chapters at a time on Ixchel's relationship to a single other person, which it feels like I do a lot…). I started writing it as an outlet for feelings I couldn't contain or, what I thought at the time, survive. I was trying to tell myself a story that things could get better, at a time when I didn't really believe it myself. Hope is a choice. Belief is a state of being. - And I had the strength to find neither at the time. But since then I have managed to heal a lot through this fic, I have had lots of fun chasing down story beats that just interest me, incorporating teensy bits of lore and weaving them into the bigger tapestry of Thedas, and most of all, meeting so many people because of this fic. :)

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

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For someone who didnt know Valdemar series (me), i really enjoy reading this. Maybe im a little biased because i like reading where WWX and Wen remnants run away or NHS friendship with WWX and LWJ or genius WWX or someone make LWJ realized how politically disastrous his "come back to gusu" To WWX - Anon

A Long Road

by Vathara (@wuxiaphoenix)

T, 187k, Wangxian

Summary: The diplomatic mission went fine, until the white horse yao kidnapped the necromancer's boyfriend. (The Companion would like to object to yao. (Lan Wangji objects to boyfriend. (Wei Wuxian objects to... Fine, whatever. The locals have a word for the ghost path? Roll with it! (Queen Selenay would just like to know when the gods will stop dumping legends on her doorstep.) AKA Nie Huaisang plans to fix everything. Oops.

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(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[courfee]

let's walk the road backwards the way we came

It shouldn’t have come to anyone’s surprise that Remus is the first of the Marauders to die.