#missing scene ask game

[pebblish]

Hello, I would like a missing scene from "how to domesticate your unruly Omega" please. Either the coronation or what happens after mating, whichever one you prefer

oooooooo one of my all-time favorite fics!!! all birthed from @starboundanon's genius. I decided I'd do what I like to imagine happened after the fic, after Din and Luke finally mate and Luke sort of settles into his life.

"Darling. Why don't you stay inside today? Just coming off your heat, you're bound to be a little... riled up."

Din scrubbed his nose and frowned a little, eying Luke where he was going through his closet.

"Also a little fragrant, still. Your father will absolutely not allow you to leave."

Luke ignored his mate and husband, rummaging through his closet. Every scrap of clothing inside was entirely unsuitable to actually leave the palace in, all of them long gowns, sheer and most of them white. Luke looked back over his shoulder towards where Din was sitting by the windowsill, helmet off and eyes dark.

"Is there anything in this godsdamn palace I can wear that will allow me to walk on my own two feet?"

Din, incredibly helpfully, shrugged, and rose to his feet.

"Why do you want to go out anyway? Supposing we could even get your father to agree."

Luke turned on his heel towards Din, one blonde eyebrow raised.

"You don't remember? What you said, during my heat?"

Din shook his head, stepping closer to Luke until he could wrap his hands around his slender waist.

"Remind me."

Luke smiled a little at that, mischievous and lovely.

"You said you'd give me a baby."

Din's eyes widened comically, and he tightened his hold on Luke imperceptibly.

"You thought I was being serious? I was just trying to get you off,"

Luke pouted, pushing his husband away.

"You promised me a baby. Now get your helmet on, help me into one of these stupid dresses, and we're going to go get one."

[eqt-95]

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out

please👉👈

oh anon, i am definitely the wrong person for this one, but here goes nothing:

- - - - - -

Lena has a secret. 

No, it isn't that she’s doubling as a superhero in her free time. That’s Kara.

And no, it isn't that she has an unquenchable crush on her best friend. They'd solved that eons ago.

And definitely no, it isn’t that her toy collection is extensive and well-stocked. Everyone at game night already knows about that.

The secret went like this: 

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Lena replied with the innocence of a Luthor.

“So it just so happens that the bartender who has been making eyes at you all night is now being sized-up by my sister?”

“Correlation without causation. I thought you were a scientist,” Lena shrugged and tried her best to conceal a knowing smile.

“Uh-huh,” Alex replied with an arched eyebrow that said much more. “And that fact he grabbed your ass on the way to the bathroom?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Well I for one am not about to do a bunch of paperwork over an NDA because Kara can’t keep it together over this ass-hat groping you, so if you will excuse me-”

- - - -

And this: 

“Hey babe?”

“Hm?”

“What’s this?”

Lena looked up from her work and squinted at the letter gripped in Kara’s hand. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just some administrative stuff,” Lena hummed and returned to her work.

“Doesn’t look like ‘nothing’. It looks like you were served.”

The scowl that followed was one that could be seen from space which meant it was impossible to ignore from across their apartment. Lena rolled her eyes. 

“It’s just Morgan Edge playing bully again, darling.”

“Yea but,” Kara continued, eyes skimming the multi-page document that now had a few extra crinkles in it. “He’s suing for patent rights? Who does he think he is-”

“It’s nothing, really. I’ll handle it tomorrow.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle it in the first place.”

“It’s fine. Let’s just-”

But Kara was already gone through the terrace door and halfway across the city.

- - - -

And most of all, this:

“Ms. Luthor, The Sun has accused you of covering up nearly a dozen fatalities since-”

“Lena Luthor, it has been alleged that Obsidian North’s stolen technology was found in L-Corp’s latest-”

“Ms. Luthor, how do you explain the recent deaths associated with-”

“How do you sleep at night when your maniac brother is still on the loose-”

“No comment,” Lena repeated for the eighteenth time. She pushed ahead, trying to find a path between L-Corp’s front door and the waiting car that would take her home. Unfortunately, the best path was also the longest. Worse, when she looked ahead, her car was nowhere to be found. What she did find was wall-to-wall traffic and no chance of freedom.

Great.

More questions were hurled, a flash sent blotches across her vision. Another came an inch away and sent her staggering. It felt like a garbage compactor except worse because garbage compactors weren’t sentient creatures known for shouting lies while doing its job.

She clambered through the crowd and found a gap. She glanced around for her security guard who was lost amidst a second offshoot of angry journalists and misinformed citizens. Now wasn’t the time for manners as three journalists and an oversized camera pivoted toward her, so instead of waiting, she booked it down the sidewalk.

They followed with vigor and ignorance and a stubbornness that would have made Lillian proud, shouting rather uncreative conspiracy theories and growing closer by the second. Lena turned a corner then, in a move she might have patted herself on the back for, slipped into an alley. She breathed a sigh of relief until-

“Ms. Luthor-”

“Lena Luthor-”

“-you can’t hide from the truth.” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Lena heaved, staggering backwards in the kind of stereotypical way she mocked television shows for.

The cameraman was fastest, breaking into her personal space and jamming the lens into her face.

“Ms. Luthor-”

“-is it true Supergirl won’t speak to you?”

“-how does it feel having National City’s Darling reject you?”

What happened next might have been comical if Lena weren’t breathless, irritated, and fuming that her anniversary dinner was being interrupted by a wave of wannabe reporters hanging onto the coattails of the marketing dollars that funded their tabloids. 

Be that as it was, she was not in her usual smirky-mood when the burst of air sent all of them turning on heel to find an equally irritated and equally fuming Supergirl towering over them with the kind of anger usually reserved for the extra-bad baddies.

“S-supergirl,” they all seemed to whimper in unison. 

The camera was fumbled then dropped. The lens splintered with a deserved crack. A few short seconds later, it was the only evidence anyone with a press badge had been there.

“Where’d you take them?” Lena asked when Kara whooshed down moments later. She pushed off the brick wall and closed the distance, raising her hands to fix Kara’s ruffled cape.

“I considered the middle of the Pacific-” Kara shrugged.

“Oh is that right?” Lena smirked, letting her hands climb to brush an errant strand of hair into place.

“But then I remembered the whole ‘hope, help, and compassion’ thing,” she continued, her own hands finding a home on Lena’s waist. “So I dropped them off just outside the city limits instead.”

And there it was: the secret. Somewhere between Kara, all beet-faced and rage hovering over the cowering reporters and then dragging said group of gaggling reporters to the edges of town, Lena felt it - that tiny pang of warmth and safety and appreciation that always came with her overprotective Kryptonian. It also usually sent a tiny pang of something else through her.

“Well that was very big of you,” Lena replied, the gap between lips narrowing. “But just so you know,” she continued, her breath ghosting across Kara’s lips, “I had it handled-”

Kara skipped her lines and closed the gap, pressing lips, hands, and body against Lena until her back found the brick wall again and nothing but the taste, touch, and smell of Kara consumed her. Lips dragged to Lena’s jawline then neck then exposed shoulder. Hands grabbed against the restrictions of fabric. Lena cursed (again) the constraints of a supersuit.

“I really need to design you a new suit,” Lena huffed.

“Probably for the best.” Kara replied, fingers venturing dangerously close to public indecency. “Alex says we need to leave before someone sees us anyway.”

“Tell Alex to stop committing voyeurism. There are websites for that.”

“Oh, she did not like that,” Kara snickered, lips pressing a final kiss to the crook of Lena’s neck. 

“Turn that thing off and take me home, Supergirl.”

“What about our reservations?”

“I have other dinner plans tonight.”

- - - - -

ask game

[johnslittlespoon]

can we get a little tas snippet? as a treat 🙏🏻

i cryyy yes u can, always! i never know if i should post more as i work on chapters bc i don't wanna spoil too much, but i also don't wanna be too inactive so <33 and might as well knock out the wip wednesday tags i've let build up all month oopsie! thank you @alienoresimagines, @nicijones, and @blixabargelds for the tagsss :')

“I just wanted you to know that I– that I didn’t change my mind,” John gets out, tracing his finger along a line on the kitchen table, stubbornly staring at the wooden surface, hastily adding, “y’know, if you didn’t either.” “That right?” John looks up at the question, watching as Gale turns to lean against the counter, bracing his hands on the edge of it, and John has to work to keep his eyes trained on Gale’s face. He nods meekly, tucking his sock–clad feet behind the legs of his chair to stop his own legs from bouncing. Gale smiles a bit and leans back, tilting his head. “You askin’ for something?” John’s face goes hot, and he feels like he’s been seen right through. His lips part, but he can’t get the words out; he can only blink up at Gale as he walks over to the table and leans on it in a near mirror image of the first time they’d spoken in the pub. “Hm?” Gale presses, and John nods again, eyes dancing around Gale’s face, heart mimicking the motions against his ribs. “You don’t have to ask, baby,” Gale tells him softly as he places a hand under John’s chin, tilting it up a little.

no idea who's been tagged already, it's been so long and i'm so behind on tag games ahhh, tagging @c-goldthorn, @air-exec, @stoneinyourshoe, @counting0nit, @eternallytired17, whoever else wants to <3

[atopvisenyashill]

Worst things GOT did casting wise:

- making Dany too beautiful (+ styling her in a way that she never has a hair out of place, always wears BLUE - which makes her look peaceful and soft and angelic, not making her burn her hair off etc). I just think of that one official art piece that's in the illustrated AGOT book where dany is bald, with the dragons and sparks and frames around her and its so striking instead of the "beautiful angelic blonde women stand empowered with her tits out" scene we got

- casting Iain Glen as Jorah and not like. a random Lannister (like. Come on. He is a burly and ugly man... why are you casting one of the most beautiful men to play him.... this is how we ended up with dany/jorah shippers)

-making Joffrey too unattractive (this is not meant to disparage JG who is a great actor and seems like a really cool dude and i'm not saying he's ugly but I think from his very first scene Joffrey looks very punchable and it would have been so much smarter to make the audience .. relate to Sansa's infatuation with his golden looks. In my head (and in all the official art) Joffrey looks like a male version of cersei/a younger version of Jaime.)

- making Dany, Jon, Robb, Marg, Brienne etc 10+ years older than Sansa and the younger starklings .... It's not "the main characters and arya (who is so cool and can kill people) + the little children" it's ONE AGE group of equally important characters

Like I know people are upset at Ned/Jon etc being too attractive, WHICH I GET, but I feel like those were very vibe based casting decisions and i'm ultimately fine with that (I also think it's easier for the audience to root for someone if they're attractive so like. I guess they had to do it) but these other things resulated in people's perception of the characters being so wildly different from what they're supposed to be. The real reason people get so angry whenever someone says they wish tamzin had stayed is because they don't like the idea of daenerys not being this ethereal beauty (TM is beautiful but not in a conventional way) that they can fully root for without issue.

1. NO YOU ARE SOOOOOO RIGHT ABOUT THEM REFUSING TO LET DANY LOOK UGLY. it’s not to say tamzin isn’t clearly beautiful, but i think she’s beautiful in the same way gwendoline christie is, which is that she’s very striking and she has a strong presence but she’s not exactly what people picture when they say “typical hot lady” (which is Crazy these are all able bodied white women, like the definition of “beauty” is soooooo fuckijg narrow that tamzin merchant is ~atypically beautiful) vs emilia definitely is, and YES like everything from not burning her hair off to emilia being,,,,,fuller in figure than dany as a fourteen year old would be is just very clear that they saw dany different than the way she is On The Page. i mean i know people whack george for saying that she’s like a sexy funny lady or whatever but george never lets go of the fact that she’s incredibly young whereas d&d completely miss that part of her character.

i will say i Get the criticism of tamzin perhaps not picking up on the conlangs easily because one thing you can say for emilia is that she had a decent head for the conlangs, she’s even still partially fluent in dothraki lmaooo. but all the other stuff they said about why they recast dany it’s like. hmmmmmmmmmm.

2. absolutely right about iain especially because he’s similar to idk paddy in that he’s got CHARISMA but unlike viserys, they didn’t intent to portray him as a deeply flawed, antagonistic character they went in portraying him as like an objectively Good Guy dedicated to dany. he’s just so much less creepy and pushy in the show and has several scenes where he shows some moral backbone - that “yet here you stand” “yet here i stand” scene is sooooooo good for example, the fact that he actually apologizes for spying on dany, giving him the greyscale story & not having him fuck a valyrian looking woman in a brothel 💀, etc etc - and you also just lose some of the creepiness here because emilia is clearly a grown if young woman and ian is handsome, so it’s like. welll of Course you want to root for them to be together! and never mind that this is a Massive departure from their book characterizations!! again, they have this idea of jorah in their head that doesn’t match up with what’s on the page even a little.

3. i do get your point re: joffrey and i think this is my problem with aidan as littlefucker too - they’re too obviously villains and it makes ned and sansa look stupid. like, in the books we have that moment where robb almost decks joffrey which does seem to signal something bad but the crown prince being full of himself doesn’t mean he’s going to threaten his betrothed’s sister with a sword then get his ass handed to him by a toddler. in the show we get QUITE a number of scenes where joffrey is shown to be a brat AND as you say, just like aidan, jack has a Certain Look, he looks like a shitty jock who has allegations against him ajsjdj like irl when jack smiles he’s so adorable!! but in the show they REALLY play up his ability to channel a greasy aura ya know aksjd. when the point of asoiaf is often that villains don’t LOOK like villains, but some of our Main Villains clearly resemble typical villains in the show.

4. “it’s ONE age group of characters” NO YOU ARE SO RIGHT. like, there’s several years difference from robert to ned to cat to the twins to tyrion but they’re all the same generation of characters. there’s that exact same age difference from brienne to robb, dany, jon to sansa, arya, bran, with theon kind of similar to characters like jorah, who are old enough to remember The Before Times but aren’t quite in either generation. but because they wanted dany, brienne, jon, robb, and margaery to be more of a Typical archetype rather than an exploration of that archetype, they aged everyone up and essentially invented another generation between the “adult” characters and the “kid” characters. not to be super nerdy here but one of my favorite worked shoots in wrestling is one cody rhodes did where he was ranting about the way young wrestlers get put through the grinder and he has this amazing line where he sums it up as “old men talking, young men dying” and it’s not to say there aren’t a lot of old dudes Also dying lmao but you really see this where young leaders are often unprepared for their responsibilities and used as puppets by older men and you just MISS THAT when that whole generation is so grown!

it’s like they looked at those themes of war being terrible and all consuming and brutal no matter how justified you feel you are and went ��wow war is brutal 😍” LIKE PLEASE????

[hktextposts]

Could you elaborate on your tag here? I'm really curious what ya meant by it, ignore this if you don't feel like bothering, i just love hearing people's thoughts about the funny bug game 👍🏿

Sure! I've joked in the past that this game's story is so huge, it's a stretch to imagine all of it was intentional. I believe that for the most part? The fans created a majority of the lore. Not like they made it up, but rather put all the disparate pieces together into a coherent story. This image is my favorite example

[solradguy]

I do think Sol has every right to throw Asuka into a wall as few times but I also ask for your proposed reason for why Sol would be making a big ass rocket to vist him. /gen

Oh, you know...

I genuinely don't know what else Sol could possibly be planning to do other than finish what he vowed to do at the end of Begin and at least once in almost every game release before and since haha

[hellofanidea]

curt has a crush on arthur 🎤🎤

This got away from me so badly, and it now is its own ficlet! It does get heavy during the latter part, however, so tw for alcoholism, PTSD, character death, and people being shitty to each other in the throes of those.

"Y'know Curt's got a thing for you?" Bucky grins at him one night, closer to five sheets to the wind than three, leaning into Arthur's space outside of the O Club.

There had been a few of them who wandered out initially, chasing fresh air to clear their soaked heads, but then the band had started up again and they had followed the music inside in search of dance partners. Arthur had expected Bucky to be first amongst them to go, but he had stayed when Arthur lingered under the night sky, and now he understands why.

"Not sure you're meant to say shit like that, Major," Arthur laughs, mostly out of shock at the way Bucky seems perfectly at ease with the idea. "Gonna get somebody a blue ticket home."

"Naw," Bucky scoffs, still smiling, though it's starting to look more like a leer. "Ain't runnin' to tell nobody. Just figured I'd try my hand at bein' a wingman."

He laughs at his own joke, swaying away and hiccuping drunkenly.

There's no need, Arthur wants to tell him; him and Curt have been slipping into dark corners together for a bit of stress relief for nearly two weeks now. He wonders if he pieced together Curt 'having a thing for him' from the newly charged air between them, or if Curt really had said something to him. Wonders what either of those could mean.

"You're a good friend," he tells Bucky instead, and means it. "You're also drunk as a skunk. C'mon, we should head back inside before you sober up enough to remember this in the mornin'."

Bucky makes a dismissive noise, but turns towards the door with him anyway.

"You're not gonna give me anything to take back to him? What kind of a wingman are you makin' me, Foster?" He complains.

"Well, considerin' I didn't try to punch yours or his lights out when you said somethin', a real lucky one, sir."

Several Years Later

"Y'know Curt's got a thing for you?" Bucky slurs, and Arthur feels his heart drop to his knees.

It's hot in the VA hall they've piled into for the reunion, and Bucky's been on fine form all night, to the point that some of the boys who didn't know him as Air Exec or CO or POW had been looking at him funny, and Arthur had to volunteer to take him outside for a moment. Let him cool his head in the relative privacy of the side alley. Catch his breath. Shiver off some of the burn of whiskey in his stomach.

And Arthur has been doing so well recently, but now he wants that same burn something fierce. He should go back inside, send Viv or Buck to take care of Bucky. Find Ev and get out of here before he follows Egan the way he always does eventually, and throws away three months of stone cold sobriety over the invocation of a ghost that he's never without anyway.

He doesn't go back inside. He stays next to where Bucky has his head tilted back to the sky, his eyes closed. Ignoring the tremble of his fingers, Arthur takes out a cigarette and lights it.

"Yeah, Bucky," he sighs around the filter. He doesn't have the energy to play along, or the heart to stop him.

"What, no joke about a blue ticket?" Bucky asks.

Irritation abruptly curdles in Arthur's stomach. He can't tell if Bucky's really back in Thorpe Abbotts in his mind, or if he's just trying to get a rise out of him. It reminds him, bitterly, of the Stalag. Bucky growling at him at him like a cornered animal, digging his fingers into Arthur's bruises; Arthur letting him, because at least it made him useful.

"I'm a civilian, now," he reminds Bucky. "Me 'n' Ev get caught it's jail, remember?"

The other man has the decency to look uncomfortable at the reminder, kissing his teeth unhappily. His closed eyes remain turned up to the pollution-hidden stars.

"Yeah. Forgot that." A heavy pause, and Arthur feels himself tense. Bucky's winding up for something, drawing his arm back to throw a curve ball. Definitely looking for a fight of some kind, and Arthur hasn't taken any of the bait so far, but he's come pretty close. "You 'n' Ev moved pretty fuckin' quickly. After Africa."

"Don't," Arthur snaps.

"I mean, I've heard the stories, you practically jumped him right there in the desert, right? Fucked him all the way up until you got yourself shot down. Wrote him fuckin' love letters from a Nazi prison camp, for fuck's sake." Bucky's eyes open. There's something dangerous in their piercing blue. "I bet Curt's body wasn't even cold when you jumped on his dick."

Arthur had never snapped at him in the Stalag, had taken his licks from Bucky like a good little soldier and kept on trotting after him. It had been worth it then just to feel the ache. Even more worth it for the times when Bucky wasn't at his lowest ebb and he would try to silently make it up to him.

Now, though? Arthur doesn't have that kind of patience left in him. Not even for Bucky, not when it's about Ev, about Curt, and not really about either of them at all, but about Bucky needing something he thinks he can only get by finding a sore spot and poking.

He has to know it's coming, but Bucky doesn't dodge when Arthur throws the punch. It's a good hit, or a bad one, something crunching under Arthur's fist in a way that instantly overrides the fury that had risen in him at Bucky's provocation. Bucky goes staggering, hands up at his face, and Arthur stares in horror at the aftermath of what he's done.

"Jesus, shit, Bucky, 'm sorry, 'm so sorry, are you alright?" He jabbers, frozen to the spot.

Just out of reach, Bucky sways. He's making grunts and groans as he seems to fight to stay upright. When one of his hands moves, red spills from between his fingers like wine, trickles down the backs of his hands, and drips onto his dress uniform. It's all over his tie. It'll stain, badly, and Arthur can't stop staring at it, even as Bucky straightens out and makes a throaty 'whoop' noise.

"Always knew you had a helluva swing on you, Foster," he laughs thickly.

His own blood is all over his lips, and he's still laughing, and there's too much happening at once, too many pasts layered together in Arthur's head. The smell of burning skin draws him from them, then the pain in his fist. Not just his knuckles; he had curled his hand tight around his still lit cigarette to throw the punch, and the end was now searing into his palm.

Finally, he drops it. If he lets it burn him a moment more than he needs to, that's between him and God and his ghosts.

[blorbologist]

“I know you” with Vex and Scanlan?

[Getting to these late oop, busy last couple of days; Send me three words + a pairing/character and I'll write up a scene! Not Perc'ahlia please <3 ]

--

Their usual table looks a lot bigger with only a handful of Vox Machina present. Actually, it looks positively huge thanks to Scanlan being here, which… Scanlan, yeah.

Someone - Percival, probably, given how neatly even each glass is lined up - got them too many drinks before most of the party left. Vex’ahlia works on the last one now. It might be Direheart, though she can’t quite identify all of Whitestone’s liquors yet. Not for lack of trying, especially with how today is going. 

The Meat Man, who is Scanlan, who looks about as un-Scanlan-ish as Scanlan could probably tolerate for this long, is rubbing his sternum. Like he’s having chest pains - which means Scanlan is rubbing his forehead through the illusion? 

Yeah, she’s nursing quite the headache herself. Thank you very much.

“So - tell me,” he’s saying, and he sounds nothing like Scanlan. Except for the moments where he almost does in the same way Kaylie sometimes resembles him. “How could you see it was me?”

Scanlan taps a little rhythm into his glass with a nail. Scanlan, but taking up too much space and yet just as much as he should. Tap-taptap-tap. 

A few more tap-taptap-taps as Vex thinks. Or doesn’t - her mind feels willfully blank, an empty shot glass. Everything meaningful in her gut where it churns, happy and sick at once.

He elaborates: “I mean - this thing has held up to a lot of scrutiny! Including from mages, because they really like their antiques apparently. And I had an audience with J’mon and they didn’t say anything either, and they’re a dragon!” (tap-taptap-tap) “Is the hair not realistic enough? Or the clothes? I really practiced. If there are any weak points to my disguise, you really should let me know.”

The pace of his fingers finally falters. Tap. Tap. Almost like he’s worried. “How could you tell?”

There were so many little tells, which is part of what is making this post-reunion drink so unsettling. How he talked about himself, and the fake-grandiose talk, just all the talking. The gait of a gnome in legs far too long for him. That big grin made just Scanlan’s size that fit this face just right, but not right enough. 

She does not say any of that. Maybe because, who fucking knows, he might do this again. And she might need to use these tricks again.

“Well, darling.” Vex’ahlia drowns her drink (her own nails go tink) and throws it back with deliberate nonchalance. Scanlan surely sees through it just as she saw through him. “I know you. So.”

“We all do,” Vax’ildan interjects at her shoulder. 

Fuck! When did he vanish? How long has he been back? She realizes she’s decently tipsy when she actually gives him the satisfaction of jumping. 

“You fuck!”

Vax grins, clapping her on the shoulder. ��Barkeep gave me a bottle so we’d leave and stop freaking out her waitstaff with all the day drinking.” His eyes flit towards Scanlan, who was regarding them warmly. Like he missed this. The gnome-but-not deflates as Vax says, “Oy, Scanlan. Mind if Stubby and I just have a drink, us two?”

“Of course not. The hugging was getting a bit much.” Like he could make them stay, in her city.

Which reminds her -

“I’m glad he’s back,” Vax says quietly as the door swings shut behind them. “So glad. But - gods, what’s with all the fucking lies?”

Vex’ahlia smiles weakly. “I know, right?”

Tap-taptap-tap go her nails on her finger, where a ring would rest.

[thatndginger]

sometimes I feel like I haven't written all that much for Shapeshifter. Then I look at the little stat counter on my writing app and remember that I've been working on this world and the stories within for going on 5 years now

anyway the actual manuscript is currently around 28k for Into the Storm and 6.5k for The Runaway, so the rest of that is all character sheets, species sheets, research, and worldbuilding. which is... a little insane? I'm proud of it but goddamn

[feralrosie]

Eryn/Zevran with song 52 ❤️

I hope you're happy with yourself. You made me write Zevryn for the first time in YEARS, but at WHAT cost. Look what you have DONE.

#52 Heaven's Light/Hellfire - The Hunchback of Notre Dame soundtrack

Spotify Wrapped - Short Story game

--

There it was again, the whispers, the incessant singing that calls her from the shadows. It is louder now and its song more violent, as if the drums of war were hot with the beating hearts of those who live below. 

She doesn’t have much time left. 

It is getting harder every day, but she needs to shake it off. 

“Let’s pause here for lunch,” Eryn says, getting down from her horse and dropping her backpack on the floor. “I’ll fetch water.”

Taking only the two waterskins, the mage doesn’t wait for her companion’s reply. She turns on her heels and descends a slope towards a body of water. The whispering follows her on the breeze, underneath her hair and into her clothing. Shut up, she thinks. Shut up shut up shut up.

Her breathing quickens as the shadows grow around her. They’re too close now. She tries to focus on the path in front of her, on the water glistening under bright sunlight, but her chest is heavy. She is not sure if it was a rock or if her feet gave up, but faster than she can realise, she trips and falls on her knees. 

Where am I? Eryn is not sure if she spoke it out loud, being muffled by the choir of darkspawn beneath the earth. If she digs the shore with her fingers, will she see them? If she screams, will they hear her? Will they catch her scent? Will they know where she is? Do they know where she is? Where am I…?

She lifts her head, searching for the light in direct rejection of the darkness. Then she sees it. She knows this shore, knows these waters. This is Lake Calenhad, and towering in the centre of it is the Circle where she was raised. The whispering runs down her spine as the memories of the cold stone of the circle walls catch up with her. She can’t go back there, not again, not ever. But if she had never left it, there would be silence now. They wouldn’t be speaking to her. No. No, she won’t go back. She won’t—but then, where should she go? To the darkness? Down the deep, deep roads to her death? After all this time, all she has done, the people that she found and that found her, is this really what fate has in store for her? Oblivion? No. No, no, no, no!

A humming breaks the cacophony in her mind. It freezes time, pulls her out of the water and breathes life into her again. It is followed by… a lute? Opening the eyes she did not know she had closed, Eryn can hear the wind on the canopies around, and the lake water crashing against the rocks, pebbles rolling here and there. She feels the warmth of the sun, and turns her attention back to the hill she came from. She sees the smoke of a fire, and catches the smell of wild mushrooms on a pan. 

Eryn stands up, takes a minute to clean the dirt off her dress and fetches water. When she arrives back at the newly improvised camp, Zevran is resting against a tree. He sings an old Antivan song while his fingers dance on the strings of his lute—which he insisted on buying years ago, on their first trip to his home country. 

With his hair loose and his shirt half opened, he smiles at her, and Eryn can only catch a few words of the lyrics. Warm, light, glow, amor. She really has to practice her antivan. 

“Lunch is almost ready,” he says during a break in the song. “Are you alright, mi amor?”

Eryn can’t help but smile back. She puts the waterskins on the ground beside the rest of their stuff, and she feels lighter. Much lighter than what two litres of water should weigh. 

“I am,” she joins him by the fire and rests her head on his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she feels his arm moving ever so slightly as he continues playing the lute. “I am now.” 

When Zevran kisses the top of her head, it is as if the shadows never existed around her. At least, just for this while. 

[xxplastic-cubexx]

hello!! i just want to tell you that your art is so goddamn scrumptious, you are literally feeding my xmen brainrot and I find myself smiling when i see your art come across my feed. I love how you draw charles, pretty privilege and post (lets be fr he's serving every time)

i hope you always have fantastic brainrot and id kiss your blessed hands for giving us the gift of cherik and charles xavier, you are literally an icon

hope you have a great day ahead of you and more!! you deserve it !!

well i'ma absolutely have a wonderful mornin after readin this AWWWW thank you so so much !!!! i haven't been postin xmen long, so it's been really heartwarmin seein the warm reception to my work in the wonderful tags people have been leavin on my posts- and especially gettin to answer the lovely asks y'all've been sendin in (❁´ ▽ `❁) !! im glad people also like my goofy text posts and esp quotes from my brother he really has no right being so funny at the most random times

i hope to be xmen posting a while: ive got at least 60 years worth of stuff to look through and ongoing, so i dont imagine my interest'll wane anytime soon :]] !!

[impossiblepluto]

If you could wish an episode tag/missing scene fic into existence, which episode would you choose?

What's a song you can't stop listening to right now?

A song that makes you think of the show?

❤️❤️❤️

If you could wish an episode tag/missing scene fic into existence, which episode would you choose?

If it's something for me to read, maybe something involving Mac's complicated relationship with oxygen? Could be the after effects of giving up his "gas mask" for Ralph in Awl, or post El Noche nitrogen torture in Can Opener. Or something for 2x09 CD + Hoagie Foil would be fun.

If I'm writing it (or magically not writing it) itd be great if the next chapter or two of my 1x03 alternate ending was just fully formed that way I'm daydreaming it in my head. Or maybe those missing three months from The Rising.

But honestly, everyone is so creative and comes up with such fantastic takes to explore episodes in new ways so I'm down for anything.

What's a song you can't stop listening to right now?

I'm really loving the group Hollow Coves right now. It's kind of moody, seaside, folksy with really nice harmonies. (And everybody on social media is using their stuff for their summer time travel videos right now)

Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac and the Boy of Summer by Don Henley are both really tickling my brain right now

A song that makes you think of the show?

Fortunate Son by CCR

Sweet Child o' Mine by Guns n' Roses

Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

Right Here With You by David Cook

Bad Moon Rising by CCR

[paarthursass]

uhm hiii “you don’t need to earn my affection, not now and not ever.” for the prompts?

touch-starved prompts

"You deserve better than this."

Aurel paused, spoon hovering over his bowl as he glanced over at Wyll. "Oh, come now, Gale's cooking isn't that bad. At the very least, he's certainly gotten better now that we have access to the Last Light's kitchens."

"Not the food," Wyll said, fondness flickering in his gaze in spite of the sad tilt to his mouth. "...I fear I've done a poor job of courting you."

"A poor job of — what?"

Aurel set the bowl down as he turned to face Wyll fully. He glanced briefly over at their companions, but he and Wyll had taken their dinner on the outskirts of Last Light's shores, away from the others. They wouldn't be disturbed; unless the others got nosy (which was always a possibility.)

"What in the Nine Hells brought this on?" Aurel asked, turning his gaze back to Wyll.

"The Hells are part of the problem, I fear," Wyll's lips twitched into a small, sardonic smile. "Or Mizora, rather. Her, these blasted tadpoles, Ketheric Thorm and his Cult of the Absolute...were we in Baldur's Gate, I could have done this properly. I'd have invited you to dine with me at the finest restaurants on the shores of the Chionthar, taken you to see the best concerts performed by the Gate's most accomplished orchestra. We could have attended one of Duke Stelmane's balls on each other's arms, and I'd have pulled you to the side to whisper sonnets in your ear."

"Only sonnets?" Aurel quirked an eyebrow, and the impish grin on his lips only grew at how Wyll flushed.

"Had we met at some posh soiree, I'm not entirely sure it would have been the fairy-tale you're envisioning, my dear," Aurel went on, reaching out to gently fix the ties of Wyll's tunic. And if he allowed his fingertips to brush against the exposed collarbone of Wyll's chest, the way Wyll's throat bobbed was certainly worth the liberty.

"I used to be quite the rake, you know. I thought I could drown all my sorrows in wine and dancing and meaningless trysts in the dead of night. Of course I gave all that up long ago, but seeing the strapping Blade of Frontiers in top form on the dance floor may have tempted me towards acting the scoundrel again."

The flush had spread from Wyll's ears down to his neck, but he seemed determined to push past whatever ungentlemanly thoughts Aurel had inspired as he took Aurel's hands in his own.

"That's part of what I mean," he insisted. "After everything you have weathered, after everything you have given...you deserve better. You deserve sonnets, songs, and a man who can bare his soul to you freely."

"Your soul will be free soon enough, if I have anything to say about it," Aurel sniffed and raised his chin an inch. Wyll smiled, and he squeezed Aurel's hands between his own.

"You prove my point yet again. I was already smitten, but seeing you haggle with Mizora for my soul stole my heart again thricefold."

"Flirt. But don't think you can charm your way out of this one, Wyll Ravengard."

Aurel freed his hands, but only so he could cup Wyll's face in them.

"I don't know where that little voice in your head is coming from, but I will not have it sowing such nonsense. In case you didn't notice, I am completely and utterly smitten with you, too. And nothing, not Mizora, not these tadpoles, nor the Absolute itself — whatever it may be — will change that."

Aurel allowed his thumb to gently trace the scar on Wyll's cheek, and as his eyes roamed his handsome face, the stubborn glint to Aurel's eyes softened into affection.

"I would trade every single ball for that dance we shared under the stars. I would turn my ear from the finest orchestras just for the sound of your laugh. And I would discard the finest wines just to sit by your side, eating Gale's mediocre soup."

Finally, a huff of a laugh from Wyll. The corners of his eyes crinkled, his cheeks dimpled as he smiled, and both proved far too tempting for Aurel. He kissed him — at the corners where his eye crinkled, teasingly at the side of his mouth where his cheeks dimpled, and then finally coming to rest at his lips. He held him there for a moment, one hand moving to caress the back of Wyll's neck. And when they parted, it was only for a breath as Aurel rested his forehead against Wyll's.

"You don't need to earn my affection," he murmured. "Not now, not ever. You are more than enough to me; not Ravengard's son, not the Blade of Frontiers, you."

Wyll gave a shaky exhale, but Aurel knew him well enough by now to recognize the gleaming of his eyes meant joy, not grief. Wyll moved, arms wrapping around Aurel and pulling him closer into a tight, warm hug. One that Aurel happily returned, stroking his fingers along Wyll's shoulder blades as he rested their heads together.

"Does this mean you don't want me to continue to court you?" Wyll asked after a moment. Aurel snorted.

"Now, I never said that," he protested as they parted. Wyll's eyes glimmered with amusement. "I only meant that you needn't feel obligated, dear one. You can rest assured that there is no pursuit required; you have quite masterfully caught me already."

"With quarry like you? Only because you allowed me to."

"Oh, let's not get caught up in the details of how you caught me, what matters is that you did. And you do. Have me that is."

Aurel's gaze had softened again, though his lips were still upturned into a playful smile. But he gently stroked his thumb along Wyll's jawline as he searched his gaze.

"Are we better?" he asked quietly. "Or do I need to scold that pesky inner voice some more before it goes away?"

Wyll laughed. "Oh, the doubts will always be there. But never about you. And I think you've done a splendid job of pushing them back, for the moment at least."

"Well, you just let me know if they come crawling back," Aurel sighed. "I'll drive them off again. Or at the very least find a very clever way to distract you."

"I'm sure you will," Wyll laughed, pulling Aurel in to press a kiss to his forehead. "As you always do."

[northern-passage]

Hello. Hope this isn't a rude question, but I was wondering if TNP is still actively being worked on, even if it's behind the scenes? I don't really much spare time to keep updated on all the IFs I (sorta) keep tabs on, and this is one I particularly like. I thought it'd be best to ask directly. Hope it hasn't been abandoned!

hi :-) not rude at all! i am actively working on tnp! i can’t give you any kind of estimation for an update but it definitely won’t be this year hahahaha. i’m writing a little bit every day so it’s slow but steady going!

[johaerys-writes]

Do you have any Achilles pov writing from disasters you’d like to share? Like, what was going through his head the night he met Pat? Or anything from the Thetis months? Thank you 💙

I have to admit that I didn't really have something concrete (i.e. in writing) from Achilles' POV, only some random notes I had made for myself here and there. But you wanted to know what was going through Achilles' head when they met and I just couldn't resist. So here's my humble offering: Dawn, Reflected (it's up on AO3!)

[stinkrascal]

How do you place out your lots since Forgotten Hollow is TINY for no reason.

helloooo! the only lots i have placed in forgotten hollow are vlad's house, the vatore's house, and one of the base game houses that came w the world, i didn't move anything i just decorated those lots as they stood. every other location used in standstill was taken in different worlds. i use a specific set of trees when decorating FH and i put those same trees around the other lots so they look somewhat cohesive, using the TOOL mod to place trees outside of the lot and obscure the background helps too. these scenes here and here were taken in henford, and the beginning of this scene was taken at glimmerbrook. i simply pretend they're all forgotten hollow 🦇