#once again…couldn’t write this out in fic form to save my life

[cruesuffix]

I just kinda wanna expand on my alien!Mick headcanon beyond just what he can or can’t eat, so if you’ll allow me to yap a bit…long ass post incoming!!

- im not exactly sure what his alien name would be…i’ll take suggestions! all i do know is that i think he’d be born into an almost royalesque family. like his mother is the daughter of a former leader of mars. maybe his father was like the cousin of a governor. this means back when he was really young he had to get tutored instead of going to regular school. Mick was always a curious sort of kid. he liked to venture out to the rocky red mountains near his home just to explore. sure the entire planet is just red, not many places to go, but you can always find cool new things if you look for them. the amount of times he’s come back home with broken satellites, parts of destroyed space shuttles and a little robot explorer or two is crazy. his parents call him their little astronaut, only because they find him in the strange places discovering the weirdest things. i think these are the moments that place an idea in their heads.

-it’s also around this time that Mick discovers earthen music. when he was 7 (technically 5 in human years), he was given a radio that transmitted earth sounds. he stumbles upon a channel that plays the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard. it’s exhilarating, extraordinary and it makes him feel things. like a passion burning straight through him. he asks his tutor about it and is turned onto the most powerful experience he’s ever had; music. music of all kinds, sometimes slow and somber, other times fast and exciting. if this is what rollercoasters feel like, he suddenly feels like he doesn’t need to experience one anymore (it was a childhood dream to ride one). soon, the music is all he can think about. he stops studying just to listen to this amazing new phenomenon.

- once he gets old enough, he starts going to actual school (which happens to just be a really big hut with a bunch of benches and small chalkboards). his older brother has already started going two years before him, so both of them go to the same hut school with all the other nearby alien children. Mick happens to be the outspoken child that always tries to correct his teachers (his tutor might have taught him too much…but that’s only because he seemed to excel at a high rate). teachers are weary of him and he usually gets in trouble (a punishment might be having to stand outside the hut while the cold or hot wind blows on him…mars has crazy weather ive heard). this continues to happen all up to high school. this is around the time he learns about his parents secret plan for him

- the plan: the earth is slowly starting to die. sure, the people of earth have a lot of time on their hands, but unless they take it seriously, they are in danger. Mick has to travel down to earth, find the right people who will take him seriously to spread his message. there is a way to reverse all the damage humans have done to their planet, but only if they listen and really take initiative to fix it. Mick couldn’t be anymore disappointed. this is the last thing he wants to do. ever since he learnt about music as a child, the only thing he’s ever wanted to do was learn to play it. to be like the humans gathering together to make music. To make beautiful sounds come out of the wood and strings they make. it’s all he wants, but now he has to abandon his life ambition to fulfill his family (and his country’s) wishes.

- the next year and a half is spent training for his inevitable descent to earth. space training takes over his life so much so he almost forgets his original dream. the worst is his body change. he’s so unused to seeing someone else in the mirror. he’s like…so disturbed by it all. it doesn’t help that he can’t get used to it. he’s all gangly limbs and long hair that gets in his face way too much. his eyes are bright blue and can’t adjust to light. he feels sore almost all the time for some reason and he’s just sure there’s some kind of defect in his new body. he feels uglier than he ever has, and he’s never paid attention to his looks before (most if not all aliens look the same, of course some are taller than others, skinnier than some, darker than others).

- also he doesn’t know if he’s really ready to leave his home planet. he’s never known another place besides this one, and he’s afraid of the unknown. he’s sure he’ll never adjust to human life and he wants nothing more than to just give up, to tell his family he’s not ready and he doesn’t think he ever will be. he hates change and almost wishes it was his older brother going in his place instead. either way, he sucks it up. something in the back of his mind is telling him this was meant to be. there’s something in that blue planet for him, something he needs more than anything. plus…he’s never been one for conflict, so he doesn’t say anything.

- after two years of nonstop training, the day comes when he’s finally sent off to earth. his entire family sees him off. he gets one last moment with them all before he’s gone, for the foreseeable future. he doesn’t realize he’ll never see them again, and if he had he’d probably be a lot more sad. he’d probably hold onto his mother for a bit longer. he enters the space ship and watches as the door latches and closes, the faces of his family disappearing into the distance as he flies off.

- estimated time to get to earth is at least nine months. it’s enough time for Mick to really study up on human culture. he’s got to learn his new human name, go over everything he needs for his stay. he likes reading over his human passport, finds it funny that earth is two years ahead of mars. he’s two years younger there than he is on his home planet. his new human name is a bit bland to him, but he’s sure most humans have bland names. while he’s on his spaceship, he finds himself discovering music once more. he hasn’t had time to listen to the newest tunes or keep track of the culture in music (which he finds is always changing). now things sound even more interesting. almost intergalactic. the string instruments he’s learnt are called guitars, make such beautiful intricate sounds that he’s almost inspired to pick one up and try to imitate what he’s hearing. while he’s trying to figure out his new living arrangements (he’s staying with a girl who apparently knows what he is- how scary), he can’t help but turn on his little transistor radio he’s been carrying with him since he was seven. when things get too complicated, or he’s just tired from the travel, he simply lets go, turns on the radio and floats around to the sound of what seems like peace to him.

- nine months pass, and Mick is getting closer to earth. for the next few days he prepares himself to land. of course, he doesn’t know how intense the landing would be. maybe something goes a bit wrong when he finally does land. an engine dies when it shouldn’t, maybe he accidentally presses the wrong button, all he knows it’s that the ship is descending way too fast and he has no time to react. where he should have been ejecting himself out of the ship and hoping that the capsule’s vessel would protect him, he goes down with the entire ship. he watches parts rip off as the earth’s atmosphere starts to burn it. he’s sure he’s not going to survive this. that he was so dumb he couldn’t even land a ship properly and now that was going to be reason for his demise. he wonders if his family would ever know if he made it or not. luckily, while inside the ship is burning up, the ship is still somewhat intact. It’s hurtling towards earth, headed towards what looks like a field.

- as soon as the ship makes contact with the ground, Mick is thrown off his seat, bashing his head on the console desk and nearly compressing him to the ground. the first thing he feels as he arrives on earth is pain, an urgent kind. sharp pain spreads throughout his body, mainly staying in his left shoulder and his back. as if he wasn’t already feeling stiff, now he can barely get up from the spot he’s laying on. still, he knows he has to get out of the ship before it possibly explodes so he pulls himself up and shuffles as quickly as he can and exits the space ship. most of the aluminum cover has blown off someways off the journey. the headlights are busted and there’s dents and burn marks from the travel through the atmosphere. he’s going to have to fix it before he leaves, luckily enough he’d been an apprentice mechanic while on mars. It shouldn’t be hard to fix. then, he looks around and notices houses surrounding this supposed field. that’s when he realizes it’s not an actual field and more likely a backyard. he’s happy he paid attention in class, he’s already learnt about backyards and houses. he knows he supposed to leave, because he sure can’t explain a space ship on someone’s property. he uses what little energy he has left from the journey to vanish the space ship. his powers mean he’s genuinely able to seem normal to these people by getting rid of any evidence of alien activity. that’s why nobody’s ever been able to answer the age old question: do aliens even exist?

- afterwards, he slowly gets up and starts walking away from the backyard, hoping not to attract too much attention. the walk around the neighborhood is long. what he needs to do is find that girl he’s supposed to live with. he has a map, the direct coordinates…he just doesn’t really know where he is. it takes him a long while to get there. it’s almost night and he wonders if he should just find somewhere closer to sleep. he doesn’t really want to stray away from the path. he might get lost again in the morning and then he’d really be screwed. after another hour of walking, he finds himself in front of the house that was to be his new sanctuary. he works up the courage to knock on the door. inside, he felt confused, worried, and scared. what if this lady wasn’t who she said she was? would his parents really throw him with a stranger that had the opportunity to kill him? after a couple of minutes trying to decide if he should back out, the door opens. the lady looked pretty young, maybe nineteen or twenty. she had the brightest white hair Mick had ever seen. her face had what humans called makeup. aliens preferred to call it face paint. and boy was it painted right on. It almost made her look extraterrestrial herself. she smiled at him. she seemed nice.

- “Nice to meet you, you must be Robert!” she greeted him. he returned the smile, a bit awkwardly. he wasn’t really used to smiling, especially with his new body. she ushers him in and introduces herself a bit more. then she asks him like…a lot of questions. she’s very curious about the whole alien thing and wants to know as much as she can about Mick and his kind.

i guess i’ll continue this in another post if yall want it. Like I said, i can’t write a full fic to save my life…i guess this will just stay a silly little headcanon.

[leighsartworks216]

I Come With Knives Pt10

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Not proofread. I was supposed to be editing text for a class, but I suddenly had to write this chapter or I wouldn't be able to sleep. It is almost midnight.

Also, I'd like to remind everyone that I have not played the games, so I know none of this is accurate to the events, and I'm sure a lot of the things I write about are happening out of order, but don't worry about it. Think of it as an AU, or as, ya know, a story that was written just for fun because I love these silly little guys too much

I'm almost out of space on my masterlist for links so I might move some fics from the First BG3 Masterlist to the Second just to keep this story all in one place. But we'll worry about that when we get there in a couple chapters

Warnings: references to kidnapping, references to emotional abuse/manipulation, alcohol consumption, references to slavery

Word Count: 1,639

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Young tieflings ran around, playing games with each other and causing mischief. You couldn’t stop watching the way they teased and laughed and got along so well. When one tripped and fell, the rest were there to help them up, holding hands as they continued running around. After so much darkness and death and fear, to see so much energy and unbridled joy overwhelmed your heart.

A frown slid onto your face as you tried to think back to your childhood. Had you run around with the same reckless abandon? Had you tripped and been helped to your feet again? Had you teased and laughed and had not a care in the world, once? All you had were tiny fragments. A familiar wall here, the impression of a fence there. Silhouettes without faces; with no defining features at all. Years of your life, missing.

You could remember the night you were stolen away. The feeling of being lost, and a beady pair of red eyes staring hungrily at you with a smile that stretched too wide. The gravely promise of helping you find your home.

You shivered and hugged yourself close, shaking your head to jostle the memories from your mind. Now was not the time to dwell on the past. You won this battle - that’s what mattered.

Astarion sat down beside you on the log, a bottle of wine in hand. The light of the campfire danced across his features in a way quite familiar to you by now, and yet you couldn’t help tracing the shadows that defined his cheekbones and eyes. He smirked at you. “Something on your mind, darling?”

You sigh. “Too much, I think.” You turn back to the kids. Halsin had somehow calmed them down enough to demonstrate whittling a duck. They were completely enraptured, with wide eyes and pleas to teach them how to do it, too. “We’ve been on the road for weeks trying to do the seemingly impossible, I just forgot what was at stake. Not just our own lives, but theirs, too. Everyone’s.”

“Hm, and you’re going to carry it all on your shoulders.” He holds a goblet in front of you, urging you to take it. Red liquid settles inside, a deep, dark crimson. “You need to relax, love.”

You chuckle. “I don’t really know how,” you admit. You carefully take a small sip. Your face scrunches up immediately.

He laughs, taking the goblet back from you and finding absolutely no resistance. He swirls it around. “Well, in my experience, it’s very difficult without a good vintage and not just vinegar in a fancy bottle. Fortunately for us, my dear, I happen to have saved a bottle from one of our many expeditions. And,” he leans in conspiratorially, “I may even be convinced to share.”

“Oh really?” You tilt your head, squinting your eyes like you didn’t trust him, but the grin dancing on your lips gave the ruse away. “What’s the catch?”

You think he likes when you joke with him like this. It’s so difficult to get a chance with so much on your mind, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes almost one-to-one with the spark in the tiefling children’s eyes. “No catch,” he promises, “just your company. Away from all this.” He sighs, scowling as he leans back. “I can’t say I enjoy being looked at like some hero.”

You scoff. “You are a hero.”

“You’re the hero,” he insists. “Don’t go lumping me in with every goody-two-shoes that’s gotten stabbed in the back for being too nice.”

“Hm. And would you be the one doing the backstabbing?”

His scowl softens. His eyes do, too. There’s something warm there. You can’t name what it is - it’s completely foreign to anything you remember - but you feel… safe in his gaze. Protected. “You can consider your back perfectly safe, as long as I’m around. Cross my, erm.” He clears his throat. “Now, will I be enjoying the night alone?”

You look around. Some of the kids are cutting away at wooden lumps, with gentle guidance and supervision from Halsin. Wyll and Karlach are talking with cheeks as flushed as their skin tones allowed. Shadowheart is enjoying some wine and Lae’zel is nearby, but though they glare there’s no threats. At least, not any that will be taken out tonight. Gale has contented himself with cooking a large meal to feed all the hungry mouths that abound, reading a book with every spare second he has. Everyone is happy, everything is peaceful. Why shouldn’t you slip away?

“Where did you have in mind?”

He smirks and stands up, dumping the nasty wine from the goblet into a bush before he offers you a hand. His touch lingers longer than you think it will. You even wonder if he was going to gently tug you along with him, but he lets go. He slips into his tent briefly and emerges with another bottle and another glass. The vinegar-wine has disappeared, perhaps for him to drink later despite his complaints. With a smile and a nod to the treeline, he leads you into the woods. The sounds of the party fade away behind you.

-

The moon is huge in the sky, full and bright. There is no need for candles when her light chases away the darkness in a cool, blue glow. In a clearing in the forest, you’ve settled down on the ground, cushioned only by soft grass. The bottle was almost empty by now. You don’t know how many glasses you drank, but you felt full and warm. Content. At peace. You didn’t feel the need to jump at every shadow, nor did you have any fear in your mind for what could linger in them.

You laid back on the ground and stared up at the brilliant sky overhead. Astarion lay beside you, wondering if he would have ended up here if he’d ignored your past, ignored your kindness, and tried manipulating you as well.

“Thank you,” you say out of nowhere. You flush at how loud it was, but he just smiled. “For this, I mean.”

He hummed, turning his head to look at you fully. “I never even considered… Was this your first time drinking?”

You giggled and turned to look at him, too. “Was it obvious?”

“Not at all,” he huffed. He had that soft look in his eyes again. It seems to have spread to his smile, as well. “You do make for a very lovely drunk.”

You roll your eyes, looking back up at the stars. “I’m not drunk. Just a bit…”

“Tispy?”

“Mhm.”

He traces your profile, studies the way the moon highlights your features so masterfully. It’s almost as if your years of servitude had disappeared. All inklings of battle and torture were gone. All that remained was you, him, the moon and the stars, and the grass beneath you both.

You roll onto your side, cushioning your head with an arm as you look at him. “What’re you looking at?”

He chuckles softly. “I thought that much was obvious, dear.” He rolls over as well, mirroring you. Like this, the moon catches your face differently. It’s no less beautiful.

You huff. “What are you thinking about then?”

Oh, so much. He couldn’t recall a time when he’d simply laid with someone without sex being involved, but part of his mind was quite occupied trying to be sure. Other worries for the future, about Cazador and Kir Parthene, came and went, as they always did, leaving a residue of their passing like a thick sludge trailed behind them. More of these thoughts worried about you. About your freedom. About what would happen to you after all this. The thoughts that dominated his mind tonight, though, were far simpler, and far sweeter.

He reaches out to trace a finger along your cheek. Your skin is warm, as it usually is, but the flush in your cheeks from the wine makes you feel even warmer. He can see your mind fighting instinct as it tries to decipher what to do. But then you’re leaning into his touch, welcoming him to continue. He cradles your cheek in his palm.

“I think you look beautiful in the moonlight,” he admits. His voice is merely a whisper. “And I think, if you weren’t drunk right now, I’d liked to have kissed you.”

You laugh softly, out of shock more than anything. A compliment that wasn’t followed by something cruel, that wasn’t intended to act as a bandage, combined with the genuine care in his words. The only kisses you’d received in these years had been along your body, across your shoulders and on your neck, but they were never real. They were all for your master, a reminder that you belonged to her. This was not that. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

“I think I would have let you.”

He smiles and strokes a thumb below your eye, brushing away a tear before it ever has the chance to fall. “Well, we have plenty of time ahead of us.” He trails his hand from your cheek down your arm until he’s holding your hand. He brings it to his lips, and presses light kisses to your knuckles. “One day soon, perhaps.”

You wipe at your other eye. “I’d like that.”

Once he’s kissed each knuckle, you pull your hand from his and wrap it around his waist, pulling yourself to cuddle against him. He easily welcomes you, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you even closer. You press your face into his chest. He pets your hair in long, even motions. As you revel in the safety of his arms and the moonlight, and as he indulges in your body heat, you both eagerly await what the future will bring.

---

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[nikki-is-a-nerd]

I've Seen This Scene Before (Part One)

Summary:

With Naboo now being eyed by Grand Admiral Thrawn, the resistance sends one of their best, Ezra Bridger must help protect you.

Though he meets the Queen, he also meets you, a simple handmaiden...or are you?

A/N:

Sorry for the very long disappearance from writing fics. I was in a rut and was struggling to find words.

___________________________________

With Grand Admiral Thrawn's return to the galaxy also brought back his greatest foe, Ezra Bridger. The Empire is slowly trying to build itself back, bit by bit, now they also decided to take back planets that once belonged under their reign, first on that list is Naboo. When an insider intercepted that message, they immediately warned the resistance.

Hera, though being observed like a hawk by Senator Xiono decided to warn you, despite the protest of the aforementioned senator. You were exasperated, great the empire wants revenge, they really timed things well.

"General, if you'd allow it, would you mind sending me anyone to just shadow me. We're currently lacking in terms of guards as of right now. Apparently we had traitors hiding in our system and when Thrawn returned, they left and nearly everyone in the guards were traitors." You said exhausted.

“Don’t worry, we’ll send some fighters over.” Hera said.

“No, just one very capable person would do. We have trainees already. Its just that, aside from my handmaidens, i just need someone who’s going to ensure I don’t just get shot from behind.” You said softly.

Hera smiled softly. Moments like this remind her of how young you really are. How underneath all of the royal garments and white powdered face lay a young woman, who just wants to serve her country in the best way that she can. You were indeed one of the older queens to ever sit on the throne but that doesn’t mean it prepares you for whatever happens, war isn’t something you can ever foresee the outcome of. Senator Xiono pipes up, uncaring about life that isn’t his own.

“With all due respect your majesty, every single fighter counts, we have no time nor the resource to send out a fighter your way. You are talking about just your planet out of the countless others an-“

“Senator Xiono, might i remind you that out of all the planets we saved from destruction, Naboo has been by far the most helpful one. Supplying us with food and other resources.” Senator Organa said, looking at Xiono with thinly veiled contempt.

Xiono couldn’t say anything else as everyone also agreed to send even just one fighter to Naboo. Its the least they could do. Trying to keep an ally is what matters most nowadays. Seeing as how a lot of the other planets are already showing support for the growing empire. Hera looked at Xiono knowing this time she’d won once again, irking Xiono.

“I’ll send someone from my team personally. I’m sure any member of the ghost crew would enjoy helping out a planet in need.” Hera spoke kindly.

“Thank you. I’ll even greet them myself alongside my most trusted handmaidens.” You said.

Though you did say you would greet them personally, you never said in what form. You were known as the queen who never showed their true face. Unlike the other queens who would sometimes shed the royal face paint, you never did. You felt like the anonymity of your identity helped you rule the land. You were a blank slate, only your last name was known. Your handmaidens were truly the only ones to see your true self. On the day that the ghost arrived, you dressed up as your handmaiden, Rosita, while she pretended to be the queen in your stead. You all walked to where the ship was docked, Hera was outside waiting for your arrival. Standing beside her were the rest if the ghost crew and her son, Jacen but what caught your eye was the newly returned Ezra Bridger. He stood tall, eyes looking around excitedly at the palace, it brought you ease to see someone look so happy.

“Your Majesty, its nice to see you and your handmaidens today.” Hera said smiling.

“The pleasure is all mine. It’s very kind if you to pick from your own team. Are you sure you won’t need all of them in your search for Ahsoka Tano and Ms. Wren?” Rosita asked.

“No its quite alright, we’re still working on the ship that Ezra arrived in, and its going to take a while so, we aren’t doing any missions as of late.” She answered.

“Speaking of my team, as you may know these are my crew or my family. This is Zeb and his husband Kallus, Ezra, our droid Chopper and my son Jacen. The one who’ll be accompanying you and your handmaidens would be Ezra. He’s a skilled Jedi and if anything he can ensure you can all escape safely.” Hera said confidently.

“Hi, I look forward to working with all of you, uh madam? your majesty? Queen almighty?” Ezra said unsure.

“You may just refer to me as Queen (Y/L/N).” Rosita said with a smile.

You smiled at the flustered man infront of you, not noticing the way his eyes were suddenly drawn towards you. He looked at you for a bit before he snapped out of it when chopper decided that now was a good time to electrocute him. He was arguing with the droid while Rosita and the other Handmaidens conversed with the other members of the ghost, one of your handmaidens, Alina looked at you and you nodded your head, signaling her to tell Rosita that she should hand out the supplies you also promised you would supply to the resistance. While that was being done, you approached Ezra. If you were to entrust your life upon someone you should figure out who they are.

“Hello there.” You said

Ezra who was still arguing with chopper whipped his head so fast you winced at the whiplash that could’ve given him. Ezra gave you a huge smile, it was so warm to look at that you couldn’t almost believe that this was the same guy who is considered as Thrawn’s foil.

“Hi there, I’m Ezra im the queen’s temporary guard. Its so nice to meet you. Jacen told me all about your people’s culture and its so amazing meeting one of her select handmaidens.” Ezra said happily.

“Its an honor to meet you too. We’re all well aware of your sacrifices for your home planet. You seem like a brave guy.” You said, trying to sound normal.

“I mean, you’re doing the same thing of sorts. You put your life at risk to protect your planet’s leader. That’s brave too.” He said honestly.

“So are there any rules i need to follow? Any do’s and don’ts in the palace?” Ezra asked earnestly.

“Just one. Nobody else aside from the handmaidens must see the queen when she isn’t in her royal attire.” You said kindly.

You remember placing that rule for your safety and for the anonymity it gives you. Helping you learn about the current situation in naboo without the constraints of formality and politics. You weren’t born yesterday, you knew how easy it is for officials to lie since they think you’re too naive to be the queen. It’s quite stupid really.

"For Anonymity? I understand. I just don't want to offend anyone." He said politely.

"The fact that you even care to ask makes you better than half of the political figures here in naboo. Honestly the king of Gungans have better manners. Once he knocked on the Queen's door to ask if she was alright. Most just barge in unannounced." You said, voice laced with annoyance.

"Sounds like more trouble for you and the other handmaidens." Ezra said with a smile.

You smiled at his little joke until you realized you know his name but he doesn't know yours. Nobody knew your actual name since it's also hidden.

"How rude of me, I forgot to introduce myself. I am (Y/N), the Queen's handmaiden and I am pleased to make your acquaintance." You said as politely as you could.

"You have a beautiful name, suits the person who owns it too." Ezra said smoothly.

"You are a charmer." You teased.

"Only for women who I believe deserve a lot of praise." He added.

Before Ezra could say more, Hera and Rosita signalled you both over, chopper intentionally running over Ezra's foot.

"Karabast, that droid really hates me but hates me even more for disappearing." Ezra said as he walked beside you.

"I'm sure he's just teasing." You said, holding back a laugh.

"Don't laugh at my pain, help me get better. Give me a small kiss." Ezra said jokingly.

You felt your face flush as you heard it and you heard his laugh. He was good at this. You watched as he turned to look at a corner before squinting and looking forward again.

"How many exits are in this area by the way?" Ezra asked suddenly.

"Four, that's including the door we entered from and the ones you and your team entered. A latch on the ground that leads to Padmé's garden and a door that leads to a lab." You answered.

"Alright. I just wanted to know." Ezra said as he looked back at the shadows in the corner of the room.

As you both approached Hera and Rosita, Hera gave you a smile before turning to Ezra.

"Don't cause too much trouble. I know you well enough to know that you usually end up in it." She said sternly, like a mother warning her child.

"Hera, I don't go out picking fights, I'm not a child." Ezra said seriously.

"Could fool me." Zeb said with a straight face.

The witty, familial banter of the ghost crew made you smile longingly as you looked at them. Aside from your handmaidens, whatever friends you had from before was long gone. You had no family left as they decided to betray the people of Naboo and join the empire as well. Yet you kept your façade and remained headstrong and loyal to your people. You knew that the attacks from the empire would come sooner rather than later and you know that they will be personal.

“Well, we don’t want to overstay our welcome and keep Ezra from his newfound duties. We’ll be heading off. If anything happens and you need a quick escape, just give us a call.” Hera said to Rosita.

“I appreciate that a lot General Syndulla. Safe travels.” Rosita said as she imitated you.

“Be nice Ezra.” She said sternly before entering the Ghost.

Once the Ghost was out of sight, Rosita turned to your other handmaiden, Carmine and spoke.

“Show Ezra his sleeping quarters. It seems i need to change into a different attire. The king of the Gungans are coming, i must freshen myself up once more. Come now, (Y/N), Alina, we must make haste.” Rosita said and she began walking.

Once out of earshot and ezra’s sight Rosita turns to you with a smile. One that very much reminded you that you atleast had your handmaidens to trust.

“Your majesty, it seems that the young jedi likes you.” She teased

“Oh please, Alina, tell rosita that she’s imagining things.” You said jokingly.

“Your majesty, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did like you but i for one am sure that you fancy him.” Alina said with a smile.

“I do not! He is attractive and kind and funny but that’s all there is.” You huffed out.

“Its alright, you may struggle accepting it but you are just mortal. Love is normal. Who knows, perhaps you’ll be the second queen of naboo to fall for jedi charms.” Rosita teased as you entered your sleeping quarters.

When everything was settled and you returned to wearing your royal garments, you all agreed to tell Ezra in the rare case that he looks for you when you’re fulfilling your duties as the queen that you were sent out in an errand and would be unavailable.

Ezra stood quietly by your door before knocking, he wanted to let you know that it was almost time to meet up with the gungan king. So he spoke through the door.

"Your Majesty, your meeting with the Gungans is about to begin. We should set off soon." He said.

"Yes, We'll be out soon." You said in a serious way using your regal voice.

"I bet a thousand credits he looks for the beautiful handmaiden (Y/N)." Alina teased as she pinned a section of your hair.

"Alina, you don't need to bet, anyone with working eyes can see that this is the case of love at first sight. It's almost too adorable. Perhaps Queen Padmé sent you her blessings through the force." Rosita adds.

"Oh hush, come now. Let's not keep him waiting. I'm sure Carmine has no patience for his inquiries." You said trying to end the conversation.

"Carmine does have such a temper. She should get therapy." Alina said.

Once the door opened, Ezra stood straighter, Carmine noticed this and took note of his behavior. Oh, she already knows that Rosita and Alina would eat this all up. Ezra first noticed you, or the queen. Something in the way he looked at you made you feel like he could see past the royal regalia, then his eyes flitted past you and landed on Rosita. He furrowed his brows and said nothing else. He offered you his arm and smiled.

"Would you like to take my arm as we go out to the ship your majesty?" He asked politely.

"That would be nice. Perhaps whatever or whoever lurks around would second guess themselves before attacking then." You said with a bit of lightheartedness.

"Your majesty, I hope you don't mind me asking you this but." Ezra looked behind you where Rosita, Alina and Carmine all were walking.

"You have a new handmaiden and the one I know is...well, missing. Her name is (Y/N), I was wondering where she went." Ezra asked a bit bashful.

"Oh she was sent out for an errand. She's quite the young woman. Rosita, the one who replaced her is with us now. She's usually busy as well but she wanted to join us, so (Y/N) was kind enough to take her duties in the meantime." You explained.

From behind you both, Rosita arranges to send a Thousand credits to Alina who smiles smugly and Carmine watches them with a small smile of her own.

The meeting with the Gungans went well. After their near decimation both factions in Naboo have formed a better relationship. The Gungans do view you as a friend and respect your need for Anonymity and no longer question your validity as queen.

"Friend, I warn you once more. Rotten souls are after you." The Gungans' king said as you all were on dry land.

"I understand that, thank you for your warning, but have no fear, the resistance sent me a Jedi as a protector." You said confidently.

The king tilts his head and eyes Ezra, and something in his head clicked. Something familiar.

"Long ago, my great grandfather met a Jedi too. Anakin Skywalker. A small child back then but soon became something more. You remind me of how my grandfather described him to us. I trust you then as well." He said as he left to return to his palace under the lake.

Ezra was surprised but also quite uneasy. He knew the truth. Ahsoka told him how Anakin had turned to the dark side and became Darth Vader, then before he died, returned to the light all for the love he had for his son. Still did the Gungans also see that darkness in him? He was taken out of his thoughts when he heard something snap from a distance. Immediately he escorted you back into the ship, far from the back and still away from the door.

"Mr. Bridger, what's wrong?" You asked.

"Someone was out there in the woods. He wasn't careful and he stepped on something. I can feel them in the force, I know it's not an animal, their footsteps were too cautious." Ezra answered.

Ezra looked at you and something was truly telling him that you looked different from earlier. A miniscule, almost microscopic change. Yes your handmaidens all were nearly identical to you but they too had something different. He could tell who's who, but you. He thought to himself that you, the queen, looked a little too perfectly similar to the handmaiden (Y/N).

(Y/N), his thoughts wandered as the ship returned to the palace and you returned to your quarters to eat. His food was sent to his room as well. He wondered if you were back too. It is nearly dark outside and even if you were the Queen's handmaiden, one of her elite fighters. He truly couldn't help but worry. He decided to eat and perhaps roam the garden that he saw from earlier, maybe the cool air would ease his thoughts.

When he arrived at the garden, there he saw you. You were back from your duties. He jogged towards the small bridge that lay atop a beautiful man made pond.

"Good evening little miss handmaiden." Ezra's voice greeted you.

You turned and smiled, now back in your false handmaiden uniform. Well one of the many handmaiden uniforms.

"Good evening Jedi. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" You asked lightheartedly.

"Nothing much, I just wanted to see the garden, Carmine said it was a sight to see." He said as he looked up at the sky.

"This is one of the Gardens. I should take you to Padmé's Garden. Although it also houses her mausoleum, the garden that surrounds it is such a beauty." You offered.

"I'd like that, but perhaps we could go there once the threat of your queen getting killed is neutralized. I feel pretty bad that this is all happening." Ezra admitted.

"why? You aren't at fault." You said.

"My return marked the return of Grand Admiral Thrawn. My return marked his as well, and the new hope he brings to the empire." Ezra added.

"In my opinion, the empire would have always found a way to return, with or without Thrawn. They were just lucky he had devotees." You said with a scoff.

"That's true but I guess, I feel like I sped up the process." He said.

"We'll it doesn't matter. With you back, well I think we'll be in good hands. Plus the queen appreciates you and your dedication." You said truthfully, cheeks turning red with your words.

"The queen is also a beauty huh?" Ezra asked.

"Really? Do you like her?" You asked teasingly.

"I like her as a person, but looking at her and then looking at you versus all her handmaidens, you two look so similar. Don't mind that though, perhaps I'm just looking into it too much." Ezra said bashfully.

Ezra looked at you and smiled, he knew he basically said that you too looked beautiful as he compared you to the queen. Noticing the growing darkness, Ezra grabs you by the crook of your elbow and brings you both indoors.

"it's late, we should probably head to bed. I'll see you whenever you're free then. Goodnight (Y/N), it truly is lovely to meet you." He said with a charming smile as he returned to his room.

You walked back to your room, wearing your nightdress and smiled. It truly is a good evening. Your thoughts begin to silence themselves as you soon drifted off to sleep. Having Ezra here would truly be fascinating.

--------------------------------------------

A/N

Here's the complete part one. The second part will be started on soon. I hope you enjoy this though. Thank you

[lauronk]

Would you please write a fic where Joel dies but he comes back to life?

here you are babe, i made myself cry a little with this one, ngl

call my name and save me from the dark

length: ~1.9k words tags: joel & ellie; joel & sarah; canon divergence; joel lives au; magical realism too i guess?; brief mentions of the afterlife; no beta we die like david

Joel always had a feeling it would end like this. He’d done too many fucked up things, spilled too much blood to deserve anything but a violent ending. The years in Jackson, few though they’d been, had been him living on borrowed time.

He just hadn’t thought he’d be taking Tommy and Ellie down with him.

But there’s nothing he can do except peer out through his busted eye at Tommy’s unconscious form, at Ellie pinned down and struggling, tears and blood coating her face. They’d been so close, he and Ellie, so close to fixing things after years of distance. Figures that his past would rear its ugly head now and yank the chance from his grasp.

And he doesn’t even know who this woman is, who her friends are, though he’s got some suspicions. All he knows is that the sight of her looming over him with a golf club is gonna be the last thing he sees.

–

Joel’s never really given much thought to the afterlife, even with as many close calls as he’s had over the years. He figured he’d punched his ticket to Hell a long time ago, and nothing he could do would change that. So maybe he’d thought there would be flames. Fire ants to bite him for eternity, or a lava bath. Anything hot and painful.

He hadn’t expected a giant void. It was kind of like space, he muses, darkness as far as the eye - does he still have eyes? - can see, dotted with the occasional pinpricks of light. But he can’t move, doesn’t think he’s breathing, doesn’t really feel anything. He just…waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And then finally something takes shape in front of him, haloed by an increasingly dense cluster of lights until Joel has to squeeze his eyes shut against the brightness. Then it’s gone, and someone says –

“Hey Dad.”

Joel’s eyes snap open, and there she is. There she fucking is, right in front of him, his daughter, his little girl, his Sarah. She doesn’t look any different than the last time he saw her - curly hair, purple shirt that’s blessedly free of blood. Wide brown eyes and a soft smile.

“Baby girl?” Joel chokes on the words, eyes brimming with tears. Maybe this is his punishment - the sight of Sarah, close enough to hug, before he’s sent off to whatever really awaits him.

Her head tilts. “You’re old.”

Joel can’t help the laugh that escapes him, wet and garbled, and he tries futilely to wipe away some of the tears streaming down his cheeks. They just keep coming though, and he doesn’t know that they’ll ever stop. “I missed you, baby.”

She blinks, her own eyes glassy. “I missed you too.” She sniffs, taking a tentative step forward in whatever empty space they’re currently occupying, hand outstretched until her fingers curl carefully around his. The feel of her, tangible and solid and real, sends Joel to the ground, knees folding until he’s curled up and sobbing. They don’t ache for once, his knees, and Sarah’s hand releases his in favor of coming to rest lightly on his back, rubbing careful circles as his chest heaves.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Joel gasps. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep you safe, I’m so sorry. I failed you and I lost you and I –”

“Shhh.” Sarah crouches next to him, arms looping around his neck and pulling him closer. His face winds up pressed to her shoulder, sobs that he can’t seem to stop rolling through him again and again. “You’re alright. We’re alright.”

Always taking care of him when he should be taking care of her.

Joel gets an arm around her and squeezes, pressing a kiss to her cheek, her temple, the crown of her head, anywhere he can manage. She smells the same too, like the coconut from her shampoo and the crisp cleanness of their laundry detergent.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever let her go now.

Joel doesn’t think time passes while they sit in the void, at least not that he can tell. But it feels like an eternity and a second before Sarah is shifting backwards, small hands coming up to cup his cheeks. She’s beaming at him for some reason, smile stretching all across her face.

Fuck, he’s missed her so much. Even on his better days there was always a giant, gaping hole in his chest, a limb he was missing, a breath that was harder to catch because Sarah wasn’t there. And here she is again, whole and healthy, fourteen still, brimming with that same bright energy she’d always had. His beautiful, perfect baby girl.

“You gotta go back, Dad,” she says, and Joel rears back until her hands land on his shoulders to steady him.

“Go ba– no, baby, I can’t go back. I’m stayin’ here with you.”

Sarah’s eyes fill with tears again, a few making sparkling tracks down her cheeks as she shakes her head. “You can’t. If you stay, it won’t be…it won’t be with me.”

Right. Of course it wouldn’t. Nothing he’s done earns him the privilege of being with his daughter again, nothing he’s done has given him that right. This brief, beautiful, terrible glimpse was all he was ever gonna get.

But Sarah’s next words yank any remaining air from his lungs. “You have to go back for Ellie.”

“Ellie –?”

But of course. Ellie, his other girl, the one he left behind. The one he last saw pinned to the ground, mouth moving in words he couldn’t make out. Ellie.

Something in his chest fractures, a fissure opening up where his heart had briefly been whole.

“She needs you,” Sarah’s saying, her lower lip wobbling. “She needs you real bad. I can’t - I can’t tell you everything, but you have to go back for her. If you stay here, she’s gonna…it’s gonna be real bad. For her and Uncle Tommy both.”

“Baby, I don’t think I –”

“No, you have to!” Sarah bursts out, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes. “You don’t get it, you –” She inhales unsteadily, her fear and sorrow a tangible thing sitting between the two of them in this empty space. “When you’re dead you can…you can still see everything. You can watch what everyone’s doing, the choices they make. You can watch them become someone you don’t even recognize.” The last sentence is a whisper, and Joel feels it slip around his throat to strangle him.

She’d seen it. All the terrible, fucked up things he’d done, the people he’d tortured and killed, the drugs he’d taken, the ways he’d punished himself for failing to save her. She’d watched all of it.

And yet she was still here in front of him with love in her eyes, not reprimanding him or judging him.

He never had deserved her, not for a minute.

“You don’t want to see Ellie go through that,” Sarah whispers. “She’s too much like you, Dad, maybe even more like you than I was. She’s too stubborn and determined and she fights so hard when she loves someone. She’s gonna upend her life trying to avenge you.”

Joel shakes his head, tearing his gaze from his daughter for the first time. “No, Ellie and me, we –”

“I don’t have time to argue with you about it,” she interrupts, her eyes taking on that stubborn glint he remembers all too well from the time she’d wanted a tenth birthday at the Riverwalk. “You just have to trust me, and you have to go back. You have to, Dad.”

“And you called her stubborn,” Joel mutters.

Sarah laughs briefly, but it fades and then she’s placing a small hand on each cheek again and lifting his face. “Go back,” she whispers. “Go back and save her. You couldn’t save me –”

“Baby –”

“– but you can save her. So please.” Her voice breaks, the vision of her blurring as more tears fill his eyes. “Please go save her.”

“Okay,” Joel whispers. “Okay, baby girl, I’ll go back for you. You and her.”

Sarah’s smile is the brightest thing in the darkness around them. The last thing he feels is her hand over his chest, a whispered I love you meeting his ears before everything fades out again.

–

There’s not a single piece of him that doesn’t hurt, even as he feels outside his body. No idea where he is or what’s happening, only a constant, unending pain. It ebbs and flows, some periods unbearable enough to make him wish for the void of death again.

But the tether doesn’t snap this time, and all Joel can do is hold on.

–

The first thing he hears is beeping. Rhythmic, quiet beeping, and after a moment Joel realizes it’s in time with his heartbeat.

It takes an eternity, but he peels open his eyes. No - his eye. His left remains shut, his right only opening with concerted effort. It’s dark, wherever he is, only faint pinpricks of light illuminating the area nearest him. All he can make out is the shape of someone curled in a chair, draped in a blanket.

Ellie.

He can’t see her, but he knows.

Joel tries to say her name, to say anything, but his throat constricts, his chest aching. All he can manage is some kind of grunt, the beep of his heart rate picking up ever so slightly.

But it’s enough - Ellie stirs.

“Joel?” She asks sleepily, shifting and turning bleary eyes on him.

This time, he gets the words out. “Hey, kiddo.”

A ragged oh my god spills from Ellie before she’s kicking the blanket off and stumbling three paces forward and crumpling with her head landing on his chest. It sends flares of pain ricocheting through his ribs, starbursts erupting in his vision, but he doesn’t dare ask her to move. Instead he carefully wraps his right arm around her shoulders, hissing out a breath as his side screams in protest.

“How in the fuck –?” Ellie sobs against him, fingers tangling in the front of his shirt.

“Sarah,” Joel mumbles, throat tightening again and a fresh press of tears welling in his good eye. Ellie tenses against him but doesn’t pull away. “Sent me back. Said you and my dipshit brother were gonna do somethin’ dumb.”

A wet laugh escapes her, shoulders shaking. “Think those painkillers fried your brain, old man.”

Maybe. But Joel wanted to believe it had been Sarah, one of his girls trying to protect the other. “How long –?”

“Three weeks,” Ellie whispers. When she finally straightens, Joel can see the plum-colored shadows under her eyes, the way her shirt - his shirt, his favorite flannel - hangs off her too-thin frame. “You – we brought you back to Jackson and right when we got in the walls you started breathing. Freaked us all out because we checked, a million times. You’d had no pulse, no heartbeat, no breath.” Her voice cracks, one thin hand reaching for his the same as Sarah’s had. “And then we got you in here and you’ve just…you weren’t waking up.”

“‘M sorry,” Joel mumbles, squeezing her hand as best he can.

“It’s okay.” Ellie laughs again, a delirious kind of thing that sends a fall of tears from her eyes. “Just don’t ever do it again, or I’ll fucking kill you myself, got it?”

“Yeah,” Joel smiles, even as it makes the side of his face twinge in agony. “Yeah, I got it.”

thanks for reading! feel free to continue submitting ficlet ideas but just know there will be a wait for it because i have a bunch piled up

also i have put all my ficlets on ao3 in one multi-chapter work for convenience, you can find them here

[stormyrainyday]

omg ty for the tag @offworld-lamb

Friday Kiss Tag!

Rules: from your Story/WIP, share a kiss. It can be any kiss, from familial pecks on the cheek, forehead kisses, platonic smooches, to full-blown makeouts

And, as always, if you don’t have a kiss to share—no worries! You can always use this as a writing share tag as well.

Rules: Share a snippet of your writing!

fought demons deciding if this should be from a crackfic or from a serious work LMAO. Here's an extra shenhe/lumine fic chapter that's buried in my ao3 somewhere.

Lighting injuries were uncommon outside of Inazuma; in the rest of Teyvat, thunderstorms were far and few in between, and on the rare occasion they struck, most relished the opportunity to stay inside and take comfort by the fire, listening to the smattering of water falling on their roofs. Even those that do brave the torrents know to listen for the hiss of electricity, and take cover as soon as they are able.

Lumine, as it happened, did not sustain this particular burn from a storm, however. In her fight with Childe for Morax’s gnosis, a harsh bolt of Electro energy caught her from behind, sending searing pain down her back. At the time, she’d sworn profusely from the pain. Now, she was just grateful it missed her spine. Though the potential neuropathologies were curable, Dr. Baizhu had said the rehabilitation process was brutal. As it was, she’d escape with a scar and an interesting story to tell. 

Treatment was thankfully straightforward: cool compresses, burn ointment, and painkillers. In her room at the local inn (an accommodation provided to her by Lady Ningguang after saving the city from imminent doom), Lumine sighed and downed the pills, wincing at the bitterness. Then she uncapped the ointment, bracing herself for the task of applying it. Couldn’t Childe have hit me in the leg? Arm, maybe? Anywhere else would be less of a pain in the ass to apply. 

A knock at the door startled her. Quickly, she stood and opened it. Shenhe entered without preamble. Lumine didn’t mind; after their kiss on the beach, in the wake of Osial’s defeat, their feelings for each other were clear. There was no longer a need for formalities. Truthfully, she’d only locked the door to get the grateful people of Liyue to leave her alone. Lumine knew they meant well, but gods she was tired of people on her doorstep asking if she needed anything. 

Shenhe sat perched on the edge of the bed, like a bird about to take off. Her eyes traced the boundaries of the room– noting the exits, she explained once to Lumine. Having spent so much of her life outdoors, being inside often felt like confinement rather than comfort. 

Lumine smiled tiredly at her, before reaching for the ointment again. 

“Hey Shenhe. Busy day?”

The dark-haired woman nodded. “Though most of the Harbor was spared, the city wasn’t prepared for so much rainfall. The flood damage will take time to repair.” She’d taken to assisting with the reconstruction efforts as a way to re-enter society. It put her considerable strength to use, and her knowledge of the surrounding areas made her valuable in resource accumulation. Though she was still clearly uncomfortable being around people, the sense of community that formed after collectively experiencing disaster made people kinder, more empathetic– in other words, she received a warm welcome from the citizens. Her own role in the defeat of Osial didn’t go unnoticed either. She’d acquired her own share of admirers, something Shenhe found more than a little strange.

“Mmm. I don’t have any doubt that Liyue will recover.”

Lumine turned the tube in her hands. She was sick of the herbal aroma, and dreaded having to contort her body to reach all areas of the burn. The thought of the raw, pink skin stretching made her wince. She felt Shenhe’s gaze follow it, then slide to the edges of the injury peeking out from beneath her clothes. Lumine hadn’t let her see the extent of the damage, always tending to it when she was alone. 

“Lumine, give me the medicine,” Shenhe said, holding out a hand. 

“What? No, it’s fine. I’ll manage.”

Shenhe simply plucked it from her hands instead. “Remove your shirt.”

Heat spread across the girl’s cheeks. She almost wanted to protest, but Shenhe’s stern gaze left no room for argument. It’s not intimate, it’s practical. When did I become such a stickler for modesty anyway? 

Gingerly, she pulled the shirt over her head, but kept it wrapped around her arms, which she folded protectively over her chest. Then she turned her back to Shenhe, revealing the burn in all its shiny, painful glory. 

She heard the woman suck in a breath. It began at her left shoulder, then snaked across her back in angry red starbursts, ending just beneath her ribs on the right side. Small lines erupted like branches from the main injury, resembling a fern. Lumine snuck a glance at the tiny mirror on the wall. The burn looked uglier now, than it did when she first received it, parts of it beginning to scab over– all part of the normal healing process, she reminded herself, but it did little to console her.

“I know it’s hideous,” Lumine said quietly, keeping her gaze averted. “Give me the ointment. You don’t have to do this.” 

“Nonsense,” Shenhe snapped, though without hostility. “Sit down.” She gestured to the bed, standing up to make room.

Lumine took her seat, cross legged, slouched slightly to better expose her back. More objections floated on her lips but she swallowed them. She was more grateful for the help than she cared to admit. 

Shenhe sat beside her, attention undivided as she squeezed the salve onto her fingers. Lumine braced herself for the touch.

As Shenhe made contact with the injury, coolness spread across its harsh lines, the pain seeming to evaporate into the medicine. Lumine couldn’t help but sigh as the tension left her. She visibly relaxed as Shenhe’s fingers gently massaged her skin, tracing over the muscles of her back and releasing the tightness. Her cold touch soothed the burned skin, a feeling so blissful it nearly brought tears to Lumine’s eyes. She closed them, just in case some really did escape. It didn’t feel like this when she did it herself. In fact it was almost as if…

“Shenhe, are you applying Cryo over it?”

Shenhe paused. “I am. Does it hurt? I’m sorry, I used to do it for myself all the time, when I’d burn myself. I’ll stop.”

“No, please don’t. It’s perfect.” She turned over her shoulder to meet Shenhe’s eyes. “Thank you.”

Shenhe smiled at her, close lipped as her smiles always were, like it was a secret meant just for her. Lumine straightened a bit, leaning back to press a gentle kiss on her cheek, lips meeting soft skin. 

“Turn back so I can finish applying this. Now is not the time,” Shenhe chided her. There was no sternness in her voice however; Lumine giggled as she watched heat rise in the other woman’s cheeks. She cupped her face gently, and stole one more kiss– a playful one on the lips, this time– before complying. 

She’d make sure to resume her show of gratitude as soon as Shenhe was done.

[ladylynse]

Happy Halloween. :) Trick or treat. :D

Everything you write is nice, so it's hard to choose a 3-sentence fic to ask you to expand on. D: But I think the DP "Was a kiss worth it" one might have a lot of potential for expansion. https://ladylynse.tumblr.com/post/188181019551/3-sentence-prompt-pls-was-a-kiss-worth-it

Happy Halloween! Glad to hear you had some difficulty making your choice, but it's such an intriguing one. *grins*

The three sentence fic was originally posted here, but I've copied it here (in italics) for ease of reading. A warning for character death, as implied by that original ficlet.

-|-

“Tell me,” cooed Desiree as she rose from the flames, “was a kiss worth the price?”

Vlad didn’t have the energy to yell at her, to fight; he was too exhausted after trying—and failing—to save Maddie.

He should have known that Desiree would find a way to twist this wish in the most vindictive way, but he hadn’t realized he’d made it in her hearing, and then he hadn’t been sorry that he had—until now.

Desiree waved a hand when he didn’t answer, and the flames vanished as if they had been under Ember’s control instead of hers.

Magic, the lot of it.

A fool might say that none of it had been real, but that wasn’t true.

This was real.

Every last ashen thing in this room was real; the difference was that none of it had been destroyed naturally.

Butter biscuits, was he supposed to consider himself lucky that Desiree had decided to play with him and had limited her damage to one room of his mansion? Did she think that would save her once he recovered the strength to hunt her down? Did she think that would save her once Daniel discovered what she’d done and hunted her down?

Jack might try to join in the hunt, too, but even Desiree could evade that bumbling oaf given half the opportunity. Really, Jack would only serve to handicap Jasmine—and perhaps Daniel, if he still wanted to protect his secret.

Vlad wasn’t sure he did, even if it meant Jack finding out exactly what he’d done to the person he’d claimed was his best friend.

“You said you would give anything to share one kiss with your Maddie,” mocked Desiree. “And when Phantom told you he’d strike a deal with Nocturne to make sure that never even happened in your dreams, you wished—”

“I was there,” Vlad interrupted. The phantom scent of smoke still clogged his nostrils and stung at his eyes, making them tear up.

Or were those the symptoms of a truth he didn’t want to acknowledge, a price that should have never been paid?

Maddie—

“I know what I wished.” His words were a whisper now, but Desiree was still smirking, still thriving off the destruction she’d wrought. She couldn’t be as strong as Spectra would be if Vlad were facing her instead, but Desiree wasn’t afraid to play the long game, either. She knew what chaos the death of a ghost hunter at the hands of a ghost could create.

Vlad’s eyes found Maddie’s unmoving form again.

This couldn’t be over.

He wouldn’t let it be over.

“So was it worth it?” taunted Desiree again. “That one kiss? Knowing you’ll never get another from her?”

Vlad’s eyes flicked back to Desiree. He took a slow breath, imagined he was in a board meeting with imbeciles, and ground out, “I said I would give anything to share that kiss with my dearest Maddie, and yes, I wished it were so to spite Daniel, but Maddie was not yet mine to give. Her life is not a price you should have taken, nor is it a twist you can claim was within your rights.” He pushed himself to his feet and let the fury coursing through his veins gather in his palms as crackling lightning. “Fix this, or molecular destruction at the hands of Jack Fenton will be the least of your concerns.”

(see more fics)

[captmickey]

Fic prompt? Ooh boy, hm. Monkey Island, naturally, um…feeling brave enough to write something with Elaine and Guybrush adapting to baby Lucas? Or, pregnant Elaine if that’s easier…have at it, awesome artist.

It was the sound of crying late in the middle of the night that woke the two up. 

Elaine, who was naturally a light sleeper, groaned slightly and tried to push herself up, contemplating if this was the end of her night or not. She was always, as mentioned, a light sleeper. She had always needed to be on alert for potential pirates, undead exes, or thieves before, during and well after her time as Governor. 

Now being a mother, falling into a deep sleep was rarer than ever before. 

She couldn’t and wouldn’t complain, however. That was just a part of being a new mother, according to one of the laughable many baby books Guybrush had read. It was natural for a baby’s schedule to be a bit… skewed in the beginning stages, that when they cry it wasn’t because they were upset, but because they wanted something and naturally could only vocalize it in the one way they could: crying. 

But her body ached from wanting to sleep. Just a few hours, really. That small selfish part of her whispered it into her ear in hopes of being heard.

Yet she ignored it in favor of wanting to be there for her son, to let him always know that no matter what, she was here for him… at least, that’s what she kept telling herself is her reasoning for not sleeping properly. 

A good mother is always there for their child, she thought.

Guybrush, who had been notorious for being a heavy sleeper, a fact that confused the daylights out of Elaine and everyone that knew him, found himself to slowly become a somewhat light sleeper ever since the day Elaine became pregnant. Deep sleep tended to elude him, what with his tendency of insomnia, but it had only gotten worse while he was learning the ins and outs of being a father (a task that Carla, repeatedly, laughed at him about because one doesn’t ‘learn’ how to be a good parent) that when the day finally arrived, he kissed goodbye to any and all form of sleep.

The last thing he wanted to do, one he swore to himself he would never, ever do, was not be present in his child’s life. 

His own memories of his parents are foggy or misconstrued or even forgotten, but he knew he was never going to repeat their mistakes. He was going to stay here and be by his wife and son’s sides no matter what.

He was going to be a good father… whatever that truly meant. 

He groaned, knowing that the cusp of sleep slipped through his fingers once again as the child cried and groggily opened his eyes, seeing the room was dim save for the occasional glints of Melee’s moon that peeked through the curtain. 

Guybrush looked to his side, seeing Elaine’s weary and exhausted green eyes were looking at him, undoubtedly scolding herself to get up.

“I got this…” he slurred, sitting up as strands of long, loose blond hair obscured his face. “Keep sleepin’.”

“Hmm… no… it's my turn…” she slurred an argument back, though her eyelids said otherwise. 

He couldn’t help but smile and brushed back his hair to get a better look at her, leaning over to give her a kiss on her forehead before crawling out of the bed to the crib. He knew she meant it, she was adamant about being present, answering the call no matter what. But he also knew she needed sleep, far more than he did, in any case.

Elaine felt the bed shifting for a moment, hearing her husband getting out of the comforting blanket and his feet walking slowly on the wooden floor. She was still used to the sounds of the ship, hearing the occasional creaking of the make-shift home and laps of the water swaying, but it was Guybrush’s executive decision that they would stay on land… for her and the child’s sake. And while she missed the bob and weave of the ship, she did find comfort knowing the crib wasn’t about to be flung halfway across the room during a storm. 

Guybrush walked to the crib, brushing his hair behind his ears so it wouldn’t be in his way as he bent down to pick up the wailing baby. He examined to see what was wrong, that perhaps the diaper needed to be changed or maybe the baby needed to be fed. Nothing smelled terrible, and the loud wails turned to just basic crying when he was picked up. Holding the head proper as he was shown how to and walking a little around the room, he gently started to rock him.

“Shh… it’s okay…” he whispered, “daddy’s here, it’s okay… no need to cry…” The baby continued to cry, though the intensity was slowly subsiding as Guybrush continued to walk slowly back and forth in the room. “It’s okay… shhh…”

Slowly but surely, the crying became small whimpers as Guybrush took a seat on the bed once again, feeling the shift in the blanket as Elaine sat up and moved back her own hair.

“Elaine? You need to sleep…” Guybrush whispered to her.

She shook her head and extended her arms out. Guybrush, not even planning on humoring at keeping the child away from her, handed him over. She gently took hold of the baby, his crying all but quieting to soft snores as she hummed a lullaby to him and the baby snuggled closer in her arms. The bed shifted again as Guybrush got closer, gently brushing a thumb against the baby’s cheek to wipe away any tears.

“You got quite the touch there, Laineykins.” He whispered. “Got him to stop crying somehow.”

“Well, I’m not so sure I would have been successful if you hadn’t calmed him prior.” She chuckled. 

“So… a team effort?”

“Obviously.”

He quietly laughed and continued to look at the sleeping baby. Looking perfectly content in his mother’s arms. 

They have been on many adventures, some of a life or death nature, some when the fate of the entire world was at stake.

Yet the idea of parenthood made both of their blood run cold.

It was funny, how for the entirety of the pregnancy, the two had contemplated repeatedly about being parents, the endless late nights (that, Guybrush now realized, was a little bit of preparation to their current endless late nights) conversations in regards to being good parents. Were they going to be good? Could they even be considered as good when they themselves were pirates? How one had their parents be bums and the other non-existent, who could they ask for input on parenting? 

The quiet moments when they sat on the pier, realizing slowly how there was going to be another being in their life that they were going to raise together. How absolutely terrifying and wonderful it was going to be. 

That the unknown of it all was… frightening. 

But they were in this together. That was an unwavering given fact and oath to one another. And seeing the baby sound asleep between his parents, whether consciously or unconsciously knowing full well that he was deeply and terribly loved and safe, it made the two of them happy. That they don’t regret a single thing about this choice.

“Elaine?”

“Hm?”

“Do you remember when you asked me if you were going to be a good mother?” He asked. “And I said you were going to be amazing?”

She frowned a little and nodded, undoubtedly that conversation was plaguing her thoughts as she held the baby close. She felt him wrap an arm around her, pulling her and the child close to him.

“Told you so. You’re absolutely amazing.”

Elaine chuckled and nuzzled her head against him. “You’re doing great too, sweetie.”

“We got this.” He grinned. 

Her shoulders sagged slightly, feeling a bit more relaxed at the reassurance and comfort. The two looked at the sleeping baby, unable to bring themselves to put him back in his crib as they stayed in that quiet bliss.

“He’s making the same face you make when you sleep.” Elaine whispered. “Did you notice that?”

“Lets just hope he gets the heavy sleeping aspect as well… kinda missed having a full night’s sleep.” Guybrush joked, getting a scoff from Elaine.

“Like you had any, Mister Insomnia.”

“....fair enough.” He smiled.

“Although, now that you mention it, when do we start getting sleep back?” She asked, the bags under her eyes being prominent somehow in the dark. 

Guybrush’s pursed lips was her answer and she muttered a ‘darn’ under her breath.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Eclipse: Chapter 7

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Adventure Characters: Apollo, Hades Ah, the glorious sound of readers reacting to a plot twist... Glad you seemed to enjoy last chapter - next question is... what's next? I also just realised I keep forgetting to mention in these A/Ns that I have a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi! <<Chapter 6

APOLLO VII

The long descent down A primordial body Time to find my son

Apollo was seething.  Distantly, he was aware of Hades walking away from him, continuing in the same direction he’d been leading from the beginning, no doubt towards the Prison, but he could not bring himself to try and persuade his uncle that splitting up in Tartarus was a bad idea.

Right then, Hades was the last person Apollo wanted to go with him.  His uncle had not answered his demand whether he’d been involved in Asclepius’ apparent new and increased punishment, but that was as good as a confirmation, to Apollo’s mind.  His uncle had always been angry with Asclepius for the initial creation of the Physician’s Cure, despite his father being the one to actually punish him for doing so; it was not hard to believe that his fury would flare up once again at the revival of the Cure, no matter how justified it had been.

And it had been justified.  Apollo had known the risks when he picked the flower and handed it to Leo in exchange for the Valdezinator, bidding him to visit his son and pass on the message that Apollo was approving its creation.  He had thought that the punishment for that would be mitigated by its necessity, or barring that, that he would be the one to take the brunt of it.  It had not occurred to him that it would be his son, once again, who would be punished.

He'd been a fool, he realised.  His father often hurt those closest to him in punishment; why shouldn’t he take it out on Asclepius a second time?  Six months of mortality, of trials and tribulations and the all-too close possibility of death clearly were not enough.  His father had to go one step further, had to hurt his son on top of all of that, remind Apollo that no act of defiance, no matter how minor, could ever go unpunished.

No matter what Hades thought, it was Apollo’s fault his son was down here, in this inhospitable pit that Asclepius was no better suited for than Will, save the singular distinction of his elder son’s immortality, and he would not, could not, leave him to his fate.

His son’s presence was faint, faint enough that it had taken him the length of their trek from their landing point to the banks of the Phlegethon to identify what had been niggling at the edge of his senses and come to the horrified conclusion that it wasn’t merely a product of his imagination.  Asclepius’ presence was not as familiar to him as he would have liked, thanks to their forced separation, but there was still the distinctive edge of care, of healing and light and love, that sang out to Apollo’s own essence.

Down here, it was less of a song and more of a cry for help.  Apollo had to answer it, no matter what his uncle thought.

He’d failed Asclepius too many times.  He couldn’t fail him again.

Tartarus tore at his feet as he walked, uncaring that he was a god – or perhaps reminding him that Tartarus was a primordial, far, far greater than Apollo could ever hope to be, and that by willingly falling into the Pit, he had placed himself at the absent mercy of the primordial.  His form constantly resealed, faster than ichor could spill, and compared to the agonies of mortality, it was nothing, so Apollo didn’t let it bother him.

Nor would he let his waning power bother him.  He could feel it, had been able to feel it since they fell, his hands clutching his uncle tightly to stay together – how quickly things changed.  Away from the light, away from the sun and songs and music and life, his power was less.  There was no drama surrounding it – it was not sudden, and compared to his time as Lester it was negligible, but Apollo was still aware of it.

There was a time limit.  The longer he stayed in Tartarus, so far removed from the domains he was best known for, the ones that gave him his greatest power, the weaker he would become, and the greater the danger the Pit posed to him would become in turn.

Apollo was not so weak that it would be a problem soon, but time in Tartarus passed oddly, perhaps because of his grandfather’s scattered remains, or perhaps simply because Tartarus did not care for things such as time and so it had no reliable hold.  What was time to a being as old as the Pit?  Compared to Tartarus, Apollo might as well be the same young child he was when he’d battled Python the first time around.

It was not a comforting thought.

He latched onto Asclepius’ faint presence – was it faint because of distance, or because his son was Fading?  The pessimistic part of Apollo whispered it was both, and he increased his pace, ignoring the monsters on his periphery as they eyed him, no doubt wondering why one of the Olympians was traipsing through their birthplace, place of re-birth.

Apollo was not so naïve as to expect them to be staying back out of any degree of fear.  Even in the Overworld, it was hate, not fear, that monsters held for the gods.  Down here, in their own respawning zone, it was contempt that Apollo could feel.  What did it matter that he could slay them with a single arrow?  They would be reborn again, and Apollo suspected that the rebirths would not take long.

At least, not for monsters that opposed Apollo.  His time as a mortal had taught him that things typically did not go his way.  Part of him longed to see Crest again, to hear some blissful music in this place of glass and moans and hate, but Crest did not deserve to get tangled up in another of Apollo’s quests, pitted against his own kind and punished for it.  Indeed, if he did that here, in the Pit, defying Tartarus himself… it was all too likely there would be no rebirth for him ever again.

No, it was for the best that Crest did not respawn while Apollo was down here, or if he had, that their paths did not cross.

He kept walking, kept following Asclepius’ too-faint presence while watched by monsters whose contempt and curiosity would not hold them back from attacking forever, and tried not to think about whether Hades was continuing their original quest or would decide it wasn’t his problem after all and return to the Underworld.  Earlier, Apollo would not have thought he would, but after the unpleasant realisation about Asclepius’ new punishment, he was less deposed towards positive thoughts regarding his uncle.  In fact, he wasn’t sure he wanted to cross paths with Hades again for some time.

Certainly not before Asclepius was safe and out of the Pit.  Where he would go to avoid his father’s wrath, Apollo did not know, but he would find somewhere.  Delos, perhaps; when it came to Asclepius, Artemis had little room to complain.  It had been for her benefit that the Physician’s Cure had been created, and while Apollo knew she regretted the resulting fallout and had forgiven her unfortunate part in Asclepius’ death – she was his twin, his other half, how could he not forgive her – he was still not above using it to ensure his son’s safety if it came to it.

First of all, though, he had to find Asclepius, and that was not a task that Tartarus was making simple.  The Phlegethon ran, its scorching flames searing cold, some way off to his left as he traipsed across the vicious glass-sand of its banks, while on his right, the sheer cliffs that marked the edge of the Pit towered high above, disappearing into clouds of ominous crimson, the colour of fresh mortal blood.  The surface of the cliff itself was jagged and threatening, a reminder that while there was a high-security prison within Tartarus, the Pit itself was a prison, and generally discouraged departure, especially for things it did not want to leave.  Between the two, where Apollo was walking, the ground was pitted with crevasses and riddled with structures not unlike volcanoes; nothing overly dangerous to a god, but still obstacles that needed to be navigated, taking time that Apollo could not confidently track and did not have to spare as he scrambled ungainly across a lattice of jagged boulders blocking his path and then took a running leap over a gash the width of the throne room of Olympus.

He almost didn’t make it, hands scrabbling at the lip and staining the dark, glassy stones with gold as the edges crumbled away beneath his grip.  For one terrifying moment, he thought he would fall, down into unimaginable depths that didn’t feel like Chaos itself but would likely be not much easier to escape.

A surge of fear, triggered by the thought of Chaos, of remembering Python and unravelling into non-existence, gave him the strength to grab a little bit further, onto a piece of jagged Tartarus ground, and haul himself out of the chasm.  He scrambled out, on his hands and knees in a fashion far more like the mortal Lester than the god Apollo, and gave himself a moment to recompose.

His hands were covered in gold, the wounds sealing instantly but the evidence remaining until he wiped it on the fabric beneath his armour, before remembering that he could just will it away.

It was a warning, a small taste of what Tartarus could do even to a god.  Apollo was well aware that things would get far, far worse before the prophecy was fulfilled and the quest over.  He knew that Nico had, in a manner of speaking, survived Tartarus before, as had the combined forces of Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, but in the Pit himself, facing the trial of Tartarus at full godly strength, he honestly could not see how they had managed it.

He was more certain than ever that Will would not have done.  Not because he doubted his son – Will was powerful, resourceful, and smart – but because Tartarus truly was the antithesis of everything Will was.

It was also the antithesis of everything Asclepius was, and Apollo clung to the traces of his son’s presence tightly as he pulled himself to his feet again, glaring at the monsters that had inched closer, sensing brief weakness in the god in their midst.  He had a son to rescue.

He resumed his trek, following the wall of the Pit and increasingly aware that the glow of the Phlegethon was getting ever closer as he walked.  While he knew of the rivers, what they did and the dangers they posed, Apollo didn’t know the paths they took within the PIt.  He did know that, at some point, he would need to cross the river of fire in order to reach the Prison itself, because Hades would not have taken that route if there was an alternative one, but beyond that, he was in the uncomfortable position of not knowing, which was not a position the god of knowledge ever liked to find himself.

As he advanced, he kept to the wall, feeling the slight incline beneath his feet that said he was getting deeper into Tartarus, and continued to track his son’s presence, concerned that no matter how far he seemed to walk, there was no noticeable strengthening.

Assuming he had been punished shortly after Apollo’s memory gap began, Asclepius had been in Tartarus for a year; that wasn’t a long time in the lifespan of a god, but Apollo could personally attest to how some short spans of time could be the most impactful – and dangerous.

Apollo kept walking, not needing to pause for a rest like he would have done as Lester, as a mortal rather than a god, but even he could not tell how long he had kept going for with the fluidity and distortion of time within the Pit.  It could have been mere minutes, or hours, or days.  Weeks, months, years – Apollo hoped not, but even he with his usual innate sense of time (a necessity in his role as the god of the sun) could not say with any conviction that it had not been.

Eventually – after minutes or eons or both - it became apparent that the strip of glassy ground between the wall and the river was shrinking with the eventual fate of disappearing entirely as the fire rushed to meet the solid wall, cutting off Apollo’s current route and forcing him to make a crossing.  Unlike where he had parted ways with Hades however long ago, the river here was wide as well as furious, easily triple its earlier width as it crashed into the wall before zig-zagging along it with tongues of fire leaping up and illuminating more of the dark, jagged material that made up that particular edge of the prison.

The river was one of healing, but it was not Apollo’s brand of healing.  It did not heal out of love, but cruelty, forcing bodies to go past their limits, to endure, and denying souls the release of ending their existence.  At least, that was its role in the Underworld, as it ran past the Fields of Punishment and sustained the souls of the wicked condemned to an eternity of torture.

Apollo had no doubt that it was even crueller down in Tartarus, rushing eagerly towards the heart of the primordial.

Unfortunately, it was between him and Asclepius, and Apollo dared not take the extra time to backtrack all the way to where he had left Hades to find a narrower stretch.  Asclepius’ presence was too faint for that, and part of him feared losing track of his son if he headed away from him again.

He didn’t stop walking until he was right on the banks, feeling the frigid heat of the flames licking up at him, almost eagerly waiting for him to take the first step into its clutches.

Apollo didn’t have another choice.  He took the step.

Phlegethon couldn’t kill him; the river god was old, but Apollo was an Olympian.  Perhaps once, pain would have been enough to make him falter – pain was not a familiar sensation for gods, after all, and while they could physically endure it, mentally was another matter entirely – but Apollo had spent six months as a mortal, injured more often than not and more than once knocking on Thanatos’ door.

Compared to being flayed alive, being unravelled alongside Python on the edge of Chaos, the searing cold of the Phlegethon was nothing.

Apollo pushed forwards, feeling the outer layer of his form peeling away under the onslaught as the god lashed out at him.  One step after another, he descended into the river, catching glimpses of a face in the flickering flames, fragmented throughout the fire, his stature growing and growing to keep his head above water as the riverbed sank deeper and deeper.

It took effort, with both the river and the Pit fighting him, but Apollo knew that swimming the river would be a fools’ errand.  It might be a river, but it was fire, not water, and fire was categorically not for swimming in.  He didn’t know how the demigods had managed to cross, unless the river god had taken mercy on them.

Phlegethon certainly was not taking mercy on Apollo.

It was a battle of wills; the river god clearly did not wish to let Apollo pass, but Apollo’s son was on the other side, and he would not be kept from Asclepius by a river, even if said river was one of the Underworld rivers.

Ichor dripped into the flames, gold swallowed by blazing orange, and then onto the glassy shards of the Pit’s ground as Apollo emerged the other side of the river, his physical form shredded but regenerating rapidly.  No doubt he looked a terrible sight as he returned to a human size on the bank, feeling his body seal back up again now that the fire river could no longer sear it apart.  It certainly wasn’t a pleasant sensation.

Some of the ever-watching monsters clearly thought he looked weakened.  As he pulled himself upright, giving himself a moment to re-centre after the ordeal of fire water – and resignedly realising that he would likely need to cross it again to leave Tartarus – a troop of empousai swooped upon him, batting eyelashes even as they lunged for the kill.

Each one fell to a single arrow long before they could reach him, and Apollo was aware of the slight retreat of the other observing monsters.  Very few fled entirely, though, and he knew that they were biding their time, waiting for Tartarus to wear him down further.

They had time, numbers, and regeneration on their side, after all.

Apollo refused to hold arrows at the ready; his draw time was fast enough that, against monsters like these, he didn’t need to broadcast any wariness.  He kept his head high and his grip on his bow relaxed as ichor dissolved away, leaving him as unblemished as he had been before his trip through the Phlegethon, and continued striding across the surface of the Pit, towards where he could sense his son.

Beneath his feet, the ground was softer this side of the river.  Not by much – glassy shards still tore at the soles of his form – but enough to let him know that he was definitely heading towards the most aware, alive parts of the Pit, and not away.  The Phlegethon rushing past him, following the shallow yet seemingly endless incline deeper into Tartarus, cemented the knowledge that he was heading in that direction.

It was not a comforting thought; Asclepius was highly intelligent and would have known better than to stray too deep.  By himself, Apollo was certain he would have found somewhere to stay as far up as possible, which meant that Asclepius’ current location was not of his son’s choosing.

His fingers tapped out another jerky rhythm on his bow as he kept walking, tracking his son’s presence and trying not to think about how faint it still was.

The Phlegethon remained his constant companion as he walked, keeping its bright flames a little way to his right but more or less followings its course deeper into Tartarus, until the river took a sharp and unwelcome turn, peeling away from the wall of the Pit and slashing across Apollo’s path and off somewhere over on his left.

Asclepius’ presence was straight ahead, the other side of the fire river again, and Apollo realised that he would have to once more forge his way through the Phlegethon.

Thankfully, with its sharp turn, it had apparently narrowed once again, although it flowed even faster to compensate.

Apollo didn’t let himself hesitate.

The river was no more willing to let him cross unscathed than the first time.  If anything, it was more vicious, the flames energised by their rapid flow and seemingly aware that they had a smaller window of opportunity to punish him for his hubris of daring to wade through it.

Ichor dripped onto the bank as Apollo hauled himself out the other side, his physical form once again shredded by the frigid flames, and he sincerely hoped he wasn’t going to have to cross it many more times.

He feared how Asclepius would cope, once he found his son and they were headed back, towards the exit to the Overworld.  He was worried how many times Asclepius had already fallen foul of the river, let alone the other horrors of Tartarus.

The answer was certainly far more than Apollo would like – especially as Apollo’s preference had his son never touching Tartarus in the first place.

This side of the Phlegethon, the glass underfoot had completely faded away, replaced by something far more akin to a membrane, lurking just beneath the surface of a deceptive crust of soil.  Life – not life, but consciousness, awareness, the feeling of something alive – thrummed beneath Apollo’s feet, and he instantly decided he vastly preferred the constant laceration of his feet to this.

The Pit was Tartarus, and Tartarus was the Pit.  Further back, near the wall and the cliffs where they’d arrived, Apollo had been able to ignore that fact, been able to treat the surface beneath his feet as exactly how it had felt – shards of glass.  Painful, but negligible.

Crossing the Phlegethon for the second time, at the point when the wall of the Pit dived off into the distance and at some point switched to a yawning drop into something that had his essence jittering nervously rather than the impossibly high cavern, Apollo could no longer ignore the reality.  Tartarus surrounded him, mind and body and soul, and should the primordial choose to acknowledge his presence, he would be entirely at his mercy.

Here, where the deception fell away into a despairing reality, Apollo was free only so long as the Pit decreed it.

It was as far from a comforting thought at it was possible to get.

It also cemented Apollo’s desire – need – to find Asclepius and retreat back to the false safety offered by the other side of the Phlegethon as fast as possible.

If there was one positive to crossing the Phlegethon, it was that Asclepius’ presence was finally, finally, sharper.  For the first time since he’d started following it, it had noticeably strengthened, and Apollo dared to hope that meant it wouldn’t be much further before he found his son.  The presence still wasn’t at the level a god of Asclepius’ calibre should be, but considering how long he’d been in Tartarus, that was tragically unsurprising.

Despite knowing that, when he caught sight of an ichor-covered elderly male balled up at the base of one of the hair-like, branchless trees that protruded periodically between the blisters of respawning monsters that littered the membrane-plain he had entered shortly after leaving the Phlegethon far behind him, Apollo’s essence churned nauseatingly.

The last time he had laid eyes on Asclepius, his son had been a freshly-ascended god, still in the form of the fifteen year old child he had been when the Master Bolt took his life.  It had been a brief glimpse – allowed by his father only as proof that he truly had bestowed godhood upon his son – before Asclepius was snatched away and imprisoned for eternity, and Apollo was forbidden to see him again.

That had been four millennia ago, and visually it seemed impossible that the decrepit old man in of him could possibly be that same teenager-slash-newly ascended god, but despite their forced separation, Apollo knew his son’s presence.

He didn’t hesitate.

Much to Hermes’ distaste, Apollo had once won the title of fastest of the gods, and it was that speed he tapped into at the sight of his son, crossing the last stretch of membrane faster than the distorted time could keep up and kneeling beside the wounded god.

Wounded was barely adequate a word to describe Asclepius.  The golden ichor covering most of his skin and staining his simple chiton was clearly all his own.  As a god of healing – superior even to Apollo himself – the fact that he still had open wounds, ichor freely flowing down his withered form and pooling across Tartarus’ skin spoke of just how much Tartarus had drained him.

“Asclepius.”  Apollo could barely say his name, his voice coming out in a pained whisper.

Exhausted blue eyes blinked up at him, before widening sharply as his son tried to pull himself into a more upright position.  Without thinking, Apollo reached out and steadied him.

“Father?”  Asclepius’ voice was hoarse.  “You-  How..?”  The rasp trailed off, whether because of weakness or because he didn’t know what else to say, Apollo couldn’t tell.

“My son,” Apollo near-sobbed, wrapping his arms around him as though he were the fifteen year old demigod he still remembered with clarity four thousand years later and holding him close.  “You are not staying here.”  Asclepius was in an even worse condition than Apollo had feared; not just the stilted healing, but the physical form.  No god would ever willingly take on a form so withered and frail, but it was possible to force them into something similar should their powers or domains drain too far.

“But Grandfather-” Asclepius choked.  Apollo hushed him immediately.

“You are not staying here,” he repeated firmly, mentally pushing the problem of his father’s wrath to one side to be dealt with once Asclepius was no longer in the Pit.  It would need to be addressed, he was reluctantly and fearfully aware, but with his son in his arms, he couldn’t do anything but save him.

First, Asclepius needed strength, and a form that could stand and walk.  Apollo hummed, drawing on his own essence to forcibly bolster the healing hymn against the oppressive malaise of Tartarus.  Healing a god was nothing like healing a mortal – mortal bodies followed the same general pattern and rules, a sack of meat and bones and blood that had certain guidelines they needed to follow in order to function.

Gods were different, and not just because they tended to be too proud to let Apollo near their wounds even when they were injured severely enough that they didn’t regenerate rapidly.  No two gods were the same, their essence swirling in patterns that were unique to each one of them.  It was impossible to treat them the same way as a mortal.

Apollo pushed his own healing aura into Asclepius, seeking less to heal the wounds himself and more to share the strength to regenerate with his son.  In a location as hostile as Tartarus, it was hardly a safe thing to do, but it was the fastest and most reliable method.

In his embrace, his son visibly flourished, sagging and wrinkled skin retreating and freshening into something less gaunt, and the countless wounds that had been leaking ichor like free-flowing pipes sealed back up.

“Father.”  His son’s voice was stronger, as were the arms that wrapped around Apollo’s back, gripping him tightly for a blessed moment before slowly pulling back.  “You can stop now.”

Asclepius wasn’t fully restored.  Apollo could feel it as certainly as he could feel that he still had vast reserves of his own power to give.  His form had rewound to a mature man, with hair that was still white-grey rather than the dark mop of waves it had once been, but it was still an old form, forced rather than chosen.

Intellectually, he knew that his son was right; in Tartarus, Apollo needed all the power he could amass, especially as he could still feel the slow drain as the isolation from his own major domains continued to wear at his essence.  Still, he refused to stop, pushing revitalising energy into the younger god until Asclepius wriggled out of his grip like the teenager Apollo remembered him once being and pulled out of immediate reach.

“Father,” he scolded.  “This is enough for now.  We must move.”

He seemed jittery, all of a sudden, eyes darting around, and Apollo was faced with the obvious fact that in order for Asclepius to have been so injured, something must have been hurting him.  Something powerful enough to wear down a god – which, in Tartarus, could be any number of things.

Or beings.

Reluctantly, he rose to his feet again, glancing around warily for whatever threat Asclepius was fearing.  Nothing stood out, which was not reassuring.  Apollo hated hidden threats.

“Okay,” he agreed, picking up his bow from where he had dropped it to treat his son.  “Let’s-”

The sound was so familiar it simultaneously caught his attention immediately yet failed to register for several moments.  A powerful thwack, with a note like a lyre humming behind it, and a recognition that took a hair of a second to settle.

Asclepius’ wounds, leaking like punctured pipes.

A stalking threat, near-impossible to detect.

“Father!”

Apollo’s reaction was glacial in comparison to his son’s.  Asclepius body-checked him, an unusually aggressive move for a gentle healer, and it was that plus Apollo’s own instincts that had him shifting just far enough to one side.

His son was not so lucky, and a grunt of pain escaped the younger god as a hand flew to his upper arm, instinctively clutching at the new wound.  Ichor dripped down the skin, but Apollo’s focus was taken by the cause.

A thick, black shaft with rings of red and yellow protruded from between Asclepius’s clenching fingers, fletched with raven feathers.

Chapter 8>>>

[fangirlshrewt97]

Christmas Checklist Confusion

Creator: Fangirlshrewt97

Giftee: @burningsheepcrown

Note: Just under the wire for Christmas themed fic here, but I couldn’t let this event go without writing something for my first friend in this crazy fandom, who had become such an important person for me in so short a time. Here you go, my dearest Lan, another addition, however loosely, to the 🍉🥭 universe!

Relationships: RamBheem

Rating: General

Warnings: Too much fluff?

@celebrrration Holiday Swap 2022

///

"And done!" Ram exclaimed triumphantly as he finished tying the bow on Babai's gift. Bheem's head popped up over his shoulder, smiling down at the wrapped gift.

"We got them all this time!" Bheem said with a bright grin.

Ram beamed back showing off his gleaming white teeth as he leaned back against Bheem's chest.

"So that's Malli, Loki, Jangu, Lacchu, Sita, Babai, and Jenny." Ram said as he ticked off each name on his fingers.

"I think this is the first time we managed to finish before December 24th." Bheem said thoughtfully, rubbing at his beard.

Ram nodded, holding up a hand. "High five."

Bheem chuckled as he slapped his palm against Ram's, before collecting Babai's gift and taking it to the table with the rest of their gifts.

"We even gave the gifts for our coworkers and the apartment watchman right?" Ram confirmed.

Bheem nodded, "Yes we did that Wednesday."

Ram breathed out in relief, body sliding down the chair as his tension melted away. "Holiday shopping is stressful."

Bheem laughed, coming up behind the man to give him a shoulder rub. Ram hummed happily as he sunk some more into the chair. "You keep that up, and I'll fall asleep right here."

Bheem squeezed his shoulders before letting go, making Ram whine quietly. Bheem laughed. "Rama if you fall asleep in this chair, then whatever knots I worked out from your shoulders will form again. The sofa is three feet away."

Ram peeked at him from one eye, eying the distance between him and the sofa. He closed both eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "No, it's too far away. I'll take my chances here."

Bheem raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. It was so nice to see Ram being so relaxed and playful. It had been a hell of a year, but he was glad to see the man taking it easy for once.

That did not give him an excuse to ruin Bheem's massage.

He reached down and tickled Ram's side, making him give a full body jump and yelp, a loud this resounding from where he banged his knee against the underside of the table.

Bheem stopped immediately, biting his lip. "Whoops."

Ram growled as he rubbed at his knee. "This means war Bheema."

"Oh?" Bheem asked, a wolfish glee taking over his face.

Ram launched himself at Bheem who evaded him easily, and the two men set off, racing through their small apartment.

///

"Oh Anna, it's perfect! Thank you!" Malli said as she hugged Bheem with one arm, the temporary tattoo stencil set held awkwardly in her other arm.

Bheem patted her back, he knew Loki might bemoan his choice of gift but Malli had a gift as an artist, and he would encourage her however he could.

"I'm glad you like it Malli, but it was actually Ram who thought of it."

"Really?" Malli asked in surprise. Though Ram had been a part of Bheem's life nearly 3 years now, he still got so nervous around Loki and Malli, insisting that they were Bheem's adoptive sister and niece and as such their approval was very important. Bheem didn't know how many times he had to tell Ram Loki had accepted him as soon as he had saved Malli, and the little girl adored him too.

Malli untangled herself from him and made her way to Ram, surprising him with a side hug. The other man got his patent deer in headlights look, looking at Bheem for guidance. Bheem smiled fondly at him, turning Ram's own smile strangled. Sita, who had been talking with Ram looked like she was trying really hard not to burst out laughing.

She and Jenny had decided to host a proper Christmas dinner, even though only Jenny celebrated the holiday as a way to commemorate their found family. It had been a brilliant idea, seeing all the happy faces and generally jolly atmosphere of the gathering.

Dinner had been delicious, with a special double layer chocolate cake by Malli and Jenny. They had exchanged gifts next, and Bheem was glad all their gifts had been spot on.

Loki loved the new gardening tools they'd gotten her, and Jangu his pipe. They had also handed Pedayya's gift (a compedium of ayurvedic medicines) to them. Lacchu had been enthusiastic about his bottle of whiskey, and Babai thrilled by the book on the Indian freedom fighters. Sita had received a set of Bheem's handmade bangles and a book on the famous female CEOs. Jenny, they'd bought her a set of acrylic paints she'd mentioned to Bheem one day.

Malli had forced Ram into a seat, and opened her new temporary set. Seemed like Ram was her first test subject. He grabbed another piece of cake from the table and made his way to the pair.

He handed the piece to Sita with a wink, who shook her head and accepted the dessert. He then grabbed Malli and spun her once, making her squeal and kick her feet. Bheem was hit by a pang of sadness at the thought that soon Malli would become a proper teenager and not indulge him in such antics.

“Alright, I think it is time you go check on Lacchu anna to make sure he is behaving.” Bheem said as he set Malli down.

“Anna! I need to finish the tattoo, I’m almost done!” Malli said as she returned to sit next to Ram, taking his forearm into her lap. Bheem craned his neck to see what she was doing but Malli hid it with her body. “Go away, you can see it after I’m done!”

“Hey! That’s my boyfriend, I should get to see what you are doing to him!” Bheem argued, but Malli just stuck her tongue out at him. Bheem gasped as Ram’s shoulders shook with bitten back laughter. Bheem placed both hands on his hips, raising an eyebrow at him, and Ram smiled helplessly at him, shrugging. Malli scolded him for moving though, making him go stock still.

Bheem gaped at the scene, which is why he didn’t notice Sita approaching till she had looped her arm through his. She squeezed at his arm, “Thank you for the gifts, they were very nice.”

Bheem grinned. “Glad you liked it! Next time let me know if I should try any specific design on the bangles.”

Sita nodded. “Absolutely.”

Jenny came up on his other side. “Malli has gotten her first volunteer huh?”

“Uh, victim of opportunity might be a better term.” Bheem countered making the British woman laugh.

The trio fell into a friendly chat as they shared their thoughts on the latest episodes of their favorite TV show.

“Finished!” Malli said as she leaned back, waving them over. The trio made their way to her, and took in her tattoo. Sita started to cackle as Jenny covered her mouth with a finger to be more polite. Bheem was enchanted, taking in the stenciled tattoo of a horse in mid-gallop. “Really captured his soul there.”

Ram scowled at him, but he ran a thumb near the skin. “Thank you Malli, it’s lovely.”

Malli was frowning thoughtfully,”I actually wanted to do a mango, but there were no fruit stencils. I guess people don’t really get fruit tattooed.”

Ram’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why mangoes?”

“They were the fruit you gave me when I first visited you!” Malli answered, making Ram melt. He hesitantly opened his arms, tightening them around the girl when she threw herself at him.

Malli hopped back to her parents as Ram stood up, rolling down the sleeves of his shirt to keep from accidentally touching the ink.

“So….,” Sita started. “You guys got us great gifts. What did you get each other?”

It was almost comical how both men froze at the exact same time with the same wide eyed look of panic in their eyes.

Jenny laughed. “You forgot to get each other gifts didn’t you?”

Ram closed his eyes as he prayed to the gods for patience. “Devuda, I knew we had to be forgetting something.”

Bheem meanwhile scoffed at the two girls giggling over their plight. “Excuse you, I have a gift for Ram.”

Ram turned to him with surprise, “You do?”

Bheem grabbed the collar of his shirt and kissed him, hard enough that Ram’s knees gave out under him slightly. By the time Bheem let him go, Ram was dazed and the world had not stopped spinning.

Sita was wolf-whistling, shameless as she was while Jenny blushed slightly. Loki was scolding a chastised looking Bheem while covering Malli’s eyes (who in turn was complaining that she had seem them do worse, which did not help their case in the slightest). And Lacchu was scowling in a corner as per usual, gulping down his drink. Jangu and Babai were completely disinterested in the rest of the party, and were lost in their own conversation.

Good thing Ram had managed to hide the locket with the two rings inside his sock drawer.

Now to remember to give it to Bheem before the night ended.

///

@rambheem-is-real @budugu @bromance-minus-the-b @hissterical-nyaan @obsessedtoafault @hufhkbgg @yehsahihai @rorapostsbl @fadedscarlets @alikokinav @chaotic-moonlight @rambheemisgoated @rambheemlove @jaganmaya @burningsheepcrown @lovingperfectionwonderland @rosayounan @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @thewinchestergirl1208 @dumdaradumdaradum @ronaldofandom @jjwolfesworld @jrntrtitties @kashpaymentsonly @jeonmahi1864 @zackcrazyvalentine @stanleykubricks @tulodiscord @teddybat24 @sally-for-sally @jadebomani @stuckyandlarrystuff @veteran-fanperson @ohfuckoffpls  @carminavulcana @boochhaan @doodlesofthelastpage @filesbeorganized @meownique @ssabriel @meastradeur @ronika-writes-stuff @umbrulla  

[shera-dnd]

Hey it's time for a new fic... well, an old fic. This one is about like 4 years old now, but since this has a sequel in the works I decided to bring this first half back up to my new writing standards

This fic, along with the big finale of the D&D!AU, are gonna be more centered around my original character, GM, and their relationship with Mara, as well as the development of the "Princesses of Power" homebrew campaign that you guys have followed for the past few years

God I still can't believe I'm finishing off the She-ra D&D era of my blog.

Well I can save the emotional ramblings for once the finale goes up, for now I hope you guys enjoy this little update

The Moon Opal was a quiet place in the earlier hours of the day - most of its customers were the nocturnal type - making it the perfect place to get some work done. 

A tired figure sat at one of the empty tables, typing at the laptop in front of them.

The last of what they called ‘lunch’ sat untouched beside them as they deleted their recent work for what felt like the 100th time that day.

They leaned back, and stared up at the ceiling for a solid moment, before turning back to the two words still left on their screen.

Project Etheria.

It was a placeholder name for a game about collaboration and teamwork, and yet someone decided that giving a player an extremely overpowered form was a good idea. Now it was up to them to make this mess work.

Sure, it made sense for She-ra to be this strong. She was supposed to be the protector of the world, the key to the world’s magic. 

Every princess had an element, but She-ra - the Princess of Power - was supposed to be the center of everything.

She-ra was the center of everything…

Their face brightened as they typed away on their keyboard with renewed vigor.

Oh, they couldn’t wait to see Mara’s face when they showed her this.

“Hey, someone is feeling productive today,” Mara greeted, apparently summoned by that errant thought.

“Mhm,” they hummed, not even taking their gaze away from their work.

“Earth to GM,” she joked, the mention of their name stealing their attention, “You there, GM?”

‘GM.’

They had been called that most of their life.

But it felt different when Mara did it. For her it wasn’t a title or a descriptor, it was a name, their name.

At least, it felt more like theirs than the one they were given at birth. She always made it sound like she was greeting a friend.

“Ah! Sorry,” they shook their head, looking away from their screen, “hey, Mara.”

“Hi there,” she said with a smile as she took a seat next to them, “what got you so excited today?”

“Rebalancing She-ra for hopefully the last time,” they said, turning their laptop so she could see, “I removed most of the new Traits from She-ra herself, and made it so she grants them to the princesses around her.”

“I’m gonna have to rewrite my whole character sheet again, aren't I?” she sighed, reading over their notes.

They almost started to talk, but Mara didn’t give them the chance.

“I almost forgot!” Mara exclaimed.

She rummaged around her bag for a moment before handing them a few sheets of paper, “I finished some more Lore on Etherian magic and the First Ones.”

GM took the notes titled ‘Heart of Etheria’, and skimmed through them. 

The silence dragged on as they each read each other’s notes. 

Mara could be loud and energetic when she wanted to, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know how to share in these little quiet moments.

It was nice.

Unfortunately, they were the one to break the silence this time.

“The planet is a what!?” GM blurted.

“A weapon of mass destruction,” Mara said, as if saying it out loud suddenly made it make sense, “I thought the setting needed bigger stakes.”

“We already have an invading alien empire, giant monsters, and evil sorcerers,” GM said, but all they got from her was a shrug. “I guess Mara - Princess of World Building - would know better than me.”

“I like that one, let’s use it in the book,” Mara joked. 

“You got anything we could play while I change up my traits?” she asked, picking up her character sheet. 

She was on her third one, the last two had been torn up from the constant rewriting.

“Preferably nothing combat heavy then,” GM pondered for a moment, “well, you had just finished a mission last time, so we could maybe have a chill scene in the Crystal Castle?”

“Perfect!” she cheered, “I wanna flirt with Light Hope.”

“Excuse me? She is an AI,” they said, raising a brow at her.

“So…?” she didn’t seem to understand their point.

“She’s not programmed for romance,” they explained, a little exasperated.

“Nothing a little love can’t fix,” she said, with a shrug.

“You’re not teaching a robot to love, Mara!”

“Hey, look at it this way: I’m preparing you for all the players who will absolutely try to romance everything, and everyone, in this setting.” she explained. “Also, Light Hope is really cute.”

“Miss me with that allo shit, Mara,” GM groaned.

Their playful frustration melted away as they got into playing, just simple scenes at first while Mara worked on her sheet. But once that was done they moved right into combat, and for the first time Mara seemed satisfied with how things had turned out…

“Yes!” she exclaimed as the last spider fell. “You’re the best.”

“I...uh...thanks.” GM mumbled, shying away from the compliment, “You’re the one making the world, I just turn stuff into rules text.”

“But that’s the important part,” Mara assured them, “I can say what it means to be She-ra all I want, but it’s all pointless if the rules say something different.”

“And what did the rules say?” GM asked, a little surprised. 

They were so focused on making She-ra balanced that they didn’t even consider that aspect of things.

“That She-ra isn’t meant to make people feel weaker. You shouldn’t feel like you’re less than them, you should feel stronger by being with them.” she explained, her voice filled with excitement, “Helping others be their best selves, that is what it should mean to be She-ra!”

_____

The Moon Opal always got busier towards the evening, with customers crowding the tables with RPG sessions, and card game matches. It left very little space for someone to concentrate on their work. 

GM rubbed their tired eyes, trying to recover from staring at that blank page for far too long. 

They weren’t even sure if they should keep trying to power through, or just call it a day and go home.

Before they could decide they were distracted by a familiar groan as someone slumped onto the chair in front of them.

“Long day?” GM asked, not taking their eyes away from their work.

“Long day,” Adora said. 

She opened up her backpack and began looking for something inside it.

 “Sorry for jumping right to the point, but I still gotta pick up dinner,” she sighed, handing them a few sheets of paper.

“Oh, right, your backstories,” they said, taking them both and skimming through them. “Why is Catra’s six pages long?”

“Because my girlfriend is the most competitive person on the planet,” Adora groaned. 

Of course Catra would consider this a competition…

“You two want to call dibs on any of the homebrew powers?” GM asked.

“Nah, I’m good with whatever you send my way,” she waved it off. “, and Catra doesn’t want any powers, because she wants to prove she can kick everyone’s ass without any.”

“I’m not surprised in the slightest,” they sighed, reading through Adora’s story a second time. 

They couldn’t avoid the strange sense of nostalgia that came from it…

 “What it means to be She-ra,” they mumbled without really thinking.

“You say something?” Adora asked, perking up in her chair.

“Nothing,” they said, “Just had a few ideas for your character. Do you… mind if I keep these?”

“Sure, sure, we don’t mind.” She handed it to them, “If that’s all, I should probably get going.”

“I’ll text you if I need any more details,” they said. “Have a good night, Adora”

“You too, GM!” she said, waving at them as she left.

They smiled and gave the papers in their hand one last read through. 

Oh Mara, you would’ve loved this one…

[captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship]

I posted 4,873 times in 2022

That's 4,873 more posts than 2021!

56 posts created (1%)

4,817 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@shallyne

@separatist-apologist

@headcanonheadcase

@lifelessdollinthesea

@yazthebookish

I tagged 89 of my posts in 2022

#acotar - 57 posts

#gwynriel - 38 posts

#azriel shadowsinger - 31 posts

#gwynriel supremacy - 26 posts

#acosf - 23 posts

#azriel x gwyn - 22 posts

#gwyneth berdara - 22 posts

#azriel - 18 posts

#elucien - 17 posts

#gwyn berdara - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 116 characters

#acotar and your writings helped me in one of the toughest points in my life and helping me find things to love again

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Fanfiction really has a hold on me.

I have 51 tabs open on my iPad and another 24 on my computer. All are different fanfictions. They are a mix of gwynriel, feysand, elucien, and rowaelin.

57 notes - Posted November 25, 2022

#4

Gwynriel headcanon

For their mating ceremony, gwyn wants to use her valkyrie ribbon for the handfasting. She looses her ribbon in a battle/fight/mission etc. She is devestated but moves on. On the day of their mating ceremony, Azriel comes up to her and says that he knows how sad she was when she lost her ribbon, but he pulls the other half out of his pocket (the one that was attached to the wooden post) and says that he was saving it for her. They use it during their mating ceremony and as they are binding their hands, a ribbon of shadows also forms around their hands to encompass both of them. Either the acceptance of the mating bond or the shadows binding themselves to their union allows gwyn to speak to the shadows in her own way.

85 notes - Posted December 10, 2022

#3

Anyone else happy that feyre couldn’t fly perfectly right away?

I remember my first time reading ACOTAR, I was shocked and so happy to see that Feyre struggled with flying. I always hated watching shows and this character who just got wings suddenly knows how to fly perfectly.

I love watching her struggle, and even in the end she could barely fly. I love that it felt realistic while also still being a fantasy.

Just my little 2am think session 🙂

116 notes - Posted August 6, 2022

#2

Types of sex each of the ACOTAR couple enjoy

Feysand- they will dabble in a little of everything,but they love their passionate fairly vanilla love making the most. Into props like paint, food, ties, etc. We already know that they use their mind connection for foreplay. Exhibitionists, but in a different way than nessian.

Nessian- rough, hard-core fucking. Exhibitionists. Compete with who can make the other cum first. Fighting is foreplay.

Gwynriel- BDSM. All the way. Nothing is off limits. Will dabble in role playing, mainly student-teacher or sexy librarian. Dagger play, shadow bondage, Az is a pleasure dom and do with that what you wish. Both get off on each other’s intelligence. Def uses private dagger handling lessons and spy lessons as foreplay. Would def have sex in a lake or ocean.

Elucien- 100% role play, pet play, costumes are involved. Once in day court def outdoor sex. Regency-esque flirting as foreplay. Enjoys the soft intimate sex as well as the full on kinky shit. Truly diverse.

191 notes - Posted October 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

ACOTAR Fanfic MasterList

I read an ALARMING amount of Fanfiction, and this is the easiest way for me to catalog some of my favorite Fanfiction. I love AO3 but I wish I could put things in categories and separate folders like GoodReads. I will be updating this list periodically and they are in no particular order. However, I will star some of my favorites!

Please note that most of these have smut! These are also all long fics, no one shots in here.

These will just be my AO3 favorite fanfics, I will make another master post for the Tumblr specific fics.

Here is a link to my subscription list on AO3 that is the most up to date.

Color Key:

Gwynriel

Elucien

Feysand

Nessian

*= Favorite, ***************= I have a borderline obsession

Finished Fics:

Call Me home (@propagandaprincess) (gives telenovella vibes)

A Court of Whisper and Song (@mystical-blaise) *

A Mythical Thing (@separatist-apologist) *

A Court of Light and Melody (@daevastanner) *

Trial of the Valkyrie (@daevastanner) *

On My Radar (@vikingmagic33)

Hands On (@headcanonheadcase)

Delectable (@hlizr50, @violet-shadows, @thehaemanthus)

The Capri-Sun Girl (@headcanonheadcase, @hlizr50, @ofduskanddreams)

The Raven and the Songbird (@hlizr50)

These Scars Paint the Map that Led Me to You (@hlizr50)

A Court of Song and Shadow (@justawhore)

Intimacy: A Gwynriel Smut Collection (@tealnymph24)

A Court of Smoke and Shadow (@daevastanner)

Nothing Can Break Us (@thewordnerd)

The Dream (@lady-riel)

Drunk in the Wrong Bedroom (@lady-riel)

Ballad of Shadows (@jennierubyjaner)

See the full post

550 notes - Posted September 19, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[singukieee]

'22 A R C H I V E

—or recs of fics I've read and been reading.

[back to navigation]

♡ : works im following closely

☆ : my ultimate favorites (mostly finished)

① : oneshots

[OT7]

A Comforting Hand

poly!bts x reader | mates au

You had begun to lose all hope of ever seeing the outside of your cage again. A new neighbor arrives and slowly begins to break down your heavily guarded walls, his growls providing your safety as you both face what it means to be an animal.

A Bond Made of Love ♡

poly idol!bts x hybrid!reader | soulmates au

Your last owner had almost beaten you to death, leaving you at the very shelter he had adopted you from. This time, two tall men walk in, immediately drawn to you as you rested in your small cage. You couldn’t help but become attached, just hoping you wouldn’t be abandoned once again by the idols you grow to love.

By Chance | The Moments in Between ☆

idol!bts x actress!reader

A misunderstanding gone viral puts you on BTS’s radar, which leads to a series of events that finally culminate with you meeting them for the first time.

As you become close friends with BTS, you begin to realize that the feelings you have for them are slowly turning into something you’re not ready to deal with. Unbeknownst to you, the same is happening to them.

mean kitty, soft kitty ①

poly!bts x hybrid!reader | mates au

Your injured form was the last thing Jin had expected when waking up one morning. But after healing you, and watching you leave, he wished he would wake up to you again, if only to see if you were okay. The rest of his home felt the same way, and when a storm comes, it brings you back to the men who made you feel safe.

Handshakes of a Lifetime ♡

bts x reader | soulmates au | reincarnation au

…the meeting room is getting closer and closer, basking you and those around you in warm light, and you think about all the internet comments people write about this kind of moment, “she must have saved a country in her past life to experience this.”

Guardians of Stone: A Bangtan Tale

bts x reader

The Art of Craving ♡

porn industry workers!bts x fluffer!reader

It’s easy to feel like you’re floating on the clouds when you’re near them, it’s easy to have them right under your grasp and feel as if they are yours, but why does it feel as if the more you crave them, the more it all seems to fall down?

or, you’re a fluffer, irrevocably in love with the seven you work with and it’s hard to navigate through your feelings when your hearts are fluttering messes in the presence of each other.

Daddy's Money (makes the world go round)

hybrid!bts x human!reader

The daughter of a filthy rich businessman is gifted hybrids by her father. But if only he knew that would lead to her gaining the confidence she will need to break free from what he deems the right place for her. Follow her as she learns to navigate the worlds and stay alive.

Petrichor ♡

ceo!werewolves!bts x chubby!mc | mates au

You had been working at Bangtan Corporation for almost two years now, and not once have you ever laid eyes on your bosses. That was, until you met them when out with some of your coworkers. Now, you almost wish you hadn’t. Almost.

Our Own World

hybrid!bts x reader

Your brother and his fiancé had planned to travel to the Netherlands so he could properly meet her family. He leaves you a weird note with odd instructions.

The List

obsessive!bts x reader

You had listed off the five most absurd things you wanted to try before you turned thirty. One of them was marrying an A-list genius producer by the name of Min Yoongi.

Her Serendipity

mafia au

In which a woman with secrets happens to be the leader of a Mafia gang with the five loves of her life. But what happens when they soon come across two hybrids that they become very attached to. 

Yearning For You ♡

vampire!bts x aristocrat-vampire!reader | soulmates au

Watching everyone around me meeting their fated, their mate, seeing the yearning in their gaze as they stare at each other, I want that too, so dearly, whoever they are, I would love them without hesitation, with all of my heart.

Fuck Fate

sub!bts x dom!reader | reincarnation au | idolverse au

It all started with a movie. And then another, and another, and another. And before Jeon Jungkook knew it, he already have this massive crush on you. His hyungs thought it’s cute, until they too developed a massive crush on you.

Besides, it’s your world now right? Who said you had to follow the rules?

“Fuck fate. I’m doing whatever I want.”

After all, if the seven male leads want you, who are you to deny them? Especially when they want you as bad as you want them.

Fuck fate, right?

Ghost Busters

frat boys!bts x comatose!reader | supernatural fluff and angst with a happy ending

Due to a freak accident, you find yourself staring at your own body lying on the hospital bed. The strange thing was, there were seven insanely gorgeous men crying over you. Huh.

Everything Falls (Into Place) ☆

bts x reader | roommates au | college au

Your new roommates are unbearably nice and unbearably hot. Good thing you’re an adult who is fully capable of platonic friendships with the opposite sex, right?

Ride With You

bts x reader (jk x reader focus) | exes to lovers | mafia au

Song Bird ♡

bts x siren!reader

Sirens have been hunted for centuries. Imprisoned and killed for experimentation or to be used for their powers. When thinking about sirens, most envision half woman half fish. But what most people don’t know is that the true original sirens were half woman half bird. Beings far more powerful than the water sirens that most people know of. Beings so rare that many people believe they never existed. But they do. So if word got out that one was sighted and found… it’s only a matter of time before their lives no longer belongs to them, but to their captures.

Little do You Know ☆

bts x reader | playmate au

In a world where idols and actors can’t date, whether it be because of contracts, lack of time, or the dangers that involve having your personal life leaked, the market opened up for a new work field. Playmate Agencies emerged to supply the entertainment world with highly trained companions for hire. Bangtan is looking for new playmates. And you just happen to be the one all of them choose. 

The Wanderer ♡

soft yandere!idol!bts x lawyer!reader

From the day you were born, your soul has the tendency to separate from your physical body and wander places even while awake. Wanting it to stop, you seek out shamans all over the world until you land yourself on Bangtan’s doorstep as a part of their elite legal team.

Bulletproof ♡

bts x prosecutor!reader | soulmate au

You’re a hotshot prosecutor dealing with big drug cases. BTS are your soulmates. But why do you want your soulmark removed?

Home | Piercings ①

poly!bts x reader | oneshots

Chrysanthemums in The Winter ①

professor!bts x reader

Sunset Songs

idol!bts x hybrid!reader

In which a hybrid is nothing but a status symbol, a pet, a sign of wealth and power- or are you maybe more than that?

I Was The Gangster's Ex Wife ♡

idol!bts x mafia!reader

Having been raised your whole life as the female Chou to the Head Batafurai, your days takes a wild spin when you find yourself widowed and leading an entire street mafia. Only problem is, seven pretty idols claim you’re their destined. Can you separate your two interestingly different lives from intervening with each other?

Little Red ①

wolf pack!bts x fox!reader

In which bangtan pack finds something unexpected in their familiar woods.

Welcome To The Show

idol!bts x escort!reader

In which you’ve been hired as a very special woman for the seven idols- and become even more special down the line.

Downpour

eventually poly!bts x reader

He fell for her from a distance. She fell for him up close. Despite their different lives, they’d found each other. And somehow, the two had found more love in 6 other souls.

eights a crowd ♡

idol!bts x crew member!reader | soulmate au

you’re a bighit staff member in charge of stage set-up when you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the very seven men you’re setting stage for.

never tear us apart

bts x witch!reader

waking up 300 years later, you’re thrusted into the modern world — one where the loves of your life no longer know who you are. and despite being one of the most powerful witches in your decade, you’re no match to the newest forces fighting to tear you apart, leaving the men with the familiar faces to care for the weird witch.

Magic Shop

bts x reader | magic au

Raised in an orphanage, Calypso knows nothing of her magical heritage. However, when she reached the age of maturity, she discovered that she possessed the powers of both the light and the dark. She didn’t know how her powers came to be, but they could get her killed by the magical enforcers: a group sworn to remove black magic from the world. One fateful night she stumbles across an attempted murder. She refuses to watch an innocent man be killed, therefore left with no choice but to use her dark powers, she saved his life. Little do you know that the handsome man you saved is, in fact, a magical enforcer.

Time Heals (sometimes) ♡

bts x idol!reader | soulmate au

6 years ago, (Y/N) thought that she was finally taking her life into her hands, leaving behind a toxic and abusive relationship with a man who taught her she’d never be worthy of love. However, it became hard to ignore his words when she met her seven soulmates who rejected her without even giving her a chance to prove herself. It took (Y/N) 3 years to realize that it wouldn’t be her end. She would live on to prove them all wrong; she would become what they all thought she wasn’t: someone worthy of love. And as she stands proudly on the stage, under the burning spotlights and the applause and the cries of the delirious crowd, she feels alive. Alive, just like the bond she believed to be broken.

Ghosted

cursed ghost!bts x author!reader

Y/N is a young struggling author in New York, having gone through thick and thin she loses her inspiration to write and is now no longer able to publish upcoming novels. Having just received an eviction notice to her small, old, and worn down apartment. She also receives documents informing her about the inheritance she’s received from her grandfather. An old, abandoned mansion in France’s countryside. Having no other option available to her, she decides to move into the ominous building. Unaware of the seven pairs of eyes observing her, invisible to the human eye, as a plot to relieve a curse plaguing seven men is set into motion.

Mother Knows Best

bts x reader

being the only woman in a friend group with seven men automatically makes you the love interest in seven mothers’ wistful romantic stories. though your relationship with the guys remains completely platonic, the marriage fantasy their moms frequently project onto you and their sons has them coming up with all sorts of shenanigans to make you their daughter-in-law. mother knows best, you suppose.

Not Gonna Happen ①

idol!bts x producer! army!reader

Fight or Flight. Meet BTS or run away from BTS?“Uh guys…. She’s rolling away.” Yoongi points to you and your attempt to escape the room. Hands grab your ankles to halt your getaway. “I hate all of you.” You groan up at Yeonjun, who still had hold of you. You give up, letting out a deep sight, wishing the ground would open from under you.

The Price We Pay ①

bts x reader | mafia au

Shoes echo in the room as they all leave him alone with his thoughts. Goodbyes unheard by the man now drenched in sweat, fists gripped tightly to his desk. This could be a terrible idea, one of his worst, but he had to try.

There was only one person capable of helping him now, to keep his boys safe.

But at what cost?

A Bed of Roses

bts x reader

Superpowers are supposed to make you inivincible, someone who could save the world, a hero. It's not suppose to be like this... not like this.

Until You Do ①

faun!bts x princess!reader

The once Lost Princess of the Underworld, known for your beauty and infinite kindness. You have evaded your father’s pleas to secure your future—a marriage—for years and years with no answers given as to why. But now, way past the age to court for marriage, your father came to you once again, for the last time, to make your choice. How can you explain to him that who you want to marry is not of royalty, but the humble servants who wait by his feet?

EIDOLONS

bts x reader | phantoms au

To live in an old manor in the middle of nowhere filled with historical, cultist, and most probably cursed relics for a year is part of the will your mysterious grandaunt bestowed onto you. It's all good until the seven men arrive, looking for a place to stay. Or so you've been told. But these men aren't actually guests; they've been in your attic for a lot longer than you think, waiting to be freed. The longer you spent time with them, the more you feel like you know them. And they seem to know you like the back of their hands, too. When you find yourself falling in love with not one, but all of them, you'll soon realize that the the truth can be painful to swallow and they will learn that freedom comes at a cost.

Rebirth

bts x reader

After one too many glasses of wine, Y/N wakes up as Empress Y/N Berius from her favorite story. The oppressive Empress Y/N will soon meet a brutal end at the hands of Taehyung, the captain of her personal guards. Y/N must find out a strategy to stop the coup d'état in three days. She chooses to reach out to a group of loyal subjects Empress Y/N exiled, but will her method work? Or would the empress' unexpected change in conduct arouse rebel suspicion?

The Consigliere

bts x reader

I Wanna Hate You With All My Heart

bts x reader | college au

Healing Waters ♡

koi hybrid!bts x human!reader

You love your seven koi that live in the pond in your back yard, you also love to spoil them. They're hand-fed, doted on, and well taken care of. So how's things going to go when the couple next door has a baby?

Home in Progress ♡

hybrid!bts x reader

['21 ARCHIVE] | ['23 ARCHIVE] | ['24 ARCHIVE]

Y/N never wanted to adopt seven hybrids. Truly, she would never support the system like that. But who can say no to them?

[smutsonian]

Mafia bucky with size kink, belly bulge, choking with vibration arm, sub space, daddy kink, creampie kink and squirting, breeding kink, maybe exhibitionism with Steve. This could lead to a part 2 as a 3 way with double vaginal penetration, no anal

that smile on her face

bucky barnes x reader

summary: mafia!bucky x reader ft. mafia!boss!steve and it’s basically just p0rn with a little bit of plot i guess.

warnings: smut, (whatevers written in the ask), violence, rumlow, not proofread, idk please tell me if I missed something.

word count: 3.1k

a/n: why was it so hard to write this fic vjhafvu im rusty with writing soz

masterlist

It was becoming too much for you. The palpable tension between the two brooding men and the looming figures of terrifying men on each side that serves as guards for both sides didn’t bring you any comfort and the fact that your boyfriend is a few feet away from you right now isn’t giving you any reassurance that this situation is under control.

 Steve, your boyfriend’s best friend, stands face to face with an unknown man wearing an eerie smile on his face but his aura is producing anything but a positive vibe while your boyfriend stands beside Steve, glaring at the strange man. You thought you remembered someone calling him Rumlow.

 You know about your boyfriend’s line of work but you never really got to witness his job with your own eyes. Life with Bucky has always been laughs and giggles, passion and love behind closed doors so you never really thought about the dangers that may come with his job. You thought you could continue to live happily and carefree with him until now. 

When you saw Rumlow turning his attention to Bucky’s louring face and smirking at the emotion he’s able to get from your boyfriend made your stomach turn. You saw Rumlow’s hand rise from his side and time seemed to stop for you when you saw a gun pointed in your boyfriend’s direction. You saw your Bucky’s jaw clenching and you couldn’t help the small whimper escaping your lips when Rumlow turns the safety off with a deafening click.

 Bucky’s eyes subtly searched your face but you weren’t looking at him. Your eyes were begging Rumlow to drop his gun and let your boyfriend be but the moment Rumlow turns to look at you, your stomach begins to feel more horrible than it already is. But you would do everything for your Bucky. You had to try.

 “P-Please don’t…” You stutter, glancing at the gun pointing towards your Bucky then looking back up at Rumlow. 

 He mockingly juts his bottom lip out, pouting at you before tilting his head to the side. “No?” He asks.

 You could only nod, ignoring Bucky who was trying his best to get your attention, for sure trying to make you stop talking to Rumlow.

 “This your girl, Barnes?” Rumlow asks, scanning your form but nobody answers him.

 Rumlow chuckles before putting the gun down, giving you a sense of relief before your breath hitches when the gun is suddenly pointed in your direction. 

 “Should I just shoot you then, little girl?” 

 Bucky’s form stiffens, as well as Steve’s and his guards, ready for an order to attack when Rumlow speaks up again.

 “Are you willing to risk your life for this motherfucker?” 

 You didn’t know if it was your nerves making you dizzy but everything went by in a flash but in slow motion at the same time. You saw Bucky side-stepping quickly towards you, his metal arm raising as if to shield you both. A bullet makes contact with his metal arm before bouncing off of it and you stare at his arm in awe before looking at him with crazed eyes. He scans you for a quick second before he rushes you both out of the place, and onto a car before caressing your face with both of his hands. The sounds of guns being fired filling your ears.

 “You shouldn’t have done that, baby girl.” His words are dark and it would’ve scared you if you didn’t know him. If he wasn’t giggling with you about a silly movie yesterday, you would’ve been frightened of him.

 When you don't answer, he tightens his grip on your face, forcing you to focus on him instead of the continuous gunfire.

 “Y-You’re arm… How did you know it would save us?” You stared at his face while your hand absentmindedly wrapped over his metal hand, caressing it gently.

 His eyes flicker to your hand on his metal ones before looking back at you with an earnest look. “I didn’t. I just know that I had to protect you.” He says, chest heaving as he finally let himself show his emotions. Something that he only does with you.

 “Y-you… You could’ve died, Bucky…” 

 “I will do anything to protect you, doll.” He presses a kiss on your forehead before the driver’s door opens and Steve crawls in, breathing heavily.

 “We gotta fucking go,” was the only thing he says before stepping on the gas.

 You did your best to ignore the blood splattered on his face and the white shirt under his black suit.

 You lay your head on Bucky’s shoulder as he hugs you extra close to him, fearing that you might slip away from him and you bask in the closeness and warmth of his body. Your brain starts to fog up, and the only words running inside it are the words your Bucky said. You snuggle closer to him, humming unknowingly in satisfaction.

 ‘I will do anything to protect you, doll.’

  Bucky Barnes watched you curling closer to him, your cheeks brushing against his arm as your eyes remained close, face finally relaxing as you go deeper into slumber. He smiled at your form, pecking the top of your head before pulling you closer to his body. 

 If someone told him that his heart would be palpitating because of a pretty little thing like you, he would’ve shot them in the head for poking jokes at him but now that you’re beside him…

 “Is she okay?” Steve’s voice cuts Bucky’s thoughts off as Steve looks at him through the rearview mirror, quickly turning back to look at him then towards his girl with worried eyes.

 “She’s resting. Calm for now.” Bucky’s jaw clenches at the thought of you producing tears for the likes of Rumlow. His heart skips a beat at the memory of that gun being pointed at you. His grip on the door handle becomes tighter while he tries his best to keep his other hand calm, the one that he’s holding you with.

 “She’ll be fine. We won’t let anything happen to her. I know you won’t. I sure as hell won’t…” Steve gives Bucky a reassuring smile, mumbling the last words under his breath. 

 The car ride was silent throughout the ride, thoughts eating up on Bucky’s mind as he thinks of Steve’s words as well as what to do with you. How to make things up for you because he’s taking the blame for you being in a very dangerous position. 

 “We’re here,” Steve states, stopping the car and getting out before quickly going over to Bucky’s side, opening the door for Bucky and a groggy you. You’re still in Bucky’s arms, already squirming into consciousness while Bucky tries to coo you back to sleep.

 “Need any help?” 

 “I got it,” Bucky answers Steve before carrying you inside the manor, Steve quietly following behind.

 Once inside, Bucky feels you squirming more and he lets you go, gently putting you down on your feet. He looks down at your face that’s looking back up at him with a blank expression. He takes note of Steve’s form leaning on the doorway.

 “Bucky…” He hears you mumble.

 “What is it, princess?” Bucky notes the way your eyes flutters at the nickname and he fights a smile that wants to force its way onto his face.

 “You almost d-died because of me,” Your sob breaks his heart and he’s suddenly on you. He’s eager to make you wipe the tears away. Eager to bring back the smile that always makes him swoon because this isn’t how he wants to see you cry. 

 “Don’t cry, princess. I’ll do anything for you even if that means getting hurt.” He continues to wipe at your tears but it was no use. You’re a broken dam right now.

 “Daddy’s here, princess. Daddy’s right here.” He whispers, not caring if Steve hears him but he takes note of the way Steve’s form stiffens by the doorway. It wasn’t hard to miss because of his broad shoulders. 

 “You trust Daddy, right, Princess?” He pulls back, caressing your face and that’s when he sees it.

 Your eyes are fogged, face wet with tears but the flow has stopped. You’re just looking at him with those foggy eyes filled with something so much intensity.

 “Yes, daddy. I trust you.” He hears you whisper and he knows you’re deep in your space right now.

 Bucky wipes your face with a cloth that’s conveniently in his pocket before walking back, away from you. You whimper at the loss of his touch but one word from him made you stop.

 “Stay.”

 Bucky feels himself grow proud at your obedience. He flicks a look at Steve before looking back at you.

 “Take your clothes off for Daddy, princess.” 

 “Steve, you fucking stay there.” He doesn’t even glance at Steve but he hears his steps stopping. You didn’t even notice his words towards Steve because you were eagerly obeying his command, stripping out of your clothes with haste.

 “Come here, princess,” Bucky motions you to come over and you do. He instantly wraps his metal hand around your throat, not clenching it at all. He just rests his hand on your throat, careful not to frighten you.

 “You trust me, princess?” He asks one more time.

 “Yes, yes I do, daddy.” You breathe out, nodding against his hold which he tightens. Bucky’s eyes flicker at how your thighs clenched together and hear the tiny moan slipping out of your mouth.

 “You like this, princess? You like my hand around your pretty little throat?” Bucky tightens his hold a little more, eyes gleaming at how his hand is covering your whole neck now. 

 “Your neck is so tiny, I can easily crush it, princess. You’re not afraid of me?” Instead of being afraid, you whine, suddenly thrusting your naked hips towards him and he chuckles at you before letting you go. 

 Bucky glances at Steve who was fixing his pants, no doubt tightening uncomfortably at the scene in front of him.

 Bucky stares at you, eyes begging for him to touch you but he ignores it before walking over to the long sofa and sitting down. He pats his lap as he calls for you which you eagerly obeyed, almost skipping your way towards his lap. You were about to straddle him when he stops you.

 He turns your body with so much ease before pulling you down, earning an “oof” from you when your back hits his hard chest. He guides your legs so they’re resting outside of his legs. He easily spreads your legs with his and he dwells at the shiver your body makes when you’re completely exposed.

 “Sit, Steve.” Bucky motions to the long sofa opposite to where the both of you are sitting and he feels you stiffening against him so he whispers soothing words in your ears. “I got you, princess.”

 Steve walks towards the sofa before awkwardly sitting. Bucky could see how much his best friend was trying to control himself but, in the end, his best friend loses his inner battle for he looks at you and then to your cunt, before looking back at you.

 “Don’t worry about Steve, princess. We can trust him. He did kill that awful man for you…” He chuckles at the way your body shivers, your stiffness has long gone now.

 “H-he did?”

 “Yes. Now let’s give Steve a little show, yeah? Show him just how fucking precious my princess is…” Bucky’s metal finger goes to your breasts, teasing each of them with equal attention. He pulls little whimpers from you here and there and he can see Steve squirming uncomfortably from across the both of you and he chuckles.

 “Don’t be shy, Steve. You can touch yourself.” Bucky’s free hand goes to your core, rubbing his fingers on your clit, making your moans grow louder.

 “But you won’t be able to touch my girl. You can just watch and you can be thankful that I’m letting you.” Bucky takes pride in how he’s able to make his best friend look so powerless when he’s the boss. Right now, Bucky is the boss though.

 “D-daddy!” You’re suddenly shaking against Bucky as you reach your first peak, your juice covering Bucky’s fingers while his other hand continues to play with your hard nipples.

 Bucky hears a groan from Steve, smirking how his friend has his hand down his pants pathetically.

 Bucky continues to play with your body, pulling a few more orgasms from you until you’re crying from all the pleasure he’s giving you. 

 Now that’s how he wants to see you cry. Only in pleasure and nothing else. Only the best for his girl.

 “Daddy, please!” You scream at Bucky, your small hands gripping his flesh hand that was on your cunt.

 “What is it, princess? Tell daddy what you want.” 

 “W-want more, daddy,” you whisper, almost shyly, and Bucky coos at your embarrassed face.

 “You need to be more specific than that, princess. Don’t be shy. You’re so fucking beautiful that you got Steve and me so fucking hard, baby.” He turns your head to the side before pressing a hungry kiss on your lips, tongue lapping every corner of your mouth before pulling away, admiring the string of saliva that connects your lips.

 “Tell daddy what you want, princess. Be more specific this time.” He whispers against your ear before nipping at it and earning another whimper from you.

 “Want your cock in me, daddy,” you finally say, begging with your hips grinding against his hard cock that’s under you. 

 He hums in approval before easily lifting you up and positioning his tip in your entrance. He looks at Steve who was looking hungrily at your slit that’s ready to take his swollen cock.

 A gaudy moan escapes from your mouth as Bucky pulls your body down his cock, your head instantly falling back to his shoulder at the feeling of his cock inside of you.

 “Fuck!” Bucky hisses at the feeling of your warm and very tight walls hugging his thick cock.

 “God, baby… You’re so fucking tight!” Bucky’s eyes shut at the feeling of your walls clenching him and he even whimpers when you start to grind against his lap, asking for more.

 He gives it to you. 

 He stares at Steve’s face as he guides your body on top of his, bouncing you on his lap while thrusting his hips into you to reach deeper inside of you.

 Bucky sees Steve’s hungry eyes staring at a certain spot as he bites his bottom lip. Bucky follows his gaze and he too, grows even more hungry, if that’s even possible, at the sight of your lower abdomen bulging out every time his cock thrusts deep inside your tight cunt.

 “Princess…” Bucky groans, stopping you from bouncing, earning a whine from you which turns into loud cries of pleasure when he starts impelling you with his cock again and again. His flesh hand goes to press on your lower abdomen to feel himself inside of you.

 The three of you groan at the scene and Bucky looks back at Steve, smirking and moaning at the same time. Seeing Steve hungrily looking at you but not being able to touch you gives him a rush. Especially when Steve is choking his own cock while he watches the both of you. Oh, Bucky loves showing people that you’re his girl.

 “D-daddy, I’m gonna—”

 “Fucking cum for me, princess.” 

 And you do. You cum with a loud cry, followed by Bucky’s loud cry as he felt your walls suffocating his cock which only gave him more motivation to pistol into you, riding your orgasm. His vibranium fingers find your clit, ignoring your tiny hands that wrapped around it.

 “Too much, daddy!”

 “Give me one more, baby! I wanna cum inside your pretty cunt,” he whispers into your ear before pressing his lips on your neck, sucking your skin with wet kisses. That seems to make you more compliant. You wanted him to cum inside you and Bucky chuckled at how your walls clenched around him at the thought.

 “Oh, you’d like that, won’t you? Want daddy to give you his cummies? Want daddy to breed you? Get you all nice and round…” 

 “Y-yes daddy!” You let out a squeal when his fingers started buzzing around your clit.

 “Yes! Cum inside of her, Buck…” Steve’s wanton voice catches both of your attention and Bucky feels your walls tighten around him when he sees you watching Steve beat his cock with his own hand, his girth swollen and ready to cum. And it’s all because of you. His girl.

 Bucky doubles his efforts, metal hand vibrating against your clit, flesh hand pressing on the bulge that his cock continues to make on your lower abdomen.

 With a few more thrust, Bucky feels his balls tightening and you must’ve felt his thick cock twitching because your walls tightened again and this time, it’s enough to make him burst his seeds into you so, with a loud grunt, Bucky pulls you down on him as his cock twitches inside you, spurting his seeds into your cunt while the head of his cock remains touching your cervix.

 With his metal fingers still vibrating against your clit, you follow him with cumming as the mixture of the feeling of him filling you up with his cum and the intense vibration of his fingers on your sensitive bud.

 Across from the both of you, Steve watches how Bucky is filling you up with his cum, and the moment Bucky’s excess cum starts slipping out from the sides of your slit, he loses it. With a whimper, Steve’s cum shoots out and his hands get covered with his thick white cum while a few lands on the floor. Steve licks his lips when he sees Bucky pulling out of you and using his metal fingers to push the fallen cum back inside of you.

 Steve, still shaking from his orgasm, watches as Bucky picks you up after covering you up with his suit jacket and walking toward the stairs. 

 He stops to look at him though.

 “Thanks for killing the bastard for her, punk.” And with a smirk, he leaves with you in his arms.

 Bucky places you on the bed before cleaning you up. His hands are gentle as he wipes his cum off your thighs and your swollen cunt before getting in beside you and wrapping you up in a blanket.

 “Thank you, daddy.” You slur before curling up beside him. He chuckles before pulling you closer to him.

 “You don’t have to worry about anything, princess. I’ll do anything for you, okay? Seems like Steve will too,” Bucky laughs but doesn’t earn a reply from you. He looks down at your face, seeing you already fast asleep with a smile on your face.

 Oh, how he loves that smile. 

 And he’ll do anything to keep that smile on his girl’s face.

 --

a/n: i just wish I did this request justice :3

taglist

General: @readermia @unlikelygalaxygiver @xoxabs88xox @anncutamarica @chaoticfiretaconerd @i-love-superhero @caffiend-queen @coconutqueen21 @jtargaryen18 @jennmurawski13 @mushyjellybeans @ninjabucky @buckstaybucky @donutloverxo @rebloggingeverything @adriannajackson @la-cey @awaywithtime @gotnofucks @empath-bunny @belovedcherry @white-wolf1940 @the-soulofdevil @mianorth @scorpiosmalfoy @rottenstyx @littlegasps

Bucky Fics: @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

Anything Chris: @patzammit @princess-evans-addict @shadowcatsworld @notyourtypicalrose @onetwo3000 @bluemusickid @heyiamthatbitch @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @slytherinandoutasgard @chrisevanisliterallysir

Chris and seb: @harrysthiccthighss

[earlgreytea68]

Musings on Publishing

It used to be very popular for authors who published original stories but who “started out” writing fanfiction to characterize the experience in terms like this: “My fanfiction is like babysitting someone else’s kids, but my original stuff is like MY children.” The implication seemed to be that you had a closer, more enduring, lifelong bond with your original stuff (never mind this flattening of people’s relationships with children not their own).

I have no idea if authors still talk that way, because frankly once I became a published author I stopped listening to what people had to say about it. Because my experience of publication was so very much not what I expected it to be.

I’ll tell you a secret, which I can probably say now that I’ve ditched my agent and have no idea what I’m going to do in the future: I don’t think my original stuff is nearly as good as my fic, and I have much more of an attachment to my fic than to my original stuff. If we’re going to compare things to children, my fic is definitely much more my children. My fic is much more *me.* Every word you get in a fic is exactly how I wanted it to be, exactly how I chose it, exactly the things I wanted the characters to say, the mood I wanted to convey.

In my experience of publication, it is not that way. Maybe it’s not like that for everyone. I mean, I’m sure once you are an established author, you can do that. But maybe there are debut authors out there who, when they get edits back, just reject all of them and insist on the novel being published as they wanted it to be published. Maybe I should have done that. But I didn’t. As someone who has an aversion to editing but is told that it’s supposed to be a good thing, I made myself edit and edit and edit again, following all of the suggestions I was given. And at the end of the day, frankly, I hated the book. I couldn’t wait to never look at it ever again. I’m sure it’s better than I think, but it’s still not the book it was, or the book I wanted to write. It is something else entirely, some watered-down version of something, something that was stripped of all of my me-ness to make it fit into a marketing formula. You know the Fall Out Boy lyric, “I became such a strange shape trying to fit in”? That.

I think maybe it’s possible that some writers just assume that’s what the experience of putting a story out into the world is like? Or maybe not, maybe other writers have a much better experience than I did. I mean, I have to assume they are having much better experiences, because they all seem to keep writing and publishing, and they seem kind of happy doing it? I mean, a lot of them also complain a whole lot about having to write, which…does seem kind of like they don’t really like it, so Idk. This is all to say:

I’d been writing my whole life, and I’d been publishing stories for years before I was published. And I loved all of them. I put them out into the world so excited to share them, so excited to see what people said about them, so excited that people might love my characters as much as I did and want to cuddle all of them close. To this very day, I love writing, I love what I have written, and I love putting it out there. And I love and treasure what all of you have to say, but I write for me first. And maybe that makes me narcissistic, but actually, I think that’s a form of narcissism I think we could all enjoy more of: loving the things we create, doing things just for us. I was re-reading “Saving Sherlock Holmes” the other night because, well, let’s face it, I, too, have written gay boy with dark curly hair falling for school rugby star, “Heartstopper.” And anyway, as I was reading it, I was like, “This story is great!” Yay! I hope all of you love what you do for fun that much!

This is a long introduction to say that I had set a deadline for this summer to think about whether I wanted to try to get published again. As I mentioned above, I parted ways with my agent a couple of years ago, because I felt that she just wasn’t a good fit for me. Maybe I’d always had the wrong agent. I’m not sure she was at all fannish, and that was probably a problem when it came to representing my very fannish writing. But at the time I got an agent, you really didn’t talk about having come from a fanfiction background. When I was done with my first book contract, my editor asked me for ideas for future books, and I pitched some stories that were kind of ficcy in tone and shape, and I was told, flat-out, very bluntly, “Fandom doesn’t sell. Only Rainbow Rowell can write that way.” …Wow. It actually took me years to write anything for publication ever again after that, because I was kind of like, Well, if the market doesn’t want what I write, then I’ll just write it *not* for the market.

But I look around the market now and I think, That can’t possibly be true anymore. It can’t possibly be the case that editors and agents would still tell me that fannish stuff doesn’t sell. And the truth is, I’m very happy with my life and my fic and the way my writing is, but I also think sometimes, like, would it be nice to have some extra cash to help my niblings with their educations and stuff? Well, of course! Who wouldn’t like that? Would it be nice to share my writing with a little bigger audience? Just because I would want as many people as possible to get to cuddle my characters lol. Would it be nice to be E.L. James? Well, that’s a complex question, but probably yes lol

But I’ve been having a huge debate about whether to try to go for it again. Like, I really didn’t enjoy it, as I’ve said. And it didn’t make me much money in the end, either. I shouldn’t say it’s not nice to have extra money come in, because it is! But it was kind of like “I can take a long weekend vacation on this money!” Not “I can travel the world on this money.” I heard someone say once it was “buy a designer handbag” money. And that’s about right. So it wasn’t a ton of money, and it didn’t really make me happy, and so why would I do it again? And at the same time, I can’t deny that I look at some of the things that are out there right now and I think, …I could have done that. I could have done that *better.* (Kinda looking at you a little bit, Sally Rooney lolololol)

So I felt like I had two choices: I could start over and try to find an agent who understood my writing a little better. Or I could self-publish. And then I was like, …why not both?

I mean, I have enough stuff written to absolutely cover querying to agents and also trying to self-publish. So. Why not do both? Because there’s some stuff I have written that I’m like, “Okay, this I could handle editing and handing over to someone else and having it become someone else’s thing.” But then I have other stuff, like “Swan Song,” that I decided I wanted no editor to come anywhere near. Are there parts of “Swan Song” that could be better? Undoubtedly. But I suspect what would really happen to “Swan Song” is it would be slashed of 100,000 character-development words and I would weep at what happened to Matt Usher.

So, I think I’ve made a decision to use this summer to try to give BOTH a try. I’ll draft up a new query letter and start over with the whole agent thing with one of my novels. And I’ll come up with a self-publishing scheme for another novel. And I’ll see!

[ramzawrites]

can i request an angsty sbi fic where sibling reader lost two lives saving others (maybe tubbo at the festival?) and they see everything falling apart (techno and phil destroying everything, wilbur dead and tommy focused on the disks) and they pretend to be ok while their mental health gets worse and worse until they decide to end it, and people only realise they weren't okay after the death message pops up and their reactions to seeing it? if not thats completely fine, ik its pretty heavy

Broken

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Wilbur, Tommy, Philza, Tubbo, Technoblade

Warnings: depression, suicide (falling, non descriptive), angst

Series: a request!

Summary: Y/N just wanted their home back. They just wanted to live a peaceful life but instead all their hopes and dreams got ripped apart by the people they loved the most.

Words count: 3647

Authors Note: Honestly I could have shortened it quite a bit but here we are, it’s way longer than I wanted but I hope you guys enjoy this. I’m sorry if this went kind off of rails to what you might have envisioned. Also I hope that you guys know that you are loved and appreciated. I appreciate you for taking the time to read my stuff :] Here is m favorite video to cheer me up some times, hope it can cheer you up as well!

I’m also curious what your guys thoughts and opinion are on this or my writing in general! Can’t get better without feedback :]

Y/N loved their family.

They were all pretty chaotic but so was Y/N, following their siblings into trouble ignoring any possible consequences.

So when Wilbur proclaimed he would create an independent Nation inside the SMP that was owned by Dream himself, you bet that Y/N was standing right beside him.

When Wilbur would struggle with his tasks or was weighed down by doubts they would swoop right in and do their best to support him. Every time Wilbur would say “I don’t know what I would do without you sometimes.” While Y/N didn’t do it for praise but out of love for him it was still nice knowing that he appreciated them and that he took note of their work.

Tommy wasn’t really for heartfelt words but he too expressed in his own way how much he appreciated them being around. Most of his schemes wouldn’t have even happened without Y/N’s help after all. As a way to say thanks he would let them just take stuff fout his chets or when he heard they needed a specific resource he would wander out and get it for them. Of course saying something on the lines of “I was out there anyhow, so I brought some with me. It was on the way.” Y/N could read between the lines though. They grew up with him after all.

Y/N put so much energy into L’Manberg they couldn’t help but be in love with this little nation. They would do everything to protect their home.

When Y/N lost their first life it was together with their siblings protecting their nephew Fundy.

The Dream Team suddenly retreated after another battle against L’Manberg. While the group was celebrating what they thought was their first victory in ages, Eret appeared. She told the group of a small bunker with more resources.

Still celebrating Wilbur, Y/N, Tommy, Tubbo and Fundy made their way towards the bunker. The bunker that would later go down into history as “The Final Control Room.”

Inside they all looked at the labeled chests only to notice that they were empty. Eret then pressed a button which opened up secret walls with the Dream Team standing behind. She herself got into safety as Dream and his friends merciless attacked the L’Manberg faction.

As soon as Y/N understood what was happening they did their best to form a wall between the attackers and Fundy. Slowly pushing him out of the room while they made sure to block the exit, giving the Fox Hybrid enough time to run away.

When they woke up again it was inside their home. In L’Manberg. Sore from the respawning.

Once they did respawn though it didn’t take long for Fundy to barge into their room and throw himself against them, thanking them. Wilbur was close by, looking worse for wear as well but incredible thankful nonetheless.

After that and a few battles more Tommy challenged Dream to a duel in order to secure independence. He lost so instead he bartered his music discs for freedom.

After Tommy respawned a second time Y/N made sure to spent most of their time hovering around him. Making sure he was doing alright.

But with that L’Manberg was independent and it was Y/N’s time to shine. Sure, they worked hard on strengthening the infrastructure of the nation but now, maybe even because of that, they basically coordinated all the new builds.

Shops, homes and other things were being build with them overseeing it. Meanwhile Wilbur and Tommy took care of the political part only to come to the conclusion that they had to have a proper election.

At first it started innocently enough as well. New political parties were made that begun advertising themselves. Funny enough they would always come to Y/N asking them where they could hang up their posters. It was then that Y/N realized that the people saw them as some sort of authority, even asking them if they wanted to start their own campaign. They politely declined, saying they worked best as a support role.

Then Schlatt entered the stage and everything got thrown upside down.

In the end he managed to become the next president via a coalition and his first declaration as the president, or emperor as he called himself, was to exile Tommy and Wilbur.

As they ran for their life Y/N didn’t hesitate to follow. It hurt them so much to leave L’Manberg, their fruit and labor, behind. This only got worse once they realized that Tubbo was basically left alone back at the city under Schlatt’s rule.

Then Pogtopia got established.

Tommy, Wilbur and Y/N did their best to get a proper foothold again. Gathering resources and planning for ways to get their home back. And to accomplish this they soon called in the oldest sibling of the group, Technoblade.

Techno has been away for the longest time now. He moved out early to travel the world and apparently train himself. Somehow Tommy found a way to get a message to him, so he made his way towards Pogtopia.

He wasn’t big on words or emotions but as soon as he arrived he let Y/N hug him.

“This is a onetime deal, Y/N.”

With Techno they finally felt like they had a chance. Y/N could maybe return home someday. Back when they were children Techno always looked out for them so to have him back Y/N felt infinitely safer.

All the while Wilbur showed more and more signs that his mental health was rapidly declining. Y/N did their best trying to cheer him up but there was only so much they could do. Especially since they themself were struggling.

L’Manberg was their everything and now it was under the iron rule of Schlatt. They had to watch as Schlatt walked through the nation, ripping apart builds that they commissioned or even built themself. Every time he did something like that it felt like another stab wound directly into their heart.

Then the festival happened where Y/N lost their second life protecting Tubbo.

Schlatt wanted to apparently celebrate democracy and his amazing rule. Tommy and Wilbur weren’t allowed to join while Techno and Y/N received an invitation.

Y/N was very wary of that. They learned from Tubbo that Schlatt apparently was pretty interested in bringing them over to Manberg since a lot of the residents trusted them and saw them more as an authority than Schlatt himself, so bringing them over would probably also bring a lot of the residents around to his rule.

On the day of the festival Y/N made sure to stay close to Techno. Holding on to his arm and basically hiding behind him, not feeling up to talk with all the people in Manberg.

The people were happy to see them but Y/N was tired. They haven’t slept properly ever since the exile, too many thoughts that kept them awake.

Then the speeches started.

Honestly Y/N wasn’t really listening, their attention purely on a broken old building. It used to be the place where Y/N and the other residents would meet up and map out their plans for new builds. Discussing and even sometimes arguing on what materials should be used and where to get them. Now it was empty.

Their attention got pulled back towards what was actually happening once Tubbo begun speaking. It was a nice little speech Y/N had to admit.

Just as Tubbo was about to leave, Schlatt moved back in. Holding him in place and pushing him in something that Y/N had to describe as a cage with the help of Quackity.

“Techno, buddy. Come up here for a sec.”

Technoblade tensed up but still moved towards the stage. There Schlatt uttered the words that pulled the rug out from beneath Y/N once again.

“Kill him Techno. He is a traitor.”

“Don’t you dare!” Y/N yelled out, making their way towards the stage as well.

Y/N knew Techno couldn’t deal well with social pressure, especially when there were about ten people or more behind him that could attack him at any point.

Tubbo looked so scared as he pressed himself against the wall. There was no escape for him.

When Techno moved his crossbow up, aiming directly at Tubbo, Y/N let out another scream. Urging him to stop.

Explosions. Colorful explosions filled the place.

“Y/N!” it was Tubbo screaming their name out.

Just as Techno pressed the trigger Y/N managed to jump in front, the rockets hitting them instead of Tubbo.

Their older brother looked absolutely mortified “Y/N? Wha- What? Why? How?” staring at Y/N’s lifeless body that slowly dissolved. They were slowly respawning but seeing his siblings body was enough to send him in some sort of frenzy.

Filled with bloodlust he aimed his crossbow towards Schlatt and Quackity. Killing them with one press of the trigger only to turn around and aim his crossbow towards the people.

As this happened Tommy enderpearled over, screaming at Techno.

He helped Tubbo out of the cage who was still in a state of shock. He only saw Y/N for a second and the next they were laying on the ground in their own blood.

Y/N heard the details later after they respawned. Tommy had apparently been incredibly angry at Techno, even attacking him. Wilbur then offered that the two deal with their argument via a fistfight inside a pit.

Normally Y/N would have yelled at Wilbur for that. Would have told him that this was his dumbest idea yet but they were too shook from what had happened to them.

Technoblade always spelled safety to them but he killed them. Sure, he meant to kill Tubbo but that didn’t really make it any better. They gave him an out, they would have helped fighting off all these people so they could flee.

The next time they saw Techno they flinched every time he got too close to them and yet they still put on a smile “Never, do this again.”

Techno only nodded.

After this downward slope the momentum didn’t seem to stop for them. Wilbur dropped even more and more off. Falling victim to his paranoia. Y/N tried their best convincing him to not blow up Manberg, that they will fight to gain it back. At this point trying to gain back their L’Manberg was the only thing they could hold on to.

Though all that work was for nothing.

The war to take back L’Manberg went way differently than they all had imagined. Y/N fought with a viciousness most didn’t think they had it in them. This was the day for them to finally regain what they had wished for, for the longest time now.

Everything came to a halt once Dream surrendered. He showed them Schlatt who was sitting in the Carmavan. Drunk off his mind he yelled and screamed at people only to die of a heart attack which meant that the Pogtopia faction won.

The people begun cheering, they had their home back! They were free! Y/N was probably the loudest by far. It felt like a huge weight was lifted from their shoulders. All this hardship and they could finally return to working with the others and rebuild L’Manberg. Return it to its former glory.

Tubbo got appointed President and Y/N was happy with it. Tubbo had an eye for building and was a good person, with him they were sure they could do some amazing things.

Apparently Techno thought otherwise. Instead he pulled Soulsand out, holding onto the Wither skulls as a visible threat.

Y/N had somewhat forgiven Techno for what had happened. It was a stressful situation and they acknowledged it but seeing him there, threatening to kill all of them? That they knew they couldn’t forgive quite so easy. Especially since he made some sound points but it was their L’Manberg. The people didn’t like living under Schlatt’s rule, this wasn’t something that could be described simply as a coup. Technically he was right but only technically. There were so many things that came into play that could let you argue over that but Techno would have none of it. Yelling something about Tommy only wanting to be a hero.

When the first explosions rang Y/N thought it came from a Wither but Techno was still in the middle of putting the heads onto the structure.

When more explosions rang and the ground beneath their feet broke away, Y/N understood what had happened.

At some point Wilbur ran off and must have pressed the button. The button that set the TNT beneath the city ablaze, effectively destroying everything.

Y/N was too busy with finding hard ground again and then dealing with the Withers and Techno that they only noticed after the fighting ended, how broken the nation was now.

They had won. Why would Wilbur do this? He knew how much the nation meant to them and again, they had won, so there was no reason for blowing the place up!

And if that wasn’t enough to see how both their older brothers destroyed everything Y/N worked for, they also had to see how Philza, their father, stood next to the corpse of Wilbur. It felt like they lost everything.

They lost their trust in Technoblade.

They lost their hopes and dreams via Wilbur blowing up the freshly liberated L’Manberg.

They lost their trust in their own father who had slain his own son.

Y/N felt absolutely crushed. Family was so important to them and it was their own family that destroyed their hopes and dreams. They did everything for them and this is how they repaid them?

Once everything calmed down and Tubbo begun making plans on how to rebuild the nation, he immediately came to Y/N for help but they hesitated which worried him.

“Is everything okay? Usually you would have jumped on that offer, Y/N.”

Y/N put on a smile that didn’t seem to reach their eyes “Don’t worry Tubbo, of course I’ll help you. I’m just tired from what we have been through. I finally have time to take a breather and I think it all just crashed down on me.”

“Well if you ever need help you can talk to me.” It was an earnest offer that Y/N would never take advantage of.

Y/N mostly ignored Philza. He talked with them a few times and even explained what has happened but Y/N still made a wide berth around him. Seeing him just hammered back down the feeling of distrust and hurt. Their familial relationship took a hard hit from that point on.

With Ghostbur it was a weird situation as well. They enjoyed spending time with him but were also always incredibly sad around him. Ghostbur took notice of this and would always offer them to take some of his blue but Y/N declined every time.

“Don’t worry Ghostbur. Everything is still just fresh in my mind. I’ll be back to my old self in no time. You take care of yourself, you hear?”

“Of course Y/N! You have always looked out for me, thank you.”

L’Manberg slowly took on a proper form again but it wasn’t the L’Manberg Y/N knew. It felt to them like they were standing on top of a grave. A grave for their dreams and it was getting hard, real hard, to walk through it every day seeing places where they know specific buildings should be standing. Buildings they build on their own only to be destroyed by their brothers doing.

Then Tubbo exiled Tommy and Y/N felt conflicted. They felt obligated to stay in L’Manberg since they were the main person people came to for builds but that was their brother. Their only brother they still trusted and felt a need to protect.

Instead of following him into exile they stayed in the city. Visiting Tommy whenever they could, noticing pretty fast that he was struggling hard with his situation and for once they didn’t feel strong enough to properly support him. Y/N tried their best but once they noticed they couldn’t reach him completely they gave up a tiny bit.

It reminded them too much of Wilbur.

So while they visited him and helped them where they could, they spent more and more time alone in their home only coming out for work and other necessary things like food. Soon it was normal to see them with ever present dark circles beneath their eyes.

Before Philza disappeared to join Techno, he would stop by Y/N’s home all the time.

“Have you eaten, yet?”

“Yes, dad. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”

“I just haven’t seen you much lately and I got worried.”

“Don’t worry. I’m fine. Hey, if you go out, please, can you tell Ghostbur to stop coming around to throw Blue inside my mailbox? He won’t listen to me but perhaps he will to you.” And they would always carry the same big smile on their face accompanied by empty eyes.

The only time their happiness reached their eyes again was when Tommy returned from his exile. They crashed into their younger sibling holding him close to them and muttering apologies. He pried them off, embarrassed by all of this.

This short bout of happiness was destroyed by Doomsday. Dream, Technoblade and Philza once again made sure to set L’Manberg ablaze.

The second time Y/N’s fruits and labor got completely annihilated by their family but still they had some hopes this time. They still had Tommy on their side they could just finally build a home somewhere else and live in peace but Tommy had other ideas. He had it in his mind to get his discs back and he would do anything for it.

So while Y/N tried to ground themself with new hopes and ideas, holding onto the only constant of what was important to them, that being Tommy, Tommy ignored them. He was too busy with his own things and the worst part was that Y/N couldn’t even fault him for it.

They understood how much these discs meant to him and that this was something that had to come to an end but with this they lost another, and possibly their last, anchor point.

Yet you could still see them running around with a smile, tending to every one and trying to help out the best they could.

Then suddenly they were gone. They just disappeared one day. The few people who took note of that took some time to look around but there was no sign as to where they left. Y/N didn’t take their armor with them nor any weapons or food.

< Y/N succumbed to despair and fell of a high place>

When every ones communicators rung out with this message the SMP fell quiet.

Tommy couldn’t believe what he was reading. This didn’t make any sense. Y/N was fine! They would talk with them and everything looked fine! This must have been a cruel joke from Dream somehow, right? This couldn’t be real. Why would Dream do this? This didn’t seem to make sense.

Exactly there was no sense in Dream doing this.

While Tommy was battling with his thoughts Tubbo came running over to him. Tears streamed down his face.

“What happened? Why did this happen? Where are they?”

Tommy was visibly shaking “I- I have no idea. I don’t know. They looked fine. I’m- I’m not sure. Tubbo-“

Tubbo just slammed into him, giving him a proper hug, trying his best to help Tommy through his rising panic. He lost another sibling and by Ender that hurt.

Meanwhile in the snowy Tundra both Philza and Techno were staring at their communicators as well.

Philza was pale. So pale it almost rivaled the snow around him.

Techno had his brows furrowed. For anyone who didn’t know him well enough he looked at best displeased with this situation but Philza could see the small details that told a different story. Him sucking his breath in as he read the message, hiding his quivering lip in his cloak. He was heartbroken.

Sure the two weren’t on good speaking terms but Y/N was still his younger sibling. He still loved them.

Philza felt similar. He acknowledged that he screwed up and honored their wish to be left alone by him but he never imagined this could lead to their death. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground. Two of his children died, one directly by his hand and the other due to his inaction.

His eyes glossed over, the world became a blur and yet he continued rereading this message over and over. Y/N just lost their last life.

Philza could hear Techno walk closer to him and sat down on the ground as well.

“Y/N is-“ Philza begun but he didn’t know what he wanted to say. State the obvious to his eldest son?

“I have more fault in this than you, dad. Don’t feel guilty.” His voice was uncharacteristically weak. Wavering as he spoke. He wanted to cheer Philza up but it was a weak attempt.

“What have we done.”

Ghostbur was at first confused when he read the message. It was like he couldn’t connect the dots but it slowly dawned on him what this meant.

“Oh my.” His usual happy demeanor was suddenly gone.

He touched his face and as he put his hands back down he saw how they were smeared with blue.

“Y/N is dead?”

His usual ghost behavior seemed to break a bit. It was like through the warped version of Wilbur that was called Ghostbur for a moment the true version of him came through again. And he was hurt. Devastated.

“I think I need to find the others.” He mumbled to himself, making his way towards his family. All the while he held onto the blue wool of Friend like a lifeline. Combing through it nervously. Blue continuing to spill from his eyes.

[nxrthmizu]

Crash and Burn

fandom | miraculous ladybug

genre | salt, lila salt

pairing | n/a

w.c | 3.2k

author's note | hey remember that lila salt fic i promised? this isn't it but this is something i made today so yep. please accept this as an apology for yknow. me promising to write and. not doing it.

Enough was enough.

“Marinette, stop accusing Lila! She just wants to make friends!”

“Take the high road.”

“Be a good model student, Marinette.”

Enough. Was. Enough.

Marinette had the connections, the power, the choice to make Lila’s entire world crumble apart. The only thing that stood between the liar’s demise was the tiniest pinch of morality and self-restraint— And no, that self-restraint did not come in the form of Tikki. Even the kwami, who had to be an aggregation of all the good and nice things in the world, was fed up and ready to retaliate.

“What a joke.” Lila cackled, tossing a chunk of her sausage hair over her shoulder flamboyantly. The two girls were in the bathroom, with Lila smirking in front of the sink and Marinette a little distance away from her. “You can make my world crumble? What is this, a threat?”

“A promise.” Marinette corrected. “Stop telling lies. Come clean to every one. No more lying about knowing celebrities left and right, no more making excuses about not being able to take your own notes, no more making up ‘diseases’ just so your life gets a little more convenient. To be frank, I really don’t care what happens to you— But by making these empty promises to introduce my classmates to great ‘celebrities’, you’re ruining their futures. Stop.”

“And what are you going to do if I don’t?” Lila sneered, face twisted into an ugly grin. “You going to cry in front of the class? Try and convince them that I, the one they adore— That I am lying?”

“No.” Marinette’s eyes were clear when she met Lila’s. The clouds of self-doubt that used to hover over the bright, shining star inside her soul had now dissipated, letting the bluenette emit a confident, glowing appearance as she met the liar head on. “I’m just going to keep my promise.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila headed off to a modelling shoot after school, pleased at the prospect of spending more time with Adrien. There were a couple tendrils of Marinette’s words hanging behind in her mind— Did the girl mean what she said? Did she actually… Was she actually capable of causing Lila’s downfall? … Surely not. Marinette may have once been the ‘Everyday Ladybug’, but there was no way she was that competent, there was no way the girl was capable of plotting.

The Italian hummed, brushing away thoughts of the annoying bluenette from her mind. She was going on a photoshoot— One that was going cause the rise and burst of her career, the one that was going to make her name a globally-known one. Unfortunately for Lila, her plans were going to be derailed quite soon— In fact, as soon as Gabriel Agreste’s car rolled into the parking lot of the shoot location.

“Explain this, Mlle. Rossi.” Gabriel’s nostrils flared as he pointed to the tabloid article on his tablet. The Italian girl froze, the headlines seared into her eyes, big and black and bold, shooting poison right into the core of her body, paralysing her cell by cell starting from her heart. “What is the meaning of this?”

‘Adrien Agreste Reported To Be Harassed by Fellow Model’— The image under the caption was one that was clearly taken by a hidden photographer. The picture was framed with leafy foliage, which suggested that the camera was tucked up in a tree. Despite the distance, it was quite obvious in the image that Adrien was reeling away, disgusted and uncomfortable as a faceless woman in an orange blazer, back turned to the camera— Invaded his personal space.

The subtitle was the cream on the cupcake.

‘Witnesses State Gabriel Agreste Ignorant of Workplace Harassment’.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

As if things couldn’t quite go down a worser path, Lila returned home to a fuming mother and an unexpected visitor.

“Lila! You come here right this instant!” The diplomat demanded as soon as the front door opened, her daughter shrinking slightly at the tone and pitch that her mother was using. The last time her mother had been this angry— Well, it was when she got expelled from her last school. “I can’t believe what you’ve done! If it weren’t for your kind classmate, lord knows how long you would’ve continued with this!”

The Italian meekly followed her mother into the living room, eyes widening until they were as large as saucers, mouth agape at the last person she expected to see sitting on the couch.

Marinette smiled kindly, waving at the girl, looking every bit the part of the innocent, pure, kind child that every parent wanted to have. Before Lila could release a torrent of questions about what the hell Marinette Dupain-Cheng was doing in her living room, her mother charged on, beginning to take out her anger on her daughter while a literal angel sat on the sofa, cradling a box of pastries from her family’s bakery.

“Your friend here tells me that you’ve been taking absences from school to go on trips to help humanity!” Mme. Rossi exploded, waving her arms around madly. “She says she’s here to share her notes from the classes you’ve missed! You’ve never left Paris this year! What’s this I hear about flying off to the kingdom of— What was it called again, Marinette dear?”

“Achu.” Provided the bluenette helpfully, the diplomat’s expression instantly softening when she talked to the other teen in the living room.

“Ah, yes. Thank you, dear.” The woman turned back to her daughter, instantly snapping on a mask of anger in a matter of a fraction of a second. “What’s this about flying off to this kingdom of Achu to help homeless orphans with some random prince?”

“Um…” Lila piped up, wriggling as her brain churned at 200 lies per hour, trying to whip up a cover of some sort.

“I’m not done! Your friend here is such a helpful child that she even went as far as to ask her family doctor is there’s a cure for your… Lying disease!” Mme. Rossi practically roared, breathing flames as if she were an intimidating dragon, her daughter flinching away from the heat. “I’ve never heard of anything more ridiculous! And then there’s the fact that you lied to your classmates about having tinnitus?!”

“I actually do have tinnitus!” Lila cut in forcibly, widening her eyes to make herself look more pitiful. “I was just afraid to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry!”

“Bullshit!”

“Um… Sorry to interrupt, Mme. Rossi,” Marinette piped up, the diplomat instantly cooling down as she faced the bluenette, a soft smile tracing the Italian woman’s lips. “But it’s getting rather late and my parents would love me home soon. I also have some tests to revise for tonight, so I think I should get going.”

“Oh, of course, dear.” Mme. Rossi hastily got up to help the bluenette to the door, shooting a warning glare at her daughter— ‘Sit still and don’t you dare go anywhere’, the glare read. “Feel free to come over again anytime you want, dear. I’m not home often, but you are such a sweet child. I’m sure Lila could learn a lot from you.”

“Thanks for having me as well, Mme. Rossi. I really like your home. I left the pastries on the counter— Make sure to warm the curry puffs before you eat them.” Marinette returned the smile, bowing slightly to the older woman as a sign of respect.

“Thank you for the pastries as well, Marinette. I ought to visit your parents’ bakery sometime when I’m free.” Mme. Rossi opened the door kindly for the bluenette, waving the girl off with an affectionate smile. Her parents must be so lucky to have such a sweet little thing like her, Mme. Rossi sighed internally, turning the key so she locked the door. And she seems to be a high-scoring student as well.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila seethed, having been grounded by her mother. As far as Mme. Rossi was concerned, there was a boarding school not too far away from their current residence, and by the next week, the Italian girl would be transferred over. Lila had never hated Dupain-Cheng as much as she did in that moment.

Still furious, the Italian snapped her laptop open, too angry to bother with the fact she might’ve scratched the surface. Clicking into the web browser, she started to type in the words ‘Ladyblog’— That was, before a news article caught her eye.

‘Jagged Stone Interview Reveals Underage, Obsessed Fan’.

What on Earth…

As soon as Lila clicked into the link, the news footage from the interview immediately begin to play. The date stamp on it showed that it had aired last night— Which meant that she would’ve missed it, since her mother was too busy yelling at her to turn on the television to watch Nadja Chamack’s daily news.

“As soon as I heard this rumour about some underage teenage girl claiming that she had saved my cat on an airport runway, I called Penny and asked her to book a slot for me to clarify this,” Jagged Stone said grimly, dressed in more formal attire as he sat in the comfortable, cushioned chair of the news station, with Nadja nodding equally seriously beside him. “Let me clarify— I’ve never owned a cat. I’m allergic to fur. The only pet I’ve had was Fang, and he’s an al-li-ga-tor. Not a cat. Whatever the girl is claiming, she’s obsessed and making up stories.”

“It’s also kind of bewildering that she saved it on an airport runway,” Nadja continued, shaking her head in disappointment. “That kind of thing only happens in dramas— It’s too dangerous for anyone besides authorised workers to be on airport runways.”

“Right, right!” Jagged agreed instantly. “The whole rumour is just really baffling.”

“M. Jagged, may I ask what kind of effect these rumours have on a celebrities’ career?” Nadja continued, leading the conversation on like a professional.

“Well, rumours that circulate around tend to have really bad effects, and the worse ones can hang around for a long, long time. Tabloids are often spun off from rumours, baseless and with no evidence. Those tabloids will never truly disappear, so they can leave a mark on a celebrity’s reputation as some people will believe anything— Even things they read from un-cited tabloids.”

“That is simply terrible. Have you ever had any cases of rumours created by underaged teens before this?”

“I’ve had quite a number, but none of them really got as big as this one. From what Penny has found from digging around, the teen girl managed to spread the rumour through her school and onto a once-popular blog.” Jagged explained. “Penny has also found out that the same girl has claimed that I’ve written songs for her to thank her for saving my cat! I would never write songs and dedicate them to an underaged girl— Trust me. If I could do such a thing, I’d already have written a dozen in honour of my niece— She’s my favourite designer.”

Nadja smiled at that sentence. “Then—“

The news footage cut off abruptly as Lila slammed her laptop shut, too upset to continue watching.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

On the other side of Paris, Alya was pacing around her room frantically, wondering why on earth Lila wasn’t picking up on her calls. She’d left at least four dozen messages to the Italian, who was absent from school that day. There had been a couple whispers here and there about why she was missing— Rose had suggested another impromptu trip to Achu.

Lila’s absence wasn’t the weirdest part of the day, however.

That award would go to Marinette, who walked into class with a smile, the slightest sprinkles of delight colouring her bluebell eyes when she spotted Lila’s empty seat.

Growing in frustration, Alya threw herself onto her bed, phone clattering onto the mattress with her. Within the next few minutes, however, her phone suddenly started exploding with notifications. Excited at the prospect of Lila finally texting back, Alya turned on her phone, only to be disappointed by the notifications all clamouring from the class group chat.

Kim had sent a link to the chat— Without hesitation, Alya clicked into it, frowning when she saw Nadja and Jagged appear on the screen. Throughout the interview, the colour on the Ladyblogger’s face only paled by the second until she was as white as a sheet, and if it were halloween at that time, she would’ve won the best costume award for being a ghost.

There must… There must’ve been a mistake.

A notification from Lila’s number made the blogger perk up, instantly clicking into the conversation— But her newfound hope didn’t last very long.

[Lila]

Hi, Alya. This is Lila’s mom. She’s currently grounded right now. Is there anything important you need to tell her?

[Alya]

Oh, nothing much… I just wanted to ask where she was.

[Lila]

She’s at home.

[Alya]

Okay, thanks.

Flopping onto her bed, Alya begin thinking, revising over the past few months like it was an old clip. Lila’s exciting adventures and interactions with celebrities of every kind— Lila going overseas and face timing the entire class— Lila letting her in on the secrets of being Ladybug’s friend…

… Marinette trying to tell them that Lila was lying…

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The class was awfully silent the next day. Adrien was absent as well— A social worker was looking into his home life as a result of the tabloid that arose. Things for the blonde could either get better or worse from then on, as the matters were still foggy and things hadn’t cleared up yet. The blonde maintained contact with his friends, however, calling and texting them whenever he could.

“Class, settle down.” Mlle. Bustier stepped into the class, looking very tense and uncomfortable. “Today, we will have a guest, so please be on your best behaviours, alright?”

Just as the teacher finished speaking, a tall, regal-looking Italian woman entered the classroom, a cowering principal and a meek-looking Lila in tow. The class brightened slightly at the sight of their friend— But by the way she wasn’t looking into their eyes… Things weren’t going to be good.

“Good morning. I am Mme. Rossi, Lila’s mother.” The woman begin speaking, her firm and no-nonsense tone instantly making every student sit straight, their eyes too afraid to look anywhere else but the Italian diplomat. “It has come to my attention that my daughter has been taking absences from school to do charity work— And I have to clarify that this is a lie. Lila has been doing nothing but holing herself up in her room, lying to me and saying that there are no classes due to akumas.” The Italian diplomat glowered at Damocles. “What’s even more baffling is the fact that neither her homeroom nor the principal bothered to check up with me despite a student having extended periods of absence with no note or email written whatsoever.”

The class was so quiet that they could hear the quiver of Mlle. Bustier’s trembling lip.

“In addition, I’ve been kindly told that Lila has claimed to have a lying disease, which is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard this week.” It was impossible to miss the way the Italian diplomat was glaring daggers at both Mlle. Bustier and Damocles. “No one bothered to look it up online to see if it’s actual disorder, nor did anyone call me to confirm and ask for a doctor’s note, which is standard procedure.” Chills burst over the room, making every one shiver as the woman hissed out her words.

“Mme. Rossi, we didn’t want to disturb your busy schedule—” Damocles begin, only to be blown backwards from the sheer intensity of Mme. Rossi’s glower.

“M. Damocles, standard procedures exist for a reason. Unless you’d like to tell me about any other things you’ve been letting my daughter get away with?”

“N— No, Mme.”

The Italian diplomat continued on her war path. “My daughter also claimed to have tinnitus, am I correct?”

“Y— Yes, Mme.” Mlle. Bustier answered when it seemed like no one was going to.

“And I heard that the class seating arrangement was shifted to accommodate for that?” The homeroom teacher didn’t dare answer this time, for it seemed like whatever she said would be the incorrect answer. “And apparently, my daughter has also been faking broken wrists and requesting for her classmates to complete her work for her.” Mme. Rossi was practically breathing flames at that point, “And I am incredibly upset at the lack of action from the homeroom teacher.”

No one could breath.

“I have many concerns about the running of this schooling facility, and I expect to discuss this with M. Damocles privately after this. However, there is still something to be done.” Mme. Rossi swept her gaze towards her daughter, who found the floor incredibly interesting at that point of time. “Lila? Something you’d like to say to your classmates?”

“… I’m sorry for lying to you.” Lila mumbled resentfully.

“Louder, Lila. No one can hear you.”

“I’m sorry for lying to you!” Lila swallowed, bursting like an explosion that had finally been triggered, tears in her eyes and fists hatefully curled. “I’m sorry for lying about my diseases and injuries. I’m sorry for making you do my work,” She spat. “Sorry for causing any inconveniences.”

Mme. Rossi raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “Is that all?”

Lila glared at her mother, who was completely unfazed. “Oh, so you want an apology from me? Fine!” She turned to the class, a maniacal glint in her eyes as she sneered at the class, a few gasps puffing from around the room as they caught their first glimpse of the liar that resided in the ‘harmless’ shell of Lila Rossi. “I’m sorry that you are all such idiots that you all fell for everything. I’m sorry that Marinette has such terrible, untrusting classmates that turned their backs on her even though she was still a goody-two shoes till the end, even though she still wanted to help you sorry peasants. I’m sorry that you were all so goddamn gullible! There! Good enough for you?”

Shock was etched into the faces of every human in the classroom— Including Mlle. Bustier, M. Damocles, and Mme. Rossi themselves. Clearly, that part of the apology had not been part of the plan.

“Did I miss something?” Said a sweet voice, followed by the presence of a bluenette, her hair tied in a half-up. A royal blue blazer decorated her lithe form, accompanied by a smart-looking white blouse and a black plaited skirt. Formal had never looked so good on anyone— And if someone didn't know better, they'd think that the bluenette was a young lawyer, emerging victorious from her first successful case.

“Marinette!” Alya exclaimed.

“I’m sorry that you’re such an annoying, little, pest.” Lila bit in the girl’s face, disdain colouring her features as she ignored her mother’s enraged gasp behind her.

The bluenette simply smiled, unaffected by the liar who had crashed and burned like the liar once wished upon her. Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood at her full height, the perfect image of grace and poise as she maintained her composure, quite unlike her nemesis, who thrashed under her mother’s restraining hands.

“And I’m sorry that you didn’t take my promise to heart.”

this can count as adrien redemption depending on you cause ehhh i dont like how passive he is but i havent caught up with the recent episodes, he might have become better. idk.

also where the hell is my miraculous taglist i cant find it so eep. no tagging ppl ig oops