#or sit in them and play a flute that screams

[c-kiddo]

underrated caduceus character trait 2 me is that, while he stays polite (thinly veiled sometimes lol) to help his besties he has zero respect for authority figures who don't prove themselves to care about others. like king dwendal, ikithon, guards, avantika too. like he does what tmn need to not get killed but like he's also trying to kill the king with his mind

[fanaticsnail]

This is something I thought of but it suits the men you like more than it does mine

Imagine an au or smth in which your fave plays the cello

Now imagine y/n oc sitting on his lap, he's choking them while using a toy on them and in that position it's almost like he's playing y/n like they're a cello

I think you could do this prompt justice better than I ever could so I hope you enjoy it ✨️

Cellist Kid

Okay, but hear me out. Cellist Kid.

Cellist. Kid.

Thoughts below the cut.

Synopsis: your academic rival and you do not get along. You find his boorish intensity revolting, and he finds your attitude standoffish. As your conductor decides to pair you together to practice, tempers flare and passion ignites.

Themes: afab!reader x Kid, cellist!kid x flautist!reader, choking, Kid has both hands, kissing swearing, college AU, NSFW, 18+, smut, P in V sex, drabble length, creampie, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, hate sex.

College AU with Eustass Kid wanting to practice playing electric bass, but instead joins an orchestral ensemble at his college for extra credit. They don't play metal, punk, or rock: but he absolutely has a soft spot for movie soundtracks that use heavy bass: game of thrones, lord of the rings, Narnia, all of the songs of his childhood.

He decides the closest thing to a bass is a cello. It takes him a while to understand how to use a bow, but he picks it up in no time. He enjoys this time he spends playing music, it's a way he gets to unwind and hone in on his musicality.

The only hiccup in this perfect symphony is you. Not your playing, but your attitude. You loathe him, and he despises you.

You're a flautist who often gets the lead line for the pieces because you're extremely talented and dedicated to your craft. You hang shit on Kid for joining a failing Warhammer painting group with his best friend, MSK - and he taunts you just as much for joining a Dungeons & Dragons group being ran by a DM named Usopp, an English literature major who enjoys spinning roleplaying tales.

But the more you play music together, the more the conductor of the band decides to place you two together in a more permanent way. You're perfect for each other, in your conductors opinion. The deep rattle of the bass clef played by Kid harmonises perfectly with the treble you produce with your fluttery breath and nimble fingers.

You've been aggressively quippy with each other for a few months now, the rest of the orchestra rolling their eyes every time you have a fued in front of them. Your conductor decides to place the two of you together to sort it out between you.

Now that you're in an empty classroom together, all lecturers gone for the night, the tension draws thick between you. Your snarl draws his heckles up, his growl causes your skin to ignite with disdain at him.

"What the hell is your problem with me, cellist?" You finally curse at him, acknowledging his presence for the first time in twenty minutes. He halts tuning his pegs and places his broad bow in the case at his feet.

"Could say the same for you, flooty," he spat back, his nose scrunching at you while reaching for his amber rosin.

"I hate you," you snarl at him.

"I hate you," he barked at you in response.

"I hate you first," your body moved against its will, placing your flute carefully within the hard case beside you and stomped towards him.

"I hate you second," he growls in return, the gruff grumble igniting flames in his chest as he casts aside his borrowed cello in its stand.

"What does that even matter?" you question him, cocking your head to the side and furrowing your brows, "I could wring your neck and scream at you for how much I despise you!"

"Would be a better sound than your fucking playing, that's for sure!" he draws himself closer to you, his much taller frame towering over yours.

You see red, reaching up and circling his neck with your hands. You use all your might to shove him down onto the chair he was formerly sat atop and accidentally fall on top of him. Your thighs frame his, your crotch perfectly in line with his.

This small stumble causes you to falter in your fury. Shock writes itself over your face as you notice a soft blush dust the cheeks of your academic rival beneath you. From this new position, you notice the warm hue in his hazel eyes: the tint almost rust-coloured in the pale lighting.

You both glance down to the join of your bodies in synchrony before glancing back up at each other's shocked faces.

It all happens in an instant: clothes cast aside and discarded on the floor, lips gnashing, biting and marking each other beneath your rough oscillations. You're in his lap, facing away from him with his girthy cock plunging deep within your slick cunt with a brutal rapidity.

His left hand circles your throat, causing your head to lull against his left shoulder. His right hand is plunged deep between your legs and pinches, circles and grinds against your clit as he thrusts his cock deep within you.

As his right digits begin tapping your clit in rhythmic patterns, the fingers of his left hand tighten and loosen against your flesh. The stampeding ecstacy draws ever nearer, both of your voices picking up in the corners as his knob bullies and batters your cervix with deep thrusts.

As your abdomen begins to tighten it's woven band of ecstacy, Kid's huffed breath pants out with more intentional rapidity. His thighs shudder beneath you, his body giving into the carnal urge to fuck the attitude and sass out of you with each cruel thrust.

His left hand breaks away from your neck circling in front of your chest and anchoring his body against yours to chase his climax within you. His momentum staggers as you felt his cock twitch within your plush walls.

"I-I-..." Kid stutters through his warning, mewling your name in a panted whine, "...-I'm gonna-... fuck. You feel so fucking good. I'm gon-... -I'm c-cumming."

As he whines through his panted confession, your body immediately was ushered into your bliss alongside his own. Lights danced behind your eyes as your body betrayed your hatred for him and transported your senses to become overwhelmed with bliss.

You cried his name, head lying fully back and at his mercy as he continued to bully his thick cock deep within you. Ribbons of hot, sticky cum shot deep within you, the rippling backsplash causing the translucent fluid to leak from your entrance and pool down your spread legs and onto his thighs.

As you rode through your mutual bliss, Kid offers you an apology for his prior insults.

"I-... -I don't think you're a shit flute-player," he admits, his forehead meeting with the back of your neck, "I actually think you're quite talented."

"You are too," you confess, nuzzling the back of your head against his, "But you're still an asshole."

Notes: I'm not sure if cellist Kid is a vibe or not, but it was my initial thoughts. A little bit of enemies to lovers never hurt. I could also see Law as a cellist, but Kid was screaming at me. I have had a drink, and this was done in about 20 minutes. Apologies for grammar mistakes!

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff

[brotherwtf]

clegan band/orchestra au ⁉️

basing this a lot on my experience in the orchestra so buckle up squad

Gale is the principle cellist in the symphony orchestra and is a very well respected musician, he's been playing since he was 10 and has played in countless orchestras since then

John is the trombone section leader, a loud but very competent player who has been playing since middle school and started a jazz club in his high school

They went to the same college and ended up in the same symphony orchestra, almost never crossing paths

Gale prefers to play in all-string orchestras, he thinks "band kids" are too loud and obnoxious, so this was his first time playing in a full orchestra (band and strings)

John likes to rib the string players for being so uptight, always telling them to loosen up a little bit

He especially likes to tease Gale at rehearsals, pointing out the size of his instrument or that he needs a chair to be able to play properly, and Gale just glares at him and ignores what he says

From where John sits, he can perfectly see Gale playing, and has to admit he's impressed. He likes to see the furrow of Gale's brow and the way his fingers work lightly on the fingerboard (definitely getting some ideas from that one 😏)

Gale secretly likes the teasing, he had been raised in such a strict household when it came to playing music that he never really thought of it as fun, that really only came into his mind when he would see John at rehearsal

Gale starts to tease John back and they form an easy friendship

It's their first concert together when they realize, oops, this is the hottest guy ever.

They see each other backstage in their CONCERT BLACK (every musician is screaming their heads off rn) and immediately their brains just short circuit

Gale's black dress shirt hugs his waist so nicely, bro John is losing it, and the black slacks make his legs look MILES long

John just looks so BROAD in his shirt, material tightening around his shoulders and biceps whenever he moves, and the material of his slacks hug his thick thighs so well that Gale has to stop himself from drooling

Gale doesn't really have an excuse to crane his head over to look at John while he's playing but he chances a look between pieces and always finds John looking at him intently. He raises his eyebrows and smirks at him, making sure to flex his fingers before putting them on the fingerboard

They find each other after the concert and immediately jump on each other. John leads them to an empty practice room and they make out (and probably fuck) in there all night

bro they're so dumb I love writing about them. missing playing my instrument hours; open

some other mota band/orchestra hcs below the cut!

Curt plays the trumpet, a loud instrument for a loud personality

Douglass plays viola and EVERYONE bullies him, poor guy can't catch a break

Blakely probably plays the flute and likes to point at people with it and play jokes with them

Rosie plays violin and is the concertmaster (first chair violin) everyone loves and respects him

Hambone (my beloved) plays violin as well, he's first chair second violin

Croz and Bubbles both play clarinet, clarinet buddies they are two thirds of the clarinet section (who cares about the other guy)

Harding is their goofy ass conductor, I have a hc that he used to be a percussion player before he decided to conduct. Really likes playing movie music and romantic classical, likes to mix in jazz every so often.

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

LOZ TOTK Isekai - Changing Fate, Creating Destiny

(Part 1 2) (This is Part 2)

The quiet afternoon in the castle gardens had been filled with light laughter, the soft rustling of leaves, and the occasional chirping of distant birds. Zelda sat beside Adria, both women leaning in close over a small object that had become a source of shared fascination—Adria’s phone. It was a curious thing, so much like Zelda’s Purah Pad and yet, in many ways, completely different.

Zelda had initially been awestruck by the phone's capabilities. While her Purah Pad had a map, a detailed record of their surroundings, and could help locate materials, the phone seemed to offer a glimpse into another world entirely. It couldn't predict weather or pinpoint resources, but it could store something far more personal—memories and emotions.

They had spent hours comparing their devices, laughing over stories as they swiped through images and videos. Zelda had shown Adria pictures of the places she had traveled in her time, the cliffs of Zora’s Domain, the sweeping expanse of the Great Plateau, and the sight of the massive Divine Beasts that once roamed Hyrule’s lands. Adria, in turn, had shown her pictures of her family, friends, and strange landscapes Zelda had never imagined—tall buildings, bustling cities, people dressed in strange garments.

The most astonishing aspect of Adria’s phone, however, was its ability to play music. Zelda had known instruments, of course—the lyre, the flute, the soft hum of a Sheikah harp—but the phone was different. It played music from a distant place, without needing an instrument at all. The first time Adria had played a song from her device, Zelda had fallen off her chair in shock, her heart racing at the sudden, unfamiliar sound.

Adria had rushed to her side, her face filled with worry. But once Zelda had managed to calm herself, they had both laughed, the surprise giving way to amusement. “I’ve never seen anyone react like that to music before,” Adria had giggled, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

Zelda smiled at the memory. She still couldn’t get over how strange and wonderful the music was. Today, they were sitting in the garden, and Adria had once again let the music play softly through her phone. The tune was haunting, the voice deep and rich, filling the air with a melancholy beauty.

Adria sang along, her voice low and steady, perfectly matching the pace and tone of the song:

"When I was a child, I heard voices... Some would sing and some would scream. You'll soon find you have few choices... I learned the voices died with me."

Zelda sat transfixed, her gaze resting on Adria as she sang. There was something magical about the way Adria’s voice blended with the music, as if she were not merely singing but sharing a piece of herself with the world. The words were heavy with emotion, and Zelda found herself enchanted by the melody and the meaning behind it.

“What a beautiful song,” Zelda whispered when Adria paused. “It feels… so personal. Where did you learn it?”

Adria smiled softly, tucking her phone back into the folds of her dress. “It’s from a singer back home. I used to listen to it a lot when I needed to think or… when I felt lost.” She looked up at Zelda, her expression thoughtful. “Music has a way of reaching places that words can’t. It helps me remember things.”

Zelda nodded, understanding that feeling all too well. She felt a strange sense of kinship with Adria in that moment, as if they both carried memories too heavy for words. “It reminds me of my time with the Champions,” Zelda said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “There were moments when all I had were my thoughts and the memories of their voices.”

The two women fell silent, the weight of shared memories hanging between them like a fragile thread. The afternoon light cast soft shadows across the garden, and for a brief moment, all was peaceful.

But then, a subtle shift in the air made Zelda’s senses tingle. She glanced up and caught sight of two figures in the distance—Kotake and Koume, the Gerudo guardswomen who had accompanied Ganondorf. They were watching again.

Zelda’s eyes narrowed slightly, her body instinctively tensing. She had no issue with the Gerudo as a people—quite the opposite, in fact. Urbosa, the former Gerudo Chief, had been like a second mother to her, a source of strength and wisdom. But Kotake and Koume… they were different. They exuded the same unsettling aura as Ganondorf himself. Something about their presence felt off, as if they were more than just warriors, as if they were always observing, always calculating.

Adria noticed Zelda’s sudden change in demeanor and followed her gaze. The smile she had been wearing faltered, replaced by a look of curiosity. “They’ve been watching us a lot lately,” she murmured, keeping her voice low. “I don’t think they mean any harm. Maybe they are shy?”

Zelda nodded, her expression tight. “They’re loyal to Ganondorf, and Ganondorf is… ambitious. They’re likely keeping an eye on us for him.”

Adria let out a small, nervous chuckle. “Great. And I'm not even in my nice outfit.”

Zelda placed a reassuring hand on Adria’s arm. “Just be careful around them. Kotake and Koume aren’t like Urbosa. They may seem friendly, but they have their own agenda.”

Adria sighed, leaning back against the stone bench they were sitting on. “I’ll keep that in mind. I just hope they don’t think I’m some sort of threat. I’m barely managing to keep myself together most days.”

Zelda smiled softly, though her eyes remained sharp. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Just… trust your instincts. If something feels wrong, it probably is.”

Adria nodded, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the bench’s surface. “You’re right. And I’ll try not to let their stares get to me.”

The two women shared a brief, knowing look before turning their attention back to the serene garden. Adria began singing a sing-song version of the phrase "I always feel like somebody's watchin' me~", making Zelda giggle.

The tension between them eased, but the presence of the Gerudo guardswomen lingered at the edge of their awareness, a reminder that even in moments of peace, the game was always being played.

[tabl3]

lil things about the team:

kaz's hair grows really fast. he often has bree or chase cut it because it needs to be too often to pay for a barber, and has to shave his face at least once a day

oliver and kaz teach the others about a lot of real-world things because all three of them have only been living in it for a maximum of 4 years

whenever the team watches horror movies - bree acts like she doesn't get scared but can't close her eyes in the shower for a week, kaz and oliver scream the whole time, skylar cheers for the kills, and chase criticizes how unrealistic they are

kaz never bothered chase's touch aversion, but oliver and skylar never really did either when they all became friends (even still they're both extremely respectful of it which was whiplash vs his family lol)

all 3 of the trio are huge huggers, even though oli is more emo now than when he was younger lmao. they also use physical touch often in the day to day, like touching shoulders, high fives, etc. bree and chase were never used to physical affection before tasha and leo came, but they've just gotten used to the influx of it

chase and oliver are the only tea drinkers (sometimes the girls too but usually not). they go to tea shops in the city often :)

chase sings in the shower. he doesn't know that whoever is in the boys' room can hear him (all four of them have recorded it before)

speaking of: chase is an amazing singer and can play almost anything perfectly due to his bionics. bree is also a good singer. kaz can't sing even a little but plays the guitar (sometimes with chase). skylar can sing, but she doesn't care for the more musically inclined hobbies. oliver can play the flute and piano bc he had lessons for most of his life

kaz and skylar are great with kids. they volunteered at after school programs whenever they didn't need to go to mighty med back in Philly. oli can't stand children lol

kaz and bree or kaz and skylar play wrestle often. kaz and bree due to growing up with brothers and skylar just bc she thinks it's fun

skylar spends most of her time on the roof. chase will join her if he thinks she needs the company

kaz and oliver have at least half a dozen secret handshakes

chase will make clothes that bree designs for her. he acts like he's put upon but loves seeing how happy his sister gets when they're finished

whenever bree asks skylar what lipstick to wear, skylar chooses the one that will look the best on her cheek after bree smooches it

tasha tried very briefly to set chase and skylar up bc she loves skylar until chase told her she was gay. when bree came out tasha moved to cupid-ing them

oliver stole a lollipop at the checkout when he was 5 and still feels guilty about it

skylar keeps an arsenal of calderan weapons in her closet

literally none of them sit in a chair properly (chase gets close)

chase falls asleep downstairs at his desk often. whoever stumbles across him carries him up (normally kaz or skylar)

chase and bree are bad at saying sorry. the other three understand that and the ways that they convey they're sorry

kaz is really good at using chopsticks. no one else can

chase is great at styling hair

bree and chase will sometimes share a capsule when they miss their family

oliver enjoys studying his medical textbooks

bree has accidentally punched all of them because of her glitches (chase has gotten so good at predicting it that she usually hits a shield)

kaz doesn't own a single pair of matching socks

skylar tells dad jokes

oliver is the team's moral compass and voice of reason. after him it's probably skylar or chase, but those two are willing to do whatever is necessary

kaz sometimes sleepwalks. he'll stand over oliver's bed and scare the shit out of him lmao

bree crashed a riding lawn mower into the family's fence

if chase is too tired he'll just eat coffee beans

chase is bi/trans/demisexual, bree is pan, kaz is gay, skylar is lesbian, oliver is hetero/trans/asexual. they let bree do their makeup and go to centium city's pride together :)

chase fell first when they met in mighty med, but kaz fell a whole hell of a lot harder

oliver knocks on any closed door to not be traumatized lol

the cats really like oliver

bree and kaz were banned from energy drinks

kaz was dropped out of a window as a child (he was fine lol)

kaz and oliver never talk about their siblings. the only ones kaz will mention are katie and kyle, while oliver never brings up his older brother

bree hates berry sodas with a passion

skylar rollerskates around the penthouse a lot

chase often has to cover for the team's mistakes. he's a single mom who works two jobs

kaz is a really good hacker

oliver sleeps with a stuffed animal

kaz often gets caught staring at chase with puppy eyes, in total disbelief that they're together. oliver and skylar make fun of him for that lol

skyalr throws great birthday parties

chase keeps snacks on him for bree's fast metabolism, water for oliver's quick dehydration, and bandaids for kaz inevitably tripping and falling when they go out

[elliesbelle]

imagine (a world like that)

ellie williams one-shot

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: your girlfriend ellie is always on the road on tour, living the life of a traveling rockstar. when she comes home for a day, you imagine what kind of life you’d have with her if you lived in a different world.

content warnings: modern au, long distance relationship, mostly fluff but bittersweet, non-sexual nudity

word count: 1.2k

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

based on the ariana grande song “imagine”

It’s nearly midnight and you watch as the 50-foot tour bus pulls up to the hotel parking lot. You bounce up and down nervously on the balls of your feet in restless anticipation. The buzz of your car’s AC hums silently, almost in irritation that you’d left the engine running. 

A few moments after the bus parks, people begin to file out from inside. You pay them no mind, your eyes searching for a certain green-eyed girl. You don’t realize that you’ve been holding your breath until you spot a flash of auburn emerging from the bus. Your feet move quicker than your brain does, sprinting in the direction of your girlfriend. 

Ellie barely registers the fresh night air before she sees your quick figure speeding towards her mere seconds before you reach her. Her face breaks out in a wide smile as she drops her bags and her arms instinctively fly open, catching you and lifting you up just in time as you nearly collide against her body. The second thing you feel after her arms wrap around your waist are her lips on yours, fervently enveloping them as if the end of the world was just seconds away. 

You hear Ellie’s fellow bandmates and crew wolf-whistling and chuckling, but you’re too focused on covering your girlfriend’s face with kisses to care. Tears of joy uncontrollably stream down your face as you take in Ellie’s appearance after months apart. 

“I missed you, honey.” She whispers. 

“Missed you more.” You insist. 

“Not possible.” 

You smile before hopping down from her arms, your left hand grabbing one of her bags and your right tugging her towards the direction of your car. Ellie only has a second to grab her other bag before you’d already pulled her several feet away from where you’d both reunited. 

“Bye, Jesse! Bye, Dina!” You belatedly scream without bothering to look their way. You hear their laughter behind you as they shout their replies of goodbye to you both. 

Before you’re able to enter your car, Ellie’s manager yells, “Williams! 2:30 tomorrow! On the dot! Or you get left behind!” 

You throw Ellie’s bags in the backseat as she yells back, “I know! I’ll be here!” before slipping into the passenger’s seat. 

Your car nearly leaves skid marks on the pavement from how quickly you tear out of the hotel parking lot, the tires loudly “skkrting” away. 

Boxes of leftover pad thai lay abandoned at the foot of your bed while the only light illuminating your apartment emanated from dim candlelight flickering in your bathroom. Two champagne flutes balanced precariously on the side of the bathtub, momentarily forgotten about as Ellie playfully blows bubbles at your face. You giggle as you try to shield yourself before lightly splashing her with bath water. 

The only sound that could be heard besides your laughter was the melody of a soft Ariana Grande song playing from a speaker sitting on the bathroom sink. Both you and Ellie had placed your phones on “Do Not Disturb” mode, refusing to let anyone penetrate your personal bubble tonight. Nothing and no one was going to ruin the 12 hours you had left to spend with your girlfriend. Nobody else was allowed to hear the whispered secrets you uttered for only each other to hear or the sweet, loving promises you swore to one another. 

Not even the bright, early morning sunlight could wake you from the deep slumber you’d fallen into while laying on top of Ellie’s chest. Her arms were wrapped tightly around you, determined to keep you close even in sleep. 

It wasn’t ‘til noon that you’d opened your heavy eyelids. You woke up in the crook of Ellie’s neck, her arms still holding you. You blink your eyes several times, almost as if you couldn’t believe the image before you. She really was here, laying naked with you in your bed and getting the best sleep she’d had in a long while. 

It was agony to tear yourself away from your peaceful position, but you had only a couple of hours left until she needed to be back at the hotel before heading back on the road. Ellie seemed just as determined as you to remain forever in this blissful state, but she eventually relented after some convincing in the form of soft kisses on her cheeks and neck. You drag yourself off the bed to get dressed before cooking a late breakfast for you both. 

Since last night, nobody had been able to contact either of you, both of you refusing to engage with the outside world apart from a couple of Instagram stories from the night before that celebrated Ellie’s brief homecoming. You ate your scrambled eggs and toast silently, sitting across from her at your dining room table and occasionally giving each other soft but bittersweet smiles. 

After you finished washing the dishes where you’d both playfully fought over who would complete the chore, you return to your bedroom to help Ellie gather her belongings. You were so determined not to let her catch a glimpse of the tears falling silently from your mournful eyes that you didn’t notice the same tears falling from her own. Once you confirm that everything was packed, you and Ellie settle down on your living room couch for a little while, relishing the few minutes you had left before you needed to drive her back. 

Ellie had you wrapped in a tight embrace, stroking your hair absentmindedly as you savour this moment with her. After a few moments, she suddenly sits up straight and breaks the embrace, to which you instinctively whine at the loss of contact. She chuckles at your grumbling before standing up to rummage through one of her bags. 

After a few moments, she pulls out a long, jewellery box from one of the pockets and returns to her seat on the couch. You look at her questioningly as she silently hands you the present. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you open the lid. 

Inside was a gold necklace that glimmered from the sunlight streaming in from your living room windows. It was adorned with nothing else but a golden letter “E” sitting in the center of the chain. It was simple yet thoughtful, a perfect symbol of the kind of girlfriend Ellie was. 

This time, you couldn’t hide your soundless crying. Ellie lifted a hand to gently wipe a few tears away in vain, smiling wistfully. 

“So that you never forget that I am and will always be yours.” She whispers faintly. 

“As long as you never forget that my heart will always belong to you, Ellie Williams.” You murmur poignantly, returning her soft smile with one of your own. 

She lifts the necklace from the box and places it around your neck, her fingertips brushing against you so delicately as if afraid to shatter your skin. Your hands caress your girlfriend’s initial now resting inches above your breasts, allowing the cool feeling on your fingertips to ground you to the present. 

Ellie envelops you in her arms again. She memorizes the feeling of your body against hers once more and tries to imagine a world where she wasn’t tearing herself away from your embrace in pursuit of her dream career as she left the true dream behind. 

author's notes:

i literally wrote all of this in less than an hour today right before work cause my alexa wakes me up to ariana grande songs and my sleepy state heard "imagine" and got hit with insane inspiration that i had to write this all. and yes, it's true what you heard: i wrote the majority of this while sitting on the toilet taking my morning shit. you're welcome for that image <;3

why did i kind of break my own heart writing this ahahaha

hope y'all enjoy <;3

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @alexpritch, @sawaagyapong

[fandomhcs]

dating/marrying abigail would include:

monster hunting dates? monster hunting dates.

abigail craves adventure. despite her parent's wishes, she would 100% join the adventurer's guild with you. whether she's fully ready for it or not.

need a protector while you're picking away at a hunk of copper? abigail's already on it, chopping a giant bug in half before you even know it's there.

sometimes she still gets a little scared in the mines, but with you by her side her fear slowly starts to fade. the two of you protect each other, and protect the valley as well. she thinks about it sometimes, what would happen if the monsters in the woods or in the mines wander into town. what would happen if something caught jas outside by herself? or evelyn? she starts to keep a closer eye on everyone at night. not quite patrolling, she tells herself. but whenever she's out at night searching for frogs or stargazing she make sure to check for any signs of danger.

farm life is boring in comparison, but she does sometimes enjoy the peace and quiet of it. she does realize that sometimes she needs to slow down and rest, the farm, and by extension you, help her do that without feeling guilty about it.

on rainy days or days where you two just want to stay inside, you guys will pile onto the couch and play countless levels of journey of the prairie king. one of these days, she's going to beat it all on her own. she swears.

the two of you could spend an entire day playing games, with an endless supply of snacks and drinks to fuel your efforts. but beware, she's competitive when she wants to be and she'll rub it in your face for days when she beats you at any game.

whenever you win, she'll pretend to be salty about it until you give her kisses.

she'll tell you all about how she used to sneak out and come explore the farm before you moved in, about how she used to wield sticks as swords and play fight with sebastian and sam. they'd make this place their own little fantasy world, and now her fantasy has become a reality. sure, it's been cleaned up a little and it's full of cows and pigs instead of dragons and demons, but the farm is still hers to conquer. often she'll give you a heart attack while you're watering your crops by screaming at you from the top of an apple tree. nothing delights her more than your shriek of terror.

living away from her parents has allowed her to bloom into the woman she wanted to be. she has the space to explore, to find adventure, to run wild. she doesn't say it much, but she feels like she owes it all to you. the second you moved in you changed everything for her, and she loves you so much it crushes her sometimes.

whenever she's sitting by the pond playing her flute she finds that she ends up missing you sitting beside her on the harp. the sound of just her flute somehow doesn't seem right anymore, she misses the sound of you playing beside her. the two of you together, that's the music that fills her heart. so often she'll drag you away from your farm work just to rest beside her, to relax and let your music enchant the farmlands.

the first time you ever set up a picnic for the two of you on the summit she thought she was going to die. such sweetness made her heart catch in her chest. she isn't the best with expressing how much she loves you. it's too cheesy, to mushy, too private. but sometimes the small, simple things you do to show her how much you love her just bring tears to her eyes. which usually leads to her tackling you into a hug and whispering how much she loves you into your chest.

she'll often feed the animals for you. almost all of them love her, except for the turtle you adopted. ol' terry gives abigail the side eye every time she fills up his water bowl. she isn't sure what she's done to make him hate her, but the turtle constantly snips at her ankles when she gets near.

due to the dangerous nature of your trips to the mines and skull cavern, abigail learned how to make life elixir's just for you. she couldn't imagine how she'd feel it something ever happened to you, so she decided to do what she could to help keep you safe.

she befriends a cow. don't question it, she just does. a small calf takes a liking to her and so she named it welwick. it's her best friend.

the two of you meet with sam and sebastian at least once every week at the saloon. she doesn't ever want her friends to feel like she's forgotten about them now that she's moved and gotten into a relationship, so the four of you often hang out. you'll invite them over to the farm, you guys take vacations to ginger island, and once you and abigail even made them go down the mines with you. it ended up with sam in harvey's office bleeding from his forehead, but everybody lived!

abby's just happy with you, happy that you've helped her realize her own strength. the two of you are partners in crime, and a damn good team. she may not always be able to tell you how she feels, but she tries her best to make sure her actions show it.

[alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody]

kinktober #15

15. Slasher 🔪 / Guardian Angel 😇

“What do you mean you’ve never seen Halloween?” says Ethan incredulously, leaning over the counter on his elbows. “What about Scream?”

Vanessa shakes her head apologetically. It’s a Friday evening, the dark already falling even though it’s barely five, and she took off work a bit early to stop for a much-needed caffeine hit before heading to Malcolm’s for their weekly dinner. 

“Friday the 13th?” Ethan tries. “You’re never gonna survive Scream without at least a baseline knowledge of Friday the 13th.”

“I’ve seen Beetlejuice,” offers Vanessa. “My high school classmates drew many apt comparisons between myself and Lydia Deetz.” She pauses and waits for Ethan to try to figure out how to arrange his expression. “It’s all right, you can laugh. I don’t think it was necessarily an insult; they found me too off-putting to tease on the chance that I could hex them. And besides, they weren’t wrong.”

Ethan does laugh, now. “I don’t believe that teenage Vanessa hesitated for a second to hex some high school bully.”

She shoots him a winning smile. “I intervened for plenty of others. I only hesitated on my own behalf, and even still, I got them all eventually.”

“Yeah, I bet you did.” Ethan straightens up and refills her coffee. “Well, maybe I can show you some of those movies sometime. I think you’d get a kick out of them.”

“I’m free tomorrow night,” she says, before she can think better of it. “You could come by my place, have a horror marathon. Pizza’s on me.”

“You sure?” he asks, mopping some condensation from the counter and flipping his dishtowel back over his shoulder. “I’ve got a lot of them on VHS, it might be easier to just do it here.”

“Please,” she says. “I’ve inherited so many old devices from Malcolm, it only seems fair I should actually dust them off and use them.”

Ethan laughs. “Yeah, I believe Malcolm’s still watching VHS tapes.”

Vanessa makes a long-suffering face. “You have no idea. If I never have to sit through Lawrence of Arabia and watch him show me how to switch out the tapes in the middle again, it will be too soon.”

Ethan’s face turns solemn, and he takes her hand across the counter. The contact startles her, and for a moment she just stares at him, questioning.

“I swear to you,” says Ethan gravely, “that if I ever even suggest watching Lawrence of Arabia, you have my full permission to burn down this cafe.”

His skin is so warm against hers that it takes her a moment to process what he’s saying and laugh in reply. “Thank you for your sensitivity to my trauma. I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“Yep,” says Ethan with a nod. She gathers her things, slips on her coat and gloves, and is almost out of the door when he calls after her, “Hey — let me get your number so we can coordinate.”

“Oh,” she says, halfway out in the cold and somehow feeling like her entire body has flushed. “Right, of course.”

She bikes home, brisk wind nipping at her cheeks, Ethan’s number fresh and hot in her phone. Is this a date? No, surely not — she and Ethan are friends. It’s barely been a year since Brona disappeared; he can’t be ready for something new just yet. It’s only in the past few months that he’s seemed to have regained his old self at all, and if he’s gained a bit more than that, well — that’s none of Vanessa’s business. She’s reading too much into this. 

Regardless, she spends the rest of the evening flurrying about her overlarge, underattended Victorian, haphazardly dusting moldings and mantles and moving large amounts of clutter from one surface to another, Celtic flute music playing softly through the living room stereo Malcolm left for her and Frankenstein playing through her headphones. As usual, there’s barely anything in the fridge: a couple of lemons, bunches of dried herbs in airtight bags with meticulously handwritten labels, a bottle of red wine that’s likely turned to vinegar, a rind of cheese she must have saved for some express purpose she hasn’t the faintest idea of now. It’s not like she had any real intentions of being able to pull together a meal for Ethan, but it’s rather more depressing than she’d expected. She’ll have to run out for something tomorrow; pizza is fine, but the movie marathons she’s seen on TV always have an abundance of chips and candy and popcorn scattered across the room, and she wants that romantic ideal of the teenage experience, even as an adult. What feels more carefree than a series of horror films in a dark room with a cute boy beside her, their hands bumping among popcorn kernels or licorice fish? 

Oh, all right. And maybe she wants to give Ethan a glut of snacks to choose from. Even if this isn’t a date — and it isn’t, she reminds herself sternly — this is the sort of activity where it’s perfectly acceptable to have lots of food on hand, and it doesn’t automatically make her some kind of deviant to think so. It’s part and parcel of the whole convention; and she might as well live it out now, since everyone in high school was too busy making Beetlejuice jokes to do it with her then.

— 

Ethan hasn’t been this nervous since he first started dating Brona. Not the first date or even necessarily the second, but the one where he’d realized that he liked her and wanted desperately for her to keep liking him. The one where he’d started to dread having to tell her about all the unsavory parts of himself, because what if they drove her away? 

He hands over the register to Cesar and takes a shower, washes his hair twice by accident because he’s trying to figure out what he can wear that will seem casual and friendly if he’s reading this wrong and it isn’t a date, and also still buttons after the effects of his post-Brona depression. He’s been putting off buying new pants because somehow it feels too final, like an acknowledgement that she really is gone, but it’s starting to feel kind of self-defeating. Brona’s gone and he’s still here, and he can’t wear jeans a couple sizes too small forever.

He debates whether or not to shave, but he worries that will come across like he’s making too much of an effort, so he doesn’t. He sucks in and manages to get his jeans to button, pulls on a flannel with some extra room just in case. Puts his hair up, takes it back down, slips an elastic around his wrist so he’s got options after going through it twice more. As he’s trying to get out the door, already having doubled back for his wallet and the six-pack of beer he picked up last week and forgot about, his phone buzzes, and he stops short, suddenly aware of how hard his heart is pounding.

Hello, says a message from Vanessa. What do you like on pizza? It’s so strange that you can basically predict what I’ll order for any given meal and I don’t know that about you.

It is strange, but in a way that makes him smile. Part of him thinks he shouldn’t answer right away, don’t act like he’s standing around here waiting for her to text, but another, larger part of him wins out. That’s because you only eat two things and neither of them are nutritious.

And yet I remain, returns Vanessa. Answer my question, please. I’d like to order before you get here.

He shakes his head and sends back, I’ll eat anything on pizza. I mean it, anything. Pineapple, anchovies, olives, you name it. Surprise me.

Maybe I will.

Ethan has few doubts about that. He tosses his phone onto the passenger seat of his pickup, waiting for the buzz of another message like a dog waiting for a walk, but it doesn’t come. It’s fine, he tells himself. She’s probably busy. If he were waiting for her to show up, he’d be running around like a chicken without its head trying to make the place presentable.

He’s been to Vanessa’s before, to fix various appliances that she’d been somehow living without, but the spectacle of her tall Victorian house, with its turrets and gables, is very different at night than it is during the daylight. In the sun, its foreboding silhouette is softened by the dusty lavender it’s painted; in the dark, it just looms. Tonight, even with most of her downstairs windows warmly lit, it still looks like a flock of bats might spill out when he opens the door.

But when he rings the bell, it’s just Vanessa, lovely and sheepish in black leggings and a chunky black sweater. “Come in,” she says. “I think I might have gone overboard on the snacks.”

She takes his coat and folds it over one of the chairs at a long table off the foyer that’s covered with mail, and he follows her into the living room. The coffee table between the couch and television is positively loaded with bowls: chips and dips, popcorn, various candies, pretzels. No chocolate, because of course Vanessa remembered that it upsets his stomach. 

“Uh,” he says, “how many people are you expecting?”

Vanessa shuts her eyes and nods, as if anticipating this very question. “Exactly,” she says, cutting her eyes up at him through her lashes. “Like I said: overboard. And there’s pizza on the way.”

Ethan laughs. He can already feel the button on his jeans straining.

— 

Vanessa tucks herself at one end of the couch and hits play on the remote. The VCR kicked into gear with minimal supernatural coaxing, and Ethan managed to Tetris the pizza boxes — one extra cheese, one with everything — in between the embarrassing number of snack bowls she prepared. Ethan sits at the other end of the couch, his plate loaded with two large slices of pizza, and Vanessa thanks her past self once again for buying a set of Mr. Lyle’s handmade ceramic plates at the town art festival last summer so she has something to offer guests besides the paper plates or saucers she usually uses herself. 

She fast-forwards through the previews and tries to settle herself as the movie begins. Her current favorite fidget, a little black tourmaline palm stone, is somewhere in the kitchen; it wouldn’t do to go hunt for it now. She can smell Ethan’s clean, earthy scent, like fall air and damp leaves, and in the outermost reaches of her periphery she can just see him, sitting a little too straight on the couch, plate on his knees and one hand resting self-consciously on the new swell of his belly. 

Which, with respectful apologies to Scream, kind of seals it for Vanessa. The movie’s probably a classic for a reason, and she enjoys the half or maybe quarter of attention she’s paying it. But for the better part of those two hours, the rest of her attention is locked on Ethan. Her heartbeat speeds up every time he leans forward for another handful from one of the snack bowls, for yet another slice of pizza, for a sip of beer. She takes a bit of popcorn, a handful of licorice fish here and there, but Ethan just keeps eating.

By the middle of the movie, she can hear him breathing more heavily, and now when he leans forward, he braces a hand on his belly and sits back slowly. He’s not sitting nearly as straight on the couch as he was when they’d started the move; now he’s slumped down a little, legs spread just enough to make Vanessa wonder if he’s eaten too much.

Onscreen, there’s a jumpscare, and Vanessa starts. Across the couch, Ethan makes a noise that sounds like a stifled burp. 

Wide-eyed, she tries to look without turning her head, and she realizes that he’s rubbing his belly with what looks like the smallest amount of movement possible, as if he’s trying not to distract her from the movie. Since that damage is already done, she tries to at least remain subtle, but it’s difficult when she can hear him swallowing hiccups and exhaling in harsh little bursts.

Finally, the credits roll, and she takes a deep breath before she has to face the reality of whatever’s happening across the couch. She tugs a blanket over her legs to try to shield herself somehow.

Ethan turns to her, a soft hrrp escaping as he moves, and he brings his fist to his mouth belatedly. “Sorry,” he says, and she’s so grateful that the room is dark around them so they don’t have to look each other in the eye. “Went a little too hard on the snacks.”

“That’s probably my fault,” she says, fussing with the tassels at the edge of the blanket. “I put out far too much.”

“Nah, it’s not like you were the one shoving them in my mouth.” Vanessa’s hands tighten around the blanket, and Ethan goes on, “What did you think?”

“I, um,” says Vanessa. Her mind is completely blank of any detail about the movie. “I can see why it’s a classic.”

“Yeah, it’s very tongue-in-cheek. Once we watch a few more, we should come back to it and see what you think of the meta aspect after you’re a little more familiar with the horror from this era.”

Vanessa nods. “Sure. I don’t think I know enough now to say much about it, but I enjoyed it.”

Ethan yawns and stretches his arms over his head, and for a moment Vanessa sees his flannel shirt ride up ever so slightly, but before she can get a good luck, Ethan is tugging it down, shifting his weight and palming his belly again. “So you never got into this stuff as a kid?” he asks, and she tries to school her expression into something neutral. “I kinda thought you’d have been all over it.”

“No,” she says faintly, and then, clearing her throat, “No, I didn’t watch movies much growing up. Not much television at all, really. My parents had very specific ideas of what a young Catholic girl should be consuming, and most of modern media fell outside those parameters.”

“Ah, right,” he says, leaning back. “How’d you manage Beetlejuice, then? Can’t imagine that was on their list of approved media.”

She laughs in spite of herself. “No, I had to torrent that. It was much easier to get around the rules with books, so I concentrated my efforts there. I’d read half of the library’s section on witchcraft and heresy before they realized that’s why I had so many group projects on the weekends.”

Ethan laughs, too, and she smiles through the dark. “Let me clear all this up,” she says, gesturing to the coffee table. “I need the pressure of another person watching, or it’ll never get done.”

She uncurls from the couch and flips on the light, and once her eyes adjust, she can see how uncomfortable Ethan looks; his eyes are heavy-lidded, and he’s slumped lower on the couch than she thought, his flannel snug around his swollen stomach.

Even still, he says, “I can help,” and levers himself off the couch with a soft sound of effort and a stifled burp. “Oh, man,” he says, his first steps toward her stiff and slow. “I ate way too much.”

“That’s all right,” says Vanessa blandly, ducking her head as she gathers snack bowls. “I don’t mind.”

“You say that now,” says Ethan, picking up the pizza boxes. “A few more nights like this and you’ll have to roll me out to the truck, and you might start to mind that.”

“Of course not,” she says, leading the way to the kitchen so he can’t see her blush. “You feed me every morning, it’s the least I can do.”

Ethan scoffs. “Yeah, okay,” he says. “You want me to consolidate these pizzas? They might fit in your fridge easier.”

“There isn’t much else in there,” she says with a shrug. “Take some with you if you’d like. How much is left?”

He pops open each box: all but two of the extra cheese and only three slices of the other. She tries not to draw in her breath too sharply as she does the math.

“Take these,” she says, pushing the remaining slices with everything toward him. “I won’t eat them, you know how picky I am.”

Ethan nods, yawning again, and some tender string plucks itself in Vanessa’s chest. 

“You can stay if you need to,” she offers. “The couch is quite comfortable, and there’s also a guest room if you’re so inclined.”

“Nah,” he says, but it’s interrupted by another yawn. “I’ll be okay, not like it’s a long drive.”

They’re both quiet for a moment, and then he says, “You wanna do this again next weekend? There’s a lot more of these, and you keep telling me I should get out more …”

“Yes!” says Vanessa, too quickly. “Yes, of course. Show me everything I’ve missed. I’m more than happy to compensate you in pizza.”

“Keep putting out snacks like this and you’ll have to compensate me in new pants, too,” says Ethan, patting his stomach, and Vanessa’s mind blanks out for a moment. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he says when she doesn’t reply. “I gotta work on my self-control, is all.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” Vanessa manages. “Indulge a little, you’ve had a hard year.”

Ethan gives her a half-smile. “Yeah, we’ll call it that. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Bright and early,” she agrees. “Drive safely, and let me know when you get home.”

She has every intention of waiting for him to text her, lest she come off as clingy or desperate or any of the things she’s learned are bad to be by osmosis over the years. But as she stands in her kitchen, eating licorice and dumping the rest of the bowls into plastic bags, she replays the evening in her head, the soft sounds he made across the couch. It never even occurred to her, as it would have in any other identical scenario, that he might use the movie as an excuse to touch her, and that’s when she knows she’s in too deep: she trusts him. She trusts him not to make moves she doesn’t want, not to think less of her for communicating, not to misunderstand her intentions.

You forgot the rest of your beer, she texts him. Now you’ll have to come back next weekend.

Ethan’s reply comes a few minutes later. It’s a date.

[carterashofficial]

Down by the River

The bug bites were itchy again. Shadowheart had practically showered her with healing potions, but the damned bites were infuriating and annoying and fucking itchy. And the bandages from an arrow graze on her forearm made it hard to bend her elbow to play her flute. Her hair was greasy and desperately needed a good wash. Hell, all of her did. 

Uncomfortable didn’t even begin to describe how she felt.

She needed to get away from it all for a moment. The constant reminder of the tadpole, the tension between Lae’zel and Shadowheart, Karlach’s wonderful but boisterous personality. The Shadow-Cursed lands, damned in too many ways to count. 

The camp was up on a long plateau overlooking the shadowy basin, safe from the curse but-

Fuck.

But swarmed with mosquitos. That thought she was the best meal around.

All that was needed was a moment of peace and quiet and to just be alone, because what had started as one terrible day had gone and turned into the worst month of her life and she just needed a little privacy to have a quiet cry and get her emotions back in check. That, or she was going to crack and scream at everyone. Only one person really deserved to be somewhat screamed at, but not out of malice, more like out of too much concern and not enough time to address his suicide plan.

Tavi glanced back towards camp. Her lyre and a crappy bottle of wine were tucked under her good arm. The camp tents were illuminated from inside, like stained-glass lanterns. By the fire, on her sleeping bag, slept Scratch, head on her pillow and one foot possessively over a bone that looked suspiciously like one of Wither’s.

Her flute was tucked into the bottom of the sleeping bag, the safest spot with the dog on it.

She smiled as one of his paws twitched in his sleep, before turning towards the river and traveling along its banks until she found the fallen log she’d spied earlier.  It was far enough away that her playing wouldn’t carry, and it would afford privacy. 

Tavi built up a small fire and settled herself on the log.

She hadn’t played a lyre in months, preferring her mother’s flute, but she hadn’t been able to resist the poor old lyre sitting on the back of a merchant wagon, abandoned. If no one else would love it, she would. Sure, it wasn’t as nice as Angus’ lyres back home, but this one was her’s.

It needed to be varnished, and perhaps given a little tune up, but it sounded as it ought to.

Tavi shifted into a more comfortable position and started plucking the strings, figuring out which notes needed to be tuned and introducing herself to her new instrument. It was mostly in tune, enough to play decently. She hummed along, and paused to open the wine. It tasted like vinegar, but would get the job done. 

Perhaps she’d lied to herself. She didn’t need to get her emotions in check; she needed to let them loose.

The lyre sang as her fingers danced over the strings, and some of her magic sprang out as a slight breeze that twirled over the fire.

It was a quiet, private space. She could be reckless, just  a little bit, as a treat. Tavi had never tried to see what her magic could do. Angus paid for her to sit there in the corner and play music, not craft spells or whatnot with an old flute.

But Angus wasn’t here to make her follow his rules. Tavi was alone, in the middle of nowhere, with a godsdamned illithid tadpole in her head. She’d gone through the Underdark, almost been killed by the Gith Queen, and now this Absolute cult was going to march on her home. It would be a war that she wouldn’t survive.

Too many people would get hurt.

But it wasn’t like she could just walk away. 

This wasn’t how the storybooks went. When the heroes faced insurmountable odds, they didn’t lose faith; they didn’t want to scream and yell ‘pick someone else, I want to go home!” The great heroes always won and championed over evil. No one turned into an Illithid, no one sacrificed themselves for a petulant goddess’ forgiveness.

But she couldn’t even go home, because Angus was a bastard and had probably already hired a replacement bard. And she couldn’t bring Scratch. And, and she would only admit this to herself, she refused to let Gale kill himself.

So it was kill the Absolute, die trying, run away and probably become an illithid sooner than later, or try to go home and be destitute.

Excellent options.

She paused and looked down at the lyre. 

Just a little magic. So she could pretend she was brave and strong and everything a hero was, and she could pretend she was a bard in the stories, the sort that sang great ballads, and survived any adventure.

Maybe that was the wine talking.

The lyre sang.

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

Gale needed to walk off some excess energy. He was jittery; in fact he’d been jittery since Elminster had delivered Mystra’s… offer of forgiveness. His brain refused to shut up, considering every conceivable angle, and yes, there were a lot of angles. A mathematically significant amount of angles. 

This was a different kind of jittery tonight, though. 

Because he’d made a terrible mistake of wondering what Octavia would do when he died.

And then no matter how he tried to distract himself, his thoughts insisted on sneaking back to think about her, and that-

That-

You should finish writing that farewell letter to Mother, he told himself halfheartedly, because he was going to wallow in these feelings unless he distracted himself, and that was unusually difficult at the moment because when he and Octavia has been joined by magic (his magic, and that had somehow made it feel so much more intimate after the fact), she’d imagined kissing him.

Him. Kissing. Kissing him.

Gale realized he’d walked in one big circle around the camp, and spun on a heel to go back to his tent. 

Where had his thoughts been? 

Ah yes, the letter to Mother-

Liar. He’d been thinking about kissing Octavia, but in his defense, she’d thought about doing it first, and he hadn’t been able to forget about how she hadn’t been able to look at him after that, face reddening and teasing tone replaced with softness. He hadn’t been able to look away from her.

What was he doing?

He was going to die in a couple of days. If anything, he needed to finish getting his affairs in order-

Gale let out a frustrated sigh, because now he’d walked away from camp and towards the meandering river-

Who’s playing music at this hour?

He looked back at camp. She’d been curled up in her sleeping bag- No, that was Scratch. So Octavia had to be the source of the music. Gale followed his ears until he saw a small fire, and Octavia swaying alongside it, lyre in her arms. An empty wine bottle lay on it’s side by her feet.

The firelight shimmer with magic, and sparks flickered.

The sparks had formed a magical figure across from her. 

Octavia and the magic figure bowed to each other as she plucked at the lyre strings. 

This song he recognized. It was an old bittersweet love song about a woman who wanted her lover to meet her down by the river, each verse telling the lover how to get to her, until she realizes that the lover isn’t coming and to leave her there, dreaming.

He choked on his breath.

Octavia was singing. Her voice was melancholic, quiet but powerful. He could’ve sat there, smiling and listening all night, except this was clearly something personal she was working through and he didn’t want to intrude. She spun around the fire, tear tracks on her cheeks as she sang to the magical spark figure.

She had to have used magic to form the sparks-

Oh.

Oh.

Gale needed to leave. Immediately. This was private. She thought no one was here, he shouldn’t be spying on her, and Octavia deserved her privacy without him complicating anything further. He backtracked, whirled, and walked as fast as he could while still being silent, her singing spinning around in his head.

The camp was just as he’d left it-

No, it wasn’t. Withers was furiously hobbling towards Scratch. The dog must’ve stolen another bone. 

Gale slipped into his tent and didn’t bother to crawl into his blankets, He stared at the canvas ceiling.

Octavia’s song had followed him. Gods, he wanted to hear more. He wanted to wipe the tears off her cheeks. He felt like a schoolboy who’d just realized he had his first crush and didn’t know what to do but try to make her smile. Ridiculous. He was an accomplished wizard, nearly forty years of age, with an illithid tadpole in his brain and all he wanted to do was go back to that little campfire and tell her he was utterly infatuated.

He wouldn’t, though. 

Gale rolled over onto his side and blew out the lantern.

The figure in sparks she’d conjured had been him.

[four-white-trees]

Sunday Six: opening the vault

I ain't written in a minute but I don't want to lapse on S6 for two weeks in a row, soooo have some gay Star Wars OC fun if you like! I've been wrangling some of my old stuff together to post. Most of it is sort of rambling episodes without much of a storyline, so I've been trying to organize it all. You don't really need to know anything about SW to enjoy this. It's mostly just homoerotic teasing.

Tagging: @overdevelopedglasses @jichanxo @skysquid22 @mike----wazowski @passthroughtime

Hobbs stood outside Joiner’s quarters, working up the gumption to knock. It had been a few days since the incident in the transport, and in the chaos, Hobbs hadn’t had a chance to give Joiner his blaster back. He hadn’t even seen Joiner for more than a few minutes since then. Gaius had been keeping him busy, but Hobbs heard Joiner had finally gotten a break. 

Perhaps he should just leave the blaster by the door. Joiner would be sure to get it when he left. Then again, this crew was not made up of scrupulous types—and anyone could come along and take it. Especially those of the crew fortunate enough not to be as familiar with Joiner. 

He sighed. No, do the right thing, he told himself. 

He raised his hand to knock on the door when it slid open on its own. Hobbs blinked at the open door, and saw Joiner on his bed, sitting up against the headboard, throwing darts. He was shirtless and barefoot, although thankfully he still wore his trousers. Hobbs couldn’t help the way his gaze fell over Joiner, enjoying in a distant sort of way Joiner’s muscular but stout form. Hobbs always did have a thing for guys with a little extra to them.

Unfamiliar music was playing quietly, made up of what sounded like high-pitched flutes, fiddles, and some sort of pipe Hobbs had never heard before.

Joiner glanced at Hobbs as he threw his last dart. “Wonderin’ if ya were gonna just stand out there all day,” he said. He stretched out his hand and the darts flew back into his grasp. It was still quite astounding to Hobbs to see even such a simple display of Force powers. 

Hobbs stepped into the room. “I just wanted to return this,” Hobbs said, holding out the blaster. 

Joiner glanced at it, then threw a dart. It hit the bullseye. “Put it on the desk, will ya, Space Cadet?” he said. 

Hobbs did as he was told, but turned to Joiner with a huff. “Will you stop calling me Space Cadet?” he said, trying to sound more commanding. 

Joiner threw another dart. Hit the target dead-on again. “The hell else am I gonna call ye?” 

“My name, perhaps?” Hobbs responded. 

“Your name?” He threw the final dart. It landed between the other two. “Laddie, I don’t call people I like by their proper names.” 

Hobbs started. “You…like me?” 

Joiner reached over and picked up a glass bottle of whiskey that had been resting on an end table, taking a long drink from it. He gave no answer.

“Th-then why do you pick on me?” Hobbs demanded. 

Joiner sighed. He reached out and the darts flew back to him. “Yer just a skinny little greenhorn. Ye gotta cut yer teeth somehow.” 

Hobbs glared, but said nothing in response.

The music swelled into a crescendo. Hobbs recognized the melody. It was the tune Joiner always whistled. Even now, Joiner hummed along quietly as he threw the darts again. It was surreal to see Joiner like this, as Hobbs had only ever seen him stalking around the ship like a caged jaguar. Part of him wasn’t certain that this was that same man. 

“I’ve got to get back to work,” Hobbs said. Joiner took another drink of his whiskey and didn’t say anything. 

Hobbs headed toward the door, but as he got to the threshold, Joiner called to him, “’Ey, Space Cadet.” Hobbs turned and nearly screamed when one of the darts came flying at him. It stopped just mere centimeters in front of his eye and stayed there for a second in frozen momentum before it returned to Joiner’s hand. Joiner started laughing as Hobbs recovered from the fright. 

Hobbs glared at him. “That’s not funny,” he growled. 

“Yer fuckin’ face!” Joiner said, his laughter deepening. 

Cheeks burning, Hobbs turned and left Joiner’s quarters, but Joiner’s laughter echoed in his mind the rest of the day. 

[stoopid-turtle]

BTS in Order June Pt 1

Mainly from this bilibili timeline.

May Pt 2 here.

6.1 ggdd Yiling market scene with a-yuan

- Dd does the sword in and out thing right in front of the child

- Then they're in post-timeskip costumes and gg does a few of his dance moves

- They're doing a scene where they are about to walk up to a building where jc is. Gg turns to DD and whispers something in his ear, facing away from where they're going. Then he touches DD's sleeve.

- They do a take. Dd as lwj walks to a nearby column and leans on it. After they call cut, gg immediately goes to kabedon DD, who smiles. Then they start walking off together

- As a blue screen is getting set up, DD helps gg with his dance. Then they do the SpongeBob thing

- Includes bit under covered walkway where gg does dancy walking away. They continue to talk and whatever the convo is about, gg finds it delightful/hilarious.

6.2 dramatic rain scene with DD being obscene with the umbrella

(alt 6.7)

6.2 gg only with jc. Madam Jiang is there. They're planning out the whipping scene.

- GG calls JC "sausage" bc apparently the name Jiang Cheng sounds similar to the word "sausage"

- JC comments to the fight coordinator that he worries the audience will criticize the whipping scene bc Madam Yu is so harsh with WWX. GG teases him by pointing out a scene where JC tried to whip WWX. JC looks at the camera and says "I'm not that person."

- GG teases WZC for apparently lying about his height.

6.3 gg on produce 101 - Ggdd pretend not to know each other even tho they share an earpiece

6.4 gg only. With jc in lotus pier- More scenes in mo manor

6.6 ggdd. Wwx disrupting things at jinlintai . Gg does those weird tongue exercises

- Dark interior. Gg and XL are giggling with each other with the director beside them.

- In this scene, WWX promises to never leave Yunmeng or his family. Then gg laments that he keeps playing chars that renege on their promises. XL jokes that he's just that kind of boy.

- Gg and dd don't actually seem to interact. Gg is laughing and chatting with xl for most of these clips. And with jc

- Gg only. Outdoors with wq in rain

6.7 ggdd

- dd with lhk in a boat while gg, jc, and xl walk along the canal

- Gg intro scene to the flashback

- Ggdd with DD in blue robes outside. Between takes, they start singing something. I think this is when they're singing that aerobics song

- Under a tent, dark, DD sitting next to yubin, in a striped shirt, who's getting makeup done. gg and dd are watching scenes and gg laments about how bloated he looks. this is also where dd asks if his tear was okay during the Golden Core reveal.

- Gg puts flute to DD's throat. This is the clip I've seen translated as DD asking for a kiss and gg pointing out the camera

6.8 ggdd. With jc. Jinlintai again. This time with jgy's wife. Dancing women in bg. Gg bites fan

- Under tent finger guns. Dd returns obscene gesture off camera. 👉👌

6.9 gg only with xl and jzx

- Jc appears. At one point jzx is kinda stroking jc's chest. Then everybody laughs.

6.10 DD only on battlefield with jc.

6.11 gg only. Fight with jzx in cloud recesses

- ggdd same but nope there's a lot more extras and DD is there. Big group holding gg and jzx back from each other

6.13 ggdd cold spring

- Includes gg clinging to dd

6.14 more cold spring adventures

- They're sitting in the water going over the script and they keep flopping around. At one point gg stretches out in like a yoga pose with one hand down and the other stretched up and he screams in cold

- This feels really porny.

- Oh, and then DD discovers that flapping his sleeves in the water makes a lewd noise. Then it gets extra porny.

- Magnum wang moment

6.15 ggdd during wen indoctrination. In forest with lwj limping.

- Ggdd under umbrellas running thru the scene

- The "fuck you to love you" conversation. Gg's tank top is inside out.

6.15 DD only wire work in blue robes

6.15 gg only. Tied up with jyl and jc.

[nuzifanficwriter]

Chapter 3 - Namie 3097

I wake up to a puppy jumping on me. After my nap yesterday, we decided to name him Biscuit. It’s time for school. I head to the living room where mom and dad lay sleeping on the couch. They must’ve fallen asleep watching TV. Biscuit wakes them up too. They kiss and I gag. I grab some gasoline and gears to eat for breakfast. Once I sit down, dad sits across from me. “Mornin’,” I say with a smile. He wags his tail, “Goodmorning!” Moms hand grabs his tail, stopping him from wagging it. I finish my gears and head out the door. I grab my book bag and I’m off.

School sucks as always. The only thing that makes it better are these two girls I met in detention. Carmella and Alia. Carmella is an alt girl with wavy black hair with red faded in the middle. She plays flute in marching band and bass in our band. Alia is a grunge ginger. She plays trumpet and keyboard. I play trombone and guitar. Our only issue with our band is we don’t have a drummer. We’ve been desperately trying to find one, but right now, we’re at my locker. As soon as I open it, an envelope addressed to me falls down. I read it. Carmella looks over my shoulder, “love letter?” “Yeah,” I say, “cringy as hell though.” Alia leans on the locker beside mine, “boy or girl?” “I just said it’s cringy as hell, what do you think?” “Well I don’t know?! We read your moms old diary from high school!” Carmella joins in, “all those things she said about your dad.” We all snort and start reciting our favorites. “His golden eyes, bright like the sun!” Carmella mocks. “His soft, fluffy hair,” Alia remarks. “He’s so hot, I mean cute! I mean- BITE ME!” I finish. “You sound just like her,” says Alia. “Really?” I blankly stare at her. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl, but everyone says I’m just like mom and even more like grandma Nori. Then we get back on task. “So who’s it from?” Carmella asks. “Guess,” I roll my eyes. “Alex,” we all say in unison. “He’s nothing if not persistent,” says Carmella. “He’s cute but I need to know his motive. Does he actually care? Is it cause our parents are friends? Is it cause his parents were football and cheer captains that became successful and mine are part of the WDF and they saved the world together? Though it was mainly my parents. I need to know,” I say. “Okay but the way you say that so casually,” says Carmella. Alia mocks, “yeah, my parents almost died saving the world, it’s no biggie, though!“ I smile. They have a point. The school day is over and we’re walking back to our residences when, wouldn’t ya know it, Alex was waiting for us. We roll our eyes and keep walking. We try to ignore him but he won’t stop talking, “Namie, did you get my letter?” I ignore him but Carmella jabs at him, “screw off, Alex. She doesn’t want you.” “Carmella,” I quietly hiss through my teeth. Alex frowns, “why are you answering, not her? I wanna hear it from her.” “Uhm, cause she’s ignoring you to prove her point.” “CARMELLA, SHUT UP!” I scream and it echoes through the halls, causing me to receive blank stares, “I’ll go on a date with you, Alex, but only once. Prove you’re worth my time and maybe there’ll be more. Name a time and place.” “O-oh uh….tonight! 7 o’clock, uh the same spot we first met?” He asks. Oh robo-god I forgot about that. “Sure whatever,” I say. We’re at my house, finally. I bid my farewells and enter my place. As soon as the door shuts, I throw my book bag against the wall. “Well, how was school today?” Mom asks sarcastically. I smile from insanity and cover my eyes with my hand, “well apparently I have a date with Alex tonight.” Dad pops his head up from behind the couch and shouts in unison with mom, “Thad’s kid/Lizzy’s kid?!” Her and dad glare at eachother. Finally, she speaks, “listen I know he’s Thad’s kid, but LIZZY?! Cmon, N.” “I thought you two were over petty disagreements!” Dad fights. “We are but-…..fine. It’s whatever. Knock him out, girl. From beauty or violence. You pick.” Probably both, I think. Mom walks away and dad turns to me, “he’s not a bad kid. Your mom is just…eh because his mom, Lizzy used to bully her through most of high school until our last year. They’re not friends but they’re chill because your mom and I are friends with Thad.” “Yeah well this kid’s been chasing me for weeks. I just want to make sure it’s real and not some stupid reason like…….like last time. Also, isn’t it a bit weird he’s named after my dead, unborn, big brother?” Dad sighs, “Namie Doorman, don’t talk like that! But….good on being cautious. I’d hate to see your heart broken again.” I smile, “thanks, dad.”

3 hours go by. it’s not 6 o’clock. I pick my best accessories and I take a look in the mirror. I’m gorgeous. Maybe not perfect, heterochromia (purple left, yellow right), white hair with natural purple tips, a scenecore kid. But I’m gorgeous. My mom even once said, “I think dumb things are frickin’ cool and I am free!” befor beating Aung Cyn possessed by the avosuge solver. If Alex tries to use me, I can take him all by myself, and mom and grandma Nori would so help. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad.

[roadkill-frankenstein]

Candle in a Catacomb

A collaborative story with an art piece to match. The artwork was done by myself, and the writing was done by my good friend @raelhbishop. Featuring our D&D characters from my home-written campaign.

Grim Blackburn belongs to @vultureteeth-0.

Theoxenia Trismegistus belongs to @raelhbishop.

Content warnings: Talk of sex and sexuality, Violent implications and imagery, Character with PTSD

⎈

The heavens are a dark shade of indigo, not their usual dark blue or even void-like appearance.

Nights like these tend to harbor a mystical quality. Past, present, and future seem to happen all at once. Nights like these burn themselves into one's memories.

If one's lucky, they're shared with someone else.

The Scourge of the Serpent clips across a sea of black, the moon and stars acting as its only guide. The crew and adventurers onboard are either fast asleep or in a drunken stupor below deck.

Captain Grim Blackburn stands alone at the helm, steering the ship and checking its course. Previously engrossed in his work, the golden-armed pirate stops and pivots his head.

He doesn't hear the crashing waves of the ocean on his ship, for that's second nature to him. Nor does he notice the sound of breezes gliding around like ghosts, the crackle of lantern lights, or the ship's groaning and creaking.

No, his undead ears detect the tunes of a pan flute being blown.

It's that damn satyr from the group he picked up earlier. He seemed a chipper enough fellow when he met him in the bar - they even exchanged a salutary high-five.

Given his... phenotype, he thought the fellow would've been a bit more like him – lecherous, loud, libertine. Though perhaps for different reasons.

Instead, he's been... different...

Grim checks everything one final time, then descends from the helm and summons a dogsbody to take over. He takes a mug with him and heads to the bow.

⎈

A bird sits next to Theo. A nearby lantern gives a natural warmth to their appearance.

Theo whistles and blows a few notes on his pan flute, selectively. A response comes from the bird in similar tones. They've been back-and-forth chirping and fluting for a bit now, rather happily.

A slow series of creaks emerges from further inside the ship. Theo's goat-like ears perk up a little; he continues fluting.

The creaks grow closer and closer. Feeling unnerved, the bird flies away, despite Theo's calls to the contrary.

He turns. "Oh hey Grim! What's up?"

"Just coming over to see what all the raucous was about."

"Just chilling." He resumes blowing at the pan flute, this time in a more musical manner.

Grim sips from his mug and steps closer. "Were you... playing for that bird?"

"Oh, no. I was speaking with it."

"Speaking?"

"Yeah. My accent is, like, kind of thick, so the flute helps."

"The bird can understand you?"

"Yup. Little dude's been flying for a few days now. I gave them some hardtack to help them along. They've had a most strenuous adventure." He resumes fluting. Some crumbled hardtack still remains to Theo's right.

Grim sips from his mug and listens to his playing.

"...can I sit here?"

Theo nods.

He sits and continues listening, watching him play. Theo seems to be in his element here, playing an old folk song Grim can vaguely recognize.

Grim's not sure why he felt the need to sit and watch him. But something's drawn him in.

It's calming, in a way.

Theo switches to another folk song, one Grim better recognizes; something about a bloodied horse returning without its rider. It seems like he misses a few notes at first, but then turns it into another song entirely, improvising.

After a bit, Theo takes a rest. "You ever play music, Grim?"

"I haven't in a while."

"Do you like music?"

"I..." Grim hesitates. (He hears screams and shrieks from within, scenes flashing before his eyes.) "...it's kind of painful for me, tell you the truth."

"Oh." He puts his pan flute to his right. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"No, I didn't mind it. Actually. I liked hearing you play it."

Theo smiles. "Thank you. I really like music. It's the only thing I'm good at. Maybe we can try something less painful. Do you like stories?"

Grim shrugs. "Sure."

"Great! I love stories. Let's see... did you hear about the one with the sailor who found a lamp with jeans in it? No, wait, I don't think it was jeans in the lamp... was it sesame seeds? But, then, why would they, like, put sesame seeds in a lamp? No, hold on... I know this other one, where there's a king, who's a most righteous dude, and there's this monkey, and, like, the king is a god... no, wait, is the monkey a god? Well, there's this guy that steals the king's wife, and... I think there's a monk somewhere? Or is it a dragon?"

After stumbling on his words, Theo stops speaking. He sticks his tongue out sillily.

Grim chuckles a little. For once, it doesn't feel forced.

"Maybe I should just stick to singing... hey, do you know any stories?"

Grim thinks for a moment. "Did you ever wonder how this ship got its name?"

Theo nods. He gets the feeling this is gonna be a good one.

A story of how, one stormy day on the seas, the very ship they're on took its maiden voyage. A half-rate crew of misfits, concealed criminals, and a single swaddled infant took to the high seas, Grim being the most sea-fared. He recounts how they ventured further into the dark-on-dark seas as day turned into night, how lighting singed the wooded sides of the ship, how many below feared they wouldn't make it out alive.

As the story goes on, Grim seems more animated than before; he speaks with immense gusto, the events pouring freely from him like the grog sloshing from his glass as its tossed about with his motions. Theo's engrossed in the story, as if he's witnessing it firsthand; he even jumps a little at the sound of non-existent lightning.

He goes on to tell how the unnamed boat's hull was rammed by an unseen foe – a serpent, larger than the very ship itself, dare one say even larger than the port they left behind. It smashed through the sides of the ship with its infernal scales, ripped holes in the hull with its adamantine teeth, and curdled the blood of his crew with its growls.

Grim hatched a plan. He told all his crew to assemble below deck, stand-by for repairs, and keep the (he almost says 'his') child safe. With everyone gone, Grim, equipped with a glaive and a rope, leapt from the bowspirit, and hurdled towards the leviathan's-

"Did it take your arm?" Theo's on the edge of the ship's railing, filled with suspense; any more, and he might fall off the damn thing entirely.

"No, that was... something else entirely." Grim can hear a single shriek, feel a singe, feel the sensation of flesh decaying into nothingness.

Theo reads Grim's face. He figures he should change the subject.

⎈

"What's your earliest memory?"

Grim groans. "I... try not to look back that far."

"So, my earliest memory... I'm a little dude, a very little dude, like, not quite a baby but not like a big kid either...

"I'm just chilling in a field. There's grass and flowers all around me. I've always liked sitting in fields. I do it when I can. You ever sit in the grass and just relax?"

Grim shakes his head. "Can't say I have."

"You totally should some time, dude. It is most pacific. Anyways, so there I am, little dude baby thoughts going across my mind. Then someone comes over and puts this 'reed thing' in front of me.

"Now I'm looking at it all curious, and you know how little dudes do things, they put it in their mouth and all that. And then I start blowing air through it, but then I realized that, like, each tube of this thing makes a different sound.

"And that I can copy sounds with it. I listen to the birds in the trees and I start blowing on the different reeds and I try copying their songs. All of a sudden I am fully aware of all of the noises around me. It's no longer just noise, you know. It's like there's this whole band going on in nature.

"That pan flute was my very first instrument. It's still one of my favorites. And I still carry a little piece of that flute to this day."

He picks up his pan flute and shows a teeny piece of rotted wood tied to it.

⎈

It's well past midnight now. As Theo recounts what is (essentially) his entire childhood, Grim's mind vexes him. He enjoys the satyr's company and all that, but he can't understand why. His patience for people doesn't tend to last this long these days.

It could be he's attracted to him, physically. After all, it's not hard to be drawn to someone who's got a real tan and wears nothing but a grass skirt and some odd amulets and wraps here-and-there. Hell, the thought crossed his mind to have him be a one night stand.

Yet he didn't. Something stopped him.

Actually, something's been stopping him the whole week.

For once, Grim wasn't seeing him as a commodity, as a set of erogenous zones for sale like quarters of meat hanging in a butcher's shop.

He wasn't just seeing a bunch of parts.

He was looking gestalt – looking deeper.

It couldn't be mere eroticism drawing him in. That mechanical, fire-like feeling in his nether wasn't alone. Something oddly familiar, yet seemingly foreign, was setting in.

There was this tickly, bubbly feeling emerging from the pit of his stomach. A sort of featheriness to the back of his mouth, a sort of strange transmogrification of admiration into embarrassment.

Grim drops his beer stein.

Oh god.

"Dude, you okay?"

It hit him like a ton of bricks.

He was in love.

He hadn't been in love for so long, he'd forgotten what it was like.

Grim panics. He readies to get up and leave, but a hairy hand stops him in his tracks.

"Hey, is everything alri-"

"Do you love me, Theo?"

Oh god. He said it. He didn't even have time to think it. It just fell out. He would've gone pale if there was any blood in his cheeks to begin with. He's always been a wild card, a man who speaks his mind, but now for once he's mortified, filled with regret, filled with panic, with fear, filled with a need to flee-

"Of course." He blows absentmindedly at his flute.

"...you do?"

"Absolutely. You're my friend. Just like how I love the birds in the trees, or my pipes, or the sound of waves crashing on the-"

Theo's eyes drift to Grim's face. It doesn't seem to express anything at first glance.

He puts the flute down. "It's funny how we use the word 'love.' It covers so many different things."

"Love is love," Grim says tersley.

"Well, what do you mean by that?"

"Fiery passion. Seeing someone and feeling the need to go over to them and get physical."

"Huh?"

Grim looks at Theo quizzically. "You've never been aroused?"

"I've woken up before, I don't understand what that has to do with it."

Grim sighs. "No, haven't you ever... felt attracted to someone?"

Theo thinks for a moment. "I think I know what you're getting at."

"Do you, now?"

Theo nods. "That sort of, like, feeling, where you need to stop in your tracks and take a second look. When your eyes can't help but stare at someone else's body. They're searching up and down a dude's entire being. This strong, primal urge to go over and, like, get to know them, to hold them, to spend every moment with them, to never spend a minute apart from them, to spend every day adorning the temple of the dude's body."

Grim nods after each pause, more vigorously and excitedly with each nod.

"Never felt it."

"What?!"

"Yeah, I've never felt it."

"But don't you ever get the urge to... you know..."

A rogue wave splashes against the bow of the ship, spraying foam upward in a single jet.

Theo replies. "Well, yeah, but not often. It's just like eating or sleeping."

"You must've felt it somehow if you can describe it that well."

"Everyone blabbed on about it back home. The satyrs and nymphs. I've heard it all before. But I just never felt that way. When I see a dude, I don't see a bunch of body parts, or the stuff they carry. I see a dude. I see this... wonderful collection of... thoughts, and feelings, and memories, and songs and stories. Someone to discover, someone to have fun with, someone who is... unique. Sometimes they're happy dudes, sometimes they're sad dudes, and sometimes they're..."

Something clicks in Theo's head. He's been looking at Grim's eyes the whole time, unsure of his stony gaze.

It's a stoic gaze.

The mouth changed between a slight smile and a neutral frown as they talked, but the eyes remained the same.

They look tired. Anguished.

Come to think of it, they've looked this tired the whole time.

Even when he was boisterous in the bar, or cracking jokes with the crew, that same tired set of eyes was there.

Except once.

That afternoon, when Grim had Theo touch his chest to show its absence of a heart...

⎈

It's a week earlier. Theo's sitting by the helm, strumming a little song on his lyre (his other instrument of choice). It's an old song, about a man who searches for the secret to eternal life... whose ending gets cut short by Grim walking by.

Theo waves, his left hand still sprained from giving the pirate's golden arm a full-forced high five.

Grim waves back. He smiles at the satyr, unconsciously.

"Hey, Mr. Pirate dude-"

"You can call me Grim."

"Cool. Mr. Grim dude. How old is this ship?"

"Very old. Probably every piece in it has been replaced once or twice."

The satyr stops his strumming and thinks. "So, does that make it the same ship? Or is it a different ship with the same name?"

"It's got the same captain, that's all that matters."

"So... like... how old are you, Mr. Grim dude?"

He doesn't quite know.

"So, like, sixty? The oldest dude I knew was my tribal elder, he was sixty or seventy. But you don't look anything like him."

Grim looks off to the distance. "You've heard about the avatar crisis, yes?"

Theo nods.

"I was around during then..."

You can hear the cogs turn in Theo's head. "So... older than sixty?"

"Much older."

"...are you an elf?"

"No."

"A vampire?"

"Do I look like I'm burning in the sun to you?"

"No, but someone in the bar said you were 'on fire.' I don't see any flames though." Theo ponders for a minute.

Grim hears the internal screams. Screams of terror. Screams of agony. Blood-curdling shrieks from creatures not meant to be seen by mortal eyes...

He sighs. "Here, let me just..."

He reaches over and grabs ahold of the satyr's arm.

...Grim can feel the thrashing of his limbs against straps, the bloodied beating of his back and arm against a stone altar...

The hand draws closer and closer.

...the piercing of a bloodied dagger shoots across his mind, the sensation of his chest being ripped open as clear as day...

Fingertips hover over his chest.

...his body lies in old snow, cold snow, hard snow. Blood pours out, draining his will with it. An all-too imposing vacancy plagues his mind, his being, his soulless body. He cries to the gods for solace, but hears no response. He closes his eyes, hoping to feed the crows...

Theo's hand touches Grim's chest. It feels no beats.

It feels warm.

...warmth. He wakes in a room, feeling warmth. A grand fireplace burns several feet in front of him. He scans the room, lavishly covered in artwork. He feels the gash in his chest with his remaining arm; nothing but a black-ooze filled cavity remains...

...a woman approaches him, tending to his wounds, draining the heartless hollow. His eyes lock with hers. There's a certain... draconic quality to the woman's gaze...

...they both know what they are. But neither of them could've anticipated what they'd be together...

...what they'd enjoy...

...what they'd share...

...what they'd lose...

...what would fade away, when fate and the gods separated them...

⎈

...that afternoon.

Those eyes shifted. They opened a little.

There was even a little glint to them.

Even now, there's a little trace of that glint in them.

His emerald eyes were somehow less like jewels and more like a candle lighting a catacomb.

And he sees the glint slowly fading from the now-sulking captain.

...

Waves beat on the side of the boat.

He reaches over and grabs Grim by his good hand.

It takes Grim a second to register it. The candle flares up; the eyes widen; the glint returns.

"I think you need this."

Gently, he pulls Grim forward and wraps his arms around the tired husk.

Grim closes his eyes, reciprocating.

The sensation of a cold, metal hand touching Theo's bare back makes him jostle a little, and the resting of his metal claws scratches his flesh.

He doesn't mind, though. A little pain is worth making a friend happy.

[cwritesforfun]

NYE Kiss with the Danger Squad

Do you know it’s unlucky not to kiss anyone at midnight? Featuring Bob, Hangman, Phoenix, and Rooster Y/N = Your Name You’re a part of the Danger Squad too. 

Bob’s POV

Y/N just sat next to me and seems happy. We talk off and on for the night.

I hear our names being called and Phoenix is bringing lots of champagne flutes over. She hands them to us and says “Come on, we’re going to watch the fireworks outside.” I reply “I thought alcohol wasn’t allowed outside?” Phoenix says “Live a little, Bob. Penny is the one passing it out. It’s okay.”

We all walk outside. Hangman walks up and says “So Bob, is Y/N your new year’s kiss?” I ask “What are you talking about?” Y/N says “I think you’re drunk, Hangman. Goodbye.” Hangman slumps his shoulders and walks away.

I ask “So you don’t want to kiss me or is your boyfriend here to kiss you at midnight?” She answers “I do want to kiss you at midnight. I don’t have a boyfriend.” I reply “Cool cool. I want to kiss you too.” The countdown starts... 

We slam our champagne and she wraps her arms around my neck. I put my arms around her waist and kiss her. 

Fireworks happen both in my heart and by us.

Hangman’s POV

I want Y/N to be my New Year’s kiss tonight. I have a feeling she will try to leave the party early tonight. She always does. I miss her when she leaves. But the question is, am I enough to make her stay?

I find her at the bar and slide into the seat next to her. She looks over, smiles over her drink, and says “Hi.” I reply “Hi Y/N. I have something to ask you.” She replies “Okay. Sure, go ahead.” I ask “Will you stay tonight until midnight? I know you leave early and I know crowds aren’t your favorite. But... I ... uh... I want you to be my new year’s kiss because I really like you. If we kiss, I’ll already have gotten my New Year's resolution.” She smiles widely and answers “Sure I’ll stay to kiss you at midnight. I can’t wait... I suppose now that I’m staying I cannot say no to that dart game you’ve been trying to get me to play with you.” I smirk, stand up, bow, and say “Well then mi lady, after you.” She laughs and stands up.

We play a game of darts and I catch Javy’s eyes at one point. He makes kissy faces at me and winks a lot causing me to laugh. Y/N asks “What’s so funny?” I answer “Javy is just crazy.”  When she looks over at Javy, he is still making kissy faces at us. He sees her looking and quickly pretends to be talking to someone else. Y/N cracks up laughing. I could listen to her laugh forever.

We all walk to the beach to watch the fireworks as it gets closer to midnight. I grab the champagne and cups from the backseat of my car. 

I walk to join everyone and pour everyone a cup of champagne. We all sip it and talk. 

Phoenix starts jumping around counting down until midnight. Y/N makes her way over to me and smiles up at me. I’m whipped and we’re not even dating.

As the last 10 seconds start, Y/N reaches her arms around my neck and I slip my arms around her waist. I say “I truly am so happy you agreed to kiss me. I’m like buzzing with excitement right now.” She asks “Are you sure it’s not the alcohol you had so far?” I answer, “I actually wanted to be sober when we first kissed. I’ve only had one small cup of champagne tonight.”

We kiss as the words “It’s MIDNIGHT!!” are screamed.

Phoenix’s POV

I walk over to Y/N sitting at the bar and slump in the seat next to her.

Y/N asks “Why are you in a sad move?” I answer “I just don’t know if I should ask my crush to kiss me at midnight.” She replies “Do it! Omg! You have to! Make your new resolution to start making the first move and go ask them out.” I nod and smile.

Later, after 2 beers and a Bob pep talk, I make my way back to Y/N. I ask “Do you know it’s unlucky not to kiss anyone at midnight?” She asks “Is that right? I guess I’m unlucky.” I ask “Will you kiss me at midnight?” She asks “Am I your crush?” I answer “Yes you are.” She answers “Yes I will kiss you at midnight.”

Phoenix and I spend the rest of the night together hanging out until it’s nearly midnight. We walk to the beach and she counts us down until midnight.

We kiss at midnight:-)

Rooster’s POV

Today has been so long. We’ve been at the Hard Deck for 2 hours and Y/N hasn’t arrived yet. Damn it. I was hoping she would show up earlier so I could ask her to be my kiss at midnight. I want to kiss her :(

I keep drinking and playing pool. I notice Y/N arrive and Phoenix snags her. They go off drinking champagne together. 

I get up to find her later and find her sitting with Phoenix. I slide into the seat next to Y/N and Phoenix says “Oh sure, join us Rooster.” I reply “Thanks. It was getting too much out there.” I glance over at Y/N to see her watching me carefully. I never know what she is thinking. She is a danger in the skies because of her ability to either mask all of her emotions or show them all. I’m entranced by her mind and her beauty.

I look to see Phoenix leave. I turn to Y/N and ask “Why’d she leave?” Y/N answers “She said she was uncomfortable with how you were staring at me. You didn’t hear her?” I shake my head and answer “Sorry, I was staring at you and only focused on you.” She turns away and I notice she’s blushing. 

I ask “Have you had enough champagne to think I’m cute yet?” Y/N asks “Why do I have to be tipsy to appreciate how attractive you are?” I answer “I ... you don’t need to be. I was trying out a pickup line I heard earlier.” She smiles and asks “Was it from Hangman?” I answer “Yeah. I shouldn’t have tried it. I probably ruined my chances with you with that stupid line.” She puts her hand on mine and says “No you didn’t ruin your chances with me with that. Would you like to be my kiss at midnight?” I answer “Yes. I thought you’d never ask.” She replies “I thought you’d never make your way over here. I was waiting for you.” I reply “Darling, I’ve been waiting for you my entire life.” She smiles and laughs as she turns away.

I hear the countdown start and we face each other. I lean in as “MIDNIGHT” is yelled.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 21: The Nine Rings

You can tell I'm getting into the weeds when it comes to chapter art. Frankly, the people who made this card were getting into the weeds when it comes to game mechanics because that card effect has nothing to do with Mr. Caldevwin. Is that a spoiler? The whole rest of this post is full of them when it comes to this series, so don't keep reading if that bothers ya.

This chapter starts up with the Harp icon as Rand performs this evening and reflects a little on Thom. I suppose it also reflects inns in general.

The innkeeper was a lean woman with a long nose and graying hair, but her wrinkles seemed part of her ready smile more than anything else.

A thin innkeeper? She must be evil! That's why she's giving a home to these soldiers.

“As you say, my Lord.” Mistress Madwen’s glance flickered to Rand’s sword; the bronze herons were plain on scabbard and hilt. She frowned slightly, but her face was clear again in a blink.

I was kinda joking because I don't remember much about this gal but she is very snoopy. I suppose part of it is just her job but her disapproval of Rand's weapon does make me wonder.

“We are not hunting the Horn, mistress.” Rand did not glance at the bundle in Loial’s arms; the blanket with its colorful stripes hung bunched over the Ogier’s thick arms and disguised the chest well. “We surely are not. We are on our way to the capital.”

A thousand miles away, Moiraine feels a sudden surge of pride and does not know why.

The innkeeper gave a surprised blink when Hurin sat at table with them—an Ogier, it seemed, was one thing, but Hurin was clearly a servant in her eyes.

All of this is pretty good set-up for how stratified the societies of the eastern subcontinent are. In Baerlon and the Borderlands there wasn't much concern for any divisions within the party except gender lines and Moiraine's being Aes Sedai, and it's hardly unreasonable to expect blurred lines in social divisions in a small group traveling like this, but it's clear that in Cairhien the wilderness is no excuse to start fraternizing.

Selene’s was still half full, but she motioned curtly for one of the girls to take it.

Lanfear's wondering what the odds are of her finding a stasis box with some proper Chinese food in it.

Rand hesitated only a moment. It had been too long since he had practiced the flute rather than the sword, and the coins in his pouch would not last forever.

Here's that important theme again. We're in book 2 and already Rand's worried he's losing his sensitive side to war. He doesn't even know.

Selene looked at Rand as if wondering what he was...

I wonder if LTT had ever picked up any instruments. Probably not.

Did she really let me go? I wonder if she’s following me. Or waiting for me. “Sit down, Captain. Please.” Caldevwin drew a chair from another table. “Tell me, Captain, if you don’t mind. Have you seen any other strangers recently? A lady, short and slender, and a fighting man with blue eyes. He’s tall, and sometimes he wears his sword on his back.”

Note here how Rand is already succumbing to the paranoia associated with his condition. Book 1 Rand wouldn't have had these thoughts and he wouldn't have felt compelled to ask questions like this immediately either.

“A wondrous place I have heard, Lord Rand—I may call you so?—and fine men, the Andormen. No Cairhienin has ever worn a blademaster’s sword so young as you. I met some Andormen, once, the Captain-General of the Queen’s Guards among them. I do not remember his name; an embarrassment. Perhaps you could favor me with it?”

You can tell that this guy is only a Captain because he's nowhere near subtle enough to play in the Cairhienien Major Leagues.

Just as Selene opened her mouth, one of the serving girls let out a cry and dropped a lamp she was taking down from a shelf.

Lanfear's really restraining herself here to not make the Captain himself have to run away screaming.

The Cairhienin’s eyes sharpened. “It is part of the statue, my Lord Rand,” he said slowly. His gaze flickered toward Loial; for an instant he seemed to be considering something new.

"Are the Ogier allying with Andor to steal our old statues?!" Sure it sounds silly but like, what else can they be thinking? They probably don't know that the statue's a sa'angreal (it's way outside of the usual) but why couldn't it be a war asset from ancient days? Why would the Andorians even know about it to send a spy? Rand's causing trouble again and he barely even knows it.

“I have five hundred laborers in camp beyond the diggings, and even so it will be past summer’s end before we have it clear. They are men from the Foregate. Half my work is to keep them digging, and the other half to keep them out of this village. Foregaters have a fondness for drinking and carousing, you understand, and these people lead quiet lives.” His tone said his sympathies were all with the villagers.

Well based on the size of the village, five hundred carousers hitting them up every night would probably get the place burned down in a week or two. Keeping civil order is an incredibly difficult task!

For twenty-three years Barin Madwen and I were arguing when we weren’t kissing, so to speak. That’s by way of saying I have some experience. Right now, you’re thinking your Lady never wants to see you again, but it’s my way of thinking that if you tap on her door tonight, she’ll be taking you in.

Again, the "skinny innkeepers are obvious Darkfriends" things is a joke but... it could work for Mistress Mad wen, couldn't it? Moves from Lugard to Cairhien to escape bad deeds there, runs the inn to keep her eyes open in case anything happens, Choedan Kal discovered so she becomes important, Ishamael takes her to the party so she's up to date, and here she is with advice that could be entirely innocent or could be straight from Lanfear - and why attack Rand like all the DFs from last book did when he's already in a Forsaken's clutches?

It's probably not remotely intended in the text but hey.

“Daes Dae’mar, Lord Rand,” Hurin said.

In the Game of Houses, you win or you die.

Okay maybe I'm getting my fantasy epics confused but I do enjoy how Jordan managed to communicate all of GRRM's themes even though they're not central to his own thesis.

“He has the right of Daes Dae’mar, Lord Rand. Cairhienin play it more than most, though all southerners do.”

And this is a bit of cultural blindness, really. We saw that Malkier's end came from someone playing Daes Dae'mar and while everyone has to fall in behind their leaders for obvious reasons there's going to be some jockeying. The Borderlands are just so far away from the rest of the world that they don't have to play the game at all, especially since Tar Valon actually comes through for them consistently - but then, that's the Game too, in its own way.

But in the morning, Selene was gone. When Rand went down to the common room, Mistress Madwen handed him a sealed parchment. “If you’ll forgive me, my Lord, you should have listened to me. You should have tapped on your Lady’s door.”

I'd say this still fits the Darkfriend theory.

Loial almost missed a step. “I never like to be far from my books, Captain.” His wide mouth flashed teeth in a self-conscious grin, and he hurried to strap the chest onto his saddle.

Okay Loial, I guess I was a little mean calling you naive before.

“He had the inn watched, Lord Rand,” Hurin whispered. “The Lady Selene must have gotten past them unseen somehow.”

Caldevwin has every reason to wonder if Lord Rand murdered his wife and is having the Ogier carry her corpse around in a box at this point. Good thing we'll never see or hear from him again, unlike Mistress Madwen who apparently gets mentioned again in Winter's Heart for some reason? Bizarre.

“Nothing is happening the way I expect,” Rand said.

And it never fucking will.

Next time: Stuff doesn't happen as Moiraine expects either! (Unlike Rand though, she'll sharpen up on her understanding of the future)

[gizmocrate-werecrow]

What to do when you are a leafling: my annoying friend.

(Ah the dilemma of wanting to Write more olimin chapters and wanting to write corps chapters.)

Dingo watched as the S.S. Beagle flew away alongside the onion. Pom offered him to come along with her but it just wasn't his thing. Dingo could feel a smile crawl onto his face as he walked away. 

DANDORI DANDORI DANDORI! WE SHALL ALWAYS DANDORI AND–

“SHUT UP!” Dingo screamed, everyone, even Shepherd, looked at him in shock. Dingo cringed to himself and could feel the thoughts subsiding once more. He silently prepared himself as Erma walked up to him. Dingo started to run. He climbed onto a rock and started to cry.

He could feel the thoughts coming back to him in a blast. Nothing but Dandori, he had to organize and save time, he had to…

“Hey? Are you okay Dingo?”

Dingo looked around and picked up Jack.

“N-no. I made a fool of myself. How come i seem to be the only one to resist the…well…the thoughts”

“The Connection meant to be like your comms man. We talk to each other and relay messages. So we can cooperate and survive. It's meant to keep us alive.” Jack chirruped. They held the toothpick with happy noises and did a few stabbing motions.

“Wait a moment, does that mean the Dandori thing isn't normal?”

“Dandori thoughts is a normal thing but at this strength. Does this mean someone is messing with it?” Jack said and tilted their head in curiosity. 

Dingo let out a long sigh. The thoughts slipped into his mind again. Begging him to simply do Dandori, find a cave, find a bunch of Pikmin and be a Dandori practitioner. Maybe he should give up…yeah that sounded great to do…Dandori…he should Dandori all the time.

“Dingo? If you’ve got any problems, let me know.” a voice said. Dingo could feel himself blush again, it was Erma again, what should he say? He looked up to see Erma’s lovely blue eyes. He could feel the Dandori thoughts slip away as he looked at her.

“I’ll let you kn-kn-know.” Dingo managed to stammer out before he felt faint, no he should keep himself awake. No screw it! He needed to tell her, he needed to tell her everything!

“You want to know what happened to me. I’ll tell you, it all started when Bernard and I crashed in a place with giant pink flowered trees.” 

–

Bernard wandered around the camp in a daze. The thoughts in his head he knew weren't his. But no matter how hard he tried, it seemed he couldn't reel them into his own sanity. Dandori is fun and the most efficient way to live life. If others were like him then maybe he would have not crashed. He never crashed in his life until now. 

“Santi…friend…why don't we…when the ONION lands…you get someone…and let them embrace DANDORI!” Bernard declared.

“Why–” Santi started

“Because if we make them embrace DANDORI…we can save everyone…if I did DANDORI earlier…the ship…wouldn't crash.”

Santi raised an eyebrow, as annoying as Bernard was, this was completely not his thing. 35 years of dealing with, avoiding and getting annoyed by Bernard has made him familiar with the positive ace pilot. 

“Bernard, are you okay?” Santi said with a hint of hesitation in his voice while light chittering began to echo in his head.

“I'm fine SANTI, I crashed the ship...I…” Bernard started, he hugged Santi tightly. Soft sobs began to sound from the pilot. Santi quietly dragged Bernard away from the general area around the base and to the rock. Oleander was sitting there and kicking their legs while Santi sat Bernard down. 

“Who is that?” Oleander said, coughing a bit of poison out.

“My rival…It’s okay…You can talk to me…Like you always do.” 

“Can you play your flute…for me?” Bernard weakly asked. He looked up with a smile as Santi took the frost covered flute out of his pack. Santi took a deep breath and began to play. Soft music danced around the air, bewitching the ears of those nearby. The thoughts in his head seemed to slip back into only his own. The soft whisperings of Dandori now seemed like a bad dream rather than a horrible reality. Bernard looked up with some sense of a smile on his face. 

“That…feels a bit better….I don't know what came over me.”

“No worries Bernard we’re…ack…Best friends after all.” Santi said with a pained smile that had a hint of warmth to it.

(my idea is that even though Santi finds Bernard annoying due to the whole fate thing. He still cares for Bernard…a little. While Bernard sees him as a genuine friend.)