#perhaps i should do a web weave at some point

[fryday]

don't even know how to articulate the nature of the thing that exists between dnp anymore. what are they to each other! they're danandphils, in the same way you would call two people boyfriends or husbands. they're dan and phil, emphasis and importance placed on the 'and'. they are 'and's. they're together. they're side by side. whatever

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Jamil Viper: A Web, Tangled

Aaand here we go with the Relaxing in Room line of birthday cards :v d ehebkwjw It’s so funny that they chuck pillows to attack??? (By the way, congrats to this Jamil card overloading and crashing the JP server 😂)

For this series of birthday ficlets, I’ll focus on writing each birthday boy preparing to walk to school with the reader (since the duo partner barely appears in the vignettes). Can be read platonically or romantically, whatever you prefer~

Rise and Shine!

You lingered by the doorway, your eyes glued on Jamil.

He was preoccupied with glimpsing himself in a mirror set on a table. Before him were various accessories from a jeweled box. (Judging from the gaudiness of the massive rubies on it, it must have been a gift from Kalim.)

Loose tresses the color of dark chocolate tumbled down his back. When Jamil ran a brush through them, the sun caught and his hair tempered, turning lustrous.

You’d seen him massage his scalp with oil-slicked hands before—and again, he diid it, followed by some sort of a cream. The routine left his head moisturized smelling faintly of jasmine. Jamil never compromised when it came to hair care.

You often had to remind yourself that he was not a princess, entrancing as he was. The sway of his hair, the snap of his steps. Each movement, close to a part in a mysterious dance.

Jamil produced his magical pen. The magestone laid in it was as clear as a cloudless day, and the color of blood that had been left out for a little too long.

Now came the spectacle, the very highlight of your entire morning.

Jamil raised the pen as if he was a conductor waving his baton. A hush fell over an imaginary audience, a collective of breaths held in anticipation. This is it, this is it.

He flicked his wrist, and the magic flowed.

A trail of scarlet light emanated whenever Jamil drew his wand. The accessories laid out on his desk floated up, compelled, in a neat line. A band with a feather dangling from it, narrow golden bangles, flat beads that clinked like coins.

His dark locks lifted, dividing themselves into even sections, then into even smaller ones. They carefully twisted over and under each other, weaving into tight braids. Accessories slid on, effortlessly fitting themselves at his direction.

His intricate hairstyle assembled quickly, as if arranging the pieces of a familiar puzzle.

The red sparkles faded into a fine shimmer and then into nothing at all. As the last traces of magic settled, you bursted into applause.

“Bravo, bravo! Great show as always,” you said appreciatively.

“… That wasn’t a performance,” Jamil corrected as he set his magical pen down.

“It might as well be! It takes some serious skill to pull that off every morning.” You gestured to him. “And so fast!“

“Anyone could accomplish it with enough time and practice.” His words choice was humble, but there was a hint of a smirk in his tone.

A rare moment of triumph for him.

“Not just anyone. I think you’ve got a natural talent for this kind of thing,” you grinned broadly, “like a spider!”

Jamil’s neutral expression splintered, leaving jagged edges exposed. His left eyes twitched, pupils pinpricks.

“Excuse me? In what way do I remind you of a vile bug?”

“Hey, don’t knock spiders! You guys have similar skills. The braids, the webs. You make’m well, all nice and strong. No strands out of place.”

“That doesn’t reassure me,” he groused, a hand on his hip. “I’d prefer if you didn’t compare me to them. It feels wrong.”

Jamil shivered. Not from the cold, but with repulsion.

You gave a laugh—soft against the rising morning sun. “Really? But you’re so alike in other ways too.”

His eyes narrowed into suspicious slivers. Mildly offended, perhaps.

“Elaborate,” he commanded.

“They’re hard working and important but under-appreciated,” you pointed out. “Without spiders, there would actually be a lot more bugs around. We should be more grateful to have spiders’ webs.”

There was a pause, deliberate. Then a gentle prompt.

“… Remind you of anyone?”

Jamil scoffed. It was as loud as a thunderclap in his suddenly cavernous bedroom.

“Maybe.”

Two syllables, clipped. An acknowledgment.

“Jamil-senpai…?”

He hurriedly looked away, staring at the wall for likely longer than what was deemed appropriate. Any more, whether in length or in intensity, and he might have burned a hole in it. His face, hotter than the Scalding Sands.

Your brows shot up. “… Ah. Could it be that you’re feeling embarrassed?”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous. Something like this couldn’t possibly ruffle me.”

You craned your body, attempting to meet his gaze. But he wrenched away, denying that to you. “Then why aren’t you looking at me when you say that?”

“I need to get ready for class,” he replied dismissively. “So close the door and wait outside while I change out of my pajamas.”

“Now you’re just changing the subject!”

“Well, we’ll both be running late if we continue to dawdle,” Jamil warned—a tactful evasive maneuver.

His hands found their way onto your arms, steering you into the hallway. You turned back, mouth opening to protest, but Jamil had already sealed himself off.

Banging and calling out to him was no good. Kicking resulted in you gripping onto your poor foot and whimpering. You were left in a sorry state, back to the door as you rested on the floor.

On the other side, Jamil was surely having a little laugh. Cheeks still burning from the praise showered upon him, basking in the afterglow of it.

You sighed.

A spider makes its web to deceive flies into getting stuck in it. Jamil-senpai can be just as tricky.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Recently, the surge of AI has caught everyone's attention and I've been working on this little experiment.

Down below the cut are two fics and this is how I planned it - one was made up by using AI (more specifically, Chat Gpt) while the other one was written by yours truly. Below both fics will be a poll and I would like for you, my dear readers, to guess which one was AI. Personally, I don't think it'll be a difficult challenge but seeing your reactions and comments on this should prove to be an interesting endeavor.

This was posted on April 17th. And, in 7 days, I shall reveal which fic was written by me, and which one was done by AI.

Now then, let's get on with the show.

🥀 Story One.

In the dimly lit alleyways of Yokohama, Fyodor Dostoevsky stalks his obsession, (y/n), with unwavering determination. His fixation transcends reason, driving him to extreme lengths to possess (y/n)'s affection.

Fyodor's obsession with (y/n) began innocently enough, a mere curiosity sparked by their untapped potential and innocence. But as time passed, that curiosity twisted into an all-consuming desire, festering within Fyodor's mind like a venomous serpent.

Each night, Fyodor would follow (y/n) from a distance, his heart pounding with anticipation and longing. He would watch as (y/n) laughed with their friends, oblivious to the dark presence lurking in the shadows.

But Fyodor's love was not the gentle, nurturing kind. It was possessive, suffocating, and dangerously obsessive. He couldn't bear the thought of (y/n) belonging to anyone but him, couldn't stand the idea of anyone else basking in the warmth of (y/n)'s smile.

As his obsession deepened, Fyodor's mind became consumed with dark fantasies of possessing (y/n) completely. He would spend hours meticulously planning every detail of their future together, envisioning a life where they were inseparable.

But fantasies were not enough for Fyodor. He needed to make them a reality, no matter the cost. And so, he began to weave a web of deception and manipulation, carefully orchestrating events to bring (y/n) closer to him and drive away anyone who dared to stand in their way.

But as Fyodor's plans grew more elaborate, so too did the danger. (y/n)'s friends grew suspicious of Fyodor's intentions, sensing something sinister lurking beneath his charming facade. And as they delved deeper into Fyodor's past, they uncovered secrets that threatened to unravel his carefully constructed world.

But Fyodor was not about to let anyone come between him and his beloved. He would do whatever it took to protect their love, even if it meant resorting to violence.

🥀 Story Two.

Shimmering waves of starlight engulfed the man in white as he monitored his target from a safe distance, hollow purple eyes gleaming with excitement. He could feel his long fingers twitching with anticipation in his warm pockets, a stark contrast to the chilly wind on this fine spring evening.

He needed to be patient. Because patience was indeed, a virtue.

And Fyodor was a virtuous man. Perhaps not a good one, but he would gladly take the title of virtue.

Would you bestow upon him such a title? Would you do so, if you ever found out that he had taken such a keen interest in you? The rational part in his mind said no, of course not. Unlike him, you were blessed with normalcy. There was nothing extraordinary about you - no ability, no wealth, no status.

Nothing.

You could have been squished like a bug beneath his heel and the world would just keep on going as it always would. Sure, there would be some individuals who would miss you dearly but even they would move on at some point.

Such was the nature of humanity. How cruel, he thought to himself.

Fortunately for you, Fyodor was no ordinary man. Despite his predicament, he had grown fond of you. He was not sure why but after a while, he stopped asking such trifling questions as to why he troubled himself by giving you so much attention.

It was pointless to make sense of the senseless.

Right here, right now, all he wanted was to enjoy this quiet evening by his lonesome, as he tailed behind you like a creeping shadow. He would reveal himself to you properly when the time was right, when he felt you were strong enough to take him.

Fyodor just needed to wait a little bit longer, just long enough to see how he should proceed with you in case things went south.

In the meantime, he would gladly spend every waking moment simply watching you for his own personal pleasure.

🥀 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misdollface, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enoojnij, @ishqani, @osachiyo, @bluepeanutharmony, @kaithegremlin, @fyodorscockslut, @wcayaw, @luna-mariko-akatsuki, @lovelyyz, @queenofspades403

APRIL 24TH - Story One is AI.

[xylaes]

Read Part 1 Here! Read Part 2 Here! Read Part 3 Here!

give in

Xylaes beat the sides of both fists in frustration against the door that had promptly slammed shut behind the small rescue team, trapping them within some kind of large chamber in the Spiral Weave. He should have known, he should have seen that coming, but his judgment was so clouded by finally getting another chance to kill this bastard that he didn’t notice the trap that they were all now in.

After reuniting with Rynga, they decided to form their own little mercenary crew of sorts to assist those being held captive within the City of Threads, just as they both had been. It was too dangerous to leave the safety of The Burrows and run around Azj-Kahet trying to find their way back to the surface, and they certainly weren’t going to sit still and wait for help to come to them. Eventually the military would be here, and the mercenaries would follow shortly after. For now, there was no better way to bide their time. Even after the military arrived, it still felt right to stay and keep doing what he had been doing. They knew the city well at this point, and had plenty of connections to move about nearly unseen.

Thus far, their small team of six had already rescued quite a few captives scattered about the city, including more victims of the Puppetmaster. Xylaes had a personal vendetta against the bastard at this point, especially after discovering Pyraelia there. Thankfully he had reached her just in time; she was so close to being lost and becoming one of…them. This only cemented his desire to find the sick fuck behind all this and to kill him once and for all. So while others left and rejoined their own crews, or were finally able to go home when the time came, Xylaes and some others stayed. They all wanted to see justice served.

let go

Rynga tugged on his sleeve, urging him to stop. It was no use, that door wasn’t going to open until whoever shut it wanted it to open. He glanced around towards the others as they all readied their weapons, waiting for whatever was about to happen.

“Looks like I’ve finally caught you all in my web.” The voice echoed from somewhere within the chamber, but the blinding spotlights from above made it impossible to locate their target. “You have been a nuisance from the start; setting my puppets free, destroying my workshop and then my theater. I think it is about time we get to your final act.”

“Come fight us yourself, coward!” Xylaes yelled out, eyes darting around and trying to locate the source of the voice.

His taunt was met with a maniacal laugh, “This will be my grandest play yet!”

Give In

More spotlights flickered on, illuminating the massive collection of ‘puppets’ waiting in the wings that had finally come to life. Most were nerubians, but there were a few members of the various Horde, Alliance, and neutral militaries scattered throughout. They were outnumbered, by a lot, and these puppets weren’t as easy to kill as their mortal bodies would have been.

There was nothing to be done but fight, they just had to watch each other’s backs and just maybe they could make it through this. One of the massive beetle-like nerubians stepped out of the shadows and Xylaes could feel a chill run up his spine. He would never admit to himself that a situation was hopeless even when it obviously was, and perhaps that was the secret to his longevity at this point. He had found himself in plenty of deadly situations, yet death had always eluded him.

Let Go

At times he thought he had maybe been blessed with the gift of luck, but if that were the case his past would have been very different. It always seemed like everyone around him got hurt, or worse, and yet he persisted. The adrenaline raced through his veins as he broke out into a cold sweat. All of his senses seemed to sharpen in that moment as he locked in, readying himself for the fight to come.

GIVE IN

“SHUT UP!” His abrupt exclamation caused the rest of the crew to give him a bewildered look. The feminine voice inside his head was growing more and more persistent. It wasn’t Callia like he had originally thought, he would have listened to her by now. He waved it off, shaking his head as he stepped closer to the center of the room, the group forming a circle with their backs to each other while the puppets began to close in on them.

With the first couple waves, their team moved fluidly through the battle. They were all highly skilled fighters and had plenty of experience under their collective belts, but the fact was that there were just too many puppets and soon enough they started to get overwhelmed. Maya, the human female he had first saved from the Puppetmaster’s workshop, was the first to take a hit. She dropped to one knee, screaming in pain as a spindly lance pierced her thigh. She kept fighting through it as best as she could, but she would sooner bleed out before getting through all of the enemies.

Rynga did her best to stop the bleeding with a bit of Light, but soon after Aras, a male Kaldorei that had joined them most recently, fell with a large gash across his chest. It was getting so crowded and harder to move, and soon enough the massive beetle-like nerubian hovered over them. 

It was happening again, everyone around him was dying.  At least he would die too this time.

LET GO

Maybe it was time to listen to the voice. What else did they have to lose at this point? He did what was asked of him, to give in and to let go. The fingertips of his replanted arm began to tingle and burn before suddenly the sensation shot up the foreign limb and throughout the rest of his body as everything suddenly went dark. The last thing he heard was Rynga screaming before completely blacking out. At least it was quick and relatively painless. He’d be with Callia soon.

“Xylaes, lad, wake up.” The voice was very faint, as if someone was calling to him from across a large room. His body felt sore and heavy, was this what it was like to die? That didn’t seem fair. The smelling salts immediately caused him to jolt up, nearly knocking Rynga over in the process. “There ya are, lad! Thought we lost ya fer a moment. Thought we lost…everyone fer a moment.”

It took him a few moments to get his bearings about him, rubbing his eyes and clearing his throat before speaking. “Am I…are we dead?”

“No, lad. We’re all alive, thanks to ye.”

Xylaes looked around towards the others. Maya and Aras were looking at him in confusion, both were bandaged up, but alive. When his gaze met Rynga’s, she looked taken aback for a moment, eyes furrowing as she leaned away from him. 

“What do you mean?” As far as he was aware, he passed out and didn’t do a damn thing.

“Ya don’ remember? …Obviously ya don’ remember.” She attempted to wipe the shocked expression from her features, reaching out to cup his cheek. Her touch was always comforting. “Ya…” It was clear she was attempting to figure out how to word something and couldn’t quite find the best explanation. 

“You made a smaller version of the void explosion like the one that blew apart Dalaran and it fucking killed everything but us. Didn’t know you had that in you, but fucking glad you did.” Maya was blunt like that, and Rynga seemed thankful she didn’t have to pick more delicate words.

“Didn’t know I had that in me either. Wish I could remem…” He trailed off as his eyes caught sight of the small amount of showing and -glowing- skin between his glove and sleeve on his left arm. He pushed up the sleeve, staring at the once hidden runes of this replanted arm that were now glowing a dark purple. “The fu-”

“That’s not the only thing, lad.” Rynga picked up her sword, wiping part of the blade off on her leg before holding it up to his face so he could see a faint reflection.

If he didn’t know he was looking at his own reflection, he would assume these eyes belonged to a stranger. Glowing a deep purple, surrounded by an inky blackness; this looked too familiar, and not in a good way. He quickly pulled his sleeve back down and cleared his throat, “Right, well, let’s get the fuck out of here, shall we?” The priority was to get somewhere safe. They could discuss this later. Or not. Maybe it was only temporary.

Who did this arm belong to before him? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know anymore.

@themercenaries @pyraelia

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Top 5 favorite john wick ships⁉️⁉️

Omg the asks are coming so fast um um um

John x Helen. The OGs. Love itself personified to the extent that it's almost religious. They will find each other in every lifetime and they are bound to each other by a power that reshapes international political systems and outshines the powers of death. The sweetest domme and most devoted sub that ever lived. They're brought together by blood transfusions, bullet wounds, and the complete lack of any familial support system. If they're getting whumped, they're getting whumped at the same time because they're soul mates that can feel each other's emotions even beyond the grave (this is Broken Veil lore). The flavor of the whump is honey and that's what they call each other. Fun fact: I literally, irl had to quit writing about them because I stopped sleeping, oops.

John x Vincent. Churchduel sends my brain into immediate overdrive. I am thinking about it all of the time. Sometimes, I try to think other thoughts, and Churchduel thoughts assert themselves out of the ether instead. Unconditional love and impossible levels of redemption. Throw your punitive justice out the window to prove you're not a cop, we came to cum and it WILL save him. Actually healthy underneath it all because this is secretly an NPD/cluster B positivity story about how a narc can have a healthy relationship with proper accommodations. The flavor of this whump is strawberry and it is mixed with so much cocaine. I NEED Vincent and he needs so much help. Kiss this sad wet cat!!! Kiss him now, John, with tongue!!!!!!

John x Santino. I can't think about them without my heart fluttering. I feel their love for each other inside my own body. They are pure entities of angst and hurt/comfort, to the extent that I can write endless drabble and ficlets about them which I don't normally do. They don't even require context, Santino is just distilled clinginess and need while John is distilled comfort and they just produce an outpouring of gentleness as John helps Santino heal and Riccardo Scamarcio's pronounced eye bags haunt my daydreams (I swear to god, there is never a time when this man looks like he's had a full night of sleep and I think that's just his face. What a face <3). The flavor of this whump is coffee and cigarettes, and the whumperflies make me feel like I'm passing out.

John x Caine. It is a goal of mine to get feral about John x Caine. That one GIF of Caine saying "are you dead John?" and looking like his heart just shattered is buried in my brain, waiting to blossom. Also the fic with the head pats. THE HEAD PATS. And the wet spot induced by the head pats...I can't. I'm dead. People should please send me John x Caine asks, I need to figure out how to write them so I can dive into this because there's so much potential. Their whump flavor remains a mystery and I need to know. I'm getting hints of something slow and ponderous and gentle, perhaps a relaxing tea?

Vincent x Chidi. Let's be honest: Beyond Judgement could just happen with Chidi instead under slightly different circumstances. The point is for there to be a bodyguard who will do anything for Vincent and love him unconditionally like daddy didn't. Chidi might not offer that enemies to lovers factor, but he could absolutely bring out the best in Vincent. He's the one person in the world who is canonically there for Vicent and doesn't want him to die alone and forgotten. Also I spent the better part of today thinking about that Vincent web weaving image set and how much I want there to be someone there to prevent Vincent's tragic fall

Bonus:

Jude x no one. Get it Jude. Live your best aroace life and whip some folks platonically. I'm spinning you in my brain anyway.

[brideofdiscord-rewritten]

Bride of Discord Rewritten Chapter 13: the date

"The portal's ready," Discord said after conjuring a swirling red void. Beyond everything there would be freedom. Amongst the populous, hearing manes swiftly flutter, and ponies laughing. Everything was different and uncanny. Behind the weaved web of space in front of her the grass was still growing, the workweek still happening. It was tender and consistent.

December 4th. 3 months. 9 moons. Fluttershy arrived on August 25th. 3 months with no friends, not a single day of work, no routine. And Fluttershy couldn't bring herself to say any of this was damaging her. It would be a lie on her part, at least on surface level. No matter how much she tried to explore it, she never felt alone, truly and without discernable reason.

All the animals were gathered in front of the portal, staring at it questioningly. The draconequus looked to Fluttershy.

"Are you ready?"

She inhaled deeply. "Yes." She turned to the crowd of creatures. "My friends, I know some of you are unhappy here and wish to go, so…I'm giving you a chance. This portal here will take you anywhere you want. No boundaries. Whoever you want to see."

It stung like nettles.

"Don't worry about me. I love every one of you, but…you can't stay here for my sake, not forever. I…I'll be fine."

After hearing some more chirping, Fluttershy hung her head.

"I'm not going. I can't."

Angel stepped forth and pointed towards Discord

"Yeah, I'll be with him. It shouldn't concern you, mon petít ange. I'll be safe with him."

For a while, the animals stood there, wondering what to do. Then a few headed towards the portal. Fluttershy turned away, unable to watch. She could hear the electric noise as the animals stepped through the void. She tried to hold back the tears, but it was no use. She ran to the nearest tree and buried her face in her hooves and began weeping.

After a while, she could no longer hear any chirps, squeaks or grunts. She did not need to turn around to know that they were all gone now. Then she felt something soft patting her head. She looked up and saw Angel smiling at her. Other animals surrounded her, some badgers, squirrels birds, ducks and mice who had stayed behind.

She sniffed. "Thank you, friends. If you wanna be here I promise you can come back whenever you want."

But she could not help but weep for the animals that had left. After closing the portal, Discord cautiously approached his fiancé. He got a few angry glares from the animals, but Fluttershy raised her hoof, assuring that it was alright. Still glaring at the draconequus, they slowly broke apart. Discord knelt down to her.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she choked.

"That was…very brave of you."

"I know. I just…can't help…"

She buried her face in his fur and cried. Discord slowly wrapped his arms around her and stroked her mane.

"Shhh," he whispered. "There, there. They're free. They have no duties."

"It must feel so light..." she sobbed.

"No more tears then."

He took her face in his hands and wiped away her tears. He had to think of a way to cheer her up. Then it hit him.

"How about I take you out to dinner tonight?"

Fluttershy blinked in confusion. "Out?"

He nodded with a grin. "I get it! Feeling cooped up isn't that nice, and since you can't... leave without legal ramifications- heck, I think we should do it!"

"You mean…outside the castle?"

"Well, if you need a m- castle? I don't have one! We live in a cottage!"

"No! That would be wonderful."

"I'll see you at seven, then?" She nodded as he pulled away. "Oh and why don't we make this a formal occasion? So, wanna wear something nice? Might wanna wear practical shoes-"

He looked down at her iron lined hooves.

"Alright. Tonight then."

Discord watched his mirror as it showed and Big Macintosh on another date with his dame, sugar belle. Jeez, if you like it then you should put a ring on it!

...

He probably yelled that out loud.

"How does he do it?" he wondered. He doesn't truly expect marriage after this, perhaps the strongest friendship ever maybe. But he, Macintosh, seems so charming he makes her swoon.

They gave him nothing. They were already in love. They were having lunch at a café, sharing a milkshake with two straws. It was a strange flavor, something like root beer and latin strawberries. Probably Mexico. Nopony ever remembers the other countries, or the whole continent.

"Any leaves falling?" Sugar Belle asked her date.

"Eyup."

"You think maybe we could prance in the leaves sometime?." She glanced her hooves. "Ooh, and I'll bring some cider! It'll be cold!"

"Yup," the red stallion nodded.

Before standing up, sugar belle leaned over and gave him a peck on the lips. Discord's eyes widened at this action. Of course! Why didn't he think of it before? They're already in love! And he needs a crush-duo!"

Now he knew he had to make this night perfect. Something he couldn't remember at the moment was at stake!

Fluttershy was pacing around her room, Angel standing impatiently on her bed.

"Ooh, what should I wear?" She held up a green dress in front of the mirror. "This one? No." She picked up a blue dress. "This one? No." The next was red. "Maybe? Oh, where's Rarity when you need her?!"

Angel thumped his foot on the bed to get her attention. She turned to him as he squealed.

"Why am I so nervous? Oh, I don't know! I just…want to look nice…"

The rabbit glared at her, his head tilted and his nose scrunchied.

"Oh, Angel, if I didn't wanna go I wouldn't! And I want to go, so I want to look nice. I want to look as pretty as I should feel."

Angel snorted. He leaned back and quirked his eyebrow, little paws resting folded on his crossed legs. His paws only have fur on the bottom. Rabbits have no paw pads. They have toes with bottoms. There is no squish at the bottom.

"I don't know for a first friend I seem kinda lousy... I wanna feel cute. I want my new friend to feel handsome."

The bunny turned away in a huff. Fluttershy sighed and flew over to the vanity. As she gazed in the mirror, she thought of all the times Discord had called her beautiful. Although she would never admit it, just being with him made her feel beautiful. That's why she had to look her best tonight.

She did not know where these thoughts were coming from. Since when did she care so much about her appearance? He likes how she looks! Friends don't care anyways!

Fluttershy spun around to face Angel. "Can you help me pick out a dress?"

The rabbit stared at her for a moment, then hopped down and began rummaging through the closet.

Discord spent the rest of the day searching for other couples in Equestria to learn from. None of them were she and he.

It was now five minutes to seven and Discord was making last minute adjustments to his appearance. The tuxedo he had summoned made him feel ridiculous, but he had a girl to impress, so he was willing to suffer whatever pain to do so. He could do nothing to improve his physical appearance, however. He was able to change form, but he had figured out long ago that no matter what he turned into, part of his deformed figure would remain. But if there were any more of hims he would be proud of his nation! One that can be loved!

"Okay, Discord," he said to his reflection. "You can do this. You can do this!"

He licked his paw and slicked his mane back, only to have it pop back up. He sighed in defeat.

"Oh, who am I kidding? I can't do this! Discord, wake up and smell the hummus! She's the most beautiful creature in the world and I'm…" he looked at himself in the mirror. The reflection was so unfamiliar. So silly and loving. It made him warm.

He teleported outside of Fluttershy's bedroom and was about to knock when a thought occurred to him.

"Hold on. If you're going to do this, do it right!"

He summoned a bouquet of roses and straightened his tux. He then knocked on the door and heard the angelic voice from inside: "One minute!"

As he waited, Discord started sweating.

"Alright, no need to be nervous," he muttered to himself. "Just one girl. Just one amazing, BEST FRIEND. my, it's hot in here." He tugged at his collar. "You can do this. Whatever you do, don't look like a…"

"Discord?"

He was so distracted he had not heard the door open. He quickly straightened himself up and felt himself lighten.

"Fluttershy! You ready to…?"

He stopped at the extraordinary sight before him and nearly dropped the bouquet. She wore a marigold dress, voluminous ebbing only slightly before bounding back into another tier. roses and vines embroidered in and out along the hem dancing along the silhouette. Her hair was tied into a long ponytail flouncing dainty over her shoulders like a calm stream. Her ballroom gloves seemed redundant, but framed her soft nature and gentle touch. Her sleeves fell off the shoulder.

"Is everything alright?"

Discord opened his mouth, but no words came.

"Is it too much? I can change, if you'd like."

"No!" he blurted. Then he pulled himself together and cleared his throat. "You look…amazing."

She turned away with a blush. Discord then remembered the bouquet and handed it to her.

"Oh yeah yeah!! Here!"

Fluttershy took the flowers with a smile. "Thank you, I haven't seen these around the cottage!"

"It suits you."

Fluttershy blushed again. "You're too sweet. So where are we going?"

Discord turned his back to her and crouched down. "Hop on and I'll show you!"

Her eyes widened. "You mean…climb on your back?"

"Yes, we're flying there!"

"Oh but…I can fly by myself…"

"oh yea.."

She hesitantly crawled onto Discord's back and locked her hooves around his neck. The draconequus turned around and opened one of the windows.

"Hold on tight," He unfurled his wings and raced towards the window. Fluttershy shut her eyes and let out a squeak as he launched into the air.

"Woo hoo!" Discord cried. "Fluttershy, you've got to look at this view!"

His only response was a whimper. He turned his head to see the pegasus burying her face into his neck. He raised an eyebrow.

"You can look, you know?"

"But it's so…" Fluttershy stammered, "…high."

"Oh come on! Don't tell me you're afraid of heights! You're a pegasus for crying out loud!"

"It's um…not of heights, it's of…falling."

"shoot, sounds reasonable!"

"Are we going to land soon?" she pleaded.

The draconequus rolled his eyes. "Alright, hold it."

He blinked hard. Trees and grass turned into ash instantly. Everything that was there before pony kind would never outlast them. It was all toppled by the ancient apex predator of flame. Acres of carnage raged across the small clearing, leaving little in its wake.

His descent landed 200 yards away from the target area.

He slowly descended into a large clearing in the wood. He snapped his fingers and turned to the shivering pony on his back.

"It's okay. You can let go now."

Fluttershy opened her eyes and floated to the ground. She glanced at their surroundings and gasped at the sight of a table draped in a white cloth, centered with a lamp, one with oil higging the flame tight. Two covered dishes were set in front of two cushioned dining chairs. As a last minute touch, Discord summoned a violin, then an invisible orchestra of jazzy tunes playing softly by itself in midair. He bowed to his date, gently taking her hoof.

"Shall we, my dear?"

She giggled as he lightly kissed her hoof. He then ushered her to one of the chairs, holding it out for her as she sat down and pushed it back in. Fluttershy was impressed at what a gentleman he was being.

"And what would my dear, sweet Fluttershy like to eat?" Discord inquired as he seated himself.

"Gosh uh... I don't know. This is all so wonderful... I've never seen anything like it!"

"I know just the thing!"

He snapped his fingers and when Fluttershy lifted the cover of her dish, she saw a bowl of bright green leaves with no stems, tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, feta cheese and ranch dressing. It mouthwatering. He offered the one thing she'd craved then and there: RHUBARB. it was swiftly devoured.

Discord had a chocolate milkshake, though as he sipped through the straw, the glass disappeared rather than the liquid.

"This was really nice of you," she said with a smile

"Well," he chuckled, "I think we've both been cooped up in that castle for too long. Besides, it is lovely out here!"

His laughed was bouncy, and his speech was lined with a smile and snaggletooth. He was adorable.

She gazed into the darkness of the trees. "What if a Timberwolf or something shows up? Or-"

He waved his paw nonchalantly. "Please, I'm the scariest thing you'll find in this forest."

She looked at him shyly. "I don't think you're scary."

Discord tried to contain his joy at hearing her say that. "Well, there you go! Nothing else should frighten you then!"

"Oh…um…I'm not brave…"

"Sure you are! You left ponyville to be here..."he cringed. Sore spot. The only reason she was here was because-

"I wanted to find something purposeful, something I could contribute to. I'm a ponyville citizen, and I'd to anything for the other ponies..."

...

"well, I admire your tenacity! ANYWHO,"

He summoned them each a wine glass, filling them with grape juice. He raised his glass.

"A toast to the future!"

Fluttershy gave him a small smile and clinked her glass with his. It was only now that she started growing suspicious. They had had a candlelit dinner before, but dressing up, playing romantic music and talking about the future? Not only that, but they were out in the open where someone might assume they weren't friends. Hell, it was questionable since they were technically fiance's.

"is this a date?" She asked slyly and cautious.

"You hear that, dear?" Discord said. "They're playing that song from like, a million moons ago!"

°°Unforgettable, that's what you are

Unforgettable, though near or far

Like a song of love that clings to me..°°

He teleported beside her and bowed. "Enchanté, mademoiselle. May I have this dance?"

She stared at his open paw for a while and then slowly took it, giggling at his pronunciation. In a flash, the clearing had turned into a marble pavilion, the columns decorated in flowered vines. Cloaked around the pillars hung damask chenille fabrics. candles illuminating the tiled floor. Made it seem like the stars had landed here just for them. He led her to the middle and pulled her close.

°°How the thought of you does things to me

Never before has somepony been more Unforgettable in every way

And forevermore (and forevermore)°°

He twirled her around as he had done the first time they danced, swinging like they flew. Maybe they were, flying in a sense of being lifted.

°°That's how you'll stay (that's how you'll stay)

That's why, darling, it's incredible, That someone so unforgettable, Thinks that I am unforgettable too°°

Certainly all pressure released from their every joint, as if they were held. A whirl, a twist, and once more they embraced, simple stepping in a preconceived and unplanned pattern. Shuffling almost. They remained enclosed and circling until the next song.

°°You're my world, you're every breath I take

You're my world, every move I make°°

"I mean, that'll do, just fine."

"But you…" Fluttershy was about to say, but was cut short as he snaked his paw around her waist and gently took her hoof in his paw.

°°As the trees reach for the sun above

So my limbs reach out to you for love°°

Suspicious or not, she couldn't deny how a tender waltz would have made her downright uncomfortable with anypony else.

Luna watched on from her perch. Their appearance should make ponies tremble for how drastically different it seemed beyond word of mouth. Rather than a prisoner, she looked as if she were worshipped.

How mundane the things said in public felt now. How inferior they should feel under the weight of love, of any kind. This embrace broke laws and treaties, at any moment fluttershy could fly away of her own accord, and how unwilling discord would be to force her back.

The waltz was difficult for Discord, because Fluttershy was so much smaller than him. He could not hold his arm outward without straining her forelimb, as she was quadrupedal. he turned and dipped her as much as he could. Eventually, he found a solution and placed his claw on her waist along with his paw, bringing them closer together.

"Where did you learn to dance like this?" Fluttershy inquired as he dipped her again.

He smirked as he slowly brought her back up. "You'd be surprised how much you can learn without the aid of magic."

She glanced around nervously.

"discord-"

"Shhh," he whispered, putting a finger to her lips. "No words, my dear. Let's just enjoy this beautiful night."

Luna puffed her chest in pride at her beautiful night.

The pegasus was not the only one who seemed different. Discord's eyes never left Fluttershy and he was gentle with every movement he made with her. what he had created out here was not his usual wacky construction. Everything was orderly, even the tuxedo he was wearing. A tuxedo! His voice was different as well, softer and kinder. This was not the draconequus Luna had helped turn to stone.

Luna bit her lip and quirked her brow in astonishing awe as fluttershy lay her head on his chest. He looked at her in a manner none could replicate.Luna's jaw dropped. She knew that look. Could it be that the Lord of Chaos was in…? How could a creature of his nature feel this way?...

Then again, who was she to judge someone in such a manner? She of all ponies should know better than to label somepony as completely evil.

A thousand years, he had suffered alone, as did she. The difference between them was that Luna had her sister. Discord had no one to let him in, until now, it seemed. So was this genuine?

°°If our love ceases to be

Then it's the end of my world for me°°

Her thoughts seemed to move godspeed as only a verse had passed. With that, she left through means of teleportation.

The two sat there awkwardly for a while, waiting for the other to break the ice. They stole glances at each other, but looked away before the other could notice. Fluttershy smoothed out her dress while Discord rubbed the back of his neck before looking at her again. After a few minutes, she finally caught him.

"What are you staring at?" she asked playfully.

Discord smirked as if the answer was obvious. "Why you, of course. You fascinate me. I've never met anything or anypony more accepting, so autonomous and timid at once!"

Fluttershy blushed slightly. "That's very sweet."

He curved his body around her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I speak the truth, my dear. You are everything I could ever ask for."

She closed her eyes as he leisurely ran his fingers through her hair. His face was so close that she could feel his pastry breath. A month ago, this would have frightened her, but now, she just wanted him to keep stroking her mane, soothing her, whispering these things in her ear. Whenever he was around, she felt safe and secure, beautiful and important, cared for and adored.

"Fluttershy," Discord whispered.

"Mmm-hmm?" she uttered absent-mindedly.

"Might I ask you a teensy question? It's not the usual one!"

"Mmm-hmm."

He turned her head towards him. "May I... kiss you?"

She froze. Her shoulders seemed to pass her ears as she was was racked with blush.

The orchestra seemingly added a longer instrumental. Because of course they did.

He quickly moved away from her. "Sorry, I…I've just never kissed anypony before and…since we're friends, you wouldn't mind…"

"Okay," she replied weakly.

"Are you sure?"

She breathed and boldly faced him. "One k-k-kiss w-wouldn't hurt."

Her permission felt like a firework in his chest.

He gently took her face in his hands and leaned forward. What if she doesn't enjoy it? What if she hates me for the rest of my life? What are you waiting for? Do it now!

He panicked and kissed her on the forehead before quickly pulling away. Fluttershy opened her eyes in confusion. She shivered.

"Discord," she said slowly, "are you…nervous?"

He scoffed. "Nervous? W-why should I be nervous?"

"It's okay. I'm nervous too."

The draconequus blinked. "You are?"

She hung her head. "Well…I've never been kissed either and…if I'm going to kiss anypony for the first time..." She trailed off and looked back up at him. "I won't mind. Go ahead."

Discord gulped. "Um…alright. Here it goes."

She closed her eyes as he leaned toward her again. He was only an inch away from her lips when his panic returned. Her lips pouted, anticipated. He couldn't be enough. She was a oil lamp. She was warm and covered. On every surface of his being there was dense sheen. She was everything he could possibly foresee.

°°With your hoof resting in mine

I feel a power so divine-!°°

Nothing. Buzzing, fluttering. Pounding. Silent under the guise of tension. Fluttershy closed the gap between them, as momentarily Discord's widened eyes softened. His eyelids slid closed.

°°You're my world, you are my night and day!°°

Nothing could end. Combustion. Sparks. A burn at first, them gripping yearning. This Was unlike anything, imperceivable. The meaning of life was nothing, a dead concept with no answer, time's arrow neither stands still nor reverses. It merely marches forward. As does definitions. The definition of life at this moment was...

°°You're my world, you're every prayer I pray!°°

"That was…" he stammered.

"…nice," she finished.

°°If our love ceases to be...°°

"How about another dance?" he asked suddenly.

°°then it's the end of my world...°°

"Are you alright, my dear?"

°°end of my world...!°°

"I don't think any other kiss will feel like that again..."

°°END OF MY WORLD...°°

She looked at him with nothing close to what she looked at her most favored things with. It was otherworldly, ethereal endearment.

°°FOOOR, MEEEEE!!°°

The climax. The shattering. The orchestra replicating the brains neurological sense of compassion that will nevermore be spoken with such brilliance and conciseness.

"Do you want me to tuck you in?"

"No, thank you," the pegasus said, flying out of his arms. "Thank you for tonight. It was lovely," She yawned.

She surprised him with a peck on the cheek. "Good night."

"Sleep well, my sweet," Discord said, putting a hand where she had kissed him.

She did not take his eyes off him until the door was shut. Discord couldn't handle the walk back, opting to teleport to his room and rejoice like a teenage filly. His hooves flew in circular motions, and he shouted nearly squealing.

He brought the bed down so it could catch him as he collapsed. He had just kissed the most amazing pony in the world and she was the one who initiated it!!

After replaying the events of the evening in his head, his grin slowly disappeared as realization hit him.

There was no use denying it.

It wasn't about the plan anymore.

[yourtastefulcannibal]

Dr Lecter,        I write this letter while listening to Chopin’s Mazurkas. I needed a musical background while writing and I wanted to feel as if I am writing on a balcony from the opera.        Thank you very much for your information on the paintings. It seems I do lack some knowledge in this aspect, and I need more research on it. Could you maybe recommend me something you very much like, Dr Lecter? I would like to broaden my knowledge both visually and from the point of view of information, and a starting point from you would be great.        I would be more than honoured to dine with you, Dr. I just returned to the States but please let me know when you want to visit my home country and I will be more than happy to take the trip with you, showing you all the wonders the country has to offer. You mentioned you visited it though in your youth. Could you please tell me what you visited or what was your overall impression?       My interest in animals? Well, as Will, I also love dogs, no matter what their breed is (although I do prefer more the German Shepherds and Great Danes). I also like cats and horses very much, enjoying horse riding immensely and finding it so serene I don’t have a pet, but I want to have a dog and a cat in the future. I used to be afraid of spiders, but I learnt to appreciate them. We don’t have poisonous or venomous spider here, yet my fear for them was great when I was child. But as I grew up, I learnt to appreciate them more and found that they are actually nice “roommates” if you will. They keep bugs, mosquitos and other insects away. And I am fascinated by their way of weaving their web, the precision is fascinating to me. I could go on more on what other animals I like and why, but this letter would be way too long that wanted, so I will stop here.        As for my walks in the woods, yes, I do forage. I look forward to the season when some fruits or flowers are out there. Last month, there was such a great heat in Romania that now the blackberries are all shrivelled. Same with the St John’s wort flowers. I wanted to pick some for tea but the state I found them in was almost dreadful. We have wineberries, chanterelles, and lion’s mane here as well. My father and I always make time to go pick the mushrooms when they are ready. It’s quite relaxing for us. Please find attached below some pictures from my most recent walk.      A favourite opera? Hm, that’s a tricky one. As much as I would like to say La Traviata, I will however go with Pelléas et Mélisande. Their story is quite tragic and heartbreaking; it seems to be an interweaving of Romeo and Juliet and Tristan and Isolde. Debussy’s music just does something to my senses. My favourite piece from him is Claire de Lune. I know, it’s maybe way too popular, but again I find it so peaceful, pensive, sentimental.      I would be interested in what yours is, Dr.

Until next time, Yours sincerely, Aspasia Winterbourne

Aspasia, Upon your mention of Claire de Lune, I saw occasion to listen to it as I wrote. I too find it soothing, although I must say I prefer it at a slower tempo than it is written, as some pianists tend to rush it.

Thank you for the pictures from your most recent excursion into the woods — they are bringing me yet more reason and inspiration to wander into the woods here somewhere in Maryland. Perhaps I will even invite one of my new acquaintances along, should I feel the desire to walk with company.

As for an interest in mine, I do enjoy learning about the lives of various artists. Lately, I have taken interest into more contemporary topics than I usually might, namely the so called 'Beat Poets.' I will not explain too deeply here, for fear I might bore you, however they essentially were a group of American poets who began a literary movement (the Beat movement) in the 1950s, rejecting the joylessness and purposelessness of their modern society in the wake of the second World War and the continual strengthening of capitalism; as a result, they sought to transform their idea of poetry into something reflective of their genuine, lived experiences, without plan or revision being necessary. The vocabulary involved in the poems often involved vulgarities unheard of as being used in literature at the time, with themes of sex included in the hopes of freeing poetry from 'academic precocity.' Of the Beats, I am partial to Ginsberg and Kerouac.

Beyond Beat poets, I find other poetry of this period to be of interest as well, particularly those poems reflective of the emerging queer culture. I highly encourage you to give Frank O'Hara a read, as he is perhaps my favourite poet of this period of time for a multitude of reasons. I could list off several others, but I will refrain for the time being. In regards to our discussion of the opera, I find your choice of favourite to be befitting of what I know of you. So many operas are tragedies, particularly for the women who are unfortunate enough to find themselves with named roles. Pelléas et Mélisande is certainly no exception to that rule, with both of the title characters meeting their demise. As for my favourite opera, I would need to say that I would choose La Bohème. Although you worried that enjoying Claire de Lune may be too 'common,' my favourite opera is the favourite of many lovers of the art. It is simpler than many others, easier for one to understand without having a detailed knowledge of certain events in history. I enjoy the setting, but the story is one that has been echoed across the centuries, before and after the time and place of La Bohème. Regards, as always, Hannibal Lecter

[catsafarithewriter]

A/N: PART 24 of the Bedlam au!

X

The Bedlam makes no effort to pull his façade back into shape after the mortal has gone.

What's the point? She's seen clearly past his mask; the time for pretty words has passed. Time to abandon the carrot, and pick up the stick.

He approaches his marionette, its form having fallen still the moment he'd dropped its strings. Inanimate. Lifeless without his puppeteering, as it should be. He plucks at its strings, and again finds no fault in his weaving.

How bizarre, then, that two of his creations should act out – first the best friend, and then the cat – when he has crafted them perfectly?

The Beldam waves a hand, and the web sphere vanishes, combining with that on the Bureau mantelpiece to be a singular prison. It sits on a small display stand, and from the outside it looks like a strangely clouded-over snowglobe.

For his own entertainment, the shadow is only one-sided; its occupants see clearly the show he puts on.

He paces the Bureau, frustration prickling at him.

"A fine mess of it you've made," his first captive calls. "What makes you think she'll come anywhere near this place after that tantrum?"

The Bedlam pauses before the pseudo-snowglobe and, with another wave of a hand, it clears enough for him to see its diminutive prisoners. As far as collections go, a complete Cat Bureau is a pretty find. "Why wouldn't she," he asks, "when I have such irresistible bait as yourselves?"

"She's smart!" the white cat snaps. "She'll run a mile now she knows what a monster you are."

The Bedlam's smile near cracks his face in two. "Just like she wouldn't, y'know," and the Bedlam's voice echoes the cat's, "just blindly trust some button-eyed doppelgangers, would she?"

Both felines flinch.

"If you're going to talk about someone," he continues, "best not to do it where their eyes are watching." He inclines his head. "It could be considered rather gauche." His gaze moves to the cat Creation. "No words, Baron? Perhaps you're wiser than your companions. After all, you are the one who warned her that love makes you reckless."

The Baron holds himself still, rage pooling in those eyes the Bedlam never could replicate. His gloved fingers are curled tightly around the crook of his cane.

"What's the matter?" The Bedlam alters his face back into a mockery of the Creation's. "Cat got your tongue? I watched quite a few of your adventures, you know, and I'm quite hurt by this silent treatment. You're not even going to offer one measly little 'you'll never get away with this' spiel?"

The Baron's face doesn't shift, but there comes the tell-tale stutter of breath, the betrayal of a thought surfaced and then smothered. After the day the Bedlam has had, suddenly this – the failure to bait one pathetic cat doll into a reaction – is the last straw.

"Or maybe you don't offer such trite threats because this is the nightmare scenario you worked so hard to avoid – and all for nought," the Beldam hisses. If he's had a bad day, he's going to make sure someone else has it worse. "The fear that she would sacrifice herself to save the likes of you. You pushed her away – and in doing so, only hastened her fate."

"What makes you so sure she will trade anything for us?" the Baron asks at last, his voice low and edged. "For me, after our last encounter?"

Finally.

[chaos-snakeboi-journal]

From the desk of Khvath Slaveborn, Steward of the Gilded Eye - Notes on a transaction with the Flensed Clergy Unmade (dated mid-Soul Wars)

A recurring sort of gentlefolk I've seen around Carngrad of late are those of a tall, limber, and positively ghastly persuasion. These "Unmade" do not consider themselves yet pledged to a Chaos deity (besides, of course, the highly likely existence of their king, whose story is too mortifying to tell in any medium except in the form of intrusive thought), but in unique ways, they serve the Great Powers all the same. They are great soldiers who stand firm despite surely life-altering injuries they have intentionally inflicted on themselves, and even this recollection gives me curious shudders.

I have observed these ghoulish orders (who are seemingly fleeing some great disaster in Shyish - I will have to ask travelers for more information) honoring the gods in the following ways:

The Everchosen: The Unmade honor the Varanspire Prince (as we all do, praise be his name) in many ways, some via direct subordination, but it of course goes deeper than that. Some adopt their furious prophet's hate for the gods as a philosophy to aspire to, and their self-mutilation rituals are often done to reflect this. Not to put to fine a point on it, but some recreate the holy rituals of Order in blasphemous parody, with their own flesh and right I don't want to write this section any more In this vivid way, they dishonor not only the specific god they mock, but the very concept of godhood itself, showing its absurdity in the way it takes from you and gives only pain back. Profound!

The Lord of War: The Unmade's rituals honor the Blood God in obvious ways, but they adopt a curious principle regarding one of the War God's most brutal precepts: That he cares not from whence the blood flows. They offer their own pain and suffering as both reward AND penance, and in battle they choose weapons to keep the flow of blood slow and constant. I have not personally seen them fight, so I know only by reputation and the blood-stained tools on their...belts, but I pray I am never witness to one of their nightmare brawls.

The Mad God: Praise the Unhallowed Eye of Silaast In battle, the Unmade weave complex webs. Their keenest and deadliest strategy involves baiting an enemy and surrounding them until they can fall victim to the titanic nightmare in blood-stained steel known as the Blissful One. Many Blissful Ones have been wholly driven from their own minds by the pain they've endured, speaking only in threats and rants perhaps channeled from the Realm of Pain itself. (More on this shortly). Having negotiated with the Unmade at their most cunning, those who choose to be coherent are very sharp indeed.

The Plaguefather: I will not belabor this entry. Although skilled in the arts of both surgery and torture, their vicious tools will win them little favor at the great medical pits' cleanliness seminars. As a simple course of survival, some of them perform their self-mutilation rituals with clean implements. Many do not. And an extreme minority of those revel in the added agony and pray that death does not take them and stop the pain. These abominable freaks take joy in their own suppurating wouI don't want to write this entry any more

The Prince of Pleasure: The art of pain and mutilation is sacred to the Unmade, but it should come as no surprise that some of them take a particular joy in what they do to themselves and others. One might call it an excessive joy. They are, of course, celebrants, blissful ones, etc. etc. and their chasing of extreme sensation makes them highly susceptible to the Purple Prince's call. It is a common stereotype that all Unmade are beholden to the Prince of Pleasure, a misunderstanding I hope this document can clarify.

The Shadow Prince: Treachery and daemonology are no strangers to the Unmade. Some Blissful Ones have bargained away their souls to demons for an eternity of pain in their body's walking shell. Others will turn on their allies at the end of a transaction for reasons as simple as a brief lapse in courage. They prey on weakness in ways that would please the Shadow Prince greatly.

In my personal affairs, the Unmade are rather notoriously poor at paying back their debts. They take on an ascetic lifestyle which leaves them precious few worldly possessions, but does not prevent them from bargaining favors or flesh for the copious metal they horde for their hideous modifications. They are good at securing results, but their utility is vastly limited by their lack of social nicety or subtle grace.

[protector-ofthe-wilds]

The afternoon following the events in the Hinterlands was rather quiet. Koda and her new companion had spent the majority of the night talking at the camp about many topics - both serious and casual in nature. The sunrise prompted a nap, and then the two found themselves sat across from each other once more as Koda prepared an apple to snack on.

“May I see your bow?” The request was polite enough, given the otherwise haughty nature the Lady Sathrah seemed to possess. More Highborne than arachnid, Koda had thought to herself - though perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised. To be so thoroughly loved, by both Elune and her priestesses, would be enough to inflate anyone’s ego, she mused. To be loved so dearly that in order to save her soul and relieve her of the misery of madness, they would give the somber order to murder her. It was almost…

“Kodian?” The named Kaldorei sat up a little straighter, her thoughts sundered as the many eyes of Sathrah peered at her quizzically. “Your bow?” 

Koda exhaled a quiet grunt, before reaching for her prized weapon. It was placed with care in the space between them and then the archer was still. The Lady took a moment to give the bow proper appreciation, admiring the handiwork of its crafting and the endless amount of care that had gone into maintaining it…and then promptly used her pincers to bite through the string, shearing it into two uneven pieces. 

“Hey!” Koda barked out in shock, snatching it back into her hand. The apple was abandoned as she flipped the weapon over, gingerly lifting one half of the string with her fingers. Then, her ire landed onto the tarantula with a deep frown. “What’s wrong with you, huh? Do you know how much work it takes for me to get this to where I want it?” 

“Hush, sister, and have patience,” the Lady chided, which only served to vex Koda further. “I do not act without purpose.” 

“I’m not your sister,” Koda growled back, but then found herself obliging Sathrah’s order as the spider began to…spin a web? Well, not quite - she wasn’t hanging from the tree and weaving some intricate pattern to entrap flies. No, it was more like a seamstress pulling thread from a spinning wheel, winding the silvery fibers together between the hooks of her legs. 

“Your bow again, if you would be so kind.” 

Koda was understandably hesitant, but at least this time she had an idea of what the Lady was planning to do. And so, the archer's deft fingers worked the tattered string away, and the bow was now held out at an angle towards the weaver. A certain sort of awe overtook Koda, then, as she watched Sathrah slice free what was now a solid, tensile string and attach it to the bow's hooks with ease. 

“You may need to adjust the tension,” she instructed, “but you should find it an otherwise perfect fit.” 

Koda didn’t waste time on being annoyed by the Lady’s prideful self-admiration, instead taking the moment to thoroughly inspect the new bow string. Hardly half a second’s worth of adjustment, and the string settled into place perfectly. 

“I’ve never had it balance so easily,” Koda said, tone baffled. This, of course, did no favors for the Lady’s already swelling ego, which was clear enough in the tone of her next words. 

“Yes, well, the Priestesses did not have me weave for them simply due to my good looks.” This earned her something of an exasperated stare from Koda, and so the Lady quietly exhaled an amused sigh and continued. “The healing capabilities borne of my webs are well known, but lesser spoken of is the latent power woven within each thread. My mother has deemed you worthy of such gifts…” One of her frontmost legs pointed towards Koda for emphasis. “...and so I shall give of them freely.” After a second of pause, the Lady continued, her leg once more resting upon the loamy soil. 

“I will need to travel to Duskwood soon in order to provide you with my healing waters. Weaving a web here to gather dew would be pointless; the air is too thick with the humans’ detritus. In the Twilight Grove, however - under the Light of Elune and within proximity to the Dream - I will be able to work with the proper efficiency.” The corruption of the human’s city was one thing the two of them could agree on, and Koda nodded along in understanding. The Lady watched her for a moment, before offering one final thought: “The battle ahead will test you and your flame-bathed Druid, both body and soul. You will want these waters, sister.” 

“Then I will accept them,” was Koda’s solemn response - a reply which seemed to please the Lady well enough, by the way she adjusted her stance to stand a bit taller.

“Wonderful. You may run along for now, Kodian, and begin your preparations for the journey to come. Perhaps give your bow’s upgrade a try at the training grounds, yes?” The arachnid’s dismissal of Koda returned some of the girl’s annoyance - but not quite all of it - and with a grunt, the Kaldorei stood to depart, slinging her bow into its place across her back.

“Try not to get your webs all over everything while I’m gone,” Koda instructed as she retrieved her apple, if only to punctuate the quip with a sharp bite into the crisp skin of the fruit. The Lady allowed her this, only chuckling lowly as she watched the girl wander off towards the city with a silent, solitary thought:

What a fascinating little adventure this would surely turn out to be.

[faydingrain]

Clovis Maclain

“That’s probably a good stopping place~” Lottie leaned down to put out her flame with a quick puff.

Meanwhile, her older brother was seething. “Why didn’t you tell me that happened?”

“Well I didn’t expect all that to happen~”

He grit his teeth. “Those assholes…I’m gonna—”

“Kill them?” Lottie finished, ‘ufufu’-ing. “I think it’s a bit late for that~”

“Wait,” Kai interrupted. “Did you find them, or…?”

“Nope! I called their families and none of them had made it home. Rather unfortunate, isn’t it?”

“You’re way too calm about it…” Enzo commented.

“Well, nothing I can do but hope they died quickly~”

An uncomfortable silence rocked the room.

“Aaaaanyways,” Ayan announced, “how about we move on?”

“Okay!” Lottie agreed. “Your turn to scare, Clovis~”

“...Thanks…”

***

Perhaps raging in a junkyard isn’t the smartest thing to do with one’s free time. However, under the pressure his father kept building on his shoulders, he wasn’t sure how else to cope with his situation. Counseling wasn’t exactly a viable option for him, and texting his crush could only do so much.

His chest rapidly rose and fell, knuckles flared around the battered baseball bat. Shattered glass, crushed aluminum, and dented steel could only do so much.

There were no more screams left in his lungs today. His playlist still rampaged through his earbuds, but his isolated therapy had come to an end. So, taking a deep breath to settle his heartbeat, his feet began dragging him off, distracting his mind through useless meandering.

The bat made a firm “thunk” as it was discarded off somewhere. Then, the boy shoved his hands in his pockets and searched for a song more in tune with his current mood. Roaming about the undesired remnants of humanity as one of their own—despair, fury, mixed together with a hell of a lot of teenage angst.

It was an odd, void-like darkness that ripped him from his brooding. Junk was stacked all around this opening, as if it had been here for some time, despite him knowing that it hadn’t.

He put away the buds and stepped closer. It truly was empty, devoid of sound, image, sensation. But when he stuck a hand to verify his reality, he found it bleeding through, as if the blackness was swallowing him.

Still in the midst of his angst session, he sighed. Fuck it. Can’t be any worse than this shithole, right?

And in he went.

As if submerged in ink, he pushed through an odd force deluging the space. There was nothing but the emptiness for quite some time until long threads of string hanging over him came into view. First, it was a couple. Then, more and more threads appeared, weaving around each other with no apparent purpose. They didn’t exactly seem like spider silk, but more like…actual thread, for use with textiles.

The whimsy of spiraling threads was quickly dampened upon Clovis spotting several men bound by the same thread, with blood pouring from their sewed eyes, and agonized moans rumbling through their sewed lips.

“Oh, how did a little boy get in here?”

He turned. A young woman in a witch hat and plenty of ribbons was dangling from her web of string, legs tangled among the fine hairs. An unsettlingly peaceful grin was plastered on her face.

“Ah, you’ve seen. That’s no good.”

Suddenly, his wrists were seized by string, and his body arched in such a way he couldn’t resist without injury. He cried out as he struggled in attempt, though.

“I can’t kill you, but I can’t let you leave after this.” The witch woman nimbly uncurled from her threads, then maneuvered between the rest to come face-to-face with her intruder. A claw-like apparatus made of long sewing needles was attached to the back of one hand, and she used the fine points to gently stroke his skin. “What should I do?”

Any and all protest was caught in Clovis’s throat.

“...I know!” The cold needles ghosted his lips. “I’ll simply silence you.”

He hardly had time to struggle before a prepped needle was summoned in her hand and thrust into his skin. The pain elicited a sharp scream, but that only aggravated further pain. The thread being pulled through his lips made his skin crawl, and he cried out once again as he felt the needle pierce back through.

All the while, the woman was eerily calm, almost seeming to enjoy the actions she was taking. She may or may not have begun humming to herself as she continued. Or maybe she was speaking to him in a sing-song voice. He was too focused on the pain to really notice.

Up and down, in and out the needle went, making crying out in protest more and more futile, trapping him in a hell of vital obedience. His face was wet and the skin around his lips burned with stinging pain.

“Well now,” the woman spoke as she threaded the opposite end of his mouth, “we’re not going to tell anyone about this, are we?”

When he didn’t respond, she ripped the thread upwards, causing the strings to crush the skin it laced together. Frantic moans hammered at the inside of his lips, but he managed to nod despite the sensation.

“Oh reaaally?”

She pulled tighter. Somehow, he found it within him to nod again despite the added resistance to the thread with the motion.

“Good.” She released the tension, assumedly with her magic, and watched as he sighed in relief. “Good little boys keep their mouths sewn shut, or I’ll sew it shut for you~”

Tying off the end, she then released his bindings, stepping back as he collapsed to the floor.

“Is this where you came from?” She pointed, though not waiting for an answer. “Well, off you go, then!”

He wasn’t sure if he believed it was a dream when he awoke alone in the junkyard. The black portal was gone, but the pain in his face rang clear.

His hands trembled as he felt the merciless string binding his lips shut, silencing any calls he could make for help.

Scaretober 2023

Brisk Wind on a Dark Trail

Midnight Moon

Gargoyle's Watch

Cold Stones in the Fog

Spirits Rising

Haunted House

Witching Hour

Bubbling Cauldron

Candy

Eyes

Spider Silk

Feathers

Tail

Scales

Fangs or Talons

An Offering of Blood

Dark Ritual

Spook Scary Skeletons

Carnivàle Morte

Still-Beating Heart

Sharpened Blade

Mask

Looming Shadows

The Devil's Hand

Monster

Reflection in the Mirror

Rusted Chains

Stitches

Precious Jewels

Incantation

Halloween

Epilogue

[activate-shadow-of-the-window]

Hermittober Day 27 (Late): Victor

-

Wels was actually having quite a fun time in Permafrost Springs.

He’d never even visited the place before, only having seen paintings and wood-blocks and long winded descriptions of it. Everyone compared it to the Watering Hole, of course, contrasting columns with columns and staircases with staircases, but that really didn’t emphasize how different the two places were. Watering was a land of prismarine domes and sandstone promenades, light browns contrasting with strikingly vibrant blues. But Permafrost was white, snowy and smooth, made of quartz and gilded with every other color of the rainbow. Wels rather preferred the simple elegance of Watering, but he daren’t let that slip to the… honestly intimidating Duchess Cleo.

“Say Wels, what do you think your type of magic should be called?”

The knight snapped into a salute out of habit, frozen for a moment before answering. “Uh… well, I quite honestly think that the unknown type of magic is actually two types.”

Cleo blinked, looking up from her messy working desk. “Oh? Tell me more.”

“Well, Duchess, my sort of magic is harsh but also fluid, only freezing into solidity when I want it to. I believe it to be more similar to the magic of ocean-folk and guardians than void-beings. I-I personally call it Flux magic, as it seems to fluctuate or change depending on how it is used. The magic of guardians and dolphins would be more Flux than Void, I should think, with Void being the magic of sculk and of the Third Dimension. A-And if I may be so bold, perhaps Void is either the origin or the endpoint of all magic. An all-encompassing sort of… seventh element, I suppose, that does not oppose nor support any one other type.”

Cleo blinked again, slower this time, before suddenly laughing. “Well then! I never imagined you to be the scholarly sort, Wels! Well put, sir knight. Very well put indeed. You might just give Etho and Zedaph runs for their money when it comes to things I only half understand.”

Wels nervously chuckled before resuming his post at the door; the Duchess didn’t like to be disturbed, especially when working with magic as delicate as his own. Truthfully, the knight had little scholarly knowledge of magic, and only knew in-depths the topics that directly pertained to combat. So as Cleo took up her dull needle of undead magic and returned to stitching, he simply kept his eyes plastered on the door, waiting for his liege-lord to return from whatever thing he was off doing, hopefully victorious.

Some time later, perhaps minutes, perhaps hours, Cleo stood and lifted the finished something from her desk. It was a glittering, flexible affair that looked like glass suspended in flight, if such a thing could fly. The shimmering shards of Wels’ frozen Flux magic were connected by matte, nearly invisible threads of Cleo’s own power, woven about them in a web more complex than any spider could weave. And the closer that he looked at it, the more Wels realized that it was no mere art piece.

“Is that… a bridle?”

Cleo’s face went blank for a moment, a mask as still as that on a mannequin. “Oh. Well, yes. It is a bridle of sorts. But not for a horse.”

Wels moved towards the thing as they held it high, realizing that the Duchess was right. “I guess it is too big for a horse. It is also very wide around the head-piece, if this bit—“ he pointed at the top of it “— is indeed the head-piece. It looks like it would fit one of Tango’s weird beasts from the Second Dimension.”

Cleo smiled. “Good guess, knight. But not quite. I’m afraid the thing that will wear this is a secret.”

Wels shrugged. “Eh, okay. As long as my magic is doing its job.”

Something suddenly knocked against the door, a light but insistent sound that came from too low down to be a humanoid’s knock. Wels rushed to open it, and found a small, mossy thing looking up at him with the widest eyes he’d ever seen. It was a glare, a common enough faerie, but the Lord Bee hadn’t taken any with him…

“Uh, Duchess? Were you expecting a… little visitor?”

Cleo shook her head, putting the bridle down and coming to Wels’ side. “No, I’m not expe— oh. Oh, well, you can come in. Wels, would you mind stepping outside?”

He eyed the slightly trembling moss creature as it floated into the room. “Sure. Just holler if you need me, Duchess.”

[whirlybirbs]

“are you lost” with some doctor loki princess doc perhaps? im getting big ella enchanted vibes from these two variants

DOSSIER #709

R.V.A CASE LL-23.2 & DX-23.5 | NEW YORK CITY, 2012

"I believe you might be lost."

The ragged, daring sneer that crosses your lips speaks to time wasted away in the abyss of time and space; lost and forgotten. But you have not forgotten. No, no, you have purpose.

Glorious purpose.

And this Midgardian man is in your way of it.

"Step aside," you hiss as the staff in your hand is twirled to level dangerously at this throat, "Or I'll make a mess of your pretty little face..."

The man's hands fly upwards, but he leans back on his heels. His coat flutters as he lifts his chin and swallows down a glimmer of nervousness at the staff, glowing azure, pointed at his throat. It's cold. He can feel the sharp prick against his neck.

Your gaze narrows on his badge.

"Dr. Laufeyson."

He supposes he's never seen a woman like you — some war-torn, hellbent princess on a mission to obtain the Tesseract just beyond him in the containment chamber. He's never seen power, fury, and threat wrapped so nicely in a wickedly beautiful form.

The kohl around your lashes runs dark rings around your hollow, tired eyes. Loki can see the a milky haze there.

The scientist clears his throat, and wet his lips.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Is it?" you snap, dropping the staff as you eye the lab — and Dr. Laufeyson's doting little friend follows each step you take into the dim room, "There's still time to disprove that."

"Perhaps," comes the tepid reply as he follows, a few feet behind, "Though, I have no intention of coming between you and your goal."

You turn on a heel. Intricate plaits swing, decorated with rings and leather, and your eyes are set in amusement. Like a cat playing with a mouse. You tilt your head.

Loki inhales sharply.

"No?" you ask playfully, yet venomous, "I can't imagine you do."

"Who are you?" he asks suddenly, his friendly facade falling.

You see a glimmer of something there. Promise. Oh, he has fire. Perhaps you should take him along? String his heart into the web of control the staff has weaved. He'd make a fine addition. Easy on the eyes. Handsome.

You reach, secure his face in your hands, and hold his gaze.

Your teeth flash.

"I am Asgard's forgotten daughter, and I am burdened with glorious purpose."

[ DOSSIER LIBRARY ]

[succfest]

Happy Succession Sunday folks!

So here it is, the official announcement post for the SUCC Fest! This should give you about a little less or more than a week's time depending on when you decide to post your work.

Share this post, so other can see it and take part! <3

But before, you scroll onto the prompts and their explanations, here's some important things!

Introduction

Well, who are we? Here's a brief introduction to us:

Clover: Hi! I'm @your-machiavellian-cousin-clover :) I got into Succession around March of this year, and it's never left me ever since. Well, I usually hang out in Tomgreg spaces, so if you've seen the "Everyone ships Tomgreg", "Matt Mac ships Tomgreg", or Richard Siken-ification of Tom Wambsgans, that's me *waves*

If you see colour purple in the doc, that's me speaking individually!

Elise: Hi folks! it's me! elise! who u probably know better as @feuillytheflorist and u might know me even better from my absurd au's (the tomgreg pirates? the tomgreg horror radio? those were me lol!) I'll be speaking in red.

<3

Ground Rules

E: What it says below. Lets keep this a safe and inclusive space for everybody!

C: Well, as Elise put it the other day, "don't be an asshole, and don't be a creep." No incest ships. No Bigotry. I think that covers out bases. Also since this fest is open to all, please tag your trigger warnings (if applicable) and keep it sfw y'all!

Tag us and the blog so we can reblog y'all's work and tag it under #succ fest

<3

And Finally, The Prompts!

1. Tis is the Season for anything!

C: Well, as it says on the label, this one's all about the season. But honestly, it doesn't have to Christmas. This time of the year is very festive to different group of people, so go for it!

E: Tis the season and all that, it's December, and all that goes with that-- gift giving, hot drinks, christmas trees, and, if it's your thing,,, angst!

2. Well, here’s the punchline

E: We do love and respect crack ships and crack aus. If you want to do something off the walls, wild, or downright silly, now's your time!

C: In this house we respect crack ships. Whether it be Glowstick Greg x Mr Tom Darcy, which you have a free reign to write about, or something extremely implausible. Go for it! Make us crackle and laugh at your works!

3. One Word Special: Hot Topic

C: Well, for reasons undisclosed, me and Elise both have a soft spot for Hot Topic, and well, Hot Topic Greg is our beloved. This is very open to be interpreted, so well, it could be a throwaway line, a setting or the main plot point.

E: Hot Topic, the love of my life. Greg and those silly red suspenders. Take this however you like!

4. Here On Broadway!

E: I know there's succession broadway stans out there, I know you listen to your favorite show and think about your favorite terrible roy. I want to think about them too!

C: Well, don't look at me here, I think Elise's ideas should help you out, much more than I can. I'm pretty much a Hamilton girlie and that's it, so yup! No advice here! Go check out Elise's showtunes Tomgreg playlist though. Might help ?

5. From The Poets

C: Now this here, this is my stuff. Show me the verses that make you think of your poor little meow meows, your besties, and your codings. Make web weavings, gifs, fancams with poetry recitations and your fics with poetry titles. Show me your Richard Siken, Ada Limón, Ginsberg, and everyone else, make me cry, scream and yearn.

E: I'm no Shakespeare, but make this as artsy as you like. What are poems, really, if not vessels for us to talk about fictional characters and the love we have for them.

6. Rarepair, Rarefic

E: Rarepairs need love too! We've all been there, done that. If you have a rarepair that has a place in your heart, share it with the world. Perhaps it won't be so rare anymore!

C: Well, I'm looking very intently at Stewy/Willa folks here, cause y'all, I've been binging your fics and they are good! Well, this prompt is simple, if your characters interacted in canon, how would their interaction go? Do you have words, pictures, or even vibes to offer? Well, show them to us!

7. Give Us A Soliloquy!

C: Well, get into the head of your favourite character, show me the world through their ideas, give me their musings and broodings, make me feel like as if I'm Jeremy Strong method acting by the end of all of this. (Okay, it's alright if it's not very intense, but you know, turn up the angst to a 100 if you want to)

E: Character analysis, Shakespearian monologue, and everything in between. I know this fandom has spectacular character analysis, and we wanna hear it! Focus on your fave (or your least favorite, no judgements) and tell us what they really feel.

8. Fast Forward

E: Down the road a bit... what's happening? Who's got kids? Who's divorced? Who's the CEO? Who's finally in jail for their crimes? It's up to you!

C: Well, what happens in a year or two, or a decade or so later? Do they sink or swim? Who lives? Who dies? Who tells their story? (I'm very sorry, but I'm putting in the only theatre references I know for Elise)

9. In-between The Scenes

C: Show us what you think gets left behind on the cutting floor of HBO. The in-betweens, the travel, the moments where the camera is not on our favourite messes, who are they then?

E: Missing scenes galore! What'd Tom and Greg do after their diner date? Where did Roman go after Kendall's birthday? The world-- all three seasons of it-- is your oyster.

10. Free Square On The Bingo

E: Wanna write something that doesn't fit? Got an art piece you want to share? Got a hyper specific playlist you need everyone to hear? Here's the place for it!

C: Well, if you don't like any of the prompts, and still wanna make something to take part, go ahead! This is your dance floor, show us the best moves!

11. Kiss, Kiss, Kiss

C: I am not above quoting the famous video by our queen, Justine Lupe, where she rightfully says, "Kiss, Kiss, Kiss!". Well, just this is here for you to experiment with!

E: What it says on the tin! Your favorite character getting a smooch! Mondale giving a kiss! Parents and children! Husbands and wives! Someone and their celebrity crush!

12. Back To The Past

E: Everybody loves a backstory-- but there's plenty of characters and relationships that have yet to be explored! Go ahead and speculate on some of 'em!

C: ✨Take Me Back To The Night We Met ✨Well, do we see Stewy meeting Kendall, Connor being a Dad to his siblings, Tom before he ever met Shiv? Do you wanna show us? Go ahead!

13. #Trending

C: Social Media AU. Tweets, Scandals, Tabloids, Notes, Reblogs, etc, etc. Need I say more?

E: Who doesn't love a social media au? I for one think there's a whole subreddit dedicated to the Roy family antics.

14. In Another Time, In Another Life

E: As you may have noticed... i love a historical au....maybe you do too?

C: Mhm, can we get some P&P aus? Or some obscure as heck history aus? Love those. I will give you a big hug <3

15. Through The Fortune Orb

C: Well, in contrast to the other prompt, we'd love to see you predict what would happen in S4? Tomgreg hooking up? (I am def projecting), Romangerri marriage, or something else? Free reign, bois.

E: Where's season four going? What goes on in the writer's room? You tell us?

16. What’s The Colour?

E: Everybody's got a favorite one. What's yours?

C: This one's for the visuals. Well, what's your favourite colour, hue, palette? Go crazy, tell me through your work!

17. The First

C: Pretty open-ended. This one's just for the firsts!

E: First kiss, first date, first fight-- first anything!

18. “Family”

E: Family is everything... or is it? Create a new one, or focus on a preexisting one!

C: I .. know .. uh .. Succession is not the best for tender family moments. But they have em there, and maybe you could create your own or just expound upon the ones already in the show?

19. Character Wrapped

C: Well, what's your Spotify mood? And put it towards your fav character / ship (Apparently mine was euphoric and wistful 🙄 I blame Elise for getting me hooked on her playlist and Taylor Swift)

E: Mine was spooky and affectionate! What was yours? And who does it fit?

20. Louder For The Ones In The Back

E: Background characters, my beloved, time for you to shine!

C: Who's always in the background? Show them some love! Write / Create some for the besties who don't get enough screen time <3

21. Time For A Feast!

C: Well, food shares a central position on Succession. Whether it explosive family feasts, sensual songbirds, or a quick bite under the night lights,, sometimes our faves deserves some good / terrible food.

E: They're always eating! Eggs! Pigeon! Wine! Diner food! Whatever you like!

22. I Think, Therefore I Write

E: Time to be pretentious. No judgements. It's my favorite thing. Are we destined to become our parents? What is the affect of forcing yourself to become someone you're not? Take this one how you like, and let's hear how smart I know you all are!

C: Get philosophical, get on Jeremy Strong's level, get pretentious. Problem of Evil? Contemplating Existence? Put your best philosophical foot forward!

23. Shake It Up!

C: Ever wanted to write even though you're an artist? Or vice versa? Well, here's your time to do so! Indulges in an art form you don't usually do so and try it out! Judgement free zone here!

E: Writers can draw! Drawers can write? Never drawn a fan art? Now's the time!

24. Give Us The Classics

E: We've all got a favorite! Only one bed, enemies to lovers, kidfic-- what's your favorite classic trope?

C: Well, what's the fanfic trope you'd die for?? This prompt is for that!

25. Switch, Swap!

C: Well, do you have a bestie in the fandom? Ever wanted to collaborate with someone, here's your chance to do so! Create fan art and maybe your friend can write a ficlet for it? Well, possibilities are limitless.

E: Pair up! Co-write a fic! Draw art for someone's work! Make a playlist together. Analyze someone over DM.

26. Take Your Fandom Somewhere

E: Coffee shop au? College roommates? Florist and tattoo parlor? With a thousand settings, what's your favorite place to be?

C: This is very largely inspired by "Take Your Fandom To Work", but feel free to take us anywhere you dearly cherish or hate.

26. The Witches, The Magic, And The Works

C: This is for all the fantasy nerds out there! Go nuts!

E: A little fantasy and supernatural prompt for those who dig more than just reality! Vampires, witches, warlocks, monsters, fae-- anything you like, you got it!

28. Fright Nights

E: Horror! Terror! Spooky scary skeletons! Give us a fright!

C: Well, need I say? Scare me.

29. And We’ll All Be Royals, It Runs In Our Blood

C: Give us your Hamlet Kendall Roy, your Princess of people, Tom Wambsgans, your monarchy Roys. Give us the head that is heavy with the crown.

E: Heir to the house of Roy? King Logan and Cordelia Kendall? Royal blood's a-flowing!

<3

Thank you so much for participating! We are so thrilled with the response and we can't WAIT to see what you come up with. Remember to tag your works/art/playlist/posts/etc with #SUCC fest so we can reblog it here and share it with others! Have fun, and enjoy a space to show your love!

[vidalinav]

Don’t come for me...

As much as Feyre sometimes is a lame character (IMO) I have to admit there’s something very sad about wanting your sister’s love more than anything and never getting it, even to the point where you don’t even know how to ask for it or where to look. In the whole series, Feyre always mentions Nesta, even more so I think then Elain. There’s so many instances of Feyre yearning for Nesta’s love or having a high opinion of her even with the harshness that she shows. She tells Alis to go across the wall if need be, because her sister will put aside her prejudice and shelter them, because that’s just the person she is. She argues in favor of her with Cassian in ACOMAF, telling him hey she really loves people, she just feels too much and she’s actually very thankful for your promise to protect her people and her family. She argues with Rhys even in ACOWAR at his insulting idea of her sister being unleashed to the city like a rabid beast when at that point they are still relatively new in their relationship. She asks Amren in ACOFAS if she’s seen her sister and is upset when Nesta chooses Amren to confide in instead of her or Elain. At the end of ACOWAR, Feyre is the one who is like stay out her, join this meeting, you’re the guest of honor when Nesta just wants to leave. Feyre is the one who keeps inviting her to many things that Nesta doesn’t want to be involved in.  

This is sad in the way, that even though we know Nesta is traumatized, and we know that Feyre should probably be more understanding since she has also went through something traumatic, Feyre is still not completely loved by the one person she probably wants to be loved by the most. Let’s look at the fact that when Feyre mentions Nesta loving people, she always says that Nesta shows love to Elain, from the beginning to the end. Example in ACOFAS, “To say that to me, fine. But to Elain?” Elain is the number 1, the sister that Nesta puts above the rest. That’s the question she asks in the library in ACOWAR, “’Why do you push everyone away but Elain?’ Why have you always pushed me away?” 

So, this is why I can understand why Nesta has to be accountable for her mistakes, because she’s made some. I think that’s a big enough reason for Nesta to have to be accountable, because you should never be allowed to make someone feel unloved. The argument of letting Feyre hunt is lame to me, because we all know they were all kids, and the dad should have stepped up in some way. But the fact that Feyre questions whether she’s really loved by her sister, I think is enough to say that Nesta needs to learn something. 

Others have made mistakes, for sure, but they don’t have to be accountable for their actions, because they are not the main character of the book and the one person who is, is the one who is hurt by Nesta and not the rest of the characters. I think if they had their own story told, then for sure, accountability. But this book series, is Feyre, and now Cassian and Nesta’s story, so you see where I’m going with this. 

So at some point, I understand this idea that Feyre is wrong to send her to Illyria, to deal with Nesta’s trauma like that, to not be more compassionate, yadda yadda, and I don’t fully believe it was her own decision I feel Rhys probably had something to do with that, he was the one who was literally like “perhaps there’s some string to be pulled, webs to be weaved,” or whatever he said in ACOFAS.  And don’t get me wrong, I love Nesta more than any other character in the ACOTAR universe, I just don’t see how you can completely dismiss Nesta’s actions, but at the same time accuse Feyre of villian-y. If Feyre doesn’t have a right to take away someone’s autonomy, then Nesta doesn’t have the right to make someone feel lesser than or unloved as I said before. 

And, not to make this longer than it already is lol, in analyzing these characters and their actions, you really get to see how many people care about Nesta. The way she is for the most part. Like Cassian, you can tell he has so many feelings for her, regardless of whether he’s an a**whole sometimes, but she dissed him after they almost died together. Elain, she loves that girl, but she too is dissed. Feyre, read everything I wrote above. Even Amren, who sees her on regular occasion, even considers her a friend until that day they had an argument, which let’s be real was probably about her. And then ultimately her father, who came very late, but who showed he loved her, who said he loved her, who showed unconditional love really to Nesta who wanted to starve, and tried to starve them indirectly, and who used to put his cane far away from this disabled man because she was angry. So, I don’t buy this oh Nesta has nothing to apologize for. I hate apologies written in stories, personally, and Nesta is an action type of person anyway, but I do think that a healing arc that involves Nesta would have to have her be introspective and to really come to know that if people don’t love her, she pushed them away. People don’t have to put up with other people. Realistically, none of us can go through life as if we’ve done no wrong, otherwise there would be no growth, no maturing, no long-lasting relationships. We would suck and it wouldn’t matter if we were angry or harsh or had witty comebacks, we would suck as people because we do not show that we care about other people. So Nesta has to change, because she’s spent four books being like this. She doesn’t have to change completely; she doesn’t have to be Elain or Feyre or Mor or some other chick who’s happy-go-lucky or nice to a fault. Her personality doesn’t have to change. She can still be angry, but proper healing I think for her would mean learning that she must grow and improve, and that she has to take control of her own life, her actions, her past, that part that she played a role in, and everything else that involves her. Of course, people did her wrong, I’m sure people will still do her wrong, but at some point she needs to take back her life and open herself up to love and show people she cares. Because if her M.O. is that actions speak louder than words, her actions right now are saying she hates everyone including herself. And as we know, she’s not an island, as they say and she’s not sociopathic or a narcissist, so she can and should change for the better.  

And, I certainly don’t say this to be like “you shouldn’t hate Feyre or the inner circle or Nesta or whoever, or none of them did anything wrong/right.” Hate them if you want, it makes no difference to me. It doesn’t affect me at all. I just think that as long as were analyzing things, we should analyze from all points of view. And I certainly think that ACOFAS is looking less, to me, like a list of sins that the mains are committing against Nesta and more of a web of their own trauma, their own pov’s of the situations, and the current climate of whatever their dealing with at the time. People are messy. Book characters even more so apparently. 

[gcuienveres]

♕

there came a ringing sense of finality in the words of the dragon king, akin to the distant sound of the bells chiming upon the hour, each hour, following the union between the dragons and the west. a sense of finality that once would have brought a sense of unease to her shoulders, one which would have only provided ample opportunity for more questions - and yet, this time in this very moment, something felt different.

the response that came from jaehaerys targaryen began to feel as though something was beginning to blur; perhaps it were worlds, or minds, or guinevere herself - all she knew, was that in the finality, came a sense of ease and peace. to know what the answer would be, and what paths could she walk that had not already been paved.

"your majesty is most gracious in your agreement." whilst there was not warmth or familiarity in the way she spoke to jaehaerys targaryen, it was pointed that the conversation was steering with a specific intent. there was no hint of any guilt, or anxiousness within golden features: no understanding of what her true intent, or purpose was, in wishing to speak with the high septon in all of his odds against the land of elegant savagery.

"i assure your grace that there will be no required organisation on your behalf." because it would be her. and because she did not need multiple hands in this pot. gods knew he was a king, with a queen - they had a realm of their own to look over. "only notice of my intention, should it fall within the will of the gods."

or perhaps those two minds was the part of her that knew the thread she had chosen to weave together would have consequences: some final result, or destination in the words of another king. this moment would had been delivered to her; the wedding aligning with such issues, and crossing paths with a steadfast, proven ally - was it not the man before her that also buried the ironborn alive in their grainy suffocation? was it not also he that torched the fields of the land of rivers ablaze?

she could tell he too was looking at her in the way so many did. wondering what it was she was doing, and what she was trying to achieve. the men could have their politics, their boards and their ambition; their was only one position she sought to protect and strive toward, and that was the one of her own soul. she lowered her head in brief thanks, her hands resting on either side of her body. "you have my gratitude." she added in her naturally quiet tone, maintaining his gaze.

there came a graceful nod of acknowledgement, the woman stepping slightly to the left as she felt a towering figure brush by her; wordless, but present - always present. that should have been a sign for her to stop, stop weaving a web in which she would find herself entrapped: and yet, the most beautiful of fabrics too were woven, were they not?

he would mention it in passing to one of her brothers.

"Of course it is."

Jaehaerys held a direct line to the High Septon, had he not been busy with his own plans he would have made several mistakes in assisting with brothel involvement when the High Septon made an example of the brothels. And while it was on his list Jaehaerys realized that as his own list grew the concerns of the street of silk mostly left his mind. Kept down a certain type of crime, homelessness, it invited disease and debauchery, an easy access to shame but perhaps easy access to shame should be granted with arms as open as those at the Sept.

"The Holy father will be here for upcoming events. More importantly, he is the man who found me and brought me back to the Gods. It would be an honor, Princess, to make sure you could have this meeting with him. When he arrives he will be staying in the Great Sept, but when he makes his visit her I will make sure he has his time open to you."

Jaehaerys knew there were some tensions, matters between men who were trying to remind each other of their places. The High Septon overstepped that much had been clear, he tried to make decrees and put down what he wished to happened it fell on deaf ears. Yes, the holy fighting men were mostly at the Starry as only a few stayed with him but he imagined that more of the warrior's men were then then mayhap the High Septon would have had more confidence in pulling off his plans. More security in keeping to them. He didn't know the finer details but he would find out.