#round one fic

[rumbelleshowdown]

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Author: Danger Mouse

Group: D

Prompts: Rumple sees Gideon’s birth. The beast is gone. Whispers.

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The Midwife’s Tale

Everybody knew that contacting the Dark One commanded a high price. That was why, when Agatha heard of her niece's plight, she offered to be the one to call the deal-maker for help. After all, what could he possibly ask of an old woman like her? Her firstborn was long since grown and nothing she owned could possibly be of value to such a powerful sorcerer.  

His demand for a favour of his choosing, at an unspecified future time, came as a surprise. One day, he said, he would come for her and she would go with him immediately without question. And only when her services were no longer required would she be permitted to return to her family.

It was an unexpected request, and more than a little ominous. Her niece cried when Agatha agreed to the condition, but she knew it was worth it. Now she just had to live the rest of her life in fearful anticipation of the moment when the Dark One would swoop down and steal her away from everyone she knew and loved, to keep her with him for as long as he wanted.

*

That moment came surprisingly quickly. Only a few months later, during the family's evening meal, the demon appeared at her door and announced that she was to go with him. Agatha prepared herself for a tearful farewell, but the beast gave her no time. A cloud of mist obscured her vision and when it cleared again her family and the dinner table were gone, replaced by the stone walls of what she could only assume was the Dark Castle.

“In here,” the Dark One’s tone was clipped as he opened a nearby door and walked through, apparently confident that she would follow.

Cautiously, Agatha stepped into the room, taking in the bright tapestries and large windows that felt incongruous in a castle named after darkness. A sound drew her attention away from the decorations and towards the large bed where a young woman lay in the centre.

A heavily pregnant young woman.

Agatha drew in a breath as the reason for her presence became clear.  She wondered at not having made the connection before, knowing as she did the Dark One’s penchant for stealing babies, but somehow she’d never thought of him as the type to use a midwife. She'd always assumed that he collected children after the fact. She never expected that he would be involved in the actual births.

But involved he definitely was this time. He'd moved to the top of the bed and was leaning in close to the young woman, their heads practically touching as he whispered to her. Agatha wasn’t close enough to hear his words but assumed he was reminding her of whatever deal she had made to be in this position and warning against any attempts to cheat him of his merchandise.  

Suddenly the Dark One turned to face her and she almost flinched at the intensity in his amber eyes as he stalked forward, pointing to the bed behind him as he spoke.

“This is your payment to me. You are to help this woman deliver her baby and ensure they are both safe and well. Once that has been done you will be free to go.”

Agatha swallowed. “I'll... I'll do my best, sir, you have my word on that, but childbirth has its dangers. I cannot guarantee they will both come through safely.”

“They will. Or you’ll be spending the rest of your life as a toad.  All twenty seconds of it.”

“Rumplestiltskin...” The voice from the bed surprised Agatha, her accent indicating that this woman came from afar.  “Please don’t.” 

Agatha glanced between the two again and weighed up her next words. “I don't mean to be impertinent, sir, but your power is known throughout the land. Surely you could ensure a safe delivery without my help.”

Rumplestiltskin turned back to the bed and raised an eyebrow. The young woman matched his expression and Agatha watched as a silent conversation seemed to take place between them. She had the strangest feeling that she'd stumbled into an ongoing argument.

He sighed and turned back to her. “Belle wishes to have a natural delivery. You will do everything you can to ensure that happens. If something does go wrong then I will step in.  And that…” he spun back around to address the woman he’d called Belle,  “is non-negotiable. If there is even a hint that you or the baby are in danger then I will be using any and every form of magic at my disposal. I will not allow anything to happen to either of you. Is that clear?”

His tone sounded rather threatening to Agatha's ears, but it made the young woman's face soften and she smiled fondly. “Fine. But only if we're in danger. Otherwise please let the midwife do her job.”

“As you wish.”  Rumplestiltskin spread his hands before dropping into a nearby armchair.  

Agatha glanced at him nervously.   “Um, sir?  Perhaps you should wait in the hall. The birthing chamber is no place for a man.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not a man then,” the demon tittered, causing Belle to roll her eyes.

“Don’t mind him.  He’s… ah…” she trailed off as her face contorted into a grimace.  

Agatha's thoughts that this must be an extremely important baby for the Dark One to be so involved were pushed away as her training kicked in and she hurried to the woman's side, vaguely noticing Rumplestiltskin mirroring her across the bed. “Have you been having regular pains?”

Belle nodded. “For a while now.”

“How long has it been since the last one?”

“About fifteen minutes.”

“Thirteen minutes and forty seconds,” Rumplestiltskin interjected. “And sixteen minutes before that.”

“Well, it sounds like things are progressing nicely but you’ve still got a while to go yet.”  Agatha smiled reassuringly.

“That's what I told him.” Belle nodded her head in Rumplestiltskin's direction. “But he was adamant about bringing you here. I hope we didn't disrupt your day too much.”

“Of course not,” Agatha glanced at Rumplestiltskin, knowing that was the right answer, “but there's not much I can do at the moment beyond advising you to rest up before the hard work begins.”

“What do you mean?” Rumplestiltskin snapped. “She's in pain right now.”

“She’s in discomfort right now,” Agatha corrected.  “I'm afraid this is just the beginning. It's going to get worse over the next few hours.”

“Worse?” Rumplestiltskin looked like he was in pain himself as he turned to the figure in the bed, grabbing her hand, “Belle are you sure about this? Just say the word and I can...”

“I'm ok, Rumple.” Belle reached out her free hand to caress his scaled face. “Women have been giving birth for thousands of years.”

“I know, but…” his voice dropped to a whisper, one Agatha was close enough to hear this time, “I don’t like seeing you in pain.”  

Revelation hit Agatha like a wave, washing away all her previous assumptions, as she finally understood what she was seeing. Behind his unnatural eyes and the green-gold scales of his skin, the look on the Dark One's face was all too familiar.  It was a look she had seen countless times before on the faces of concerned husbands throughout the years.  

This woman wasn’t a desperate soul forced to hand over her baby to a monster.  She was his wife.  

Agatha cleared her throat and waited until they faced her. “Perhaps, sir, you could prepare some tea. The lady will need her strength and this could end up being a long night.”

*

It was, indeed, one of the longest nights of Rumplestiltskin's life. Seeing his wife in pain and having her refuse any and all help he could offer was a unique torture. But all that was forgotten the second he laid eyes on the perfect form the midwife laid in Belle's arms.

“Congratulations, my lady,” she smiled at them both, “a healthy baby boy.”

“Thank you.  Thank you so much.” Belle beamed at the woman before turning all her attention to their son.

“Yes, thank you.” Rumplestiltskin barely glanced in her direction. “There’s tea for you in the kitchen.  Help yourself, and once you’re finished you’ll be transported back to your home.  Consider your debt paid in full.”

He waved his hand and the woman vanished, leaving the three of them alone.

“That was rather nice of you,” Belle glanced at him suspiciously.  “What exactly is in that tea?”

“Just a small memory potion,” he replied, gazing at the baby in her arms, “I’ll not have my enemies finding out about you two.”

“So she’ll remember nothing?”

“She’ll remember coming here, a young woman screaming in pain for hours because of something I did to her, and my delight with the result.”

Belle shook her head.  “You're terrible.”

“Exactly,” he smirked.  “I have a reputation to maintain. Can't have people thinking the beast is gone.”

-

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 3

Masterpost

Content warning: This chapter involves depiction of a train derailment and subsequent fire throughout. There is also brief mention of death. I will be putting a brief summary in the description if you prefer not to read this part.

Danny jolts up from his fitful sleep. He’s intangible and invisible before he’s even fully sitting up and he’s in the air before he registers the loud boom that woke him. Any concerns about his bright transformation are made totally irrelevant by the warning sirens blaring in his head.

Wait, no. Those are real sirens.

In the distance, lights are now accompanying the sirens; flashing as they speed down what looks like main street. It’s pretty clear where they’re going too, from the violent orange glow cascading over the tops of the nearby buildings.

I knew it, Danny thinks, flying towards whatever disaster is unfolding. probably it’s stupid to get involved, when he still knows so little about this place, but- well, old habits die hard. It doesn’t take long for the problem to become obvious, and Danny freezes as he struggles to process the scene before him.

The metal carnage is nothing like Danny’s ever seen before; what looks to be a freight train has derailed at the worst possible location, sending its cars careening into the various apartment buildings and stores on the east side of town, and to make matters worse, one of them has clearly crashed straight into the gas station by the freeway, and fire is spreading faster than Danny could have imagined.

Danny can already see two buildings blazing, but he quickly focuses his attention towards the carnage of the train itself. Luckily it’s fairly obvious what direction it was headed, and Danny moves fast, looking for the engine. In ghost form, physical sensations always feel a little more distant but even through that, Danny can feel his heart rabbiting in his chest. Luckily it takes less than a minute to find the engine, but as he approaches it, the presence of death catches in his throat, and he immediately knows it’s a lost cause.

He can’t sense any actual ghosts, though, so instead Danny whips around to stare at the derailed cars. He’s far more used to fighting than he is rescues, but he can hardly just ignore the possibility of people trapped, so he carefully begins phasing through the wreckage, searching and listening for signs of anyone. Already, people are starting to gather outside; both those who were nearby and those who have managed to escape on their own, and Danny is careful to maintain his invisibility as he works. 

Danny’s made it through about half the wreck by the time he spots the firetrucks arriving, he’s pretty certain that nobody’s trapped under any of the cars, and he’s also thinking more clearly. The fire has also gotten worse now, and Danny watches as fully equipped firefighters spill out onto the street, already jumping to work as the fire chief shouts out orders. Some rush to start battling the flames, but others head towards the crowd.

They’re getting headcounts, Danny realizes. It seems so obvious in retrospect, but of course, Danny would have to be visible to check with anyone. And now that they’re here, anything he tries to do in secret would probably just make things harder. There is, of course, an easy solution to that, but- Danny has yet to find any evidence that all the meta stuff is anything but propaganda.

Even as Danny considers the dilemma, he knows what he’s going to do. He’s survived danger before, after all, and if he can keep people from assuming ghost, then he’ll have an advantage on them even if it comes to the worst. Besides, there’s that whole great powers-great responsibility thing, so in a way, it’s kind of his responsibility...

Danny floats out of the wreckage before shifting into visibility, figuring it’s probably polite to approach in their field of sight.

“What can I do to help?” Danny asks, causing most of the crowd to stare in shock. Belatedly he realizes he’s still floating, but actually that’s probably a good thing. Makes it clear he’s a meta right off the bat, at least

“New hero, huh? Powerset?” The man responds promptly, leveling Danny with an even gaze. Probably the lack of shock is a good thing. Probably.

“Uh, flight obviously, enhanced strength as well, and um... The ability to turn people and things intangible?” Danny responds promptly. It’s far from his full set, but he figures those are the most relevant, and keeping most of his tricks under his sleeve makes him feel better about what he’s doing.

“Is the fire gonna hurt you? I’m not sending some kid in there to die of third degree burns or smoke inhalation.” The man frowns, giving Danny the distinct feeling he’s not particularly impressed with Danny’s answer.

“Oh! Yeah, no, I’ll be fine! I like, don’t exactly need to breathe? And I’m fine in extreme heat too, so it shouldn’t be a problem...” Danny trails off and the head firefighter narrows his eyes as he tries not to flinch at the assessing look. To Danny’s right, someone shouts and when he turns to look, he sees a firefighter wave their arm and plant some kind of flag before moving on. No longer paying attention to Danny, the chief walks over and speaks to another firefighter. Danny wonders if he’s been dismissed, but before he can do anything, the chief calls out to him.

“Alright kid, you’re up, I guess,” he says, when Danny walks over. “We don’t know how injured he is, so do not move him, but if you’re strong enough to move this stuff fast and safe, that’ll be a damn good help.” He gestures to the twisted mess that Danny’s pretty sure was the edge of a building. 

Danny nods, stepping forward to examine the rubble. The firefighter that spotted the man points to a couple beams.

“Those beams are protecting him from the worst of it right now, but we’ll need to move them in order to get him out, so you gotta make sure that there’s nothing that’ll fall on him him when you move them.” 

“Righty-o,” Danny says, stepping forward to grab the two support beams he’d pointed too. He carefully examines the rubble collapsed around and over it. It’s sort of like a puzzle, he realizes - not quite the same as fixing his parents tech; certainly nothing here is supposed to be smashed together like that, but-

Danny blinks and refocuses. If he  just moves a few things first, he thinks he can get enough cleared away and just intange the beams. He tries to be fast as he does, without forgetting the emphasis the chief had put on safety, and after a few moments, he’s ready to move the beams. He gets into a good position, and then carefully makes them intangible, ready to react if anything bad happens. When nothing does, he carefully pulls them up and away, watching as the waiting firefighters rush in and start to work on actually extracting the guy.

He watches for a bit as a backboard appears and they begin a very slow and careful process of getting the guy onto it.

“Kid,” the chief calls, pulling Danny’s attention away.The chief guides him towards one of the buildings that’s on fire. “Got two people trapped on the third floor here. The stairs are unsafe, so if you can, get yourself up there, locate them, and get them out.”

Danny nods, not waiting for further instruction. He flies up two floors, and goes straight through the wall with his intangibility. The majority of this building isn’t terribly damaged, but one side has collapsed in on itself so if that’s where the stairs were, he can understand the difficulty. The air inside is already thick with smoke, and he quickly stops breathing, belatedly remembering that he’s supposed to not get smoke inhalation. Luckily, it doesn’t take long to catch the sound of voices, and Danny follows it to a room where two people are huddled next to an open window. Right, that’s a smart way to limit the danger of the smoke.

“Rides here!” Danny announces cheerfully, dropping his intangibility. Both people startle as they spot him, but one recovers relatively quickly.

“Him first,” they say, nodding towards their companion, who definitely looks more dazed.

“Right, here we go!” Danny says, stepping forward, and scooping the person up, and wasting no time flying directly through the building, and down to the waiting paramedics. There’s no stretcher currently available, so Danny gently sets them on the ground away from the worst of the smoke, before flying back to get the other person. They’re already standing up, and waste no time in wrapping their arms around his neck as he picks them up and flies them out to the medics as well.

Danny hardly has time to set the person down, before the chief is pulling him away again. They send him in to save a couple other trapped people, but after that, it sounds like everybody is accounted for, because the chief starts focusing all their energy on putting out the fire, rather than just containing it.

Danny is surprised to find himself pulled into helping with this part too. He gets assigned to a fire attack team, and Danny trails along after the two firefighters as the enter the building and begin to fight the fire from the inside.Occasionally, one of them will point at some piece of wall or ceiling and ask him to check what’s on the other side. He goes where they say, looking for signs of the fire, and when he does spot flames, occasionally tearing stuff down so they can get to it with their fire hose. It’s honestly a fascinating process. Danny’s never been anywhere near a major fire and the fact that the firefighters actually do more damage to the building as they work echoes in Danny’s brain as a morbid refrain.

What they’re doing is clearly working though, because he can actually feel the ambient temperature going down as time goes on. He briefly wonders if he should be trying to use his ice powers when one of his teammates complains about how hot it is, but they have protection, and he doesn’t want to risk any more info on him getting out. And anyways, he’s busy enough just doing his job. By the time they leave the building, Danny is exhausted. The interrupted night’s sleep is making itself known, alongside the surprising realization that Danny has actually worked harder tonight than he ever has before.

He lets himself half-collapse against a wall beside one of the fire trucks, once they finish their work putting out the fire. Beside him, his teammates are divesting themselves of their gear. it’s funny, Danny was anxious about revealing himself at first, but this whole night - and Danny belatedly realizes the sun is beginning to drift above the horizon now - he’s not been scared at all. Sure he’s been worried; with people in danger he’s hardly going to feel good, but in the last few hours he’s both worked harder than he has in any of his fights, and he’s done it without feeling terrible. Now, with just everyone accounted for and just about all of them either fine or in the hands of doctors, he feels odd.

It’s not a bad feeling or anything, kind of like when he successfully beats a hard level in a video game, or how he used to feel when he finished science projects in middle school.

Satisfaction, he realizes. And that’s what it is, though it’s far stronger than any version of it that he’s ever felt before. He does have a lot to feel proud of too. He  helped, even though he wasn’t sure it was safe to, and he might’ve actually saved somebody’s life tonight.

“You did good, kid.” One of his teammates says, echoing Danny’s thoughts. He startles a bit, feels himself flushing, and then in his embarrassment, he feels himself tumble over into a full blush. It’s always felt more embarrassing blushing in his ghost form. The way his skin actually glows with the green tinge is just so obviously inhuman, and he tries to avoid, tries his best to seem normal and alive, even when he’s a ghost.

Of course, these people don’t know he’s a ghost, but from what he’s seen, most of the heroes out there at least look functionally human, and he waits for the firefighters around him to freak out at the reminder that he isn’t even remotely one of them.

“Damn,” one whistles. Green glow is a new one. Makes your freckles real cute though.” The others laugh, and the other of his teammates steps forward to pat him gently on the back.

“Stop embarrassing my new favorite hero,” the chief says, walking up to join them. “You gotta name?” 

“Oh, yeah!” Danny answers, desperate for a distraction from this line of conversation. “I’m Danny!”

“Danny,” the chief responds flatly. he almost sounds exasperated, though Danny can’t imagine why, unless...

Unless that absolutely sounds like he just introduced himself normal and they think he’s a hero and he sounds like a dumbass without a secret identity, which- technically isn’t exactly wrong. 

“Yup!” Danny says, trying to make it sound intentional. “Danny Phantom at your service! Y’know cause of the intangibility and like. It just sounded good?” There. That sounds plausible. If he actually does end up having to be a hero, though, he’ll probably need a different first name. If he gets a civilian identity, that is.

“Well, Phantom,” the chief grins, that same assessing look from before back, but noticeably more relaxed now that there’s no immediate danger. “We’re damn grateful for all your help, and if you need anything you come let us know, alright?”

“Yeah, one of his teammates echoes. “You’re an honorary firefighter now, you should come hang out at the station sometime!” A couple of the others echo the sentiment. It’s surprisingly kind, and Danny smiles at the unrelenting wave of welcome.

“I’ll think about it,” he offers uncertainly. “For now, I think I ought to go back to sleep for a few more hours.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Danny,” the chief says. “Just make sure to get something to eat first. You’ve burned a lot of calories today.”

“Yeah, will do,” Danny offers an awkward salute to the man, and then, before he can actually fall asleep standing up, he takes off to hunt down a good spot for a nap.

[escespace]

Lancelot: How have you been? I feel like you recently acted a bit... strange

Merlin: I have no idea what you're talking about

Lancelot: So nothing is happening? Something for which you act like this?

Merlin: No, no, a lot of things happen all the time so I have no idea what you mean by "recently"

[iceman-soup]

ftm reader (post top surgery) x top!price

Thinking of Price finger fucking you in his office: you're sat on his lap, facing him and half-leaning backwards against the edge of the desk. He's got one hand on the small of your back, holding you up, and the other down your trousers, gentle touches to your wet heat before shoving two of his thick digits in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your bare chest.

Your shirt lays crumpled on the floor next to his chair, the only piece of clothing from either of you taken off. He insists it gets in the way, but you both know he just loves to see and feel your pretty scars, kissing them and reminding you how handsome you are whilst he curls his fingers inside your cunt, only going faster when you groan or whine.

And of course he's never stingey with the praise, calling you a "gorgeous lad," kissing you softly and breaking apart to murmur how you're his "best boy," to your lips as you moan.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Miraculous Ladybug

Open My Eyes by buggachat

Adrien smiles as he eats breakfast with Nathalie, smiles as he walks through the halls of his new lycée, smiles as people stop him on the street and tell him time and time again what a "hero" his father was.

(Adrien wishes he could've been a hero, too. He should've been. Maybe then his father would still be alive.)

(But he's surviving. Everyone may be treating him as though he were made of glass, but he can still go through the motions, he can prove them wrong, he can still smile.)

“And you’re… happy,” Marinette spoke carefully, a nervous tilt to her voice, “... right?”

(Adrien has some things to find out.)

DC

the good, the bad, and the power hungry by konan_konan

dim trake ☑ @timdrakeceo・8hr if one more person tweets about #superlex unironically im gonna end it all 391K Views | 200 Retweets | 13 Quote Tweets | 22.1K Likes

j-son of a bitch ☑ @jsntdd・8hr ↳ replying to @timdrakeceo hurr durr these are the consequences of ur actions bitch 201K Views | 109 Retweets | 4 Quote Tweets | 18.4K Likes

or: lex luthor makes bad choices. and then, so does everyone else.

call me cute and feed me sugar by suzukiblu

Tim Drake had absolutely no intentions of ever becoming anyone's sugar daddy when he met Superboy.

This would have worked out better for him if Superboy had ever had an actual legal identity or an actual legal guardian or just . . . literally anything whatsoever in life. Ever. At all.

Just a bank account, even.

how big, how blue, how beautiful by merils

Kon-El is not good with medical settings. One could even say he's quite bad with them. How bad, exactly?

Well, let's put it this way: Very few things in the world can make him scream for Superman to save him.

(Superman will save him. That's what family's for, right?)

Clone Wars

The Kenobi Chronicles by WobblyCat

General Kenobi isn't actually dead. Someone should really tell that to his troopers, though.

Or: The clones under General Kenobi's command have a groupchat dedicated to him. Cody wishes his subordinates weren't so fucking stupid.

SVSSS

Shen Yuan's Forced Shen Qingqiu Redemption Arc by SpicyReyes

The System's OOC function won't unlock all at once - instead, character traits have to be added individually, through quests. This leads to Shen Qingqiu having to jump through endless hoops just to complete enough side quests to unlock the ability to be a decent person - all while avoiding the effects it has on those around him. If only the cheapskate System wouldn't keep changing the cost of point values - he needs to know what the hell Yue Qingyuan told the others about him that makes them all look so sad when he does manage to be nice! He's breaking his back here, can't we just appreciate his work?!

second-hand alibis by nex_et_nox

"All right. I’m in Proud Immortal Demon Way," he says, once he's had a chance to compose himself again. He sits back up, tossing his stupidly long hair back over his shoulders where it belongs; he is totally calm and ready to grill the System for more information.  "Who am I supposed to be?" Please please please don't let it be someone who Bingge violently murders. Though given the fact that he's a man in PIDW, his chances are already skewed, and not in his favor. Ugh. [Bound Role: Shen Yuan, Rogue Cultivator. Weapon: the sword Heng Li. Starting B-points: 100.]

or: Shen Yuan transmigrates as a rogue cultivator, one completely unconnected to any canon characters or events. Right, System? Right?

[justaz]

somehow for some reason the knights take on a spell that lights up the scars that litter their bodies. arthur has the most with leon as a close second. gwaine and percival and pretty much tied for third though gwaines are much smaller - from more brawls than battles. elyan and lancelot have their fair share but less that the others. that is until they turn to see merlin lit up like a goddamn glowstick. the others (bar lancelot) had been expecting maybe a few nicks from being on the outskirts of battles or mishaps from working on a farm back in ealdor, not……this. the light (which shines through their clothes as if the fabric isn’t even there) is practically blinding on merlin, covering every inch of skin. more so than even arthur. lancelot prompts them all to move on and everyone does, holding themselves back from asking the questions they desperately want answered

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 20

PREVIOUS

FF had watched more than a few self-defense videos when he believed that Andrew Minyard was looking for a dark alley to stab him in. He had learned how to turn the attacker’s momentum against them. Had learned about disarming the person trying to stab him.

He’d even had Matt teach him a few punches claiming that it was for the dust-ups that tended to happen on the court.

He, naturally, does not use any of that knowledge because his mind immediately reverts into Lizard panic mode the moment Jackson Plank takes another step forward with a knife (HUGE. Is it wild that he is thinking about Crocodile Dundee right now?)

“If you come quietly you won’t get hurt.” Jackson says and he reverts to who he is as a person and he freezes. His bravery was used up maybe it was only ever tied to great pump up songs and now in the silence of the alley he is back to being Stone-Faced Smith.

“You’re going to dial up Wesninski and if you don’t say EXACTLY what I tell you to then I’m going to have you SING in agony.”

Y’know in that moment he stops thinking about Crocodile Dundee.

He thinks about a movie that is far more ingrained in his mind than any number of self-defense videos or one-off lessons with Matthew Boyd where he’d been trying not to flinch. A movie he had watched in better days with his family and had been a favorite of his Grandma’s (and his).

He thinks about Miss Congeniality.

Sandra Bullock as Gracie Hart has taught him everything he ever truly needs to know when he takes a step back and Jackson comes at him.

He strikes right at Jackson’s nose with the palm of his hand.

“SON OF A-“

The knife is dropped and FF kicks it under a dumpster.

FF grabs the single weapon he has on his person.

The McDonald’s Megamind Happy Meal Light Effects Brainbot.

He points the LED light straight at Jackson’s eyes and just like Aaron in the car on the way back, “Shit, that’s bright!” And now completely blinded by a combination of watery eyes and LED McDonald’s toy he proceeds to SING just as Gracie Hart had taught him.

S - Solar Plexus. He punches Jackson there as hard as he can.

I - Instep. He smashes his booted foot down on the inside of Jackson’s shoes (who the fuck wears LOAFERS to a kidnapping?)

N - Nose. He’d feel bad about hitting it again if Jackson wasn’t y’know…a hitman out to hurt Captain Neil.

G - Groin. He may have to give himself just half a second to apologize to all of mankind for what he is about to do. His step brothers had definitely kicked him in the groin plenty of times to try and get a reaction. It’s an art to not let anyone know that your ball has retreated up into lower intestine. He kicks Jackson as hard as he can (collegiate athlete) with the boots that Nicky had let him borrow. He is right on target with the toe of his shoes.

Jackson goes down.

The next thing he does is not something Gracie Hart had taught him but does still feel like the right thing to do in this situation. He kicks Jackson in the head and the man goes limp.

If FF throws both hands up in the air and lets out a “I am Miss Congeniality!” Victory cry into the alleyway well no one is around or awake to know that.

He feels like he deserves a sash and a crown and some flowers.

He looks down at Jackson and then over at the van the man had hopped out of. He was definitely PLANNING on kidnapping Captain Neil so he probably has like…some kind of restraint?

Well, better to completely subdue this guy before he tries to figure out the game plan for Romero. Wait, what’s that next to the Crocodile Dundee knife, are those...?

***

Roland is calling for a second time.

Andrew had let it go to voicemail the first time. It was usually Roland complaining about Nicky, Aaron, or Kevin doing something exceptionally stupid in their inebriated states. They have a system. Roland will call and leave a voicemail detailing the dumb shit his family has gotten up to and then he’ll let it go.

If Roland calls twice then there’s an issue.

Arm still around Neil’s shoulders he answers the phone, “What.” He asks.

“You need to help your new friend. There’s some guy following him, he’s armed and dangerous and looking for someone to grab to get Neil’s attention. He tried to lead the guy outside but he’s standing watching it for now so there might have already been someone waiting?” Roland gets out in a rush and Andrew is up and moving towards the stairs even as he’s closing the phone to disconnect the call.

Neil, of course, is right on his heels. “What is it? Did something happen?” Neil asks and they are up the stairs and pushing past Frank and his stupid pineapple shirt. Andrew spots Nicky and he spots Aaron.

“Get Nicky and Aaron somewhere safe. I need to go help Smith with something.” He says because whoever this is wants Neil and Andrew will not let Neil get within grabbing distance and won’t mention it. Neil, blessedly, does what Andrew asks without question.

Andrew scans the crowd and finds a man whose gaze goes between his phone and the back door.

A face that Andrew had memorized.

One of Nathan’s surviving men.

In the same Zip Code as Neil.

And that man has the audacity to still be breathing.

He looks and Nicky and Aaron (drunk, drugged, and useless because Andrew had wanted them to be) are with Neil and Roland is directing them to the backroom.

Andrew goes out the alley and can feel Romero’s eyes on him.

He’s prepared for a lot of things to see out in that alley. He’s angry that FF hadn’t just come down and grabbed him and Neil (he does not need TWO martyrs) and he wants to know what the fuck FF was thinking (or if he was thinking at all). Even with that anger he does not wish to see FF’s blood spilled all over an alleyway because Andrew’s family needed to be protected and FF was the only one sober enough and aware enough to do it.

He knows what Nathan’s men are capable of.

Knows that Romero was one of Nathan’s best so if there is someone out in the alleyway then it’s likely one of his other bests.

FF doesn’t even know how to use a knife. He had asked and FF had firmly declined every time Andrew had brought it up after the first fainting incident. “I’m not interested in learning that. No.” Had been the standard response.

He knew FF had at least taken a lesson or two from Boyd on throwing a punch considering the one he shot out a week ago when a Striker came at him after the third time FF intercepted a pass.

Still, Andrew had not anticipated coming out into the alleyway and finding an unharmed FF securing an unconscious Jackson Plank’s arms behind his back with fuzzy handcuffs.

“Am I interrupting something?” He asks and FF looks up at him with a flush on his cheeks.

“It’s not my fault this is a weird sex alleyway! They’re the first thing I found on my way over to the van to look for actual restraints.” FF says immediately and Andrew almost laughs at the insanity of it. “Wait, where’s Captain Neil?” FF looks around nervously.

“He’s with Aaron and Nicky in the backroom. Roland gave me your S.O.S.” Andrew says even as he quickly makes his way away from the door and towards FF. “Romero is watching the door. Let’s give him a reason to come out.” He says going over to Jackson and when he rolls the man over he raises an eyebrow at the piss stain on his pants and the blood dripping down his nose.

He looks to FF who resolutely does not look back at him.

It’s a story he’ll get out of his friend eventually. Looks like FF didn’t really need those knife lessons. Something settles a bit more in Andrew, it’s nice to have someone else in their group that could handle themselves in a fight.

Andrew finds a phone and FF rolls Jackson back onto his stomach, “He could choke on his own blood.” He shrugs and Andrew wouldn’t care if Jackson choked on his own blood in fuzzy handcuffs in a back alley but he can understand FF not wanting a murder charge.

Andrew looks at the phone and sees the the swipe pattern clear as day. It takes him two tries to get the order right but then Jackson’s phone is available for him to get over to the texting app.

The texts he reads there make him angry. There were a lot of plans on what the two of them were going to do to Neil before his body was offered up to a different crime family to show that Romero and Jackson had no loyalty left to the Wesninski line.

He types out a text to Romero that will have the jackass come out thinking everything had gone well and they had two hostages. He looks over to FF, “You ready for round two?” He asks.

“There isn’t a tap out option right?” FF asks and Andrew laughs at the joke.

Always cool under pressure it seems.

“No.”

“Then yeah, I guess just hit send.” FF says with a shrug.

Andrew does just that.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

Didn’t wanna leave ya’ll hanging on that particular cliffhanger for too long ;)

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lillyndra @themugglemudperson​ @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo​ @next-level-mess @youreonlylow​ @interstellarfig​ @notprocrastinatingatalltoday​ @percyjacksonfan3​ @queenofcrazy27​ @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares​ @spencellio​ @adinthedarkroom​ @harpymoth​ @sufferingjustalilbit​ @anxietymoss​ @oddgreyhound​ @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken​ @ken22789​ @atiredvampire​ @isoldescorner​ @not--a--pipedream​ @azure-wing​ @bushbees​  @roonilwazlib-main​ @crumplelush​ @foldedaces-paperbirds​ @thesenseinnonsense​ @let-tyrants-fear​ @ketchupfriesandallthingsnice​ @legowerewolf​ @deadlydodos​ @but-we-respect-his-craft​ @cariniqe​ @zanypersonapricotbiscuit​

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it  right but you didn’t  get a notification there might be something  switched around in  your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

[rumbelleshowdown]

-

Author: apple jacks Group: A Prompts: Watch me woo you. Apples, spring, evil. Grapes.

-

Brownie Points

He wasn’t classically handsome; he was too short and skinny, his nose too prominent on his thin face. Take away his fancy suits and notoriety as the heartless landlord and pawnbroker, and he likely wouldn’t have stood out at all in their sleepy town of Storybrooke. But that would be changing the very foundations of his person, and Belle quite liked Mr. Gold as he was.

It was why Belle found herself in his shop, taking her late lunch break from the library across the street.

”Hello, Mr. Gold,” she said, as she swept in through the door, bell overhead chiming merrily.

”Miss French,” came the usual reply. He didn’t look up from his ledger on the counter. He had stopped treating her spontaneous visits with anything except lukewarm indifference for a while now.

”Today’s pie is apple, courtesy of Granny. The tea should be brewed by now, if you want to take out the bag.”

His eyes flickered to the travel bag as she set it on the counter, close to his elbow. She always bought enough for two; two slices of whatever baked good Granny’s had on offer, and two travel mugs of tea with half a dozen packets of sugar and cream shoved into the bag. Belle liked to be prepared, in case he asked her to stay and sit with him.

“No, thank you, dear.”

Which he had yet to do.

It had only been a couple months, really. A handful of visits in which she’s tried to extend a hand of friendship to the prickly pawnshop owner.

“The pie was baked fresh this morning,” she hedged, as she had several times before.

Mr. Gold’s lip curled—actually curled—and he said clearly, as if speaking to a child, “No, thank you.”

“Oh, I just—“

”Have a good day, Miss French.” Mr. Gold turned to the back, sliding the curtain closed behind him with the finality of a slammed door. He hadn’t spared another look for her or the tea.

xxx

For all the properties and business Mr. Gold owned around town, he didn’t own the caretaker’s apartment above the library where she lived. Belle had no need for his loans or favors, either; there wasn’t a thing she owed him, no debt to her name that he could collect. There wasn't even any gossip or rumors about her he could exploit (thank you very much).

She’d have thought that would give her an advantage in getting close to him, but it only made him all the more suspicious.

Nothing if not persistent (Belle didn’t accept sour grapes from anyone), she found herself back at the pawn shop having forgoed a stop at the diner. Instead she had brought along her own tupperware.

”Good afternoon, Mr. Gold,” she called.

He gave a suspicious look to the container in her hands, but otherwise offered his usual polite hello.

“I was thinking about last week.”

Mr. Gold closed his ledger and set his pen down, which was as good of an invitation as any.

“Are you allergic to apples?”

He blinked. Belle forged through, comforted that she could still surprise him.

“Or cinnamon, maybe?”

“I have no allergies,” he said, with another look at her mystery container. He tapped his fingers on the counter, looking as if he were debating with himself. “I…apologize for my brusque manner during our last encounter. I was having a bad day and gave in to my more evil tendencies.”

“Oh, I—of course,” Belle said, fumbling. Apparently he could surprise her, too. “I worried maybe I came close to accidentally poisoning you.”

His lip twitched, like he was suppressing a smile. “Indeed not.”

“Hm. Well. I accept your apology.” She extended her hand, and she only had to wait a breath for Mr. Gold to grasp it. It wasn’t a firm handshake, but his hand was dry and warm, and something bubbled in her chest at the gentle squeeze of his fingers. Hopefully Mr. Gold would assume her flush was due to the unreasonably warm spring weather they were having.

“I brought something else today,” she said, withdrawing her hand before she did something truly embarrassing, like proposing marriage. “I got to thinking, what’s the thing that’s most opposite to apple pie? Probably a beef stew, or—I don’t know, chalk—but I figured I’d try to make something myself. So—”

Belle popped off the lid, angling the tupperware to proudly show Mr. Gold its contents.

“Brownies,” he said, and he didn’t sound horrified.

“Brownies,” Belle confirmed. ”I’m not much of a baker, but I tried my best. It’s my mother’s recipe, actually. She was so good at—well. I tried my best,” she said again. “I can’t make them as good as hers were, no one can. And I think she must have left off some secret ingredient when she wrote the steps down, but I still think they’re scrumptious.”

With an appreciative hum, Mr. Gold reached into the plastic container and selected one of her brownies, bringing it to his lips to take a careful bite. Belle held her breath in anticipation as she watched him chew.

”My aunties had a spice cake they would make sometimes; Christmas, birthdays, the successful birth of a lamb.” He paused to take another bite, looking thoughtful. “I’ve been trying to recreate that recipe for years. In all my attempts, it’s never tasted right.” He paused, giving his head a shake in what Belle imagined was comradery. “There’s little I wouldn’t give to have it again, as I remember it.”

“Yes,” Belle agreed quietly. “It’s never bad, just…never right.”

So, Gold had aunties who had lived with sheep. She hoped he’d had many special occasions that were celebrated with their special spice cake, made exactly how he liked it.

After another long moment of silence, Mr. Gold spoke.

“What happens now?” He asked, voice a touch too casual.

“Sorry?” Belle was pulled away from thoughts of a farmhouse that smelled of nutmeg and cinnamon, the windows open to hear the baa-ing of the sheep (ridiculous assumptions to make, but she burned with curiosity and her need to know more).

“This game you insist on playing. You’ve won. So, now what?”

“I didn’t realize I was playing anything,” she said.

To that, Gold raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Belle bit her lip. Okay, fine. She had been playing something and she couldn’t deny the thrill at having been finally declared the winner. And saying she won implied a prize.

“Go on,” he said as if reading her thoughts. He reached for another brownie and that action alone set a warm heat to her stomach that was better than any compliment he could have provided her.

“How about dinner?” she said, not letting herself overthink it.

Gold paused, confectionary raised partway to his mouth.

“Dinner?”

“At Grannies. Or Marco’s,” she offered, trying to remember all the good spots in their small town. “There’s also that new Thai place that opened at the end of Main Street—”

“In public?” he clarified.

“My treat.” If she was able to ask for anything, then that was what she wanted. But then, maybe Gold didn’t want to go out, or be seen in public with her. He’d been so resistant to her friendly advances this far, after all. She was willing to be patient and capitulate to his misanthropic tendencies, at least for a little while. “Or, if you’d prefer, I can cook for you. I cook better than I bake.”

He was still holding the brownie, and if he wasn’t careful he’d make a mess of his fingers (Belle very purposefully did not think about what’d it’d be like to lick him clean of any melted chocolate).

“Grannies will do,” he said finally.

“Fantastic! How about Friday night at seven?”

He inclined his head, and the date was set.

Smiling wider than she had all week—month?—year?—she took her leave and breezed out of the shop, leaving the tupperware behind for him.

There was something more to Mr. Gold than anyone knew, Belle was sure of it, and she’d be the one to bring it to light.

-

[boom-bada-boom]

how many sorcerers can there really be in the court of camelot, after all?

each knight of the roundtable thinks they have magic. after all, why else could there be so many odd, lucky coincidences that benefit them—fallen branches, tripped soldiers, defeated magical beasts when only magic is supposed to be able to kill them. and what do they really know of magic? it could be them causing it. it must be them causing it. after all, they’d trust that the others (probably) wouldn’t keep such a secret from the rest.

(lancelot, who knows the truth, wonders why suddenly all of his brothers-in-arms have gotten cagey with each other, acting like each of them had suddenly gained a deadly secret they needed to keep from the rest. that they were all so wrapped up in hiding themselves they didnt notice everyone else doing the same, nor how blatantly obvious each of them actually was. honestly, merlin was more subtle, and he was about as sneaky as a rampaging horse-drawn cart.)

merlin, to lance: hey d’you know why everyones been acting weird lately?

lance: nope. i was hoping you would, to be honest. considering your habit of being incapable of staying out of everyones business.

merlin: hmmm….

(meanwhile, all the other knights in the background, to themselves: holy fucking shit. oh my fucking god. i have magic. i have magic. im a fucking sorcerer. holy shit. what the fuck. what do i do.)

[starleska]

Heya. So um... I got a question. Which character you fell in love the most? Maxime Le Mal (Despicable Me 4) or Ronaldo (Helluva Boss) or maybe both of them? If someone already asked you that question, that's fine

oh...forgive me, you made me think about Maxime Le Mal and Rolando at the same time, and i think my brain blanked out for a second 🥴💖 what were we talking about? 🙈🙈

my first response to this excellent question is: why would i ever pit two bad bitches against each other? 🥰💖 i adore both characters in different ways for different reasons but i think trying to figure out which one i love 'more' is a bit like that 'two cakes' comic. it's less about one cake being better than the other - i'm just like, 'Holy shit! Two cakes!' 😂💖

however, this is an interesting pair as they have a lot of similarities to each other!! both older, fancily-dressed villains wearing tinted glasses (why is it always the tinted glasses?! 😖) who spend a great deal of time trying to cause distress to their targets and who are hiding a sexy monstrous form 😉 equally funny - the second i saw both of them in their respective trailers, i knew i was doomed. sometimes you just see a character and hear the autistic equivalent of the Kill Bill siren, you know? 😭💖

if we're going by a 'how ill is this guy making you' metric, i can confirm that i've done very little but think about our new favourite eel fellow for the past few days...and Maxime had me in a similar 'can't think about anything else' grip 🙈 a lot of my character fixations can be put on a spectrum somewhere between brief crush and Category 5 Autism Event, with the closeness to the latter being determined by 'how much have you talked about them', 'how many fanworks have you created in a short period of time', and 'how severely are they reducing your functioning' 😂 i think the absolute worst i've had over the past year or so were the Toymaker (i have never made that amount of fanworks for a character so quickly) and Nordic Bunny (i forgot to eat 💀💀). but!! i hold all of my beloved characters close to my heart even if they were just teeny-tiny little fixations, or if they're characters of fixations past...if something makes you happy even a little bit, i think they're just as worthy as the things which make you really happy too :3c

[idonotbitemythumbatyou]

The Mark by @hellostuffedtiger

Obsidian Order Agent, Garak's, latest assignment: surveil Doctor Julian Bashir, the Federation medical delegation’s lead doctor who’s been living on Cardassia, trying to find a cure for a deadly Cardassian illness. Tain wants damaging intel on Julian and he's counting on Garak to get it. If surveillance doesn’t work, he may always use interrogation.

I always appreciate when writers take the Soviet Union as inspiration for the Cardassian Union, and this one takes that concept and runs with it. Cold war vibes in desert weather. Spies commuting, clocking in, and talking shit. The characters we know are all one step away from how we know them in canon, because this is how they would be if their circumstances were ever so slightly different. I'm particularly fond of Garak's Tain-generation coworker. I based this cover on a few different Le Carré covers.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

NOTE: I had originally planned on adding my Natsume Yuujinchou fic recs to this one too, but I've been reading way too many recently so I'll be creating a post just for that fandom in a couple of weeks. Keep your eye out for that.

The Nine Worlds series (Hands of the Emperor)

two days five hours by ariex09

Jullanar didn’t realize anything was wrong until the newspaper boy yelped in panic, until she was turning back to see the paper Fitzroy was holding on fire, a conflagration held in one hand, his eyes liquid gold with magic and his voice perfectly empty when he said, “No. That can’t be right. There’s been a mistake.”

-

In which an adventure in progress is thoroughly derailed by news of the presumed death of the Viceroy of Zunidh.

Plausible Deniability and Pineapple by toffeecape

In which the Last Emperor of Astandalas and Lord of Zunidh is an unbonded sentinel (as if he didn't have enough problems) and Cliopher sayo Mdang rejects the entire classist and culturally imperialistic sentinel/guide paradigm out of hand and offers his Radiancy… almost the exact same thing, honestly, but done their way.

Shadowhunters

To serve and protect by ToTheStarsWriting

From the moment there’d been shadowhunters, there had been the guardians. Those willing to go above and beyond their people, their Institutes. Ones willing to bind themselves through magic and rune with a warlock. To pledge their lives to one another, and to the fight against the hordes of hell.

These days the Guardians weren’t nearly so common. It was rare for a warlock to be able to find a shadowhunter who would willingly do the oath with them. Even if some thought it a great honor in the beginning. that had clearly changed. Now, the only time Alec saw any hint of the peace that was said to once exist between the denizens of the shadow world was at events like these. One week, every five years, where all parties gathered together in a ritual as old as their race.

Alec had been interested, once, until he realized what it would mean. Giving up his life, his Institute, his family? A Guardian had to be prepared to let all of that go. Their life became the whim of their bonded and the War. Where their bonded went, they went. And with a lot of the new rules against Downworlders, that meant that there would be so many places a shadowhunter gave up ever seeing again. He couldn’t abandon his people like that.

AFTG

i swear that i'm a good kid by perchancetosleep

“Oh, and Jean?” The guidance counselor's voice has him pausing in the doorframe. “Kevin Day has restarted at this school while you were suspended. Both your guardian and his father have requested that you stay away from him. There will be consequences if you do not heed these wishes.”

Jean can’t keep the shock off of his face as he stalks out of the office. The last time he had seen Kevin, he was depositing him on Wymack’s doorstep with a poorly bandaged hand, a note he had stolen from Tetsuji’s office, and enough benzos in him to stop him from fighting Jean the whole way there.

For about a month after that, Jean held onto hope that Kevin would come back for him, or that he would tell someone about Evermore and they would all get out.

That hope has long since died.

[justaz]

need post magic reveal/ban repeal where magic is free and everyone grows in their knowledge of just what magic is and how it works etc, etc. merlin (isn't one for bragging about his powers) doesn't really mention much about his magic so people just assume he has enough to get by with like chores but not enough to catch the ire of uther EXCEPT for gauis, lancelot, and arthur bc gaius and lancelot have known about him for years and know what he's capable of and arthur sat merlin down and demanded all the stories so arthur knows he'd be a formidable opponent but he doesn't really get it yk? so he's like "yeah merlin has magic and he's capable of defending himself and camelot so he's probably on the more powerful end of the spectrum like every other sorcerer who is powerful"

and then i need merlin to be Different. like noticeably different. like idk a sorcerer is like trying out to be court sorcerer (bc merlin doesn't want another job dammit arthur give it morgana or someone-) and they perform this elaborate spell that captivates merlin and he starts asking all these questions and the sorcerer is like "yeah it's super difficult, it took me months to get it right and it takes years for some others-" and they cut themselves off bc merlin was just like "i wanna try" and does it perfectly first try. the sorcerer is seething.

camelot is hit with a heatwave and everyone is suffering and arthur is just like "morgana can you make it rain or something? it's too hot to breathe." and morgana is just like "no you idiot i can't just bend nature to my will. it doesn't like that." and merlin finally arrives with waterskins full of nice, cold, refreshing drink that the knights are frothing at the mouth to get. arthur complains again and morgana huffs and merlin is like "has he been like that this whole time?" and morgana nods with a groan and merlin laughs before going "i can try something" and leaves before anyone can say anything and arthur looks at morgana and is like "i thought you said nature doesn't like to be controlled?" and she's like "it doesn't" and then they all chase after merlin but he's chilling in the courtyard with his eyes closed, not even chanting, and then the sky starts to darken as black clouds roll in, the temperature plummets and then...snow begins to fall. in july. they all end up having a snowball fight.

a power hungry sorcerer comes along and is like "emrys....he's perfect....just what i need...teehee" and casts some spell over merlin and begins to siphon his magic and his power and merlin feels waves of his magic flood through the connection and into the sorcerer and like he's a mix of panic and concern bc yeah this mf is taking his magic but they're taking his magic. merlin tries to bargain or talk them down while the knights and arthur try to attack but the sorcerer keeps pushing them back and ignores merlin and is like "i want power, i want your power" blah blah blah monologue time and they swing another wave of magic out at the knights and knock many out while killing some and merlin is just like "ok no that's all folks thanks" and starts to push his own magic through the connection. the sorcerer has this wild gleam in their eyes and they feel more and more power fill them and it's like a high until it gets too much and they frantically try to sever the connection and their telling merlin to stop but merlin is just like "i thought you wanted my power? i'm giving it to you" and continues to flood the sorcerer with his magic until gold begins to trace their skin and they idk explode or smth and then all the magic flies back into merlin and he flexes his hands. unnamed knights 3, 6, 22, 53, and 55 still died so it's a tragedy.

a bunch of sorcerers are entertaining at a feast (kind of like the trickler) and they cast illusions all around the room that look real enough (unless you look too closely or touch it bc they are somewhat see through and your hand would pass right through them) and it's a fun and joyous night. later that week, the knights bring it up during their break while training and merlin is like "sure, what illusion should i cast?" and after some back and forth, he settles on the illusion of a dragon. it's around the size and age of aithusa bc that's all he has to go off of and it's gold since he took inspiration from the pendragon crest all around the area. it jumps around and flaps it's wings to get some air and it's all fine and dandy until elyan goes to poke his hand through it's ribs but meets physical scales and he jumps up into percival's arms. merlin looks closer and is like "oh. its real. whoops." and leon is like "whoops?? you make a real life dragon and all you have to say is whoops?" and merlin shrugs and is like "it was an accident" and leon about keels over from a heart attack "an accident? how do you accidentally-" the dragon is considered a gift from magic to camelot and helps further heal the wounds of uther's purge.

idk just like merlin being casually the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth and unnerving people just by how little he seems to care about his shows of power but they're all like "well he's just doing all these small things that don't harm anyone and he doesn't even seem to realize just how powerful he is so what can ya do?" and they leave it be and make peace with merlin being Like That. and then camelot/arthur is attacked or smth idk and then everyone gets to see exactly how powerful and dangerous merlin is

[wundrousarts]

With Mogtober around the corner, I wanted to share:

If you want to do more prompts, such as tackle a 31-prompt list for the whole month, or just don’t like the prompts and want to do other ones, I have this spreadsheet that I usually pull the prompt lists from if you want ideas. Or, if you’ve had any Nevermoor ideas for things floating around in your head that you’ve been meaning to get to, you can also just take Mogtober as an opportunity to do that. The main goal is always just to have fun!!

[moralesmilesanhour]

Sorry to yammer on about the importance of reblogging on tumblr and how likes do absolutely fuck-all but another reason why just came to me that's specific to fanfiction communities.

Every time I check tags for fics I see at least one or two people complaining about the lack of works being created for x character or x thing, but then when someone finally writes that thing no one sees it or is aware it exists because it doesn't actually circulate. Literally if you read a work that you feel really caters to your specific tastes and that other ppl within your niche might like why would you just...not let anyone else see it lmao?? Stop bein stingy

[starlesscitiess]

i just think that once you read unholyverse you can never go back. you’re a changed person. now in a completely convoluted backdoor sort of way, catholicism is in your head forever