#this has been a Journey for me to write

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thank you all for an incredible 500 days of love and support. I offer you: answers to questions that no one has asked.

(As always, more can be found in the tags <3)

[myokk]

💘

[babygirlwolverine]

Surprise!!!

I hinted months ago that I was signing up to do something exciting and I can finally tell you all about it!!

my new fic, love is a cowboy, will be out on april 15th and I can’t wait for you all to read it!!!

Love is a Cowboy

By deancaskiss | @deancaskiss Art by thestarsmakemedream

Coming to Ao3 on April 15th, 2024

Rated Teen | 8,200 words | No Archive Warnings Apply

Retirement. Something Dean never expected he’d get to have, especially with Cas by his side. But here they are, and Dean knows it’s finally time. After months of searching, when Cas finds them the perfect forever home to make their own, it feels too good to be true. But it’s real. And it’s all theirs to start something new together. What was once bags packed with weapons and salt becomes cowboy boots, baskets of homegrown herbs, and feed for the animals. But Cas knows there’s one part of the hunting business that Dean still needs. Saving things. And luckily Cas knows exactly how to make that happen to turn their ranch into a home to create their own found family.

[Keep reading for a sneak preview!]

“No,” Dean said, pushing the paper across the table with a frown. “We ruled that one out last week. You’re just getting desperate putting it back on the table.”

Cas dropped his head back, casting his eyes up towards the ceiling with a long sigh. “Dean. There isn’t anything else within a 50-mile radius that has enough rooms to fit everyone, and is the right distance between Sam and Eileen, and Jody, Donna, and the girls.”

Dean shoved his chair back, stalking across the kitchen and leaning against the sink with his back to his husband. “We discussed this, though. A million times, Cas. That house is too dark. It feels like this bunker all over again. And slap bang in the middle of a cookie-cutter neighborhood. That’s not us, man. We can’t do the whole ‘friendly with neighbors' crap. And if something ever does track us down, it just puts hundreds of people in danger.”

Taking a deep breath, Cas made his way over to Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and dropping his chin onto Dean’s shoulder. “Then maybe we broaden our horizons. Look at something different?” he murmured against the back of Dean’s neck.

Dean tensed up for a second, before the frustration ebbed away and he turned in Cas’ embrace. Cas was the one to tip their foreheads together, and Dean let him, letting his eyes flutter closed as Cas’ hands slipped under the hem of his shirt to trace patterns along Dean’s lower spine.

“Like what, Cas? What could possibly ever feel like home after all the shit we’ve been through? Nothing on Earth feels safe enough and normalcy isn’t something we can just mold into.”

Cas’ hand stilled on Dean’s back for a moment, before he inched closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to the corner of Dean’s lips. “Do you trust me?”

“C’mon that’s not fair, this doesn’t have anything to do with—”

But Cas shook his head, the movement separating their lips, leaving Dean with a sudden ache to feel Cas’ mouth against his own again.

“Answer the question, Dean. Do you trust me?”

And wasn’t that a loaded question? All the truth and lies over the years. The betrayals and the forgiveness. The loss and heartbreak, clashing with faith and love.

There was no one Dean trusted more.

“Of course I do.”

Cas smiled, rewarding Dean by bringing their lips together into a kiss. “I’ve got an idea.”

[red-flagging]

💛 seb/lewis :-)

(kiss fic prompts!)

a little epilogue to rabbits are chasing :)

Lewis's flight lands at 8:02PM, which means that by 7:31PM, Seb is parked outside the airport arrivals door, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and scanning the sky for approaching planes.

It's quite silly, getting here so early, but it's not as if there's much left to do at home. There's roast vegetables waiting in the oven, the cauliflower steaks that he started marinating earlier this morning chilling in the fridge. Mina and Ellie are safely ensconced in their duck coop with the heater turned on for the night. The sheets on the guest bed are freshly washed.

The car parked behind him starts up. Its headlights illuminate Seb's cabin. For a moment, he catches a glimpse of himself, harried and too-bright, in the rearview mirror. He scrubs his hands down his face. Christ. Get it together, Sebastian. He is a full 39 years old. Far too old to be getting the same jitters that he did the first time he invited a girl over at age 17, agonizing about what album to have playing when they came back to his room. Lewis is far too old for Seb to be doing all this. Lewis might not even be gay.

His phone buzzes. Seb nearly jumps out of his seat.

Lewis

just landed

getting my luggage now

hows it so freaking cold here

The inside of the car is already fogging up. When he'd asked Lewis to send dates he could come visit and Lewis had said just so you know the next few months are kind of crazy for me, Seb had expected late fall, maybe the holidays. Not the middle of slush season, when all the roads up the mountain have a 50/50 chance of being so muddy that they're undriveable.

Sebastian

I'm outside, in the blue Infiniti :)

He glances back up at himself in the mirror. The scab from where a wood chip caught the corner of his eyebrow while he was sanding the new planter box is almost healed over. His hair looks as good as it's ever going to. If Lewis asks whether he's been using conditioner, he's fucked.

It shouldn't feel like this. Seb beat Lewis to Senna's record, and Lewis still laughed at all his jokes the next season. Lewis watched Seb DNF twice in five races and still said in the media pen that he was waiting for the day Seb would be back up on the podium with him. When they inevitably auction off Lewis's Le Mans racesuit, it'll have to be with Seb's snot all over the front of it, because Lewis let Seb sob all over him and then laughed as he wiped sweat off of Seb's cheek with the sleeve. After all that – the fact that he's about to be in Seb's house for the next week shouldn't make Seb feel like he's standing in front of Lewis naked, without even the promise of a fast car or a good competition to distract Lewis from looking right at him.

His phone buzzes again.

Lewis

outside i think

Seb peers through the windscreen. Lewis – or rather, the blurry figure lugging a giant suitcase behind him that he assumes is Lewis – waves at him from the sidewalk. Seb flashes his lights at him twice.

The back door opens and Lewis's head, along with a burst of cold night air, pops in. "Hey," he says, a little breathlessly. "I don't think this is going to fit in the back."

It does, eventually, but not without a fight that involves Seb having to climb into the trunk alongside Lewis's suitcase and physically wrestle it into place while Lewis shoves from behind. They're both out of breath by the time they finally climb back in the front and slam the doors shut.

"You know, there are beds at the farm," Seb points out. "You didn't have to pack your own."

Lewis shakes his head, tugging off his gloves. His coat collar is turned up around his neck. He's wearing an an ear warmer headband, held in place by two butterfly pins. Every other bit of uncovered skin is pink, even with the heat in the car up at full blast. Lewis shoves his fingers in front of the vents and sighs with relief, closing his eyes. "Ugh, thank God," he says. He sounds exhausted. "Listen, you're lucky I fit everything into one." It sounds far less like a joke than Seb would hope. The fact that the fondness in Seb's chest still manages to outweigh the exasperation is probably a sign that Seb's beyond salvation.

"Next time I'll bring a trailer so you can fit your bathtub and toilet, too," he says, reaching for the keys. The engine purrs to life as he flicks the lights back on, then leans forward to scrub the worst of the fog off the windscreen. The thermometer on the dash says it's still 3 degrees outside. They might still be able to make it back before the slush freezes over. "Okay," he says, sitting back down and twisting around to reach for his seatbelt. "Ready to go?"

Lewis doesn't say anything. When Seb looks over, he's staring out the front window, playing with one of his rings.

"Lewis?" Seb asks.

Lewis's head jerks around. "Hm?" he says. "Oh. Yeah." He doesn't move to put on his seatbelt.

Seb frowns. Kills the engine so he can properly turn in his seat. "Lewis," he says. "Is everything –"

Lewis leans across the console and kisses him.

It's barely half a second. Seb still hasn't moved by the time Lewis sits back down on his side of the car.

"Uh," Lewis says, after a second. He clears his throat. "Sorry. I just – Shit. Sorry. The whole way over, all I could think about was – I had to get it over with before I chickened out."

He's fiddling with his rings again, but his eyes stay fixed on Seb's. His jaw is set. He still looks half-ready to bolt through the door behind him, out into the night.

"Well, you don't have to make it sound like taking your medicine, Christ," Seb says hoarsely, and drags Lewis back across the console to kiss him properly.

Lewis's lips are still cold. When Seb opens his mouth, Lewis sighs, pressing in closer with a soft sound that makes Seb want to go twenty years back in time and kick himself for not figuring out how to make Lewis make that noise sooner. His hands settle on Seb's wrists, holding him in place. Seb slides his own hands up, cradling the back of Lewis's head, to return the favor.

When he finally pulls away just far enough to catch his breath, Lewis follows him, close enough that their noses bump. His eyes are wide. This close up, Seb can see the dark circles under them more clearly.

He closes his eyes. Lewis is still there when he opens them.

"How long have you been awake?" he asks.

Lewis blinks. "What," he says. "Are you talking about."

"Sleep deprivation," Seb says. His heart is pounding hard enough that he feels it in his throat. "People start to get delirious when they're tired enough –"

"I was awake for 24 hours and I didn't kiss you at the end," Lewis interrupts, his eyes sharp and bright. "I'm not making the same mistake twice."

Seb opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He tries again. Still nothing.

"Fuck," he says, closing his eyes. "Okay. Okay." He drags himself back upright and reaches for the keys. "We can – tomorrow. But we should – you need to shower. And sleep." Lewis's hand settles on his leg. Seb rests his own on top of it; after a second, he squeezes Lewis's fingers gently. Lewis flips his hand over and laces their fingers together.

"Yeah," Lewis says. His thumb traces over Seb's knuckles. "That – tomorrow sounds good."

The slush crackles under the tires when Seb starts to move. Ahead of them, the headlights carve a path through the darkness. Lewis's hand is a solid, steady weight against his leg. "Okay," Seb says, to himself, to both of them, to no one. Lewis hums softly from his side of the car. He squeezes Seb's knee gently.

Seb closes his eyes for a second. "Okay," he says quietly. "Yeah. Let's go home."

[thatonebirdwrites]

IT IS DONE. FINALLY. Also, this chapter is very long and took forever to edit. And I had to rewrite the ending at one point. I just wasn't mentally present for parts of the last few weeks.

EXCERPT:

Pain ricochets through Kara-Z from the residue of Kryptonite poisoning. She’s not used to physical pain. Since falling to Earth in her pod, her cells soak up the sunlight and transforms her into a being impervious to most wounds and physical ailments. Using up those reserves or Kryptonite serve as gateways into the truth of human experience. An experience she has almost forgotten, her Krypton memories carefully folded and filed away.

Jeremiah Danvers, before he offered himself to save her, used to work with old cameras as a hobby. Usually Alex would join him, and a few times he took Kara into the darkroom. The walls and windows were covered in black blankets, impervious to sunlight, the only light red lamps, all to minimize exposure. Exposure could ruin an image.

Sometimes she pictures her Krypton memories like those photos, where exposure to real life could ruin the images, bleed away the color and details into a de-saturated mess of white, grey, and black.

As she makes her way out of Lena’s apartment building, her physical pain jabs like spikes, but her spirit feels like greyscale. Linda simmers at the edge of her sense of self, but Kara-D hides in the soup of grey that fogs her mind. Neither can reach her consciousness as the pain acts as an impervious barrier; she feels sadly alone.

More time under the sun-lamp likely will have diminished the pain further, but she doesn’t have time to wait.

Shadows loom along the edges of the street-lights. A few cars pass slowly on the street, but otherwise, no one is around. With her superhearing distorted by the poison, she hears faintly the rustling of night creatures, mostly near garbage bins, but beyond that, the sound is electric hums, car engines, creaking signs, and her footsteps against concrete.

Where will Lena’s alter go?

Only one other Luthor still lives, one who helped Lex in the past. Will Lena’s alter target Lillian?

It makes the most sense if the alter is trying to end all threats to themself. But Lillian is currently in a federal prison on the East Coast, which means the only way to reach it is to fly.

So the airport.

Since flying herself there is out of the question, Kara-Z digs through her pockets until she finds her wallet and phone. She hunts for a particular app installed by Lena.

Not long after they first met, Lena plucks Kara’s phone from her hands. “Someday you’ll thank me for this.” Her fingers dance across the screen. “Sam showed me it, and I use it sometimes myself. This way if you miss the bus, you can still reach your destination on time.” She grins as she hands the phone back, a new taxi app installed.

“Ah,” Kara isn’t sure what to think. She’s never really needed such things, but for human appearances it might be helpful. “How do you know if it’s good?”

“It’s the best one. Believe me, Sam dragged me into her experiments to find the best of the best.” Lena rolls her eyes. “She loves to test apps and drag me, Ruby, or Jack into it.”

That had happened before the nanite disaster. Before Jack became comatose.

Irony perhaps that Lena proves herself correct as always. Kara does have need of the app. As she limps, she drops a pick-up for a taxi at the next building over. This gives her some time to gather the frayed edges of her energy and weave them into a relentless determination.

By the time she reaches it, the taxi has pulled up to the curb. Nice.

“Hello. Where to? Can take you anywhere within city limits.” the driver rolls their vowels and overemphasizes nasal consonants. An accent Kara doesn’t recognize.

“National City Airport. Be quick.” She settles into the backseat and shuts the door. The green veins on her skin are less pronounced, but she tugs her sleeves down over her hands and wraps one of Lena’s scarves tighter around her neck. It smells faintly of Lena’s favorite perfume — a Jasmine and lavender blend.

[too-young-to-fall-in-love]

Turned Night Into Day

summary:

There's no reason why Illya should want to talk to him. Really, there isn't. So why's he showing up at his hotel room with a bottle of Scotch and something like an apology on his lips? Or, most of Amor Magnus Doctor Est chapter 8 in Napoleon's POV!! <3

notes:

inspired by Amor Magnus Doctor Est by @cha-melodius

tags:

POV Napoleon Solo, Napoleon solo has no self confidence, insecure Napoleon solo, Reunions, the happy ending to just like me, Mild Sexual Content, inspired by another fic, Napoleon Solo Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Professors

excerpt:

“I’m sorry,” Illya whispers, the words ringing like a gunshot in the otherwise dead quiet of the room. Of all the things Napoleon was expecting, it was definitely not that. “I heard what you and Gaby were talking about,” and “Did you really get Victoria fired to try and win me back?” seemed the most obvious. He’s only able to stare at Illya as the words rattle around in his head. In the silence of the room it seems that Illya might want to take it back. He finds himself hoping he will, because while there’s nothing he wants more than Illya, he’s only good for being left behind. He hopes equally as much that he won’t, because even in the face of reality he still wants him more than he’s ever wanted anything else. “What for?” he asks, head tilted to the side, brow furrowed. Illya huffs out a sound that could be a laugh, but it’s too harsh, too bitter to be classified as such. It’s so sudden that Napoleon actually flinches from it. “Everything,” he answers, like it’s obvious. Like he’d done anything wrong. Leaving him may have been the best decision Illya’s ever made. He can’t imagine how that could be wrong. “For blaming you when it wasn’t really your fault. For shutting you out. For not—” Illya’s voice catches in his throat, and he takes another swallow of liquor. Napoleon shuts his eyes against Illya’s next words, “for not being there for you when I should have been.” A feeble sense of hope takes root in his heart, growing until it threatens to choke him.

read more on ao3

[saetoru]

i think taking a break from writing smut for like almost a year has been rly refreshing bc i think it made me stop questioning if my writing is interesting without sex and just write it how i want. and then tbh a part of me has realized i like writing without the sex half the time. it’s nice. it’s fun to explore intimacy in as many non sexual ways as you can

[m0e-ru]

can we give a big shoutout for today where the gas station attendant social link au was born and everything in my life has been nothing but tunnel vision for my baby who is currently attending preschool ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

[thecousinsdangereux]

the gods we can touch [complete]

pairing: Ava/Beatrice (Warrior Nun)

rating: T

chapter word count: 14,321 (whoops!)

chapter summary: 

In her dream, Ava is wearing a button-up, one with a familiar little green frog printed all over the fabric. She’s tan, as though she’s spent a couple months in the same too-bright sun they’re under now, and her legs are left bare by the tight jean shorts that barely make it mid-thigh. There's nothing but sand all around them, a vast and barren desert, but Ava is barefoot; this, Beatrice had known before anything else, since she’d followed Ava’s tracks to where she finds her now, sitting on a rock with her face turned towards the light.

Yesterday, Ava had been shot through with Divinium. Yesterday, there had been blood on her lips and hands and forehead. Yesterday, she could barely sit up, could barely breathe, could barely get out the few words she’d refused to die with. But in the dream, she is whole, and in the dream, when she sees Beatrice, she stands, as though the motion gives her no trouble at all.

chapter link: AO3

playlist link: SPOTIFY

[nullians]

It’s actually insane how fandom in general has become so scared of making weird and dark and ugly works. Like I look at myself and see how I have also subconsciously adapted this instinct to self censor and make things “marketable” and it’s making me want to crawl out of my skin. I need to get weirder and worse and more off-putting hello

[randomingoftherandomness]

Fic: I Love You With Purpose

Pairing: Gong Shangjue x Gong Yuanzhi

A/N: This one is for @dangermousie :)

--

Shangjue gently cards his fingers through Yuanzhi's undone hair. The tips of his fingernails scratch against his scalp, moving from root to tip in comfortable rhythmic motions. It's just them here in the quiet of their room, sitting on their bed. Just them in their nightclothes, unwinding from the day.

Shangjue sinks himself into the feeling of running his fingers through Yuanzhi's hair, quietly absorbed in the calming task of massaging this year's finest batch of camelia hair oil into every strand. It's getting longer now. There are many styles of braids that he picked up when he was out in the martial world. He can't wait to try them all out on his didi's hair.

"Didi, tomorrow we should go for a ride. There's a beautiful meadow I'd like to bring you to."

"Mm... That sounds nice. Should we ask the kitchen to prepare some food for the journey?" Yuanzhi asks, eyes closed serenely, lips curled In a smile. After a beat, he chuckles. "This really sounds like you're courting me."

Shangjue stills. Taking his didi by the waist, he turns him around until they are face to face. Gesturing at the space between them, he points at the clutter on the table next to his own neatly arranged study. Then he waves his hand at the bottles of hair oil he had spent not a small amount of money to buy.

Yuanzhi laughs. "Point taken."

Shangjue barely resists the undignified urge to roll his eyes as Yuanzhi snuggles back into his embrace. Reaching up to pat his head, he hides his smile in a kiss on the shell of Yuanzhi's ear.

Yuanzhi splays his hands up, sliding their palms together. Shangjue holds on to him, allowing himself the indulgence of having his didi so close and unbridled.

But in just a breath, with a slow whisper that is barely any louder than the beat of a mosquito's wing, shatters that peace.

"Do you ever wish we never met?"

Shangjue blinks and calms himself. "What's brought this on?"

"Mm... Just a question."

That's a clear deflection if he has ever heard one. Tucking his hair behind his ear, he gently comments. "Yuanzhi didi never asks a question idly. Tell your gege. Where's this coming from? Has someone made you upset?"

Yuanzhi sighs, merely shaking his head. "It's nothing." A pause. "It's everything."

Shangjue patiently waits him out, holding him tightly. "I've been wondering lately if we shouldn't have met after all. How my life would have been if I had never met you, how different of a person I would be. I wonder if it would have been better if you..."

"You?"

"If you never fell in love with me. Then perhaps you could have had a normal life. A wife. A child to carry on your name. Maybe I would be just a cousin you saw occasionally. Someone who did not make a deep impression on you."

Yuanzhi's gaze flash with the flickering of the candlelight, gazing into the distance. Softly, as if he isn't expecting the words to even exist in his voice, he murmurs. "Maybe if I didn't exist, you still could..."

Shangjue tightens his embrace. Heart racing at the thought of his world not having his didi in it, mind buzzing with uncharacteristic panic at the thought that he would not have Yuanzhi by his side.

"Gong Yuanzhi, I want you to listen to me, and listen well." He crosses his arms around his didi's chest, pressing every ounce of sincerity and fragility into his words. "I didn't fall in love with you. Falling implies that how I feel for you is an accident."

"I love you and have loved you on purpose. Consciously, willingly, and with deliberate thought. Every shade of my love, every moment I have loved you has been a choice. And I choose you."

The warm droplets on the back of his hands are carefully ignored. Shangjue tilts Yuanzhi and folds him closer until he is safely tucked against his shoulder, dampening the fabric there. Leaning in, he softly hides his smile to the side of his hair, breathing in deep the warm scent of camelia and musk.

Yuanzhi's demons aren't unfamiliar to him and he knows this won't be the last time he has to keep them at bay. Born of his fault, it's his solemn duty to remind Yuanzhi, to anchor him, to soothe him that this is real -- the life that they've built together is as real and as true as the air in their lungs.

"Let me say one thing more." Shangjue lifts Yuanzhi's face by the cheek. Cooing a little at the red-rimmed eyes, he lovingly wipes away the tears, smoothing away the frown between his brows. "Your place by my side on purpose and with purpose. No one can take that away from you. No one can replace you. In this life, Yuanzhi didi is my Yuanzhi didi. Understand?"

"Mn."

Yuanzhi gives him a tremulous, wet smile, pulling away to wipe away the few stray tears that trickle down his face. "You know, whoever said that Gong Ziyu was the most romantic man of our generation has obviously never heard you speak. You'd give the best poets a run for their money, Ge."

Shangjue barks a laugh at that. Shuffling over, he lays his hand over Yuanzhi's hip, drawing him in for a kiss. And then two, and three.

"It's good that no one knows. I'm a romantic only for my didi, after all."

Yuanzhi holds in the cough long enough before his shoulder starts to shake and he laughs out loud around his wheezing gasps.

"Please, gege, never let anyone but me hear you say things like these. The world is not ready for your type of romance."

Shangjue chuckles, reeling him back in. Snuffing out the candlelight, he lies them both down -- Yuanzhi on the inside of the bed, him on the outside. They talk for a bit more, speaking about the food they'd like to have on their little sojourn tomorrow.

They'll need to wake up early so that Shangjue can try this intricate braid work that he learnt from some merchants from the far West. When Yuanzhi's breathing begins to even out, Shangjue takes a moment just as sleep is beginning to take him, and thinks adoringly.

Yes, from the moment I met you, I have loved you with purpose.

[fitzrove]

Started watching a "problem with greek myth retellings" video and it began with a blurb montage like "Condemned by the misogynist guys of history, this is the true girlboss feminist story of [A WOMAN]" and like. brb writing one of those about crown prince rudolf. It's ok he's like a misunderstood girlboss to me<3

[stinkrascal]

pick 8 pictures from pinterest for standstill!! (a moodboard)

heyyy so im actually really awful at moodboards but i do save pictures of things that inspire standstill so heres some of those! sorry they arent like aesthetically cohesive. standstill talks about a lot of different themes all neatly tied together w the thin thread of a romance plot so sometimes it's hard to describe those in a way that feels coherent, even in picture form. hopefully u get the idea though 👍

[kuromi-hoemie]

hhhh talking about my writing was fun but 30 tags is not enough.. yes i have 3 major influences but i have minor ones too.. it is a lovechild of my favorite things.. writing is so fun and i have no self control or a concept of pacing myself i will sit there for 16 hours and get hit with every status effect but by god does it all just flow out of me. I've always been a music person yes but i also used to write a lot into early adulthood until The Incident™

but i am ready 2 jump back into it. i think comics are a great middle ground between the two mediums so i don't get As into writing bc i kind of started going crazy last time 🫡 i can take a more structured approach to it that forces me to pace myself and think about it differently. i love art.... i love making things i love knowing how to do things i love knowing how to play things i love having so many creative outlets, even if i don't do a lot of them regularly lol. it is enriching 😳 and nice to know that it's always there to come back to when u want.

[buttertheflame]

They say that fanfiction is all stanning. But has anyone stanned the source material to the point of getting distracted from writing fanfiction?

You know what I mean, bookworms? Just to give you a window into my oscillating thoughts: If my guy Jon Snow has returned to the Wall post-ADWD with his betrothed Daenerys Targaryen, yeah I'm gonna stan what came before and make shit up like crazy. The struggle is real! I love the romance of these ‘soulmates’ but I also love everything that makes asoiaf what it is. (Within reason.)

If I stan too much, I write slow-going passages like this:

Jon’s heart felt full as he left her side, his mind brimming with thoughts of their eventful morning so far.  My love, where do we go from here? He knew where he was going, at the least. He would find Samwell in the Flint Barracks. In the three days they’d been at Castle Black, both men had yet to break from meetings to tend to personal interactions. With the increasing days among the Watch, it became more strange to think of himself and Sam as former members of the order. He’d expected the feeling even before they’d left Winterfell, yet as he walked across the courtyard and felt the gazes of a few dozen black brothers upon his back, it shook him all the same. 

Yet another feeling warred within Jon Snow. On the right step he’d sense the men. On the left step he’d sense Daenerys. Her attention and love thrilled him, as like it had only one other time. On Dragonstone. Their home.

But if I hold back on the stanning, I write meatier passages like this:

It was hard to say if anyone took offense enough to the executioner’s blade hanging above them, for as often as the Northern lords, free folk and warriors large and small came up to the dais to present themselves, did the displays of fealty reassure her of Jon's leadership. Strikingly, the free folk never kneeled, but they did offer gifts, the most sobering of which were a pair of bearskin boots given to Queen Daenerys by a group of spearwives.  

She took them graciously and wondered if the wise men would believe the gesture had given King Jon’s uncertain frown a rosy flush. That he was charmed enough to tell her a tale of the hunter who’d fashioned them was welcomed with her whole heart. As she listened to him describe the father of two who fell to the Others at the event many had come to call the Passing Through the Ice, she wondered if the scribes of history would tell of this pair, the last he ever made. And as Jon sort of sat and looked at her for a long time, she wondered if they would believe she was hopelessly lost for him, as well.

So it's coming! If anyone has read "A Long Way Home" and is waiting for the next fic in the series, I'd like to get Chapter 1 up before House of the Dragon comes out in June. (Because of the competition, you see, from their very same Team Black forebearers.) That's the goal, anyway!

[pokimoko]

On Waxen Wings We Soar, In Spite of Inevitable Ends - A Baldur's Gate Fic

Written by pokimoko

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: ~15.5K

Fandom: Baldur's Gate (Video Games)

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Astarion & Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Astarion/Karlach (Baldur's Gate), (it's fairly ambigious; is it romantic? queerplatonic? platonic? yes), (the love and devotion is there regardless)

Characters: Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Astarion (Baldur's Gate)

Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Game: Baldur's Gate 3, Spoilers for Act 3 (Baldur's Gate 3), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, (in which a certain scene on a certain dock doesn't happen right at that very moment), POV Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Astarion as Player Character (Baldur's Gate), Vampire Spawn Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Astarion & Karlach Friendship (Baldur's Gate), Ambiguous Relationships, Queerplatonic Relationships, Non-Sexual Intimacy, No Smut, Location: Faerûn (Dungeons & Dragons), Dungeons & Dragons Game Mechanics, Road Trips, (minus the car), Canon-Typical Bag Packing Physics, (how are they fitting all that food and a whole tent into one bag? don't ask me), Polymorph Spell (Dungeons & Dragons), Animal Transformation, Corvid Token (Baldur's Gate), Birds, oh? my wisdom check engine light is on? well i'm sure it's nothing to worry about, (and yes i know that joke doesn't actually work in terms of d&d mechanics. shhh), Quest: Our Fiery Friend | Karlach's Companion Quest (Baldur's Gate), Karlach Needs a Hug (Baldur's Gate), Astarion Needs a Hug (Baldur's Gate), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Humor, Karlach-centric (Baldur's Gate), Astarion-centric (Baldur's Gate), Protective Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Protective Astarion (Baldur's Gate), Karlach Has Chronic Pain (Baldur's Gate), Dying Karlach (Baldur's Gate), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Character Study

Summary: With her engine breaking down, and little time left to live before she burns up completely, Karlach takes one last journey across Faerûn. And thanks to a little bit of magic, it's a journey she won't have to take alone.