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sunstone-smiles · 5 months ago

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A Serious Case of the Pent-up Giggles

Original request (from @gladdygirl18): "As a fellow Vox Machina fan, how about day 15 "are you ticklish" with Lee Percy and ler(s) the Elven Twins?"

Author’s note: Aaaaah!!! I’m soooo excited to share this because I’m super happy with how it came out! Gosh, I love Percy. Here’s Day 15 of Tickletober: “Are you ticklish?” from August’s Tickletober List! I hope you enjoy!

Series: The Legend of Vox Machina

Characters: Percy, Vax, Vex, and the rest of the Vox Machina crew

Word count: 1,712

Summary: Vex and Vax think that Percy needs to be “cured” of his case of the pent-up giggles. The twins know just how to help.

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There’s nothing like a warm fireplace, a comfortable chair, a sketchbook, and some company to fill the air with ambiance—at least to Percy, that is. And currently, he has all four. His quill delicately lines his pages with a draft of one of his newest project ideas, with intricate details of mechanical functionalities and notes on aesthetics if there’s time or resources. Yes, Percy’s productivity is at its peak. Honed in. Focused. Eyes and mind tethered to his work as he pictures the pieces to sketch. Nothing can distract him now.

Except for a sudden jab to his side. That’s distracting.

Percy restrains a yelp and jumps in reaction. He nearly drops his sketchbook from his hands. Pulled back to his surroundings, Percy glares through his glasses to the left of the couch seats.

“Vax! What was that for?” Percy snaps at his ally.

“Whoa! Easy there, de Rolo,” Vax puts his hands up in defense. “I tried calling your name, but you weren’t answering. We were just reminiscing about the time Vex was using whole cooked chickens as target practice. I thought you wanted to chime in.”

Percy adjusts his glasses. “I know what you were talking about. I was already satisfied by just listening.”

“That was quite a jump there, Percy,” Vex chimes in from his right. She leans forward on the sofa that her, Percy, and Vax are sitting on so that Percy and her brother are both in her view. “I know Vax surprised you, but you nearly leapt off the couch.”

Percy reopens his sketchbook. His head is dipped down and looking away from Vex. “I was taken off guard, is all.”

“Oh, I totally get that,” Keyleth says from her spot on the floor by the fireplace. She’s been braiding Trinket’s fur with flowers as the bear sleeps beside her. “One time, Scanlan snuck up on me while I was tending to the flowers outside. I nearly fell into a pile of mud.”

“I wasn’t sneaking up on you on purpose!” Scanlan pipes up from an armchair. His legs are propped up on the side while he restrings his lute. “Those bushes are my height. I didn’t know you were there!”

Vex returns the group to the topic at hand, still keeping her eyes on Percy. “See, I would believe you Percy…” She pauses for a moment. A smirk crawls onto her face. “If I didn’t know you were faking it.”

“Excuse me?” Percy scoffs.

“Well, maybe not faking it, per say. You were taken off guard,” Vex shrugs. “But there’s a second reason why you jumped that high. Actually, I have my suspicions.”

Vex makes eye contact with her brother. She glances in Percy’s direction before looking back at Vax with a smile to inform him of her thoughts. Vax raises a brow, but after looking at his sister’s smirk and briefly observing where he poked Percy, an understanding grin forms on his own features.

“Oh, I know!” Grog raises his hand in excitement from his chair, “Maybe Vax’s jab was so strong that he nearly pushed Percy off the couch!”

“Or maybe it accidently hurt?” Pike guesses from her seat by the coffee table. She stands and approaches Percy. “Because if so, I can try to heal you–”

“No,” Percy says faster than intended, like he is on edge. He reassures Pike. “I’m fine. Thank you, Pike, but that won’t be necessary.”

“Oh no, Pike. Magic won’t help. What Percy has is a far more serious case,” Vex exaggerates her words.

Vax puts his arm on Percy’s soldier. “It’s a case that explains why he scowls all the time.”

“Why he doesn’t laugh as often,” Vex adds.

“An ailment that eats away at his chest!” Vax says.

“Trapped inside, just bursting to come out!”

“Alright! Out with it already!” Percy growls.

Vex leans back in her seat. Calm. Casual. “What you have is one serious case of the pent-up giggles.”

“What?” Percy scowls at them. He leans forward to place his sketchbook and quill on the table in front of their seats.

“Oh no! Percy, you’re sick?” Grog questions.

“I am not sick,” he answers Grog. “Sick of these two maybe,” he mutters while glaring at the twins. “But not physically ill.”

“But there is still a very important question we need to ask you, Percy,” Vax mentions. “And that question is this…”

The dagger wielding twin stares Percy straight in the eye. A mischievous grin curls up on the corner of his mouth.

“Are you ticklish?”

Percy glares back at Vax. His senses are sharp. His expression remains unfazed. “No,” Percy makes his words crystal clear.

“Ah, denial,” Vex shakes her head.

“One of the main symptoms,” Vax sighs as if hearing bad news, though his smile is still wide.

“Don’t worry, Percy,” Vex says. “Vax and I know just how to cure you. You’re in good hands,” Vex grins. She immediately follows up her words with a poke to Percy’s side.

The man jumps and wraps his arms across his torso, now glaring at the female twin. “Vex–”

Percy jolts again, now whipping his head to the other side to glare at the male twin who poked his other side again. “Vax!”

Vex smiles at her twin. “Shall we brother?”

“We shall, sister.”

The two half-elves turn their smiles in Percy’s direction. Immediately, they pounce at him, tackling him into the back cushions of the sofa.

“Wait!” Percy exclaims as the twins put their mischief into action. He squeezes his arms to his sides and tries to wiggle from side to side to avoid the onslaught of pokes. “This is ludicrous!” he manages to yell out, right before Vex catches a well aimed scribble to his side.

Percy jumps away from her and releases a giggle-filled yelp. He immediately slaps both of his hands to his mouth before moving one hand to push at Vex’s shoulder, while his other hand continues to contain the bubbling sound of joy that lies beneath.

Big mistake though. He forgot there were two twins.

Vax sneaks his hands from behind and scribbles into Percy’s unguarded ribs. The human instantly clamps his arms down with a shriek and jolts forward, but he’s easily pulled back by Vax as the rogue gleefully digs his fingers between the stubborn noble’s ribs. Vex also launches her hands at Percy’s sides now that his defenses are lowered.

A snort comes from Percy’s restrained snickers, which is soon followed by an outpour of wheezy giggles that continuously spill from Percy. He nearly knocks over Vax through his squirming, but the male twin holds him up and keeps in prime position for their playful method of "healing."

“Vehehehex! Vahahahax!” Percy shouts at them through his laughter.

“Nice going, brother,” Vex smiles to her twin. “See, Percy? Look at how many giggles you had stored up! You must be so relieved to finally let them all out.”

“Yohohou both are sohoho de-EHehehead!” Percy squeaks in the middle of his sentence from Vex finding another ticklish spot above his hip. He drags the heels of his boots into the seat cushions.

“Can’t throw your famous insults at us when you’re like this, huh?” Vax teases from behind.

“Yes, indeed,” Vex agrees. “I kind of like Percy this way though. He’s a lot less sassy, that’s for sure.”

“Whahahahat? Sahahahassy?!” Percy says, trying to defend the title of his good name even through his giggling state. “I am nohohohot sassy!”

“Ah, a shame. That was a sassy response right there,” Vex fakes a sigh. “It looks like the sassiness is still present through the tickling after all.”

“Maybe we have to tickle him more to remove the sassiness out of him,” Vax says, grinning.

“No-HOho!” Percy's voice goes higher in pitch from the sheer speed he said the word. “Nohoho more! Let me gohoho, yohohou menaces!” Percy nearly rolls off the couch, teetering on the edge of the cushions.

“If you say so,” Vax grins and releases his hold on Percy. Percy immediately crashes to the floor, as the only thing keeping him steady was Vax’s grip.

Percy peels himself from the floor by pushing himself up on his arms. He glares at Vax from below.

The rogue shrugs. “What? You asked me to let you go,” Vax ends his claim with a smile.

Percy shakes his head with a growl. He retrieves his sketchbook and quill from the table as he gets back to his feet. He looks at his spot on the sofa between the still grinning twins.

He narrows his eyes at them both. “If I sit between you again, will there be any more funny business?”

Vex tosses up her hands. “None from me, darling. I’ve had my fun for today.”

“I’ve still got a little more fun left in me,” Vax says before reassuring him, “But I will save that fun for another time.”

Percy rolls his eyes. He returns to his spot on the cushions and immediately opens his sketchbook to bury his face between the pages. No doubt everyone’s conversation will be skewed towards the sight just now. He’s bracing himself for the following humiliation that his ears are going to hear next.

“So…” Vex speaks first.

Gods, here it comes.

“Where were we in the story, Keyleth?” Vex finishes her thought.

Percy’s features suddenly ease to that of pleasant surprise.

“Oh, right!” Keyleth recalls. “So then I held the chicken really high above my head…” Keyleth resumes her story about the time of Vex’s target practice. The rest of the group begins chiming in again, as if the story was never derailed in the first place.

Percy lifts his head and glances at Vex. Vex glances back and gives him a wink before turning back to the group. Percy looks to the pages of his sketchbook with a thankful smile.

She has his back. They all do, really. They’re the ones that placed him in an embarrassing set of circumstances in the first place, but perhaps it’s not all that bad when the people around him don’t see his embarrassment as a way to judge his character, but see it as a way to love him even more. He really is lucky to have a family like them.

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tsunael · 27 days ago

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I've just gotten back into gposing lately and always *love* how artistically you pose and capture your screenshots. I'm curious if you use a particular GShade/ReShade preset that is publicly available that you'd be willing to share? If it is one that you made/edited yourself, then wow! No pressure, of course - please don't feel like you need to share!

weaghhhh thank you nhaama 😭

I never make my own presets and I'll always be happy to share any resources that I can. Only [redacted]s gatekeep. I might have played around with values contained in said presets over time but at this point I've fucked with them so much it would be impossible to share that.

I'm just going to copy and paste from an ask I got a few months ago because nothing has changed haha:

Nearly all of my presets are from Elva. She's got one for every mood and I cannot recommend her enough because she's a cool person too. She also has readable previews and tests on other skin tones other than white paper lmao.

My personal favorites are her Twin(k) Peaks, Empathy, and Paradise sets. Still obsessed with the twink peaks one I use it every time.

I used to use some sims 4 presets by @/pictureamoebae here. Especially their money and milk preset. They make my pc chug a bit but they're unique in the way most FFXIV presets aren't.

Lastly, kyren and nyeps for their cinematic presets which I feel like are a staple-- but I'm including anyway in case people don't know them.

I should also say that I use martymods IMMERSE, RTGI and relight. I've used it for so long that I forgot to mention in my last ask. It doesn't come with reshade iirc but elva's presets have options for them.

I'm not the best with reshade issues but let me know if you need help!

#asks ; playing postmoogle #wind-up-nhaama #xoxo qna

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merlinfromberlin · 7 months ago

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Currently working (among other things) on a story that is most likely going to be called "Nooks & Crevices" and is about Bumblebee as well as several other people playing Hide & Seek with him. It will have 6 chapters and fluctuate between fluff and angst.

This is not directly related to this but I'm always so pleased when my word count for a certain scene/chapter is a 'nice' number.

Like. I just now finished the first draft for exposition for the first chapter of this and it is exactly 650 words long. And that is just so very, very neat in my opinion. Makes my brain happy.

I'm aware that it will change because I will edit this at least once (probably more than once because I feel that it is a bit convoluted right now). But for now it is just very neat and makes me happy. :D

And now have a sneak peak under the cut for being so nice as to read this. ^^ And because it will probably be a while before I get to officially upload this. Even if I finish it soon.

Optimus still remembered the cycle he had first taught Bumblebee how to play Hide and Seek well. It had been in the first of those pockets of deceptive non-peace, which had become frequent in the middle stages of the War, after the Autobots had taken in the yellow minibot sparkling.

Early on in the War, when it had still been called a Civil War by the media, after only a few hexacycles of fighting, both Autobots and Decepticons had been forced to concede that the War would not end anytime soon. Rather, it had turned into their new, permanent reality. However, neither of the factions possessed the resources to keep up combat indefinitely. They needed time for their troops to recuperate and their energon reserves to be filled.

Thus, these undiscussed ceasefires had been established. They often lasted only a few decicycles and apart from some minor skirmishes, there would be no major combat. Instead, a cautious and deceptive quiet would settle across deserted battlefields across Cybertron as both factions waited for scouting, inventions or espionage to yield advantageous results before advancing on the enemy once again.

When Optimus and Ratchet had first taken Bumblebee into their care, there had been no more public media outlets left to discuss the difference between War and Civil War; there had not been any in a long time. Temporary ceasefires, however, had long since become a regularity of life.

Still, it had taken several hexacycles before uneasy, combat-free non-peace enveloped Cybertron for the first time after Bumblebee’s rescue out of a collapsed shelter. When the ceasefire finally came, however, it turned out to be one of the longest the factions had seen yet. As quiet cycles stretched into calm decicycles even Optimus had been able to catch up with the never-ending flood of reports and paperwork, allowing the Prime to spend time with his bonded–be they amicae, conjunx or sparkling.

No one could remember the last time they had seen Ratchet this content. When one of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker’s pranks went awry, resulting in a giddy yellow sparkling covered in paint splotches, he did not even threaten the twins with a wrench to the head. Instead, the medic took a photograph to comm to his conjunx before sending the younglings to clean up Bumblebee.

Nevertheless, no matter how good a mimicry of peace this ceasefire may have presented, none of the Autobots could forget that they were living on borrowed time. The fighting would, most likely sooner rather than later, inevitably start up once again, shattering their idyllic fantasy of domesticity. Nevertheless, no matter how much they enjoyed these calm decicycles, none of them could truly forgot the constantly looming threat of warfare–none of them except for Bumblebee.

The newest and youngest member of the Autobot faction had unabashedly relished the apparent peace, delighted by the unusual amount of attention the older bots were paying him. The sparkling seemed completely undaunted, unaware even of the fact that the War had indeed not ended, just slowed down momentarily.

Even if it warmed their sparks, Optimus and Ratchet dreaded the cycle the fighting would begin anew and what the sudden change would do to Bumblebee’s psyche. Still, neither Prime nor medic were willing to rob the sparkling of his illusionary happiness prematurely.

However, even without having to shatter his peace, allowing him to keep his innocence intact for just a bit longer, there were ways to prepare Bumblebee for the realities of the War he had been forged in. They had to. As soon as the Decepticons learned of the new sparkling raised by the Autobot High Command, bonded to Optimus Prime and Ratchet of all bots, he would be a prime target. Just as Hot Rod had been and still was.

Playfully teaching Bumblebee how to behave in emergencies, how to hide and stay safe, Optimus had decided, would just be the first of many covert survival lessons.

#writing #transformers #bumblebee #optimus prime #implied optiratch - although it is minor in this #snippet #nooks & crevices #I am really excited about this idea and have no one to talk to about it so I guess now that's you. ^^#actually I have been thinking about this for weeks now #since before I finished MYFA #and yes I wrote this exposition instead of the third chapter of CAB #But well the brain wants what the brain wants #and I am going to work on CAB now #because I am actually really excited to write the third chapter of that #as soon as I have showered #I just wanted to finish the exposition of this first #Nooks & Crevices

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neverscreens · 1 year ago

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— TWIN PEAKS, season one.

Pilot, Part One and Two.

Traces to Nowhere, 440 Screencaps.

Zen, or the Skill to Catch a Killer, 403 Screencaps.

Rest in Pain, 384 Screencaps.

The One-Armed Man, 429 Screencaps.

Cooper's Dreams, 426 Screencaps.

Realization Time, 399 Screencaps.

The Last Evening, 464 Screencaps.

Downloadable in RAR files, 4,6GB

3.798 Screencaps in 1080p BluRay.

You can find this resource in gallery and also rar file. Like or reblog if it was useful, every interaction shows us that we should keep making screencaps for y'all ♡

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wind-rider · 4 months ago

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Factions of Havel:

THE RESISTANCE

-- -- --

Modern symbol of the Resistance; inspired by imagery of Cana, a rather controversial choice.

[ID: a sketchy silhouette image of the head and neck of a snarling wolf. The shape is made up of monochrome swirls, some stretching down from its eye. The shape of a broken crown overlaid upon a sun floats between its open jaws. End ID.]

— — —

Been a hot minute since I made a massive loredump post so I figured it was Time, and also I kind of went insane in @v0idspeak's dms after watching far too many character analysis videos. Ahem. Anyway-

Before I start, if any part of this makes you ask "hey wind, wtf are you talking about? Corynen? Cyrin? Protusol? What are you on and can I have some?", I direct you towards this tag, in particular the following posts: - General Overview - Protusol (+ Corynen briefly) - Cyrinism

All set? Okay, cool. Without further ado, on to the convoluted lore! My favourite!

PRE-MODERN ERA

The roots of the anti-Corynen resistance reach back further than their current leader's birth, and even before the Corynen's founding itself. Originally it was a movement against the current Havel government's participation in the Panta-Kirata war, which settled a little once Tornis came onto the scene and began making concerted efforts towards peace. His presidential campaign was heavily supported by the then-Resistance, and he came into power on an overwhelming popular vote. When he did indeed fulfill his campaign promise of peace and healing, the Resistance largely simmered down into nothing, save for a few surges here and there in the peak of scandals and rumours surrounding Protusol and its projects.

This brings us to roughly a decade before the modern day. Myrus and Santos, the famous treaty-born twins and Tornis' symbols of progress and peace, were beginning to grow disillusioned with their father's plans. This was before the ethics overhaul within Protusol, and Cyrin research subjects were still experiencing some pretty... questionable treatment. In Tornis' eyes, it was all in the name of science and common good, but his now late-teenage children saw it differently. They released a public statement about the conditions within the labs, before leaving together and going into hiding in the aftermath.

Their statement resulted in an absolute PR NIGHTMARE, as you'd expect. Unfortunately for Tornis, his future PR guy was still his barely-out-of-preteens son, who, yes, had been groomed as his successor for several years now, but wasn't quite in a position to deal with this mess quite yet. Instead, Tornis swept it under the rug within days through several deals with other young factions such as FEI, which spurred many of their current deals and partnerships. The press conferences and promises to overhaul Protusol's ethics protocols was enough to largely placate the public, but the twins were left cut off from their family and former resources and stirring with anger at their father's hasty cover-up of everything surrounding their disappearance.

Their initial partnership was a joint one; they both came upon the sputtering embers of the post-war Resistance, and set about stirring them aflame once again. However, this partnership was not meant to last. It didn't take long for a rift to appear between the duo, as they quickly found themselves with very different ideas of what shape a rebellion against the Corynen should take. They fought, first with words, then physically. Myrus easily overpowered her brother, but refused to kill him; she did not share his worldview of violence and death being the only catalyst for change, and left him to run or rot, whichever happened first.

Santos did neither. He didn't need his sister to get what he wanted. Instead, he quickly rose to become the leader of the Resistance, and a prominent figure in Havel's (and particularly the capital Misan's) criminal underbelly. Myrus, meanwhile, faded into the shadows, focusing on her own smaller-scale operations and trying to do what she saw as true good rather than Santos' view of 'the ends justify the means'.

She gained a following of her own, largely due to being a genuinely kind person at her core, despite (or perhaps because of) her willingness to fight for those under her care and general take-no-shit attitude. She truly wants the best for those around her- and in a way, so does her brother, but Santos is far more willing to inflict suffering to those he sees as less important to the cause in order to benefit the rest. He caters in particular to those who wish to feel significant, who want to make large, violent, immediate change. Myrus wants to stop her peoples' suffering- Santos wants to free them from those who have caused it, at any cost. The difference is subtle, but the ripples are massive.

Santos' initial methods essentially involve stirring up shit; great big displays of pushback and power. However, he learns quickly that being obvious about it gets you kicked back down VERY hard, and he becomes more subtle, executing plans more carefully, and from more of a distance. It's effective- but it's not what those within his organization want, creating a very politically unstable situation where Santos is forced to be constantly putting out fires while maintaining his illusion of poise and control, ironically making it much more difficult to get anything else done.

-- -- --

PRESENT DAY

However, overall, the Resistance works. They raise awareness, place Cyrin children in foster homes, and make massive strides against Cyrin trafficking and illegal metastabilizer* and biorase-derivative drug manufacturing. Well. Ahem. Rather, they take control of the manufacturing themselves for a massive profit and greater control of the island and underground, but shh, we don't talk about that one. They're doing good! They're helping! And if it means a little questionable things here and there, well, that's just the price of attaining their final benevolent goals! Right?

*metastabilizers: specialized drugs intended for stabilizing Cyrin metamorphosis, developed by the Corynen and vital in their treatment of such. Often illegally used in conjunction with equally illegal biorase-derived drugs to lessen their lethality and deteriorative effects on the human body.

Naturally, when the Summit comes into play, Santos immediately sees it as the opportunity it is- a change for one massive play, a game of sabotage and large-scale destruction with the end goal of dissolution of the other factions and a power vacuum to insert himself and Myrus into. He's convinced himself that he can get Myrus to see reason and join him, once she sees the results of his methods. They both want the same things, after all. The ends will always justify the means.

The greatest threat to him is ultimately Kyano, but he underestimates him, seeing him as someone who could be tempted by a place of power at his side and generally controlled and reasoned with. Besides, if that fails, he could always get him out of the picture too!

Throughout his meetings with the other factions, he keeps his plans concealed, searching instead for information and indications of those who could be swayed to his side. He's thinking ahead- he can't run a country alone, and will need administration, allies. FEI suspects him of planning something, but the Resistance is such a political dumpster fire beneath the surface that they keep getting misleading information, and can never quite get the details for what he may be planning.

That doesn't stop them from deploying some... contingencies, of course. One can never be too careful.

Ultimately, Santos and the Resistance have good intentions; but they run into the issue that through making such an incredibly bold and violent move against the Corynen, with so many innocents caught in the crossfire, they've changed themselves (and ultimately, Cyrin) in the public's eyes from innocent victims fighting for freedom from oppression to monsters who are a threat to the public and must be wiped out for the greater good. Santos is so blinded by what he's seen, so furious (and largely rightfully so), that he fails to see that he's become his father.

The ends justify the means.

Isn't that what Tornis always said?

-- -- --

That's all I've got for now! Please please please send @v0idspeak or I any questions you have about this! If anyone asks, I'll be happy to elaborate on any events or references in this post, as well as talk about how the Resistance took on Cana as a symbol- something rather revolutionary, if you'll pardon the pun.

Want more? Check out the #storystuff tag for even more rambles and lore! Or send an ask! Do both!!

#storystuff #windrambles #welp that got long #but hopefully it's interesting!#a lot of stuff I want to go into more detail on later

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lacefuneral · 11 months ago

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happy TDOV! i haven't made a post in literal years because i always forget LMAO.

hi my name is Jay. i'm a transsexual (FTM) gay man. i'm a femme. my pronouns are they/them and ce/cer.

i'm currently 28 years old. i've been living as a man full time since 2015, when i was 19. it's been a long, weird journey. i went from presenting really masculine at first to meet societal expectation & to pass, to presenting more feminine, where i feel like myself. i went on (and off of) T, i had top surgery, and I feel like the last steps of my journey are full-body hair removal + getting my nipples tattooed into hearts, so I still have to check those off of the list. i have regretted nothing, and have become happier and more assured in who i am over time.

i'm AuDHD. I'm chronically ill. i'm physically disabled. i'm fat. i suffer from very severe OCD and CPTSD. and i refuse to be embarrassed about any of those things!

i write poetry, i draw, i collage, i take digital & traditional photos, i colorize other people's black and white photos, i sing, i voice act, i compose music, i edit videos. and no matter how hard life gets sometimes, i refuse to be a statistic. transsexual, you must live!

(mobile users. this is a video 👇)

(forgive the shoddy compilation lmao i'm recovering from a concussion rn; i just made this quick on my phone)

anyway. i have a lot of miscellaneous interests. right now i'm very hyperfixated on OFMD so you'll see that a lot. (as well as other things Rhys Darby is in; i've been a fan of his for 17 years.) but i also like Twin Peaks (and Dune 1984 lmao), Star Trek TOS/TNG, Red Dwarf, various video games (i'm playing disco elysium right now and really enjoying it!), and I also reblog a lot of shitposts and pretty art and imāges of créatures (🐇🦌🦋🐙🦞)

i run @transmascore (which has been on hiatus since forever and needs a major rework to fix linkrot etc.) which is an art, positivity, and resource blog for transmasculine people which is intended to be interacted with by any gender. i made transmascore after being frustrated by "positivity" and "-core" blogs for trans men that were filled primarily with cis art, cis words, and cis bodies. i also made it as a place where people who are not transmascs can learn about us and engage with our art. and as a place that is firmly distanced from transmisogynist/manosphere transmasc """"activism""". it is also intended to be a time capsule, data to be collated and archived for future transgender people to find.

i also run @guyfemme which is a similar project about documenting queer effeminacy and the femme identity, particularly in gay transmascs when possible.

when i'm feeling better i want to work on designing things, making more art in physical mediums, making zines, and researching how to open an online shop. these are all tasks i've been procrastinating from since like. 2019.

anyway i hope everyone has a good tdov. smiles

#tdov 2024 #trans day of visibility #jay irl

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masiepeters · 1 year ago

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⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆ about the blogger

hello ! i'm cate, i'm in my twenties, and i do a lot of sad girl blogging. i love my cats, writing (wattpad), coffee, and minding my own business. i'm bi. my pronouns are she/her

timezone: gmt (london)

tracking: #usercate

links: carrd

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆ likes & dislikes

music: taylor swift, the chicks, rina sawayama, florence + the machine, bastille, muse, boygenius, paramore, maisie peters, hozier, reneé rapp, gracie abrams, noah kahan, olivia rodrigo.

books: my dark vanessa, sweetbitter, rebecca.

tv & film: lost, twin peaks, friends, the bold type, 10 things i hate about you, how to lose a guy in 10 days, mamma mia.

interests: life is strange, coffee, writing, reading, my cats.

dislikes: my neighbors' rooster.

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elains · 2 years ago

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❧ Summary: The way Elain and Lucien discovered their mating bond was perhaps not ideal, and the road towards falling in love and accepting their feelings full of thorns — but throughout challenges and adversity, they have made it work. Now, eternity awaits them.

A series of connected ficlets for Elucien Week 2023, set post the end of the series when all villains are gone, following episodes of Elain and Lucien's sometimes quiet, sometimes agitated, life together.

✾ chapter 1 — mates

For @elucienweekofficial

Read on Ao3!

Their mating ceremony would happen on the Feast of the Risen Sun, the most sacred of the Day Court holidays when the power of its High Lord was at its peak. It would be a grand, public affair to be witnessed by friends, family, the court, and the people. All lords of Prythian and countless foreign authorities were invited to attend months beforehand.

Nesta and Feyre might have preferred simpler, quieter mating ceremonies for their family and close friends alone, if any at all. Elain was different: she had always dreamed of a Princess’ wedding, and Helion was all too willing to indulge her.

It wasn’t a purposeless waste of gold and resources, either: Lucien had been born outside of wedlock and raised beneath the coppery leaves of the Autumn Court, far away from the Day Court, its traditions, and culture. A mating ceremony as grand as this would help cement Lucien as the Prince of the Day Court and their future High Lord in the eyes of the nobility and the people.

Elain brought a hand to her mouth, lush pink lips lifting as she remembered how Lucien had tried — unsuccessfully — to talk her and his mother out of such a huge celebration.

“Are you sure you wish for such a grand ceremony, love?” Lucien asked, eyeing the array of fabrics displayed on the mahogany table. “You don’t need to do this for me, you know.”

Elain snorted, not bothering to look at him. “Were I doing this for you, you wouldn't be so recalcitrant about everything.” She inspected a piece of gold damask embroidered with vines and sun motifs and handed it to Phoebe. “I think this one would go well with the copper gossamer we picked earlier.”

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mother, please —”

“Do be quiet, dear,” his mother said cheerily, taking the fabric from Elain's hand and nodding approvingly. “It's better this way. Why don't you go ask your father about the statues and help him there, hm?”

“Statues?” He stared between them, mouth hanging open. “That wasn't in the original plan.”

“Neither was distributing gold bars to the citizens as small gifts, but you don't plan the mating ceremony of the millennium by skimping on the details.”

Lucien muttered something that sounded like I give up, extracting a peal of laughter from his mother and mate.

The two females him go with twin smiles of fondness etched on their faces.

“He doesn’t think he deserves any of this, does he?” Elain whispered, tightening her grasp on her dress. “The extravagance, the big mating ceremony — after all we've been through, he still thinks he's not good enough.”

“And he won't. Not for a while, at least. Such deep wounds take time to heal. But he's getting better every day. He has me, his father, and even Eris. He has you, too.”

“I wish there was more I could do. If only I could... I don't know. Help more.”

Phoebe smiled and got up, collecting Elain's hand within her own and giving them a tight squeeze.

“You already do enough, sweet girl. You are here, and you will help him through the worst, just as he will help you — my son isn't the only one with scars that need time to heal, is he now?”

Elain chuckled, a tear gathering at the corner of her eyes. “No,” she said, “he isn’t.”

She had come a long way in learning to be more assertive since the quest to defeat Koschei, the trials she had faced forcing her to come out of her shell and face her problems head-on. Lucien didn’t allow her to retreat and ignore the mounting problems either, dragging her out of her cocoon of security if demanded.

“And that is the beauty of the mating bond. You have someone who understands you to your core, and you, him. He will help you grow as you will help him. Hand in hand, side by side, to help you up when you stumble and give you a push forward when required. It's work, as all relationships are, but it's not a burden to be placed solely on you or him. You carry it together. And if either of you starts slipping, you stop, reassess, and ask for help.”

“Has Lucien ever told you about my mother?”

“Very superficially, I'm afraid,” Phoebe said, shaking her head.

“She was arrogant, petty, and cruel. She only loved me and my sisters in so far as we were an extension of herself she could parade and brag about to her friends. Her name meant love, but I don't think she had any love left in her to give to anyone but herself.” Elain swallowed a sob, a tear sliding down her cheek. More than a decade after her death, the ghost of Carys Archeron still cast a long shadow. “You are nothing like her, my lady. You never became cruel, no matter how thoroughly the world tried to break you. l… would be honored if you allowed me to call you mother, Lady Phoebe.”

“Oh, Elain.” Lady Phoebe stood and enveloped Elain in her arms. “You already are my daughter in my heart.”

They stayed like that for a while, until one of the handmaids arrived in a rush to announce that the tailor they had invited to create the ceremony's dress had arrived from Xian. She was an old friend of Nuan, famed for her ability to weave magic into cloth, and the favorite seamstress at the employ of the Golden Empress of Xian.

And here Elain was months after that day, wrapped in the dress of her dreams. Its design mixed the traditional human styles with day court ones, woven from white silk and pale pink and yellow gossamer. Gold filigree covered her shoulders; a chain of gold, diamonds, and topazes hung on her neck. The skin of her back lay partially exposed, gold chains encrusted in diamonds obscured her skin from view.

Her golden-brown hair had been curled and pulled up in buns and braids, decorated with gold rings and a massive headdress that she couldn’t wait to get rid of. Phoebe had explained the weight was on purpose, to remind the Ladies of the Day Court of their heavy burden.

After her handmaids were done with her dress, her makeup, and her accessories, Elain was allowed a moment to herself in the dressing room to collect her thoughts and relax — or as much as it was possible to relax in these circumstances.

She had sat in a similar room a lifetime ago, fitting dresses and fabrics for her wedding to Graysen. She had been happy then, eager to leave behind her father’s house and make a home of her own, a place she could call hers and where the shadow of her sisters and her mother wasn't as thick. Her plans for the future had crumbled to the dust of hope when she and Nesta were kidnapped and turned into fae.

She had died that day in Hybern, all traces of her humanity scrubbed clean as she succumbed to the black waters of creation. Feyre and the others liked to say that the Cauldron loved her and had, therefore, showered her in gifts, but Elain hadn’t felt particularly blessed or gifted. The Cauldron had trampled on her wishes, given her things she did not ask or want, and taken everything else. It was powerful and as most powerful things with near absolute power, selfish.

In the aftermath, Elain had mourned her human life, resented the mate she became keenly aware existed, and the very being she always had feared and had been turned into. For months, complete oblivion seemed kinder than to continue to live and breathe.

And yet, if Feyre had never killed the wolf, if Elain hadn’t been dragged to Hybern, she wouldn’t be here now. Her sisters likely never would have met their mates; Nyx wouldn’t exist. Elain would never have met Vassa, Nuala and Ceridwen, Jurian, Nuan, or Lady Phoebe. There would be no vision of her and Lucien in the far future, old even by fae standards and surrounded by children and grandchildren, light and happy.

There would be no future Princess of the Day Court smiling back from the mirror, brimming with light and joy, with gold dust splattered across her nose and cheeks.

Elain Archeron had died, but Elain Archeron had also lived, happier than she had ever remembered being.

The door swung open and her sisters strode in. Feyre was clad in pale, shimmering blue, crowned in starlight, truly the Stars Eternal. Nesta wore the silver and blue uniforms the Valkyrie generals adopted for celebrations. They were Elain's sisters, but they were also the High Lady of the Night Court and the General of the Valkyries.

“Oh, look at you!” Feyre squealed, coming to stand at her side. She had left Nyx with Mor and the rest of the Inner Circle. “I had seen the drafts you sent to Velaris, but seeing it in person and how they complement your beauty and jewelry — you look like a queen, Elain.”

“Thank you,” she answered with a giggle. “Madam Haolan thinks it is one of her finest works.”

“Isn’t that headdress a bit heavy, though?” Nesta came to stand in front of her, placing her hands on her waist.

“Terribly,” Elain admitted, “I can hardly wait to get rid of it for the reception. Did I tell you I’m going to change dresses for it? The next gown will have sun lilies woven into it that —”

“That you bred and planted yourself and that will shine with sunlight. Yes, we know.” Nesta rolled her eyes, exasperated. “You showed it to us last time we were here, when they had yet to bloom. You wrote to us about them too. Multiple times.”

“Well, then.” Elain sniffled haughtily, lifting her nose into the air. “You will get to see them soon. They’re my masterpiece, if I may say so.”

Nesta seemed like she wanted to say something, but Feyre cut in, placing a hand on Elain’s shoulder.

“Far be it from us to go against the bride on her mating ceremony —”

“Good, else I might have you both thrown out of here until it's time to leave.”

Feyre ignored her. “— but we need to ask: is this truly what you want?”

Elain blinked once, then twice, shoulders going slack. She looked at Feyre, wide-eyed and gaping, then at Nesta, who nodded somberly in agreement.

“You are both aware that this is merely the formal ceremony, aren’t you? She said slowly, pointing to the fully decorated city outside. “That I’m already mated to Lucien in all ways that matter, right?”

“We know,” Nesta said, “but regardless. If this ceremony is too much, if it’s too big for you —”

“This is the ceremony I wanted,” Elain snapped, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “It was I who insisted on a grand event. The dress, the food, the flowers, everything — I spent hours, days, months even, painstakingly working on all of it. So why in the world would I not be fine with it?”

“It’s just —” Feyre hesitated, bit her lip, and continued, “You have always tried to please everyone. Even when you disliked it, you kept quiet. We want to ensure you are fine with what is happening, Elain. That is all.”

“Your concern is touching,” she replied without meaning, grinding her teeth. “But it's also unwarranted and patronizing. Must we have this conversation again today of all days?”

“We don’t mean it this way.” Nesta insisted, taking Elain’s hand. “We just want you to know that we are here for you and will support you in whatever you want to do, even if it is leaving Lucien at the altar to run off with Azriel.”

Elain gagged, horrified. “You did not just say this.”

“You did have a crush on him.” Her older sister smirked, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes.

“Everyone makes mistakes and foolish decisions they regret.” Elain squared her shoulders, crossing her arms. “I don't need you to remind me of mine”

Nesta barked out a laugh, Feyre soon joining in. Elain glanced between her sisters, taken aback by their mirth and giddiness, and soon found her mouth twisting into a smile, her shoulders shaking and shaking until she, too, was roaring with laughter.

When they had quieted, Feyre left Elain’s side to stand beside Nesta, each offering her a hand. In her dreams, it was her father who walked her down the aisle, but her father was no longer here, nor was her mother, and it hadn’t felt right to ask Rhysand or Cassian to step into his place.

But she could ask her sister, her family. Her father lived on through all three of them, after all.

With a brilliant grin, Elain took their hands and rose.

༻ ❁ ༺

Elain had never seen so many people gathered together.

A crowd of thousands lined the cobblestone streets of the City of Haemera, females and males and children waving olive tree branches and tiger lilies. They cheered her name with huge smiles, clapping excitedly as her chariot passed by, pulled by two pegasus. An honor guard that consisted of Day and Night Court soldiers and her brothers-in-law followed behind.

A basket lay on the crook of her elbow, and she distributed flowers and branches and gold to the populace. Her heart hammered in her chest as the Temple drew closer, her hands shaking with nervous excitement.

She reached for the cord on her rib tying her to her mate, clutching it tightly, almost not believing she was here, after all this time. From the other side of the bond, Lucien responded, as nervous as she was, but full of love and warmth.

The chariot stopped by the great steps of the Temple. Feyre and Nesta were already at the foot of the stairs, waiting.

Rhysand helped her down, placing a kiss on her cheek and wishing her good luck. Cassian, for his part, clapped her on the back and muttered that Lucien was a lucky male to wed her.

“He is,” she agreed, “and I am a lucky female to have him.”

Her sisters lifted her veil from the ground, a translucent fabric shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow under the bright solstice sun. Taking a deep breath, she took a step up the stairs, the cheers drowning out her thundering heartbeat.

Elain held onto the gold thread connecting her to Lucien more tightly, using it to ground herself. She hardly remembered to greet the guests that had come to see their ceremony, but she didn’t think they expected her to. It was clear to all that there was only one thing in her mind.

They reached the top of the stairs, the huge columns of the Temple hanging high above, holding up a façade sculpted with the great, legendary myths of the Day Court.

Beneath it, there was a young Priestess in her gown, ready to officiate the ceremony. There was Vassa, her maid of honor, triumphant in her iron crown and her gown of flames. There was Morrigan and little Nyx, who brightened up at the sight of his aunt and started to wave enthusiastically. There was Helion and Phoebe, arm in arm, all fire and sun and warmth and mist-eyed emotion as their son had the ceremony they never could.

And there was Lucien, staring at her as if it were the first time, the well-fitted white toga revealing his muscled chest, dusted with gold. His arm was decorated with gold bracelets and the sunburst crown he wore was haloed in sunfire, shining with power. His smile was so joyous and so radiant it could eclipse even the blazing sun.

He looked at her as if she was the only thing that mattered in the entire world, and Elain fell in love all over again.

Without taking her eyes away from him, like a woman in a dream, she took the first step towards her mate and their piece of forever.

#elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucienweek2023 #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing

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