#anyways. there he is. here's the snake lad

[lonelyzarquon]

Peter Capaldi as Angus Flint THE LAIR OF THE WHITE WORM (1988) dir. Ken Russell

[loviatarsluv]

FRIENDS?

— ꜝ synopsis: sylus invited you to accompany him to a charity event at the linkon museum, where he had a surprise prepared for you - that surprise being a wanderer crystal that he donated using the names “sylus and his friend”. a gesture that would normally have your heart soaring - if only he’d used a different word to describe what you were to him.

— ꜝ pairing: sylus x f!reader (reader is intended to be MC, so they are described femininely and use feminine pronouns)

— ꜝ genre: fluff/angst/comfort

— ꜝ word count: 1.4k

— ꜝ tags/warnings: mc/reader (you) rightfully panicking over being called sylus’ “friend” during sylus’ touring in love event ch. 4 story, teeny tiny bit of angst, lot of comfort, no warnings, just sylus being the most wholesome green flag king that he is ♡ also I used his famous line from razor’s grip bc I thought it was fitting here hehe

— ꜝ author's note: I wrote this months ago during the touring in love event but just never got around to posting it because I just wasn’t sure if it was worth posting (*ﾉｪﾉ) but after reading it again and editing it a little I figured why not!! I also have so many other lads fics that I’ve been sitting on for a while that I may get around to posting soon, so there’s that!! anyways I love sylus sm he has my whole entire heart ok bye ♡

The air trapped within the confines of Sylus’ car is thick and stuffy, the silence palpable and rife with unsaid tension. He didn’t seem to mind it at all, which only served to fuel your ire. 

You brought your legs up to your chest, your arms crossed over them as you watched the world whizz past the passenger window as he sped through the night. There’s an aching in your chest that you wish you could ignore. 

It's one silly word. Why am I freaking out about it?

As if he’d heard your thoughts, you hear a soft chuckle huffed beside you. 

“What are you pouting about?” 

You don’t turn to him, unwilling to look at him for fear that it’ll only worsen the ache. 

“I’m not pouting.” You murmur under your breath, your fingers fiddling with the laces of your boots. Lie. 

Without even looking you can feel Sylus’ shit-eating grin on you, but you refuse to give in and look at him. No matter how much you savored every single crooked smile of his. 

“Speak up, sweetie. I can never hear you very well when you’re pouting.” He teases, one hand reaching over to poke at your side. 

“I’m not pouting!” Your voice raises, irritation evident in your tone. You quickly school yourself and relax your body that had quickly coiled up like a snake ready to strike. “I’m just… it’s been a long day. I’m tired.” 

“Hmph,” He grunts beside you, words on the tip of his tongue that he doesn’t let go. The car goes silent once again as it races through the streets of Linkon, as your mind races through the overwhelming feelings that all spiraled after just one word.

⁺⊹♡◦₊⋄

Sylus tries to behave as normal as he walks you up to your apartment— opening your car door for you, helping you out of the car, wrapping an arm around your waist and lifting you over the curb— things that he does as naturally as he breathes. He would’ve done them whether or not he knew you were upset with him, but he was fairly certain you were pissed at him, he just wasn’t sure why, so the extra measures couldn’t hurt.

He was carrying your purse and jacket for you as he always did, both draped over one shoulder as he tries to keep up with you and your irregularly hurried pace.

He opens the door for you, having memorized the key code by heart, then hangs your things up on the coat rack once you get inside, his heart aching at the fact that you hadn’t even seemed to want to say goodbye to him.

He watches as you quickly disappear into your dark apartment, not even bothering to turn on a light along the way, and he feels a tightness in his chest that he only ever feels when you’re hurt or upset about something. 

He considers giving you space, but he knows you— so he slowly follows behind you, allowing the door to shut with a soft click as he flips the light switch by the door. 

You’d flopped onto the couch, burying your face in the cushions and assorted plushies that you and Sylus had won from the claw machines (mostly you, Sylus was terrible at claw games) - you hadn’t even bothered to take your shoes off at the door.

He smiles softly at you, finding your childish behavior endearing, despite the fact that he was well aware that he was very clearly the cause of your tantrum.

“Kitten,” he says softly as he kneels down beside the couch, one hand stroking the back of your hair and pushing it across your back so it wouldn’t get in your face. 

You twist your face slightly to peek at him, your heart melting instantly at the sight of his crimson eyes soft and round and pleading for your attention. Ugh. 

“There she is,” he smiles warmly, his voice so tender you think you might burst. “What has your tail in a twist, hm?” 

Your brows furrow, your mind replaying it in your head over and over. 

The Wanderer crystal was donated with the name "Sylus and His Friend."

Friend. 

“Nothing.” You reply, huffing and flipping onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. 

You knew it was silly, and he likely didn’t mean anything by it— but it had been bothering you all day and you just couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had bubbled up in your chest.

Was that all he saw you as? A friend? An ally? Surely you were more than that by now… besides, look at how he looks at you. 

“Your acting skills still need a bit of work, kitten. How about we watch some movies so you can take notes?” He smirks, leaning over you so that instead of the ceiling, you stare into his eyes, his breath warm across your rapidly reddening cheeks. 

“Ugh, shut up.” You groan, your hand reaching up to playfully push his face away, only for your wrist to get caught by a much larger hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he teases as he moves to sit beside you on the couch, adjusting so that your head is laid in his lap, his fingers gently caressing your face and your hair as he searches for a movie to watch. 

Your eyes flutter closed as his fingertips mindlessly trace the features of your face, as if he was memorizing them, mapping them out in case he ever lost his sight and wanted to recall your beauty by touch alone. 

He traces the bridge of your nose, the bow of your lips, the curve of your cheeks; his touch warm and comforting, almost allowing you to forget for a moment the war raging on in your mind. 

You open your eyes to watch him, his focus directed elsewhere, but a warm smile remains painted across his lips. The ache in your chest blooms a little more, and you could barely stand it. 

You huff, quickly sitting up as Sylus’ hand drops back down to his own lap, his face nearly twisting into a pout. 

Ugh! 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his tone gentle and worrisome, feeding the licking flames of the ache roaring angrily within your ribcage. 

You look at him, your chest rising and falling as your breathing picks up, your lungs fighting against the pain. “You can’t do that, Sylus.” 

Confusion washes over his features. 

“You can’t pet my hair and kiss my palm and call me baby and kitten one second, and then refer to me as your friend another!” You burst, regret filling you the second it left your lips. You close your eyes in shame, immediately realizing how silly it all was. 

One word. One stupid, little word. 

He looks as though he’s thinking for a moment, before finally, a knowing smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, a quiet chuckle following it soon after. 

“Oh, kitten… come here.” He reaches out, gently pulling you by your hands back into his lap, your legs draping across his thighs as he holds you against his chest. 

Long fingers thread through your hair, combing through it and scratching your scalp softly as you listen to his heartbeat— its pace had quickened from your outburst, and guilt began to creep in. 

“You are so much more to me than words could ever express. It was silly of me to even use one as lackluster as that one,” the rumbling in his chest as he speaks soothes you as it vibrates against your cheek, a perfect harmony with his now steady heartbeat. You relax into him, the tightly wound muscles in your body slowly relaxing. “You should know by now that I adore you. And there is no love purer than mine.” 

The flutters of a billion butterflies erupt in your chest and stomach. Your cheeks flare and you press your face against his chest to hide it, a smile threatening your lips as he chuckles at your bashfulness. 

“Stop hiding from me,” there’s a gut wrenching amount of mirth in his tone, you can barely stand it. You look up at him, your heart fighting to leap out of its confines and jump right into his open and waiting palm. “There’s that smile. I thought I’d lost it for a minute there.” 

“Yeah, well, you scared the shit out of me earlier,” you finally found your voice again, and that attitude that he adored so much. You playfully push against his chest. “Don’t ever pull something like that again, I mean it.” 

His smile is like the sun peeking out from behind heavy clouds on a stormy day— it’s rare to catch a glimpse of, so you bask in the blinding warmth of it, let it seep into your bones and settle into your soul, even amidst the dreariest of surrounds.  “Next time, I’ll be more apt with my word choice,” he pulls you against his chest again, resting his chin on the top of your head. “My love.”

⁺⊹♡◦₊⋄

other l&ds works ➛ bloop

[sai-int]

Uhhhh I'll have some tipsy Soap flirting with reader in a pub for four-hundred, please, except she's having none of his yakety-yacking away, knowing what snakes these military guys can be, and he's desperately trying to convince her otherwise.

(Tell me why she starts to believe that, by the end of the night, he's different from the rest?) 🧡 🫡

oh you can have that for FREE, keep your money.

johnny x fem!reader, readers sassy and johnny's drunk, what could go wrong?

It’s just another Friday night at the pub. You’re tucked into a corner booth, drink in hand, halfway through your night out alone and perfectly content to keep it that way - until a man with a lopsided grin and a... rather obnoxious Scottish accent stumbles his way to your booth.

"Oi, lassie!" He grins, his words slurring ever so slightly as he props himself against the back of the seat opposite you. "Mind if I join ye? Seems a shame ye’re sittin’ here all on yer lonesome."

You raise an eyebrow, unamused. “And why’s that your business?”

He chuckles, moving to sit in the seat and lean on the table with all the confidence of a guy who’s had one too many. “Because, bonnie… yer the most bonnie one 'ere.” He says it with a drunken, pleased grin, like he’s just discovered the cleverest line known to man.

“Right...” You look back at your drink, expecting him to take the hint. He doesn’t.

He grins, not expecting a cold reception. “No problem, love. Just thinkin’ ye shouldn’t be drinkin’ alone.” He moves to stand but wobbles and stumbles back into the worn seat. “See! Even the Universe want me tae stay, Bon.” he says with a playful chuckle, “Ye’re gonna make me beg, aren’t ye?”

You lean back, eyes narrowing. “I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am, but I’m about 200% sure begging isn’t on the agenda.”

He laughs, not at all put off by your lack of interest. He’s definitely had a few too many, but there’s something about his warm smile and blue eyes that almost makes you forget how over the top this all feels. “Ach, lass, no beggin’ here. Let m' introduce m’self. Name’s Johnny. And ye are?”

You stare at him for a second, trying to decide if he’s serious or if you’re about to be the victim of some smooth talker’s latest attempt. His eyes sparkle, like he knows exactly how much of a mess he’s making of things, but he’s enjoying it anyway.

“Not interested,” you say, but your voice softens just a touch.

“Aw, come on,” he says, with a laugh that’s a little too loud for the pub. “Ye won’t give me yer name? Don’t worry, bonnie, I’m no’ one o’ those daft lads ye’ve met before.”

“Oh really?” You cross your arms, amused in spite of yourself. “How do you figure that?”

He leans in, eyes gleaming with a tipsy sort of enthusiasm. “Because-" He taps his chest, struggling to find the words. “I’m a right soldier, I am. Not just some daft, smooth-talkin’ bloke. Special forces.” He gives a very sloppy, exaggerated wink. “I’m actually kinda a big deal.”

You can’t help the faint chuckle that escapes you. “Yeah, right. Special forces, huh? And what exactly do you specialize in—charm or making an ass of yourself?”

He raises an eyebrow at that, clearly amused. “Aye, both, lass. But ye’ll find my charm’s no’ the sort to wear off that quick.” He pats his chest, then waves a hand dismissively as if brushing off your skepticism.

You sigh, shaking your head. “Johnny, if you think a cute accent and a drunk pick-up line are going to win me over, you’re going to have to work a lot harder than that.”

Johnny shrugs, his cockiness fading just a little, replaced by something more genuine. “Aye, maybe I’m a bit tipsy,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “But even a bloke like me can tell when he’s met a right lass. I’m just here for a chat, and... ye called m'cute.”

You raise an eyebrow, not sure if you want to let him off the hook so easily. “You think I’m stupid or something?” The words slip out before you can stop them, but after a beat, you relent with a small sigh. “I called your accent cute. Not you.” You bite back a smile, watching him closely, wondering if he’s being honest or just playing the game.

Johnny looks at you, brow furrowing, his smile faltering for a moment. “No, I—” He stops himself, running a hand through his hair. His face flushes slightly, and you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or the shift in tone. “Look, I get why ye’d think that. But I promise ye, lass, I’m no’ that guy.”

“Well,” you say slowly, “I’m still not sure about you.” You give him a teasing smile, trying to keep the mood light. “But you’re certainly more interesting than most.”

Johnny grins, the joy of a drunken man creeping back in. “Aye, I knew it! Just one drink, just tae see if I can win ye over?”

You roll your eyes, half-laughing, half-skeptical. “You’re something, Johnny. But don’t think this means I’m buying you another drink... Lord knows you don't need it.”

“Aye, just wait,” he winks, clearly undeterred. “I’ll win ye over yet, bonnie.”

As he leans back in the seat opposite you, looking pleased with himself, you, against your better judgement, signal the bartender.

mlist

[beybaldes]

it’s the last thing you wanted (it’s the first thing I do)

summer sleepover masterlist

roy kent x gn!reader

summary : “we don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to. we can just sit here together until you feel up to anything else.” requested by anon.

an : I was waiting for a prompt tied to the locker room scene thank you anon 🙏🏼🙏🏼 I don’t copy the scene and just swap keeley for reader but it’s the same idea as that scene!!

it’s rotten work, not to me, you arse, not if it’s you

Roy goes down and doesn’t get back up, and you’re pretty sure it’s the scariest moment of your entire life. One of Keeley’s hands is death gripping your and Higgins is scarily still on the other side of you. No one knows what to say to you, and no one stops you as you stand from your seat in time with Roy, who finally stands on the pitch.

“I’ll be right back.”

It doesn’t need to be said that you probably won’t make it back to your seat, or that you’re 1000% going down to the changing rooms to find Roy, but Higgins and Keeley share a knowing look anyway when they let you leave.

The stairs throughout Nelson road have never felt so long and you’re sure this is the quickest you’ve ever gone down them. When you finally do make it to the backrooms of the dog track, all the corridors blur together and you feel like you’re here for the first time again. It feels like years before you reach the doors to the changing rooms and then time stands completely still; the walls stop moving, your hands stop shaking, and you can finally breathe again. Fuck, if you’re this bad, you wonder how Roy’s feeling on the other side of the door.

“Leave me alone.” Roy growled as you pushed open the door to the changing room. He’d pulled his jersey off and stuffed in the base of his locker. You wondered how much longer he’d have his name branded on the door, and unfortunately, you don’t think it’ll be very long at all. However, you can guarantee you’ll be wearing his name proudly across your back for the rest of your life. “Im serious, fuck off.” Roy’s lips tremble as you create less and less space between the two of you, his hands gripping the bench so tight that his knuckles were turning white. “Seriously, get the fuck away from me.”

Roy’s more bark then bite and you know that better then anyone. That’s why you know it’s okay for you to sit next to high, thigh pressed against Roy’s thigh, hand snaking up across his back, your fingers threading into his hair. He lets you guide his head to rest against your shoulder and he lets himself turn his head so his nose is pressed against your collar bone and now nothing else matters but you. For the first time since he hit the wet ground of the pitch, Roy feels like he can finally breathe.

“We don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to.” You whispered into Roy’s curls, keeping the soft and tender moment in the world you’d created by pulling Roy into your hold. “We can just sit here together until you feel up to anything else, yeah?”

For a long while, Roy doesn’t say anything, he just sits in your arms and takes deep breaths. Surely, the match is coming to a end when he finally does speak up, and even then it’s barely a whisper, something hidden amongst the muddy boots and unwashed training shirts. “You… I don’t expect you to stay with me after this.” The words have you frozen, your fingers stop scratching against Roy’s scalp and he pulls his head from your neck. “I know the other lads are… fitter, stronger, got careers ahead of them… all I’ve got is this stupid fucking knee, and all I’m saying is, I get if this means you don’t want me - don’t want to be with me - anymore.

“Roy.” You cooed, tears brimming your eyes as you gently grabbed his face between your hands, turning him to look at you. Roy could feel tears threatening to come to his own eyes when he saw the tears in yours, hurt and upset for him, but he swallowed them down, instead leaning into your touch and pressing a kiss against the inside of your wrist. “This doesn’t change anything for me. I love you for you, you fucking grump. Bad knee and all. You do know that right?” At Roy’s silence, you asked again. “Right?”

“Yeah, of course, it’s just…” Roy looks like even he doesn’t know how to phrase it, how to explain how he’d feeling in so few words that it’s digestible and doesn’t make you sad. You wish, especially in moments like this, he wouldn’t concern himself with everyone else’s feelings, just his own. “What if it’s hard? It’s no secret I’m getting older, but, what if I… what if I get cold? Cruel? All because I’m a sad sack of shit now that I can’t be ‘Roy Kent’ anymore.”

You thumb runs over the apple of Roy’s cheek and he preens into your touch like a cat to the sun. “It won’t be hard for me, not when it’s you, Roy. Never when it comes to you.” Roy meets your gaze and holds it, though only for a second as his eyes are quick to flicker down to your lips and notice how close you really have been to him this whole time. “I love you, even if it’s hard, and even if you’re not ‘Roy Kent’ anymore.”

Roy’s face scrunches in disproval at the teasing way you say his name, like it’s fake and some kind of joke that he’s not ‘Roy Kent’ anymore. Though he really feels that way, like a part of him has been robbed from him, you know he’s always going to be Roy fucking Kent, even if that doesn’t include anything football related.

The hands that have been holding Roy’s face, pull it closer to yours and allow you to connect your lips to his, something slow and soft and tender in a way unusual to what kissing Roy was most often like. He pulls away all to quickly for your liking, but the boys come bounding through the door a second later and you’re a little thankful he did. As Ted begins his post match speech, you stay curled into each-other, enjoying the closeness when it was clear you both needed it.

No one asked Roy about his knee, knowing that right now was way too soon, but if they had, he wouldn’t have minded. At least, not with you by his side to make it all better.

[yellowasasunflower]

Steel Beast

(Alternate LaDS x BG3 Oneshot—Caleb x MC)

Warlock Caleb is canon to the LaDS x BG3 series! Under Raven Wings is officially Caleb’s fic for the series.

In the meantime, here’s an abridged version of what would’ve been had you picked Steel Watch Caleb instead. Some of you were still interested in this concept, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to flesh it out just a little.

Pairing: Caleb x MC/Reader

Word count: 700

**This oneshot is unedited and short. Sorry if it’s a little rough with grammar/spelling or pacing

———

He took every job that came his way; no questions asked.

It didn’t matter how heinous, how cruel, how vile he had to be, he did it.

He was a ruthless beast whose only allegiance was to whichever criminal offered the most pay. At least, that was how it had seemed to anyone who wasn’t you.

It was different with you. It was for you.

He’d come home, drenched in the day’s dishonest work, and a smile would cross his face when he saw you sprawled out in front of the door, having waited up for him… as long as you could, anyways.

He would clean himself up, and carry you to bed.

The next morning, you’d wake up to a fresh, shiny apple on the bedside table.

You’d walk to the kitchen, snaking your arms around him from behind, nuzzling your face against his back.

His body rumbled with laughter as he reached back to pat your head.

”Breakfast is almost done,” he’d said.

You let go, and he’d missed your touch the moment it was gone.

You sat down at the small table, and noticed the water damage on the ceiling.

“It’s been a while since we talked about Waterdeep” you commented, poking at the food on your plate.

”Soon,” he promised. “I’ve got one more job that needs to get done before we can go.”

”Then do it fast, okay? It’s not a quick journey.”

“I promise. We’ll go as soon as I’m done.”

When he left, he was cloaked under dark clothes and the prospect of his promise. And it was the last time you’d seen him.

He’d taken on a job from one Enver Gortash. Not that you’d known that; Caleb was never forthcoming about his jobs with you. He didn’t want you to know. All you did know was mourning when he hadn’t come home that night… or any night after. And you swore to uncover whatever job had killed him, and to avenge him.

Despite your mourning, though, he wasn’t dead. He wished he was, for all that he endured.

Or… a part of him did. He remembered you groggily; faintly… his memories of you were… incomplete. He knew he loved you, he just didn’t know why…

Pieces of him were gone, replaced with steel and wire. He was instructed to be obedient—to serve Enver Gortash dutifully as a part of his Steel Watch.

And he did, pushing the memories of you away.

That is, until you found a lead. You confronted Gortash, and Caleb saw you from underneath his steel helmet.

As Gortash had you removed, some of Caleb’s memories began to return. Slowly, then all at once. His memories were in conflict with the programming, and he began disobeying orders. Gortash determined he should be… disposed of.

Caleb fought for his life, faking his death and disappearing into the shadows of the Lower City.

From those shadows, he watched you for three years—afraid that you would reject the ghastly steel beast he had become… but all too selfish to leave you entirely.

He kept you as far away from Gortash as he could, until one day he noticed the deep circles under your eyes. After all this time, you hadn’t given up…

So he created a lead to point you to Waterdeep, to take you where he’d promised. It was there that he would reveal himself and explain everything.

Then it was the day you’d planned to leave… and when the Nautiloid flew over Baldur’s Gate. And this time, he lost you.

He had a feeling Gortash was involved. Because that fucker had his grubby hands in everything.

In spying on Gortash, he learned about the Cult of Astra—which he joined to track you down, unaware of the consequences of that decision… that he would be lost again.

You broke down in tears when you saw him at the goblin camp. It wasn’t hard to sway him away from the cult’s grasp. At first, he’d thought you were an imposter—but he knew deep down that it was you.

And you embraced him; metal monster that he was, and he was safe for the first time in years—despite everything that was about to happen.

[muwitch]

OC Tag Game, Lucius V. Mercar

Thank you to @jukkaricity for tagging me 😌😌😌

no pressure tags will go to @rin-hanarin @proffbon and @woundedsoul12 and whoever wanted to do this, this is your sign!

General 

Name: Lucius Vergilius;

Alias: Mercar, Rook, Mongoose;

Gender: male(he/him);

Age: about early 30ies;

Spoken language: he is actually kind of a polyglot; speaks trade, tevene and rivain fluently in equal measure. Spent too much time with his elven servants and it was kind of mandatory in Circle, so elven on a middle level. Picked up a bit of spoken antivan with his crow-mentor, basic qunlat, because it might've come in handy, same with dwarven, since he was expected to work with Ambassadoria;

Sexual orientation: bi disaster, but that's not certain;

Occupation: Shadow Dragon, local artifact enthusiast, great pretender;

Favorite…

Color: teal;

Entertainment: literature, as it's most affordable and offers a great variety. Not to mention the pluses of being a portable sort of entertainment. He reads fast, always there for the latest plays or banned poetry books. Likes to read out loud, adores discussing things read especially if they are provocative;

Pastime: tinkering with artifacts or generally solving some sort of magical rubix cube to get excessive thinking energy out, playing the sitar - when he feels melancholic or just generally in the mood. Physical activities are mostly a routine but he will do the rivain breathing gymnastics his mother taught him, just to ground himself and keep some action;

Food: non-picky eater actually, generally prefers seafood and fresh greens of any kind (pickled are fine too), but an absolute slut to balsamic dressing;

Drink: it's either Rivain tea (spiced one) or Mulsum if alcohol;

Have they…

Passed university: yes, officially harrowed and passed his Circle education at tender age like any good spawn, doesn't want to speak about it much;

Had sex: yes;

Had sex in public: of course;

Got tattoos: wanted to when he was younger, especially as a part of reconnecting to his culture, but couldn't settle on the design or occasion, so the idea rotted;

Got piercings: got a few, but only his ears remain, nose and everything had healed;

Got scarred: has irreversible lightning scars all over his back and body, which he got during a Shadow Dragon mission;

Had a broken heart: yes, by a certain snake;

Are they…

A cuddler: with closest to him, and it has to brew a bit. Due upbringing it still comes with a tiny pang of embarrassment, but he's down to it, like any abandoned child;

Scared easily: not really, he's too inquisitive and to "seen so much shit" for that, but he has an acute sense of danger (and lack of self-preservation);

Jealous easily: irrationally, but yes. Not his brightest moments, but he doesn't act on it;

Trustworthy: has an aura of rascal around him, but makes people trust him anyway. Generally a good lad, but he knows where his loyalty lies;

Family

Siblings: Four elder half brothers, one half-sister; it's messy, look at them here; ah and handful of cousins he had never seen back at Dairsmuid;

Parents: both parents are mages: dad runs the most evil empire in Thedas, mother (rest her soul) was a seer from top of Rivain nobility with old Tevinter heritage;

Children: No;

Pets: shamefully, but he has...two pet crocs, gifted to him when he was a teen; person hoped they would eat the little shit, it did not go as planned. Otherwise he's pet-less, but very beloved by most of Minrathous stray cats;

[legacyshenanigans]

Rowan: *walks into Volos room with a dead rabbit* Ya want this, snake?

Rerek: No..

Rowan: Really? Just because it's me giving it to ya? *frowns* You really gonna pass up food?

Rerek: Its not that, I just don't eat Rabbits..You know Master Marvolo is rather fond of them, Dog...I've been conditioned not to eat them..He'll go MAD at you if he walks in here and sees you holding that. *chuckles*

Rowan: Shit..Fuck..You're right..Dammit I forgot!

Marvolo: *walks in* Ah Rowan, you're here, good.

Rowan: *instantly hides the rabbit behind his back and clears his throat* Hey..

Marvolo: Hello.. *narrows eyes and sniffs the air* What's that smell?

Rowan: ....What smell? I smell nothin'

Marvolo: ....Hmm....Anyway-

Rowan: *slides his way over to the window as Marvolo talks, facing away from him, and throws it outside*

Sebastian: URGH! What the fuck?!

Marvolo, Rowan & Rerek: (????)

(The lads outside)

Ominis: What's wrong, Seb?!

Sebastian: A fucking dead rabbit just fell out of the sky and landed on me!

Rowan: (?!)

Rerek: *chuckles*

Marvolo: *gives Rowan a look*

Rowan: Wow..Rainin' Rabbits? Heh..Weird. *visibly nervous*

~

[the-knucklesverse]

Boom Blows

One of the first bits I wrote on the server for the Knucklesverse. Something something the other Knuckleses are concerned by how they observe Boom's friends treating him and try to talk to him about it.

It doesn't go well.

All drawings are by the fantastically wonderful @quazart

~~ Qwerty

~~~

"They're really not that bad, guys."

Boom tried to shrug it off. Tried to let it go. Sure, his friends could be kinda dismissive. Sure, they could ignore anything he says. But honestly, he's kind of a moron on his world. Why wouldn't they? But deep down, he knows they care. He's sure of it.

Dread shook his head with a sigh. "Lad, those so-called 'friends' of yers treat ye like ye're beneath them. I've seen it with me own eyes. They be treatin' ye worse than trash."

"That's not true. They hang out with me all the time! We just goof off, that's all."

Boom's voice wasn't as strong that time. Wasn't as sure.

"As much as I hate, and I mean really hate agreeing with this guy," Renegade said, stepping forward and hooking at thumb at Dread. "He's right. With friends like those, who needs enemies."

"Are you sure they care about you?" Wachowski crossed his arms. "I have been fooled in the past by someone I thought was my friend, only to have him trick me and leave me for dead when it suited him. Perhaps that is what's going on here."

Boom turned away with a dismissive wave of his hand. "That's not what's going on. I've known them for years. Tails taught me how to ride a bike! Or tried to, anyway. They would've tricked me by now, right?"

His brow twitched. A seed of doubt had been planted. But he was sure, positive that his friends were truly his friends. They wouldn't trick him.

Right?

"Are ye sure, lad?" Dread asked, stepping forward. "Are ye really sure?"

"They are disrespectful," Gawain said, shaking his head. "They do not hold you in the same regard they hold each other."

Boom turned away, trying to avoid the eyes of the others. The same eyes as his, but now looked at him with pity. With sadness.

"That's not true." The tone of his voice changed. No longer light. No longer joking. He didn't want to talk about this anymore.

"Do any of them seem to care that you have no home?" Sinbad asked, crossing his arms. "Do any of them make sure you're all right when it's cold? Or raining?"

"I like being a nomad. I can take care of myself."

Something was flickering inside him. Something foreign, but strong. He'd felt something similar to this a few times, mostly when Eggman was being a real pain, but never this much. It was something he wasn't overly familiar with, but it felt like a hot snake in his belly.

"Ye deserve more than what they give ye," Dread said, his muzzle pulled into a scowl. "They don't see ye as we do. Ye're just a punching bag to them. Something t' make themselves feel better by abusin'. Ye deserve better."

That snake in Boom's belly was moving, writhing in a way he'd never felt before. It rose into his chest, and suddenly he was . . . angry. The most angry he'd ever felt in his life.

How dare they. How dare these people he thought were his family, his tribe say these things about his friends. Sure, they weren't perfect, no one was, but they were there for him. They did care about him. They did.

Boom turned, his muzzle pulled into a fierce snarl, his teeth bared. He was tense, quills bristling and every muscle thrumming with strength and power, and he clenched his fists as he stared at the other echidna. Glared at them. The fire in his chest was in his eyes now, and he was the epitome of absolute fury.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" he shouted, and Little Z, who'd been hovering nearby as he always did, scuttled off to hide behind the twins. "Those are my friends! They've been by my side for as long as I can remember! They help me and I help them, because that's what friends do!"

A collective gasp moved through the group at Boom's sudden change. No one had ever seen him angry. They tensed at his fury, at the fact that it was directed at them.

"What do you all know about friends anyway?" he sneered, looking over the other echidna one-by-one. He shot daggers at Dread. "You double cross anyone who gets in your way." He flicked his gaze to Modern and X. "All you care about is watching over that rock on your floating islands." Turned to Wachowski. "You were the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy. So what right do any of you have to tell me that my friends aren't good enough?"

"Yes, I was the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy," Wachowski said, stepping forward. "But that was the past. I have a family now. And I—"

"I DON'T HAVE THAT!" Boom thundered, his voice echoing over the group. "I never had anyone! My friends are my family! And hearing you talk bad about them hurts me!"

Silence settled over the group then, and Boom took a few steps forward. The twins took defensive positions in front of Little Z, while Dread and Renegade moved to block Gnarly. Sinbad and Gawain moved closer, their hands hovering over the hilts of their swords.

Wachowski stepped in front of Boom, his hand out in front of him, palm out.

"Be calm, my friend. We are not your enemy."

Boom stopped, breathing hard and snarling at each Knuckles in turn. A soft growl pushed out of his throat.

"No. You're not my enemy. But you're not my friends, either. You're not my tribe."

Without another word, the large echidna turned and left the Sanctuary, leaving a bunch of very confused, very shocked Knuckles behind.

~X~X~X~

Boom stormed back into the village, the anger within him still churning.

How dare they. How dare they. They were supposed to be his tribe. His family. They were all him for crying out loud, how could they gang up on him like that and act like his friends were treating him like garbage?

Well, sure, Sonic and others sometimes disregarded him. But it was okay, they didn't mean anything by it. And yeah, they sometimes said kinda mean things. But he usually got them back with an equally snide comment. Sometimes.

He grunted as he stalked past Meh Burger. Those stupid echidna. They put ideas in his head. Doubts. The anger swirled in his chest, and now he didn't know what to think.

"Hey, Knux!" Sonic called from their usual table. "How was your visit to Knuckles-land?"

Boom didn't stop. Didn't look up. He wasn't in the mood for Sonic's sarcasm right now.

“Uh oh,” the hedgehog snickered. “Trouble in echidna paradise, I see.”

That made Boom stop. He turned and pegged Sonic with a sharp look, his eyes still full of that fire from before. He was angry, he was furious and he didn’t know how to get rid of this feeling before it leapt off his tongue.

“Not cool, Sonic!” he bellowed, and everyone at Meh Burger stopped to stare at him. He didn’t care. He was the town idiot anyway. They couldn’t exactly think less of him, could they? “I’m always a joke to you, right? Everything’s always so funny because I’m so stupid, right?”

Sonic looked at him with a shocked expression. “Hey, I was just kidding with ya Knux, ease off.”

Boom pulled his lips tight. He wanted to say more, to let loose this feeling inside him, cast out this anger at those who may or may not be making fun of him.

But the doubt in his heart grew. These were his friends. (Right?) They joked with him because they loved him. (Right?)

Without another word, Boom turned and stormed off. He needed to blow off steam, and the best way to do so is physical exertion.

He was going to go bust some boulders at the quarry until this horrible, hot feeling in his chest went away.

~X~X~X~

Meanwhile, back at the Sanctuary, the other Knuckleses were starting to unravel.

“This is your fault, Dread!” Renegade growled, pointing at the pirate. “If you hadn’t brought up that stuff about his friends, he wouldn’t o’ blown his stack like that.”

Dread sneered at Renegade, his lip curled to reveal his gold tooth. “I called it like I seen it, bucko. I didn’t know he would react like that! I’m going after him.”

Gawain and Sinbad moved as one to block Dread’s path.

“I think that would be a very bad idea,” the knight said, his arms crossed. “You’ve done enough. You’re staying put.”

Dread narrowed his eyes. “Are ye threatening me?”

“Not yet,” Sinbad said, hand on his sword hilt. “But the day’s still young.”

The pirate pulled his lip into a fierce snarl, a growl slipping through his throat. Renegade gave him a shove. “Knock it off. Do you really think Boom’s gonna wanna see you right now?”

“He be me best friend out of all o’ ye. I will not let him think the worst of us.” He paused. “Of me, anyway.”

“Not happenin’. You’re stayin’.”

As the group quarreled, X moved closer to Boom’s portal. Little Z and Gnarly noticed him, and moved quickly to intercept.

“You’re going after him.” It wasn’t a question, and Gnarly glanced over his shoulder at the others. “I’m coming, too.”

“Me, too,” Little Z said, sliding up next to Gnarly. He rubbed shoulders with the slightly taller echidna. The little zombie liked that warmth and comfort from physical touch.

“I don’t know how receptive Boom will be,” X said, keeping his eyes on the others. “But I figure I may have a better chance at getting through to him. I know how he feels.”

“Then let’s go before they notice,” Gnarly said, letting Little Z climb onto his back. Dread was still putting up a fight, so now was as good a time as any to slip out without notice.

With a silent nod, X, Little Z, and Gnarly slipped through Boom’s portal.

~X~X~X~

The boulder was the size of a small house. Boom pulled his fist back, and with a loud yell, brought it forward with as much force as he could. He didn’t often use all his strength—Eggman’s robots weren’t exactly a big challenge to destroy—but he dug deep within himself now and pulled out everything he could.

There was a feeling, a surge of power he felt when he was at the Sanctuary. He’d asked Modern about it once, and the boy had said it was the chaos energy given off by the Master Emerald. Boom hadn’t understood what that meant at the time. But now, it seemed to give him a boost of power.

His fist connected a loud smack, and the rock exploded into dust and tiny pebbles. Boom stepped back, watching as the cloud cleared.

He was running out of boulders. And that feeling in his chest hadn’t gone away.

He didn’t like it. Didn’t like feeling angry. Didn’t like being angry at his friends. At any of his friends—hedgehog, fox, badger . . . or echidna. He felt terrible and selfish and guilty for the things he’d said, but at the same time, behind that anger was another emotion.

Hurt.

After everything he’d done for those other echidna, all the help he’d offered with no expectation of any kind of reward, this is how they respond. By telling him his friends aren’t really his friends. That they actually treat him really badly, but he was apparently too stupid to see it.

He snarled. Stupid. He hated that word. But even now, when he was back on his world and the influence of the Master Emerald was weaker, his mind felt clouded. Jumbled. Messy. He couldn’t remember the details of what they’d said, but he remembered how their words made him feel. And he didn’t like it.

Boom grunted and stomped on the ground, kicking some of the rocks he’d created when he destroyed the boulder. He felt like screaming. And crying. And breaking things. And just laying down and not getting back up again. All these emotions, all these feelings, all jumbled up in his chest, in his head, in his stomach. He felt like he was going crazy.

With another yell, Boom brought his fist up and turned, lashing out at whatever was nearby.

His arm came to a jarring stop, and he blinked.

His fist was stopped dead by X’s open palm.

The snarl was back on Boom's lips.

"You here to tell me how horrible my friends are, too?" he asked, pulling his fist back. He turned away, walking toward one of the few boulders left. "Save your breath. I'm not listening. Go away."

X said nothing, but Little Z hurried forward. "Big Boom?" he called, his voice soft and shaky. "Are you mad at me, too?"

Boom stopped, lowering his head. His arms dropped, his large hands clenching and unclenching as he thought. The little zombie Knuckles hadn't done anything. But there was so much in Boom's head right now. It was hard to separate his feelings for the boy from all the rest of them.

"Why are you here?" Boom's voice was even, but there was so much emotion in it, X and Gnarly exchanged a glance. "Leave me alone."

"Big Boom?" Little Z called again, and Gnarly moved forward to place a hand on the boy's shoulder. X moved around to Boom's side, trying to get his attention.

"The others are just worried about you," X said, his voice soft. "We all care about you, you know that. They don't want you to be hurt. That's all."

Boom turned, his brow furrowed. There was still anger in his eyes, but a sorrow joined it.

"They hurt me. They think my friends treat me bad, like I'm stupid. They treated me just the same."

X didn't say anything for a long moment. Then a small smile curled his lips.

"I know how you feel, because I was treated the same way."

Boom didn't expect that. He turned, the furrow in his brow changing from hurt and anger, to confusion. "What do you mean?"

X smiled a little wider, shrugging. "I'm the same as you. I trust too much, I let my friends take advantage of me. They took my Master Emerald to power a spaceship, and I forgave them. I know what you're going through."

Boom seemed to think about this for a moment, before turning to X fully. “Is it . . . is it bad that we don’t hate people for the way they treat us? Even if they can be a little thoughtless, or mean? Does that mean we really are . . . stupid?”

X pulled his lips tight. He never thought of himself as stupid per se. Maybe a little too trusting. A little too quick to forgive, and see the good in everyone, even those who try to do him harm. But those aren’t necessarily bad traits, were they? Aren’t those better than going through life with a cynical, mistrusting outlook?

Before X could reply, Gnarly spoke up.

"When I was growing up in Boscage Maze, I could hear the trees. I could see colors the others couldn't. They all said I was crazy. That what I was hearing and seeing wasn't really there. But I knew. I knew they were. Just because the others couldn't see them didn't mean they weren't there. And yeah, I did question myself sometimes. But deep down, I knew there was something different about me. They just couldn't see it. They couldn't hear or see what I did, because they didn't really hear or see me.

"That didn't mean they were bad friends. Just because they thought I was crazy didn't mean they didn't care about me. They just didn't understand me. Heck, I didn't understand me either, for the longest time. Until I was pulled into the Sanctuary for the first time. Then everything was quiet. Everything made sense. I figured out who I was."

"Our friends may not treat us the best all the time," X said, moving closer to Boom. "They may not understand us all the time. But that doesn't mean they're not our friends. And that doesn't mean there's anything wrong with us. If someone treats us badly, either intentionally or unintentionally, it shows what kind of person they are. The best thing we can do, is just keep being who we are.

“That's how we stay true to ourselves. Yeah, it may mean we're hurt. Or sad. Or tricked. But the times when we're helping someone, or protecting someone, or doing good are much more important."

Boom's face cleared, the anger fading. His brow relaxed, and the tension in his shoulders disappeared. He looked between the three other Knuckles, the anger and hurt he'd felt just a moment ago dissipating like fog on a warm day.

The tall echidna pulled in a long breath, and let it out in a slow exhale. He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a soft chuckle.

"Guess I went a little nuts back there, huh? Ugh. I said such horrible things. They're never gonna forgive me."

Boom dragged a hand down his face, when he felt a small hand grip the fingers of his free hand. He looked down and found Little Z, looking up at him with his big eyes.

"You're not mad?"

Boom smiled down at the boy, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm not mad, Little Z." He reached down to pull the boy up and perch him on his shoulders. "I just . . . had a little hissy fit, I guess."

"So," he said, looking over at X and Gnarly. "How mad are the others at me?"

Before either could respond, a loud shout split the air.

"YE'LL NEVER CATCH ME! I BE ON AN IMPORTANT MISSION!!"

The group turned and watched as Dread came running from the trees nearby, following closely by Renegade, Sinbad, and Gawain. The three bringing up the rear did not look pleased.

"THERE YE BE!" Dread shouted, screeching to a halt before Boom. "Now ye listen here, Boom. Ye be me best mate, and I ain’t gonna allow ye t’ feel such anger towards the fools what hurt you! We be just tryin' t' keep ye from gettin' hurt, and—"

Gnarly moved near him and clocked Dread upside the head.

"It's over. We talked. He's good."

Dread shot a scowl at Gnarly, before looking back at Boom. "This be true?"

Boom nodded. "It be."

Dread seemed to consider this for a moment.

"Well, I woulda got it done faster!"

[thatsmarttechtypeuser]

Okay, so recently i had this really weird dream that i think might have to do with a certain someone's tickle monster.

It started off somewhere near a Trans-Atlantic Highway-esque area, with me in some sort of auto-driving electrical car, relaxing to the latest psychedelic rock hits while (most likely) off a chocolate weed edible. Eventually, it starts to slow down and i make a stop to recharge it. Little did i know a certain nefarious nightmare lad has a cunning plan laid out, and somehow zaps himself into the charging station, gaining free reign over my electric car. After i finish charging, i take the charger out and get back in, only for the car to start auto-correcting it's navigation a few times. After the 5th, i start getting pissed bc i think it's some kinda technical malfunction, only to hear this.

"NAH. This ain't your grandparent's spam mail! Keep those seatbelts on tight, pal! WE'RE BURNING ALL KINDS OF RUBBER TONIGHT!"

Cue the car speeding off at "i'm-so-fucking-dead" MPH, dangerously skirting near crashing off-road and ramping off the backs of (conveniently placed) carrier trucks all the while i'm screaming my head off and trying not to faint over the fact that my car has apparently decided to start a new career as a daredevil. However, because I've got a secret adrenaline-junkie in myself, i'm actually having the time of my fucking life. Things go to 11 once it hauls ass to a non-descript city and starts going haywire, speeding through (thankfully empty) outdoor cafe's and plowing through (ALSO thankfully empty) buildings like the transformers version of the Hulk. Finally, things go past 11 and straight to one-thousand once we reach a very industrious part of it, and i'm nearly overstimulated by the amount of unhinged chaotic bs going on (pipes bursting, the entire plant being demolished, etc. etc.)

FINALLY it stops, but only once we've got a straight shot towards a comically-oversized Acetylene storage warehouse, and i soon realize what's going on once Ragaeli's stupidly-charismatic grin appears on the dashboard. I straight up BEG for him not to do what i think he's going to do, but he just lmao's and says that he's gonna do it anyways.

"Yer' final tour of the evening's here! Don't chicken out now!"

The car seems to gun straight for the warehouse, and i immediately get the fear of god put into me as that plus the Maximum Overdrive music frightens the living daylights out of me, bc HOLY CRUD WE'RE GONNA CRASH. Thankfully, he doesn't, and the car gets these weird blackout windows placed over it as it speeds somewhere else. Turns out, Rags fibbed the entire thing just to get my adrenaline up, and BY GOD DID IT WORK. Still, my nerves are rattled, so…

"Don't worry! As your totally trustworthy smart AI, i'll make sure you get alllllllllllllllll the relaxation you need~"

The lights dim to an unironically warm hue, and the seat suddenly enters a reclining state, a seat warmer beneath providing ample muscle relaxation. It's so good that i actually blank on the fact that the automatic seatbelts (which are a thing apparently) have snaked themselves over me and locked me to it, and only AFTER that did i realize my plight. The following went something like this.

"W-what the hell?! I can't move! Turn off the auto-seatbelts!" "I'm sorry, you're gonna have to speak up, i couldn't understand that command." "I said turn off the automatic seatbelts and unbuckle me!" "Did you say "Turn on the automatic spa features and tickle me senseless"~?" "N-NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" (holy shit this gave me a fuckin lee panik my god)

Immediately after that, a bunch of automatic showerheads and other such spa equipment emerge from underneath the seat as the car seems to expand from within and i immediately realize that my ass is about to be sent to heaven. I get a bunch of sensory-enhancing oils before i'm immediately hosed down by a bunch of showerheads, the oils making me laugh harder bc of how tickly the streams are. I'm then flipped onto my back and have a bunch of sauna stones rubbed along my back while a few grabby hands massage my sides (and occasionally play my ribs like a piano-AGH LEE PANIK AGAIN), sauna stones tickled too. Finally, my feet are locked in a stock and what i can only describe as the "Pedicure from Tickle Hell" happens, by the time it's over i'm left partially giggle-drunk and waaaaaaaaaaaaay too stimulated.

The car door then opens, allowing me freedom to my conspicuously-absent house, which is equipped with more smart technology that i know that fucker's going to exploit against me. As soon as i enter…. Nothing happens, i make my way up to my bedroom and access my computer, only to notice that there's a notification. I click it and-

"Ragaeli.EXE has been successfully downloaded" "Pray for your life"

I've never hit google search faster in my entire life. I try searching something up, only for a notepad document to open and for Rag's face to literally be typed into existence in ASCII. He then does some grabby hands and i instinctively clamp my hands around my sides over fear of getting tickled to oblivion, thankfully he doesn't, and i decide to head to bed. Before things can get all inception, i notice that my star machine has a weird patterning-oh who am i kidding it's that nightmare fucker again.

"Y-you?!" "That's riiiiiiiiiiiiiight~ Thanks fer' giving me access to all your stuff by the waay~" "N-I didn't mean tooooooooooooo!" "'Course you didn't~! Now then, let's see if i can't make you scream, shall we?"

Immediately, i get up and start running, darting into the kitchen. What follows next is what i can only describe as "tickle slapstick" as i'm repeatedly gotten by Rags and tickled mercilessly by various smart appliances.

-In the kitchen, i'm spooked behind the table by a non-infected fridge fucking automatically opening it's door, then i'm given a (non-lethal) nom on the side with a waffle iron that starts giving me more noms. I try getting it off but the thing won't budge, and i slip on a rolling pin and stumble face first into a microwave. My head get's stuck, and my sides and soles are attacked by a pair of whisks and tickly rubber spatuals while Rags makes awful cooking puns at my expense. -In the area just above the living room, i find out that the nightmare remodeled the place to resemble an art studio, and i immediately realize what's going on. I try to run but the door locks itself and my body is used as a canvas for Rags to do his tickly Jackson Pollock work all over. -In the living room proper, i'm immediately strapped down to a gaming chair and sat before a different computer, forced to place a hero-shooter game based on tickle stuff. Everything goes well until Rags challenges me to round two, with the added rule being i have to play the game in VR while also wearing a haptic feedback suit, i barely even make it to the second round of Payload before i'm a shrieking mess. -In the basement, i try to avoid his gaze by going into part of it, only for the entire area to instead be a tattoo parlor. This freaks me tf out because of the new Final Destination flick giving me a temporary fear of them. However, Rags manages to make me overcome said fear by (asides from disguising as Reggie) giving me a VERY ticklish tattoo session and a frankly absurd demonstration of his own brand of piercing's strength (seriously that septum piercing had me hanging from the fan like Homer Simpson that shit was WILD)

Finally, i escape to my bedroom, thinking that it's over and done with… If only i knew better. As i lay down and try to get some sleep, I'm immediately attacked by a bunch of ticklish tendrils, and Ragdoll immediately starts cheesing. "D'awwww, is the writer scared that the big bad tickle monster's gonna drag him under the bed~? Well too bad, 'cause I'm gonna~" "OHOHOHOOHOHOH NOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!" I'm dragged off the bed and slowly pulled underneath the bedframe, assaulted by seemingly omnipresent tickles as i continue to laugh my heart and soul out… And then, i woke up.

[ace-malarky]

intro post 2024

sup lads, it's been like two years and I figured the pinned post probably needed updating

wait it has almost exactly been two years that's hilarious

Anyway. some things haven't changed. Name's still Ace, no matter what I write on the notes I send to my old library

I'm always up for tag games and random asks!! throw 'em my way as you like :3

pronouns are in flux! predominantly they/them, sometimes it, occasionally he. It varies on the bit, but you probably can't go wrong tbh

we're - we're going to say early 30s. it's not wrong and it's better than this being outdated in a little over three weeks when it all changes once again

no I did not plan this, no I can't do a basic formal outline, I have to ramble. what did you think i wrote for.

Other Places I Can Be Found include twitter & instagram under more or less the same username

~~~

Writing Focuses!

Everything is fantasy, everything is queer. Excerpts can be found under Writing Pieces

I'm largely jumping around between vaguely connected scenes and character work right now, but there's definitely a pattern!

mainly;

Shapeshifter WIP - when things start getting tense between neighbouring countries, Syn volunteers to slip across the border and pass information back in an attempt to avert the looming war. They may have underestimated how hard it was going to be to go back when no one recognises them and their own best friend hates them (ft. pining, friends-to-lovers of the star crossed variety, hand wavy world building, questionable morality, questionable spying techniques, A Certain Level of Dumbassery, some Fucked Up Shapeshifting)

So the Bran Rhi Sings - a Welsh inspired tale of Fair Folk and prophecies, found family and finding family, name games and hidden identities (ft. the Wild Hunt, one Feral Mage, a pair of raven siblings, and the Fair Folk urge to adopt every lost child in sight)

Dumb of Ass, Snake of Tits - a DnD story of a dragonborn monk who leaves their monastery to see the world, ends up with a Morally Dubious Courtesan for a travelling companion, gets cursed (twice), has a slight corruption arc, but somehow still comes out better than they started and with a boyfriend to boot (ft. travelling, fights, the unwillingness to wear a shirt in camp and making that everyone else's problem, other uses for bras when you don't have tits, revenge, What Sharp Teeth You Have, unquestioning kindness until it isn't kind, overthinking but eventually manage to communicate about it, slight pining, one vaguely horny dragon)

Soul of the Party - when a series of mysterious thefts sweep across town in the weeks before the annual summer festivities, Solaris is removed from the duelling tournament to avoid bringing attention to his cousin's family. Instead, he and his cousin and a band of Feral Mages investigate on their own and find a plot targetting one thief from Off-World (ft. four separate magic types, light crime, sword fights, mistaken (secret) identity, curiosity almost killing the cat)

and, you know, the usual. Fair Folk, Superheroes, Pirates, WereCreatures, Winged Folk, Storytellers, Dragons, Vampires, Curses, Even More DnD. All of the WIPS can be found on this page and some of them are in this definitely out of date post here

I'm always up for answering questions about any of them, even if some haven't been touched in literal years. They're still growing mould somewhere in there. Branching out in ways I didn't conceive of.

~~~

World Building

also a big ol' thing here, the main tag is world building but that isn't just my stuff in there, it's also a lot of reblogs

largely centered around the Mist Worlds which is where most of my WIPs are set. There is an Overview post, a Magic post, a bit on the Mist Itself, and also the Worlds (and a page where this is collated)

some bits are incredibly handwavy and made up on the fly, other bits I have been thinking Too Much about for Too Long

~~~

Characters

Oh boy we got 'em. Occasionally can be found via rambles on Sundays (Thursdays, under new management) under the tag So It Ends

Syn and Maverick are competing for blorbo of the year right now and if a wip or specific characters aren't mentioned, these are probably who I'll answer ask games for

Syn - a distractable and mischievous shapeshifter who volunteers to be a spy because "pretending to be someone else is what I do" no we're not going to unpack that right now. they/them, big fan of antlers. also goes by Vale or Lance

Maverick - a frost dragonborn who's a little bit naive to the ways of the world and prefers to assume the best of people if they can. Likes to help, doesn't question as much as they should. Not quite an "everything happens for a reason" mentality, but certainly thinks that they got what they deserved at points. they/them, has been known to act without thinking on a number of occasions

Also a special shout out to Llinos and Kaua, who are eternally the ace lesbian wifeguys of my heart <3

[nonexistent-tales]

inrtotrornt

strawpage

hello! I'm aff0_. Use whatever pronouns you think I use otherwise refer to below :3

labels and the lack thereof in my pronouns page, feel free to ask questions about them

i'm an introvert and a pretty shy person. Myers-Briggs test says I am INTP-T, so do with that what you will. Feel free to talk to me though, I'm just not good at initiating conversations :,]

I'm an artist, both digital and traditional (though usually I post my digital works online.)

self-proclaimed #1 Nameless Deity fan pls

I love snakes and moths.

I LOVE SCP 7179

i don't usually tag things like blood, gore, and flashing lights so heads up. if you need me to just tell me

everything else below cut

List of my current interests in no particular order:

SCP Foundation

Fav SCPs are 7179, 8043, 3515, 8001, and Lily's Proposal. Your average Pataphysics fan, sorry not sorry. Also your average Alagadda enjoyer, no seriously I'm going insane over this place without ever having to step foot in it :3.

2022/2024 Anthology Hub(s) is/are my lifeblood.

Elevator Hitch (+SIGverse games in general)

Antag oh antag, a person getting stuck somewhere with minimal stimulation for extended periods of time without the ability of permanent death, slowly going insane, is my favorite gender of character ^v^ Anyways, Protag is just like me fr and I won't elaborate further.

Just Shapes and Beats

Geometry Dash

Addiction. GDHS <3

woe, congregation ask blog be upon ye

also, FNF FITH. Big fan of the mod; #1 Hard Fan, he's such a guy that exists, ever

if you're a fan of the mod you may have seen my art before; in the mod files, discord server, or on CDC's channel, anything credited to me (@aff0_) :]

EPIC: The Musical

your average hermes fan 👍

Object Show Community

fav show is Show's Over. T4MI is cool methinks

i love the algebraliens i wish algebra was rwal

Omori

not as active in here but its one of those interests that stay in the back of your mind, always there, never leaving, yet never taking the spotlight (at least, not anymore)

Spooky's Jumpscare Mansion

Rooms

Doors 👁

Pressure

waiter, waiter, more walking simulators with spooky monsters chasing you please :D

woe, guiding light ask blog be upon ye

Undertale/Deltarune

angel=player theorist since i was a wee lad.

Hollow Knight

Trial of the Fool and Pantheon 3-4 is the only thing blocking the path to 112%. I am not happy.

Terraria (+Calamity Mod+WotG)

Did I mention that I like Nameless Deity? Maybe just a bit? :o

ONAF/Riddle School

A minor interest, but a huge inspirations art and gameplay design-wise

PVP/Parkour Civilization

Roblox Forsaken

Solarballs

Or just the concept of humanized planets in general. if you ever mention plucharon near me i will 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥 /pos

average solarghe fan

very normal about hypothetical solar system objects, main belt objects, dwarf planets, and the Iris

Annnd others that I probably forgor. sorry whoopsies

Tags on this blog:

#rambles - most things not relogs

#nonexistent rambles - newer tag. for more actual rambles

#walking simulator - stuff about sjsm, rooms, doors, and pressure, usually in the context of each other

#reblog - self-explanatory

#my art - Art made by yours truly ;3

dumping the stamps/graphics here because i honestly don't know how to use them :3

sideblogs:

scp sideblog - @scp-7179

That is the end of this, have a great week!!

[thedramaticonestuff]

Fanfic Time!

Hey guys! So, I just posted a little HC/AU thingy about the children of Gromit and Fluffles. The link to the OP is here: https://www.tumblr.com/thedramaticonestuff/772786985391751168/fuck-it-gromit-and-fluffles-fan-children?source=share

In it, I made one of the children transgender, and mentioned that the first person she came out to was Wallace, so, I decided to write a little story about just that. Also, this is my first time posting a fanfiction ANYWHERE, so I’m a little nervous. 😬

Side note: I’m writing this story about a trans person from the perspective of a cis woman, so if I got something wrong, I apologize. Just know that I tried to be as respectful as possible when writing this, and if anyone who’s actually trans finds this and would like to give feedback, please do so! Anyway, here’s the story! Thanks for reading, and enjoy!

Wallace and Gromit are © Aardman Studios and my OCs are © yours truly.

Lass

A Coming Out Story 

By Cam (aka @thedramaticonestuff)

Okay. Deep breaths. You can do this. The little poogle exhales sharply and then breathes in again. Her eyes dart around the ground floor of the house, as if she suspects she’s being watched. Just tell him. You can’t keep living a lie. It’s destroying you!

There the old man is, in his favorite chair, reading the paper and eating cheese as usual. Relax, we’re the only ones here. Well, Daddy and Diesel are in the garden, so they’ll be a while. Mum’s at football practice with the other boys, and Zen’s with a mate. Now is the best time. 

She cautiously approaches. Her paws are damp with sweat and her heart is a large bass drum in her ears. She clears her throat, and the old Yorkshireman looks up from the newspaper. There’s no turning back now. 

“Ay up, Lad.” Ugh. Lad. The word feels so wrong, it’s nearly painful. It jolts down her spine, leaves a cold mush in her belly, and coils around her throat like a hungry snake. It’s not her. It has never been her. 

“Something wrong? You look nervous.” Yeah, maybe a little. Well, to the frantic butterflies in her stomach, it’s certainly not just “a little”! No need to freak out. This is your Uncle Wallace. He loves you. You love him; he’s your safe person. The young pup jerks her head towards the hallway, motioning for him to follow. 

“Alright, hold your horses, I’m right behind you!” he calls. 

She leads him to a small room, where the computer and printer are on a flat, wooden desk. A freshly produced document is on the printer’s output tray, entitled Pride Flags and Symbols. She turns to the man who, in her mind, is also the colour brown and the month of November, even though he was born in August. Damn synaesthesia. C’mon, focus!

Placing her front paws on the edge of the swivel chair that accompanies the desk, she gazes up at Wallace, indicating that she wants to go up. He obliges, carefully lifting her and placing her on the desk. 

“Right then. What do you want to tell me, Lad?” There’s that damn word again! The word she despises being called more than anything. Slowly, she shakingly points at the paper. On it is a rectangle made of baby pink and blue stripes, with a white stripe wedged in the middle. Wallace squints as he gazes down. 

“Eh, ‘Transgender Pride Flag’?”, he reads aloud. “What is the meaning of this?”

The pup points at the image again, then to herself. Please, God, let him understand! The bald man furrows his brow, then softens his expression. “Are you telling me that all this time, you’ve actually been a lass?”, he asks. 

She nods vigorously. Yes, that’s it exactly. Does that mean he gets it? Her tail has already begun to wag. 

Uncle Wallace straightens up and smiles. “Well then. Do you still want to be called ‘Stone’? Or have you got a different name in mind?” 

She quickly looks around the room, and points her index finger in the air as she spots a pen and notepad. She grabs both objects and scribbles down a name: Storie. 

“Storie, eh? Well, I suppose it does suit you. What with you always writing your little stories and scripts and so on.”

The little pup gazes up at her beloved uncle. He understands. No, he doesn’t just understand. He tolerates. He embraces. He loves. Storie feels a lump pushing at the back of her throat, as her vision begins blurring with tears. 

Wallace takes notice. “What’s with the waterworks, Lass?”

Lass. Yes, she’s a lass! A girl! Sniffling, Storie attempts to furiously blink the tears back, looking sheepishly at the ground. 

Wallace smirks at her. “Ohhh, c’mere you!” In a swift motion, he picks her up and holds her against him with one hand, and playfully tickles her belly with the other. 

Her giggles are inaudible to him. The puppy’s legs start kicking furiously, joining her tail in an ecstatic display of jubilee. Hey, stop that! Her tiny paw gently shoves his torturous fingers away. 

Her uncle chuckles. “So, did you want me to tell your mum and dad? Or your siblings?”

Gasping, Storie’s eyes go wide as she anxiously shakes her head. No, she’s not ready for that! He was only the first step. The others still need a truckload of mental preparation. 

“You sure? It might make things easier for you. Might make you feel better”. 

She nods. It’s too scary at the moment. “Right, then. It’s our secret, for now. Honestly, Storie, I don’t know what got you all worked up over this. You know I will always love you. No matter what.” 

He gradually lifts her until they’re at eye level. He tenderly rubs his nose against hers, then presses a kiss to her forehead. I love you, too. This is one of those times when she wishes he could hear her speak to him. 

Chuckling, Uncle Wallace gently sets her down on the ground.

 “I’m glad you told me this.” He starts making his way back to the living room, then pauses, turning around. “I don’t suppose you’d like to share some cheese with me?”

Upon hearing the mention of their shared favourite treat, Storie’s ears perk up in sync with a grumble that escapes her stomach. The young poogle bounds eagerly after the man to his original spot on the chair in the living room, where cheese, crackers, and hot tea are waiting. 

Wallace settles down, then pats his knee, indicating that he wants her to join him. The pup leaps into his awaiting lap, and nestles into his leg with a contented sigh. Her uncle picks up a slice of Wensleydale, which she nips from his fingers and gobbles down enthusiastically. 

“Whoa, steady on there, Lass!”, Wallace exclaims in response to her greediness. 

Lass. There’s that word again. Storie’s tail continues to wag as she lowers her head, and softly nuzzles her cheek into her uncle’s knee. Unlike the previous term of endearment, this word doesn’t make her feel as if she’s being consumed by a predator. Instead, it feels like she’s in a warm bubble bath, with the sweet scent of peaches filling her nostrils. Was this the “gender euphoria” everyone was talking about? 

The End

[fushichoumomo]

THREAD : ( treachery ; a façade shattered )   ||   aizen sōsuke — @saimincho

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓 , 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝟒𝟔'𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒 .   ━━    The scenery in front of her [ if it could even be called such ] forced her to pause , chilled her to the bone . THE ODIOUS STENCH OF DECAY HUNG IN THE AIR ; everywhere HINAMORI MOMO looked , countless bodies lay limp and lifeless on the floor … some even drowning in their own blood .

She had witnessed many such cases … in the outskirts of the Seireitei , and … the run-down , crime-ridden Rukon districts . Images of a Zaraki district neighbourhood flooded her mind … the fates of those poor residents , not unlike those of the esteemed SAGES herein . 

DEATH HAD FOUND THEM ; OR RATHER , SOMEONE ELSE DID .

Dispersing the Kidō spell that kept her jailed was a bit of a fuss , yet Tōshirō hadn't counted on the fact that her prowess far surpassed his … or at least , that's what Momo believed . But , if he truly WAS the culprit , as Captain Aizen's letter stipulated— no . NO . Someone had obviously forged the dead Captain's penmanship … someone that had just as much finesse in the art of calligraphy [ at least , that had to be true . Nothing else makes sense ] .

It was far too outlandish for her brother , the esteemed in her eyes only CAPTAIN HITSUGAYA , to mastermind such a grand conspiracy , to execute Kuchiki Rukia , much less destroy the entire Seireitei . No … whoever forged this letter , was counting on Momo's [ understandably ] volatile emotional state , and thus would ignore blatant inconsistencies .

'TWAS MISDIRECTION , PLAIN AND SIMPLE , BY NONE OTHER THAN ICHIMARU GIN .

Hand firmly planted ‘pon Tobiume , the Lieutenant’s eyes narrowed to slits , darting to and fro , looking for any sign of imminent danger … 

❝ … Heya , Lieut'nant Hinamori . ❞

... or , for the CULPRIT HIMSELF .

And there indeed , stood a tall , silver-haired lad behind her , wearing a grin that would startle even Captain Kurotsuchi of the Twelfth . 

❝ ICHIMARU . ❞ Momo responded , saliva sour and bitter in her mouth , adrenaline rushing through her system , as if to ready her for combat . 

❝ Oh , what … ? ❞ he tuts , tilting his head playfully , ❝ Why so serious ? Don' worry , I'm not here t' hurt ya . ❞

Cold sweat trickled down her forehead , at the sensation of a thousand , no , a million snakes slowly but surely coiling up her body , forcing her into silence .

❝ Anyway , someone's been eagerly anticipatin' ya arrival . I'm sure ya'll be happy … t' be reunited . ❞

BEFORE MOMO COULD SAY ANYTHING — THERE HE WAS , AIZEN SŌSUKE , IN THE FLESH .

[unclefathersantateddy]

BB asks: 2 and 12!

These were some MEATY questions, thank you so much for asking!!! You always give the best asks lmao

2.1. favorite non-belcher character (and why)?

I'm gonna class teddy as a belcher here otherwise it's gonna be an obvious answer asdfghjkl. Man this is HARD, I like so many for very different reasons. Honestly it might be Zeke or Tami, which I never expected! I absolutely adore Tammy's phrases (Tammyisms? Lmao), like "snorgasm", "boob punch", "crap attack" - if anyone has a list of them all please may I have it🙏 - I also love how emotionally intelligent Tammy can be (a detailed explanation here). As for Zeke, pretty similar reasons! Zeke's relationship with Jimmy Jr is one I find really interesting. Zeke is obsessed with wrestling/fighting like a Typical Lad™ however, he also pushes J-Ju to be more emotionally literate. For example S9E3 Tweentrepreneurs;

J-Ju: one day Zeke wasn't around and I was bored

Zeke: lonely?

J-Ju: no, more bored

Zeke: sad?

J-Ju: no, bored!

Emotional illiteracy causes the inability to understand one's own emotions, listen to others, as well as empathising with their emotional stages. Thus often leading to decreased engagement with reality, resulting in boredom. Here we see Zeke teaching J-Ju new ways of describing how he (Jimmy Jr) may feel when he (Zeke) isn't around. Encouraging emotional literacy and in turn encouraging emotional responses to reality, a pattern which with consistency can prevent 'emotional stagnation' that can manifest as boredom! Whilst Zeke probably wouldn't be able to explain what he's doing, the fact he has the recognition of when to do it is an incredible skill for a 13 year old!

2.2. What’s your favorite episode and why?

So this is the question that's taken my days to answer this. I could not decide at ALL. But I think I have finally landed on S13E16 What a (April) Fool Believes! As for why, the first and foremost reason is the sheer happiness I get from hearing Bob finally day 'got you Mr Fischoeder!". There is SO much joy in H Jon's voice when he says it. My body biologically responds to it and fills me up with the same glee that babies should do (for my age, anyway). But the entire episode is just feel good, nothing bad actually happens to anyone at any point (iirc). It's just an easy, joyful, watch!

12.1. what’s your favorite quote from the show? 

Ohhhh man. Ooohhhhh MAN. This is so tough. There are so many that I can't think of any sjdjakdk. The most prevalent that comes to mind right now is from S14E5 Bully-ieve It or Not, when Trev charges Bob $7 for a glass of water and then goes "got you! classic me". Just the "classic me" tickles my soul I really respect the audacity LMAO.

12.2. If you joined one of the town’s groups (Wagstaff staff, carnies, knitters, one-eyed snakes, etc.), which would you join?

This is going to be an obvious one but the carnies! I come from the Concrete Jungle™ (an industrially significant city at that), so the idea of living in a tiny rural town that has carnivals seems to whimsical to me! I suppose it's a yearning for something I've never experienced, honestly! Also coming from a very Individualistic-society country, seeing a more community based society fills me with so much serotonin!!! Carniapolis is just JOY materialised!!!!! AAAAAAAA. It gives me so much drawing motivation and creativity, each and every facet of it! (I feel silly for this jakdjskdjsk)

[team-mythic-beasts]

Team Mythic Beasts: Let’s Talk Designs!

(Last Updated: May 2025)

Also Included: Birthdays, Ages, MBTI, Heights

(Note: Special thanks to @levijonescc, creator of the Aveyond 4 x Hetalia mod, for inspiring this project; without you we may not be here today. Btw I suck at drawing humanoid characters so I used this base)

It took me almost seven years to finalize the boys’ designs, but here they are!

Besides the pictures, I’ve also invited them here to explain the thought process behind their outfits. They will go in order of color, so this time we’re starting off with… Jones!

❤️ The Wolf - Jones Fitzgerald (America)

| He/him | Apr 25 ♉️ | 29 y/o | INTJ | 177cm / 5’9” |

It’s only fair that the best-looking guy in the bunch gets the first word… so why does Luke keep getting all the spotlight? I’m supposed to be the main character!

Anyways, hope you aren’t too scared from all the spikes and flame patterns that I wear. Intimidation is a huge factor in designing a villain outfit, and I take great pride in being called scary. The flames are for another reason too— I’m a fire mage, and those who cross me shall beware the heat.

The cape was a reward from a quest I took up long ago. I saved a village from a demonic wolf, and they gave me some of her fur to wear as a trophy. In a way, it’s a reminder not to let my beloved Hiro go down the same path as his mother… but I do look quite big with the cape, don’t you think?

Even without my armor, cape, and giant coat, I still look like I’m onto some villain-y business, with the vest and jewel… Wait, what do you mean “yeehaw,” Makoto?! I’m not a cowboy!

🧡 The Dragon - Abel Brandt (Netherlands)

| He/him | March 21 ♈️ | 70+ y/o (physically 25) | ISTJ | 200cm / 6’6” |

… Hello there. I did not expect such a quick debut.

As you can likely tell from my hardened look, my story is about battling demons. I was promised greater progress by the others in Team Mythic Beasts, and they have been of great help in my quest.

I made my armor from various monsters that I have slain in battle, but the helmet, specifically, is from an a assassin sent by my former captor. It put up a tough fight, that’s for sure, but nothing beats the fury of a brazen dragon. Not even the poor frost snake that would become my scarf.

Underneath my chestplate is a simple outfit I put together in Moriad, where I have lived as a refugee for quite a few decades now. I asked my dwarf neighbors if they could make me custom wear, but it was too much for them. Therefore, every piece is made by hand, by myself.

… Yes. That is all.

💛 The Lion - Mikkel Anderson-Sigmond (Denmark)

| He/him | Dec 5 ♐️ | 19 y/o | ISFJ | 183cm / 6’0” |

Evil beware, the Lion of Team Mythic Beasts is here!

When I was a young lad, I’d be carrying heavy stuff everywhere to build up strength for all this armor that I wear now. That means I have to eat a lot of food every day, too! But underneath all this steel, I’m just a humble little guy from the city outskirts.

Oh, this medal? I got it from Lord Kristan! He’s the legendary founder of my hometown, Alphica, and he’s been watching over me and my nan since I was born.

So… that should cover everything about my outfit. You can probably tell I’m not as flashy as my friends; they’ll have a lot more to talk about than I do, I’m sure!

💚 The Weasel - Arthur George Blackwood (England)

| He/him | Oct 23 ♏️ | 36 y/o | ESTJ | 175cm / 5’8” |

Ha ha ha ha ha!!! If trouble is what you’d expect at the sight of a witch like me, then you’d be right— but you’ve got to be a total numbskull to get on my bad side. My long, sharp nails aren’t the only things you should worry about.

Not a fan of heavy clothes, since potions is my specialty; a simple coat, protective armwear, and a ragged cape does the job for me. As for the bird skull on my shoulder, one of the Raven Lord’s “beloved children” decided it was a good idea to get in the way of my curses— (MAKOTO’S NOTE: THIS DID NOT HAPPEN.)

Purple and cyan? Meh. Black, green, and silver? Classic. No idea what the witchcraft school I went to was thinking when they designed our uniforms, but I’ve done a better job than they ever will. It’s a shame my brothers don’t think the same.

That’s all you need to hear from me. Now get lost before I turn you into a frog!

🩵 The Eagle - Finn Dentrad (Finland)

| He/they | Aug 28 ♍️ | 24 y/o | INTP | 162cm / 5’3” |

Looks like my days as an adventurer are not over yet!

My outfit used to be a lot lighter. Shorts, summer jacket, loafers… they’re comfy, no doubt, but I needed something to reflect the things I’m actually good at— engineering and mechanics. So I decided to switch them out for some heavy duty wear.

Now, I’m fully covered up from the neck down, because building stuff, especially gadgets, isn’t really a safe activity. My coat is long enough for protection, but not too long as to get caught in the middle of moving gears. Yikes! Just thinking about that frightens me.

My eyes are just as important for my talent, so I’ve switched out my hat for a pair of goggles. Combine that with my new coat and waist pockets… don’t I look a lot more reliable now?

Oh, one more thing… I’ve had so many people tell me how heavy my backpack is. Is it really? The only stuff in there are bigger mechanical parts and my robot dog Hanatamago, that’s all…

💙 The Bear - Fra’ser Du’randt (France)

| He/him | Jun 26 ♋️ | 39 y/o | ENFJ | 175cm / 5’8” |

*yawns* … Oh, hey there. Sorry, I was busy… looking into other people’s dreams.

How is that possible? Well, not long after I came to this world, the Lord of Dreams made me his assistant. He gave me the power to access the dreams of other individuals at any given time, whether I’m awake or in the process of dreaming. Dispelling nightmares is my job, as well as my specialty.

My Lord designed and created my entire outfit. Blue and purple are the colors of dreams in this world, so it’s only natural that he would choose such hues. The sleeves of my coat are styled just like his, and my base wear resembles the uniform I had at my last job. I do miss my friends back there, but I’m happy to be able to serve my Lord. He is truly a kind deity.

Of course, fighting night terrors is a dangerous job, so the cape and armbands serve as protection. My downwards moon earring also acts as a talisman. All in all, it warms my heart that my Lord had considered so much when he made me this costume.

💜 The Fox - Lucas Revefjellet (Norway)

| He/they/she | May 6 ♉️ | 200+ y/o (physically 20) | INFP | 178cm / 5’10” |

Oh wow, I’m finally last for once. You probably know me well enough by now, as I’m all over this blog as well as Makoto’s Instagram page, if that’s how you found us here.

Every single item you see on me is a gift. Most are from my sisters, the Six Virtues, but gods have asked of my favor as well. I have no idea what they saw in me, but… alright. Pretty cool, I guess. If you want to know from whom is which, do let me know. By the way, if you look very closely at my choker, it has my initials on it.

Somehow, training with my family had helped me grow a pair of wings, fox ears, and a tail. No, this doesn’t make my hearing any better, nor can I fly... These parts are made of mist, and depending on my mood or energy level, can sometimes appear translucent or not show up at all.

The face markings... I got them while learning how to shapeshift under the God of Colors. He told me that every shapeshifter, whether born with the talent or learned it later in life, has a unique mark, or a combination of them. It’s not evident in my main form, but when I turn into a fox, the canine facial structure reveals the full shape of my marks— four diamonds.

Oh, sorry, I spoke too much… Well, if you want to know more about our outfits, feel free to ask. For now, have this— our very own mascot collection, Team MiniB. It was my idea, by the way.

[renee-writer]

What If It Were Brian Chapter Twelve

AO3

Joe hands her tickets to Scotland. She looks at him, her eyes full of tears.

 

“Thank you. I wish I could pay you back.”

 

He shakes his head. “Simply take care of yourself and that wonderful boy. It is all the thanks we need.”

 

They are leaving in the clothes they arrived in. She won’t take the chance to go back and try to get more. They discussed it and decided it was to dangerous. Joe had slipped off to the airport at daybreak to buy the tickets. They woke Brian, feed him a big breakfast, and told him he was going on an adventure.

 

“We shall.” She hugs him and Gail tight. They will take a taxi to the airport. Joe will handle whatever Frank tries next.

 

 

“There is a listing for a Frank and Claire Randall.” Sean O’Malley is scanning through the phone book. His wife, Edina, is moving around the kitchen, preparing a meal. As predicted, she had been delighted by their visitors.

 

“Aye, does that book tell you where they live?” Ian asks.

 

“It does indeed. After we eat and you change, I can take you there, if you wish.”

 

“That would be much appreciated.” 

 

Sean is gifting them modern clothes so they will fit in better.

 

“You bring her back by here, before you take off, eh? I wish to meet the extraordinary lassie that brings you lads so far.” Edina insists.

 

She lays plates before them, covered with steak and potatoes.

 

“Thank you ma’am.” Fergus softly says. He remains overwhelmed by all the strangeness of this time.

 

“Aye thank ye.” Grace is said and they eat.

 

 

“Mama, I can’t  go without him!” A problem arises when Brian realizes his snake has been left.

 

“Honey, it is just to dangerous to go back there.”

 

“I need him!” he cries out before placing his thumb in his mouth. It was a habit that Claire thought broken a year ago. If he was that stressed…

 

Joe sees the same. “I will take you by to get it. A quick grab and then off to the airport.” It was recalled as being dropped on the front lawn as they hurried out. “Easier then a cab anyway.”

 

“You be careful.” Gail frets. He kisses her.

 

“I will.”

 

Tight hugs are given all around and they leave.

 

 

They are strange, the new clothes. Softer then what they are used to but more confining somehow.

 

“Now you fit in better . Ready to go fetch them?”

 

“Aye.”

 

“Ouí.”

 

The car ride is just as strange as before. Ian uses the time to focus on how he will approach this situation. After all, he doesn’t know how much this Frank knows.  Fergus focuses on not soiling the borrowed clothes by getting sick.

 

 

“Stay in the car. I will fetch it.” Claire holds Brian against her as Jo steps out of the car and onto the lawn. Neither see the other car pull up behind them. She is focused on the front door praying that Frank doesn’t come out.

 

Sean and his passengers exit. Fergus gulps the fresh air up, settling his wane. At the same time, Joe finds the snake and Frank steps out.

 

“What are you doing here, boy?”

 

Fergus reacts without thought. He doesn’t  know how that unholy bastard was here but he won’t let him hurt him again. He walks up and punches him out.

 

Claire, sitting like a stone, blinks hard. It can’t be! Then Ian hurries over. Jesus H Roosevelt Christ! It is. Fergus and Ian are here! She jumps out of the car, dragging Brian with her.

 

“Fergus  Claudel Fraser! You canna just go punching strangers!” Ian is fussing at him.

 

“Tis’ no stranger Uncle Ian but that bastard Black Jack Randall.”

 

“Actually, it is Frank Randall.” A stunned Joe adds.

 

Brian sees his snake and runs up to Joe. “Thank you Uncle Joe!”

 

“Ah Dhai! He looks just like him.” Ian exclaims at seeing Brian.

 

Claire can do nothing but hug him and then her eldest son. “You are really here!”

 

Sean and Joe stand and wait for some explanation as Frank starts to moan on the ground.

 

“Aye, Jamie he thought you in danger and we…”

 

“He lives!” She shouts, interrupting Ian.

 

“Aye, he does. He couldn’t travel so we did. Was he right?”

 

“Yes, Brian and I were… my manners. Ian and Fergus meet Brian Henry, my son. Brian some ah…”

 

“Old mates of your mama.” Ian smoothly inserts.

 

“This is Joe. He and his wife are helping me get away from Frank, who you sort of meet.”

 

“I am sorry mama. He looks just like…”

 

Brian holds his snake tight in one hand. The other is around his mama’s leg as he studies the stranger.  “I know. Don’t worry. He deserved it.”

 

“I am Sean O’Malley, helping your lads here. I suggest that we head back to my wife and I’s house before he fully regains consciousness. Whatever else is happening, we want no one in jail, eh?”

 

“Great plan Sean.” Joe says. “I will follow you.”

 

The strange groups climb back in the cars they came in and hurry away, leaving Frank, his bell thoroughly rung, to try to figure out what happened.