#dimension 20 drabble

[professorfcknmoriarty]

Trick or Treat! Your mismag drabbles are giving me life! If you're not too busy, I'd love some EvSam..

I feel like a lot of discussion of their relationship centers around Sam comforting Evan... I'd love to see some Evan comforting/protecting Sam!

Hand shaking, she struggles to not drop the phone.

It rings.

Once.

Twice.

A thi-

“Hello?” his voice is groggy from sleep and she almost sobs in relief at the sound.

“Hi,” she says, trying her best to sound like she hasn’t just been crying. “Hey, Ev’.”

“Sam?” he asks, suddenly sounding infinitely more alert than he was a moment ago. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s- I’m fine,” she reassures him quickly, rubbing at her nose with the back of her hand. It’s wet from snot and she feels gross.

“Where are you?” he asks. She can hear the noise of something in the background, rather like air rapidly decompressing from something.

“Why?” she asks. “You don’t need to- you don’t have to come.”

The sound of a window opening and a deep breath in. “Sam,” he says, his voice dangerously low. “Either tell me exactly what happened or tell me where you are, so I can make sure you’re safe.”

“London,” she says, “Outside a pub. In- the West End? I’m- I’m not sure.”

“Got it,” he says. She can hear the sound of his fingers flying across the screen of his phone. For a guy who only had a flip phone for the longest time, he took to screens really well. “I can be there in five. Is that soon enough?”

A door opens behind her and she holds her breath, taking the phone off speaker and turning the sound down so Evan won’t give her away. “Sam?” a voice calls. “Samantha? I know you’re out here.”

She doesn’t respond.

Faintly, through the phone, she can hear whooshing wind - the sound of him on his broom. Just knowing he’s coming is enough to turn her stomach into knots and make her feel safe at the exact same time. It’s stupid, this is stupid. He’s going to think she’s stupid for calling him crying over something this ridiculous.

“Ugh,” the voice says, the door slamming again as they go back in.

Sam breathes out sharply, peeking out from behind the dumpster to make sure they really left and aren’t just faking it. It’s what Evan would do, if he were here.

They’re gone. She turns the volume back up. “Sorry,” she says. “I -"

“Sam, who was that?” his voice is a little tinny but she can make it out okay.

There’s wine all over the front of her dress and T2’s going to kill her over the dry-cleaning bill. She doesn’t answer. “I’m okay,” she says. “It’s not- I’m not in danger. I promise.”

The sound of rushing wind stops and then his voice comes through clearer. “If it’s safe, can you walk out into the street for me?”

She pushes up from her seat on one of the small crates and brushes off her dress, though it’s a futile effort. Most of her things are still inside, she’d only had her phone on her when she rushed out, and now she’s kicking herself for it. She’s going to have to go back in to get her stuff or give them up and hope someone turns them into the bartender so she can maybe get them back in the morning.

Stepping out under the streetlights, Sam gives the street a quick look around. “Okay,” she says, “I’m on the street.”

“Thank you,” he says politely. “I want you to pick something and think about it as hard as you can. Focus everything you have on thinking about it.”

A little confused, Sam closes her eyes, and thinks about Evan.

After about fifteen seconds, she hears, “I see you.”

When she opens her eyes, he’s walking up to her, his broom already stashed away in his backpack. The final few paces, he jogs to her, reaching out in concern at the stain on her dress. “Is that -"

“Wine,” she says quickly, not sure what to do with her phone now. Not waiting for him to open his arms, she throws hers around him, latching onto him. Her face buried in his neck, she breathes the smell of Evan. Warm, a little like the forest after a spring rain, and perfectly him.

His hand comes up to cup the back of her head, his other hand not so subtly checking her for injuries.

“What happened?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says, pulling away to sniffle. “I’m sorry- you shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have called. It’s just -" she stuffs her phone in between her boobs for lack of a better place to put it. “Did I ever tell you about my dad?”

-

With Evan’s coat wrapped around her to cover up the stain on her dress, Sam feels like she’s been wrapped in a spell of protectiveness. They walk back into the pub, him just a few steps ahead of her. “Which one?” he asks, his voice low.

Sam points.

“Wait here,” he instructs, passing over his backpack for her to hold.

She waits.

He strides up to her father, clasping him on the shoulder to get his attention. She’s too far away to hear what’s being said but it’s less than a minute before Evan’s widening his stance and she knows exactly what he’s going to do. Too bad that no one else does.

Her father hits the floor like he’s been slammed into by a cannonball, sliding backwards several feet. He looks up at Evan in a daze.

The rest of the pub falls completely silent, no one daring to move or even thinking to intervene.

Evan steps up over her father, his foot coming down to the man’s wrist to hold it in place. Crouching down, he removes her purse from his grasp.

He opens it, checking to make sure everything she carries is in there, and then digs his heel in for good measure. “Stay the fuck away from Sam,” she hears Evan say, his voice dangerously serious.

“C’mon,” he says, pulling Sam in close with one arm hooked around her shoulder. He kisses the side of her head. “Let’s get you home.”

Sam cries a little again, but for a whole different reason this time.

“Thanks, Ev’,” she whispers.

“Anytime, Sam,” Evan says. “Anytime.”

[brionbroadway]

“I just don't want to see my son killing himself to get huge accolades for other people that call him The Ball.”

She doesn’t get it.

Which is weird, because his mom gets everything. She is the only person Riz trusts to put pins on his conspiracy board. She sees connection where others see coincidence; she gets confessions where others get pleasantries. She is intuitive but not hasty, confident but not conceited. She’s smart.

So it’s strange, for there to be a disconnect in her perception to what Riz considered a fact.

“The Ball is a good thing.”

Of all the mysteries in his mind, this was not one of them.

His friends love him, and he loves them, so he helps. It’s what his dad would do and what his mom still does, and he is lucky enough to have parents that can double as role models. What can he trust in if not that and his friends?

“I don’t like it. Your name is Riz, and your friends, whom I love, I just want to make sure that you're not being taken advantage of.”

She does love his friends; that’s another fact. Riz has to reconcile that love and disapproval can coexist, that unfair treatment can happen without intention.

But it is different now than it was at the beginning of the school year, right? He can’t deny that his friends are working hard, even if their methods aren’t always the ones he’d choose for them. The facts are, and the facts are what Riz needs to focus on, that all of them are somehow facing more than they ever have before, stressors stacked on top of each other until they can no longer see one another.

His mom doesn’t get it.

And Riz feels lonelier than he did at the beginning of their conversation.

[hypahfixations]

It was only a few minutes. Ten at most. But fuck if they weren't up there as the most heavenly experience Evan had ever had.

They had insisted, his beloved friends, they snuggle together on his small air mattress. It was barely big enough for him alone but two feasibly could if push came to shove. But Sam and K had insisted, with voices that wouldn't be swayed and large, sincere eyes he could never refuse. When Evan had laid down on the very edge to be as thin as possible, K tugged at him in an achingly familiar way. His body turned from memory, settling in the center on his back and extending an arm that K immediately slotted themself into. Evan glanced at Sam and extended his other arm in invitation, only slightly surprised when she nestled in as if the act were the most natural thing in the world.

Both leaned into him.

K on his right, as they always had been, curling up small under his arm. Their leg flamingo hitched high on his lap and fist kitten tucked into his side and under their chin. Evan returned the cradle in kind, holding them tight, returning compression.

Sam on his left, immediately comfortable, draped herself across his body and enveloped him. Her head rested upon his chest, and her arm melted over to his other side to idly stroke K's scalp. Her leg lazily wrapped around his with toes similarly rubbing into his calf.

This would be enough for him. Enough for a lifetime.

Inspired by this lovely art by @sootchild

[shokogast]

devil and angel on my shoulder except for me its riz gukgak and dipper pines

[lucy-frostblade]

femslash feb day 28- warmth

Tracker’s Moon Haven didn’t generate heat. It wasn’t necessarily cold outside, so it wasn’t that much of a problem until they went on the water, the temperatures plummeting in the night, leaving them all huddling under blankets, limbs thrown over each other as they slept. 

Tracker wasn’t one for physical contact, too many hugs that she shied away from and hands gripping her wrists when she was younger to make her feel comfortable with it. Uncle Jawbone understood, asking for hugs and making sure he had permission before touching her. Uncle Jawbone was more her dad than her father was. Kristen, and by extension, the rest of the Bad Kids, were very physically affectionate. Kristen still asked, still made sure it was okay before she grabbed Tracker’s hand or wrapped her in a hug, but as Tracker became more comfortable around the Bad Kids, more secure in who she was, she started noticing the rest of the Bad Kids initiating contact. Fig would throw her legs over Tracker’s lap during dinner, Adaine would fall asleep on her whenever they watched movies, Riz, normally jittery and fast moving, settling enough to press his shoulder to hers. 

Now, late at night in the middle of the ocean, the Hangvan rocking side to side and the temperature getting colder and colder, Tracker wants nothing more than to crawl into the Moon Haven and sleep with the weight of her friends surrounding her. 

Sandralynn was taking the first shift, sitting in the driver's seat after practically kicking Gorgug out so he could sleep. Tracker fidgets with the strings of Kristen’s Owlbears hoodie that she was pretty sure was originally Fabian’s, not sure how to go about asking. She’d known the Bad Kids for almost as long as they’ve known each other, but they had some wordless communication (outside of message) that Tracker always felt like an outsider too. 

Around her, the other Bad Kids were grabbing blankets, shoving pillows into the center of the Moon Haven and changing into PJs, moving seamlessly together like the space wasn’t just barely big enough for all of them. 

(Maybe if Tracker was a better cleric, she could-) 

“Tracker?” Kristen’s next to her. Tracker didn’t know when she arrived, but she could feel the warmth emanating from Kristen. “You going to sleep soon?” Tracker hums and drops her head on Kristen’s shoulder. “Can I…” Tracker trails off. “You wanna sleep in the cuddle pile with us?” Kristen’s grin widens, and Tracker was prepared for teasing, for Kristen to poke and prod and laugh at her for feeling so off about it even though this isn’t the first time, but Kristen doesn’t, just holds out her hand for Tracker to take and pulls her towards the growing pile of Bad Kids. Tracker ends up curled into Kristen’s side. Ragh’s arm is thrown over the both of them, Riz is curled up next to Kristen’s feet, his tail draped over Tracker’s leg. Fig and Adaine are above them, Fig’s hair out of its braid for once and tickling Tracker a little. Fabian and Gorgug are on Ragh’s other side, and Tracker is completely surrounded. Her eyes close and she lets herself relax into the warmth and the trust of her friends.

ao3

taglist: @blueskiesandstarrynights @dapper-nahrwhale @disdoorted-crows @starstruckodysseys @genuine-possum @automaticsoulharmony

[suicidedating]

The last days of Lucy Frostblade....

Do you think Ruvina warned her? Maybe she heard the voice of divinity whispering in her ear, telling her she was being led astray. Her goddess being overtaken by sorrow watching her sweet cleric being deceived by the same rotten force that corrupted her sister; surely she couldn't just stand by and watch.

Quiet prayer, cold air blowing from an unknown direction, "They will betray you. Do not trust the giant or his false miracles, trust only your heart. I'm sorry I cannot save you, my child."

Lucy felt the sadness of her goddess. If she tried, she could almost feel the gentle caress on her cheek. Never before had she felt Ruvina's presence like that.

Maybe she tried to stop the inevitable. She tried to be a more positive influence. She tried to convince them to be more honest adventurers, because these teachers were mean and creepy. But everyone just shrugged it off.

'We'll be out of this hellhole in a few years anyway so let's just suck it up and get this over with'

'After I helped you become the champion? Lucy, you're the main character now! Aren't you excited?'

'I don't know... what if I'm not good enough be a real adventurer..? Jace always says we'd never make it without their help...'

But despite it all, she didn't abandon her friends. In a clearing in the woods, she didn't abandon her friends. Her last fight, she spent every attack on Porter, even as she felt a small dagger digging into her ribs and an arrow pierce her back. With her dying breath, she didn't abandon her friends.

She knew choosing anger and resentment would've meant abandoning who her real friends were, deep beneath their moment of weakness. Her sacrifice was what saved the other rat grinders. She did not abandon them.

[starstruckodysseys]

fantasy high + number 17 for wrapped? 👀

@transgenderfabianseacaster

17 — lent by autoheart!

Here is a secret: Kristen Applebees is not an idiot.

She knows it’s ending before Tracker fully breaks it off. She knows she clings too much, that they’re not getting the same things out of this relationship, that she’s been ruining everything she can get her hands on for the past few months or so. Maybe her entire life.

It’s not that I don’t love you, Tracker eventually says, even though it sort of is, isn’t it? I just don’t think we’re good for each other.

Freshman Year Kristen would flip at this. Hell, Spring Break Kristen would probably have had a full breakdown. But this is End of Sophomore Year Kristen, almost Summer Kristen, and she nods and agrees and cracks a sad sort of joke and ignores the way her voice breaks and doesn’t cry until she’s back in her room by herself.

She knows it’s her fault, mostly. That first loves and high school romances don’t last forever. That she never takes anything seriously, that she needed Tracker more than the reverse was ever true, that she can’t stick to anything for longer than a couple months, apparently. She’s been jumping between gods like a lesser person might lovers. It makes sense Tracker would get tired of it all.

Fig and Adaine attempt to comfort her about it, but it’s about as helpful as staring at the stained glass of her windows. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate it, but Fig’s relationship is going absolutely perfectly, it seems, and Adaine’s relationship experience is nonexistent.

So she turns to Cassandra. She revels in doubt, in the unknown, in the idea of possibility and mystery and not knowing what comes next. She’s never been one to think ahead, necessarily, but at least now it feels like a weighted blanket, a beacon of hope, sort of.

And if she thinks about cropped hair and sharp teeth and surprisingly gentle kisses more often than she maybe should, well. That’s for her to know and no one else to find out. Hopefully.

(send me a number 1-100 and i’ll write a drabble based on my spotify wrapped!)

[koisuko]

A random drabble?

(Idk the proper term for it)

Tw: violence and death, gn reader, first person, no character names

The man above me, his eyes riddled with murderous intent, wrapped his hands around my throat. His fingers calloused from years of war, his face worn and tattered from battle. He was someone I once knew, someone I once trusted, yet now — I was seeing him under a new light. This man I once called a brother, now laced our bond with the venom of deception. His mind was clouded with the thoughts of a stranger, the sick morale of an enemy.

Betrayal, is the best way to describe it. He's betrayed me, betrayed us all, and betrayed himself and all that he once believed. The moonlight casted down on the scene, baring witness as it unfolds. Although usually serene, this field now becomes a potential host for a brutal attempt to take a life.

His grip clenched, wringing my neck like a wet towel. The sounds of chokes and gags now echo off the surrounding tree line. I swore I could nearly taste an irony substance teasing the back of my tongue. Inky black splotches began devouring my vision, matching the night sky above me. Then I remembered, my partner, he’s here!

I could barely jerk my head, just enough to see my comrade stood with a gun pointed in our direction through the obscurity of tears. His stance was unsteady, unsure, darting his big doe eyes between me and the culprit pinning me down. His mouth was agape, gasping for air as if feeling my struggle. Was he..panicking? I gave him a pleading glance with all the strength I had left, while desperately fighting to stay awake — stay alive. Take the shot..just take the shot! I screamed into my mind, wishing it would reach him somehow.

His face changed, as if he had finally made a decision. I’m going to live, I thought, he’s going to save me. But, what I didn’t expect, was to see his back facing me in a blink of an eye, his form merging with the shadows of the forest. He ran…he left me here to die.

I could feel the death creeping into my bones, my body becoming numb and heavy. My vision had finally succumbed to the darkness, yet I could still hear, still think, but only for a split second. The last sound, the last thrum to the strand between life and death, was the sickening crunch of my neck.

Note: been feeling really unmotivated to do much, so I’ll mostly be writing concepts with either characters from something I like, or no characters just a concept. Ily all, hope this is decent at least ❤️ sorry for being so absent, I’ll be back fully eventually.

[red-wood-and-cedar]

This was it.

The final canon had sounded.

Two left.

Riz shakily pushed up his glasses, taking in an equally shaky breath. He looked at the back of the girl he had come to see as an ally, and as a friend.

He looked at this girl who had shown him kindness, who had shown him love, who had excitedly talked strategy and made plans with him late into the night, at the girl who kept watch and smiled at him when he woke up.

He looked at this girl and drew his arqeubus.

The click of the pistol made Adaine stop in her tracks. She had known this was coming, deep down she had known from the beginning. There’s always only been one winner, after all.

Just because she saw it coming doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

“Just us then, I suppose?” She asked quietly.

“I’m sorry, Adaine.” Riz murmured. He didn’t trust his voice to go any louder.

“I know. Between us, it was always going to be you, Riz. We both knew that.” Adaine smiled, tears welling up in her eyes. She didn’t know if they were happy for her friend, for winning the un-winnable game, or sorrow at how he was choosing to win them.

“For whatever it’s worth, I am proud. Happy for you, even. I know you have people to go back to, they’ll feel the same.”

Riz had told Adaine about his mom, about Penny. They had talked late into the night about their families, when they weren’t talking about the best way to kill people their own age.

Riz’s hands shook slightly. Adaine still had her back to him. His glasses started slipping.

He didn’t push them up.

He didn’t need to.

She was so close, if he just lifted the gun a little, it would be so quick, so quick- painless, really- it would be over-

Riz said nothing.

Adaine didn’t turn around.

“Congratulations, Riz Gukgak.”

Adaine turned around to look at her friend, tears running down her smiling face.

“And good luck.”

Two shots rang out almost in unison.

One of a cannon going off, and one of a pistol.

A moment after that, a ladder was lowered from the sky.

Slowly, Riz stepped over the still smiling body of Adaine Abernant, Everyone’s Oracle, and one of his only friends.

“I am proud….they’ll feel the same.”

For the first time since the start of these games, as Riz climbed the ladder to victory, he hoped his friend’s prophecy was wrong.

How I think the bad kids would fare in the hunger games

Kristen Applebees: I love her, but she'd die immediately by accidentally stepping off the plate too early

Fabian Seacaster: my man got horrible advice from his mentor (bill) and died pretty early in the cornucopia fight sorry king

Riz Gukgak: riz is surviving to the end, he is sneaking around laying traps and hiding. He makes it to the final two. More on this later

Fig Faeth: she's getting the most sponsors. Everyone loves her and she can fight ok. However. She gets baited out by a group of people and is ganged up on. She makes it pretty far.

Gorgug: he makes it pretty damn far. He's strong and gets decent sponsors. However tragically he probably gets killed by one of the traps Riz lays out

Adaine: she's the other one to make it to the end. Shes smart enough to grab a backpack and get out. She also runs into Riz and they team up. They 100% make it to the end. Unfortunately Riz had a plan to take her out from the very beginning just in case it came to this and she dies

[vefanyar]

Outline art by Carla Cascales

Welcome to Tolkien Femslash February 2025!

How does this work?

Simple! Below the cut you'll find prompts for every day of February, oriented along the "four words" principle to inspire a fanwork, including the song they were taken from. Use them as a guideline for art, moodboards, write a drabble containing them, make a fanmix for your OTP, let them shape a longer fic, there is no way you can go wrong. The only condition: Your fanworks have to contain femslash, and if you want to make them findable for others, please tag them #tolkienfemfeb25.

Prompts Below!

February 01: Breathe, shackles, shores, promised (Joy Oladokun - Jordan) 

February 02: Language, dimension, tower, horizon (Horizon - Luna Blake)

February 03: Slow, counting, flame, blessing (Chris Pureka - Barn Song) 

February 04: Drifting, back, peaks, lighthouse (Brandi Carlile - Carried Me With You) 

February 05: Opposite, currents, deepest, arms (Lights - Same Sea)

February 06: Chase, sun, rough, remember (Janelle Monáe - I Like That)

February 07: Honey, charming, awake, lines (Kehlani - Honey)

February 08: Divided, history, skin, lied (Mirah - Don't Die In Me) 

February 09: Satisfied, way, cherry, watching (Rina Sawayama - Cherry) 

February 10: Lightning, backwards, sheets, ashes (The Aces - Volcanic Love)

February 11: Below, streams, running, remember (Cœur de Pirate - The Way Back Home)

February 12: Nowhere, violet, taste, window (Allison Russell - Persephone) 

February 13: Veins, close, fade, whole (Zolita - Bloodstream)

February 14: Verse, holy, unspoken, light (LP - One Last Time)

February 15: Blinded, finally, rising, storm (Kacey Musgraves - Rainbow) 

February 16: Reflects, exist, leaving, devotion (The xx - Angels)

February 17: Dying, magpie, wandering, bound (Grace Petrie - Earthwire)

February 18: Lifted, dawn, chiffon, smile (MUNA & Phoebe Bridgers - Silk Chiffon) 

February 19: Senses, jailor, torture, lullaby (Kat Cunning - Heart of Gold)

February 20: Sleep, warrior, circle, start (Marika Hackman - The Girl Who Fell To Earth)

February 21: Smoky, wife, believing, glance (Melissa Etheridge - Juliet) 

February 22: Word, immune, incredible, tough (Sia - Incredible)

February 23: Ghost, years, singing, following (Linn Jennings - Ghost Streets) 

February 24: Vast, galaxies, forgive, silence (Hayley Kiyoko - somewhere between the sand and the stardust) 

February 25: Solitude, comforting, flicker, mend (Vanessa Carlton - Heroes and Thieves)

February 26: Apart, fever, fast, burning (Billie Eilish - WILDFLOWER)

February 27: Promise, divine, strangers, bride (Ethel Cain - Strangers)

February 28: Independence, blindfolds, raise, trumpet (Lido Pimienta - Declare Independence)

[professorfcknmoriarty]

@resplendeo

Admittedly, deciding spontaneously that he wanted to be six and a half feet tall meant that he didn’t necessarily put a lot of thought into the logistics of it.

Previously, Whitney Jammer had been straddling the line of only-fully-six-foot if he’s standing fully straight and upright, otherwise he’d always been just a little bit under. It’s made his chosen career and passion for basketball a little more difficult than it might otherwise be if he were taller. He’s still good. He’s still really good, but it’s the only thing keeping him from going over the edge of greatness.

So, when he’s imbued with the powers of creation magick itself, he does the first thing that comes to mind.

He makes himself taller.

It’s more normal feeling that he’d expect it to be, no great new awareness of the world around him from this new height of his, except for the fact that his friends are either actually shorter than him now - Evan - or even shorter than him than they already were - K and Sam - which is equal parts thrilling and strange.

Of course, not having a newfound awareness of the world also means that he forgets that he’s too tall for things that never would have gotten him into trouble before.

Doorframes are no longer automatic passes. He hits his head on more than a few as he’s adjusting to the change, until he finally gets to the point where he starts walking into rooms with his hand up on his forehead to automatically block any impact.

It’s a little embarrassing.

More than a little, really.

The clothes he’d been wearing when he’d completed his upgrade had grown as well, fitting his new form, but none of his other clothes fit anymore. He didn’t wear a lot of pants if he could help it, but his sweatpants are all a few inches above his ankles. All the new height isn’t stored in his legs, but based on how much shorter his shorts are, it definitely feels that way.

The shirts he had packed in his duffle bag and the ones back home all expose his midriff a little and somehow they’re a bit tighter on his shoulders, as if they’re a full several sizes too small now.

He has to buy a full new wardrobe, which gets him some looks of confusion from other shoppers when he goes to check-out, wearing ill-fitted clothes. It was this or the jumpsuit.

“Unexpected growth spurt, hon?” the kindly lady at the register asks with a look of understanding.

“Something like that,” Jammer says, a little red in the face. At least he’s found a way to keep his wings hidden from sight most of the time, so she’s not staring at them.

He has to relearn so much that he’s almost just teaching himself how to play basketball again. With newer legs and a different sized torso means slightly longer arms, the rest of his body developing as well to keep him proportional, and that means that even things as simple as picking something up and throwing it suddenly requires conscious effort.

It’s exhausting.

He wouldn’t trade it for the world, though. Not with the way Evan’s eyes darken when he stands over the man, tall enough to tower over him for once.

“Can you reach that for me?” Evan asks, the question light. He doesn’t gesture, but Jammer knows he’s referring to the box of dried noodles that are just out of reach in the very top cabinet. He’s braced against the counter, looking up at Jammer with dark, intense eyes.

“Sure thing,” Jammer says. He doesn’t break eye contact as he reaches up for it.

He hands them over. “Anything else,” he asks, licking his lips before he adds on, “big guy,” to the end of it.

Evan makes a soft, hungry noise for something more than the noodles.

Jammer obliges, dropping the box down to the counter to hold Evan’s face in his hand and tilt it up until it’s the perfect angle for a kiss.

Since he’s kissed Evan, he’s going to have to kiss K and Sam, too, or they’ll both get jealous, but that’s not exactly a hardship.

For now, he gets to enjoy how much Evan likes to be the smaller one and how much he likes being like this.

[brionbroadway]

“I know you only do things to distract yourself from how deeply sad you are that your dad is gone.”

So, it worked.

Freed the maidens, killed Kalvaxus. Restored Cassandra, defeated the Night Yorb. Passed his classes, excelled in extracurriculars. Whether vengeance, justice, or simple avoidance was the motivation, Riz had to succeed, and so he did. Maybe that was an advantage, but—

He still bristles when Fig complains about one of her two dads.

He still wishes his mom would talk about his dad more.

He still does not know how to talk to his dad about unimportant things.

He still doesn’t sleep, because he has nightmares. His dad in Hell, an image his brain knows is a lie, but his subconscious does not.  Kalina haunting him, taunting him, with no reform or redemption. His mom’s reluctant confession: I can’t lose you too.  

“There is a moment where Kipperlilly talks about being jealous.”

[a-bottle-of-tyelenol]

Hihi, my name is Tye!

I am a fanfic writer that primarily focuses on age regression, autism, and mental health!

I am multifandom and I tag everything to keep things neat. My primary fandoms right now are:

- EPIC: The Musical

- My Hero Academia

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

DNI/BYF

I don’t actually have a DNI because I don’t totally get them and I’m pretty accepting of most people in the communities I run in. What I will say is that I am an adult and therefore my account will reflect that. My account is primarily SFW (and anything not that, like extreme violence, drugs, or nudity will be tagged), but regressors and minors tread with caution because I’m really bad at gauging what’s “child-friendly”.

Please, be respectful. I am very opinionated and open to discuss things, but I don’t tolerate most forms of character/ship discourse. Thank you <3

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Footnotes

You can find me on Ao3 here!

Tags for my content: my post, baby babbles (asks), my art, my writing, my boards, mha boards, myth boards, agere board, my headcanons

Other content tags (mute what you don’t want to see): mha, agere, epic, greek mythology, hellenism, vent, ect

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Want to request something?

You absolutely can! My requests are always open!

Here is my masterlist for all of my requests!

See under the cut for more information :D

I mostly do agere headcanons posts for characters, but I’m pretty open to requests for moodboards/aesthetics (see Olympus Circus for examples) or au concepts/headcanons.

The only thing I don’t do is drabbles, one shots, or fic requests! You’re still welcome to talk about fic ideas with me in my ask box, though!

Here is a list of fandoms I’m in or have been in previously that I’d be willing to revisit for requests:

- mha

- epic the musical

- invincible

- sander sides

- spy x family

- beyblade

- yugioh

- dimension 20 (I’ve seen all of the intrepid heroes seasons and a handful of the shorter ones)

- bluelock

- the umbrella academy

- dead boy detectives

- house md

- musicals (you can ask if I know a character/show)

- mcyt (the life series — not for agere hcs)

[shokogast]

happy pride month to the photo album i made dedicated to riz gukgak fanart to keep me going through spring semester. it's all thanks to you big guy

[lucy-frostblade]

in another life (we could stay this young)

read on ao3

There’s a timeline, running parallel to yours. One you cannot quite see, but is visible, in the cracks at the edge of your world, in the flashes of your nightmares and the snarled words of your enemies.

There’s a world, one you just barely missed, where all your dreams come true, where your sister lives and you can go home, sprinting across the bridge, oil splattered across your face, your breath catching in your throat as you pull your sister towards the crater where your father pulls himself out of. He pulls you all into a hug, you, your sister, your mother, your cousin and you take off, under the cover of night, keeping your pinkie interlaced with your sister, your necklace warm on your neck.

In another world, you don’t make it to the bridge at all. You’re killed before your sixteenth birthday, betrayed by your father’s advisor, the glint of the knife and your sister’s screams the last thing you see before your throat is slit. You don’t see your father’s rage, the battle he rages, just him and his second and your teacher, one who you never got to know, one who you underestimated. You don’t see how they die, killed off one by one as troops of soldiers storm the castle, destroying any sense of comfort that your home ever gave you.

You do watch your father die in a different world, standing on a balcony, your cousin’s hand on your shoulder and your sister’s pinkie tightening around yours. You hear the crunch of the bones as the mace slams into the side of his skull and the slow ebbing blood that pours out as he slumps to the ground. You’re ushered away, by your guard and your advisor and you can barely process what’s just happened. Your advisor is talking to you, but you don’t hear it, the only thing you can hear is a ringing of a church bell as you sprint away.

In some, your advisor doesn’t make it. In others, your knight. In most your sister dies, separated from you, alone in a dark room as you sprint across a bridge. Sometimes she survives, but those are few and far between.

In all worlds, you lose someone you hold dear, but you survive. Why must you survive, as those around you fall, pulled into the depths of the Hungry One? Are you destined to live alone, without your other half? Will there always be a family member lost for your survival?

Are you destined always to survive, or is a curse, one someone far beyond your reach inflicted on you, words spilling from his mouth as he narrates your life.

[yasperapologist]

Get to know your author

I was tagged by @deaddeerdonoteat

1. How many works on Ao3?

Three! We've got Turn Back Time, my time loop longfic, Where it Starts, a prequel set in high school, and Best-Case Scenarios which is basically just random fluffy drabbles.

Frankly, that's 3 more fics than I though I would ever post. It's been about a year since I discovered The Afterparty and promptly became obsessed with the show. I got the idea for an Afterparty time loop fic and started scribbling down random thoughts on my phone's Notes app—mostly because it felt like I was going to explode if I didn’t get the words out of my head. I thought it'd be cool if I ended up writing something I could actually post, but I didn't actually expect to follow through. The only other fics I’d written were a few little one-shots/drabbles for a different fandom close to a decade ago. I had read a lot of fanfic but never attempted a project of this scale. Now I have 35k words published, close to 100k more in my draft, and 20+ chapters planned out?? It blows my mind. And honestly I don't think I would have gotten to the point of hitting ‘publish’ without all the encouragement from the Ben Schwartz Cinematic Universe discord folks ( @benschwartzcinematicuniverse, @deaddeerdonoteat, @slimeybee, @flingmetothemoon, and some others who I don't think are on tumblr??? I am so bad at matching tumblr URLs to discord handles).

2. Total Ao3 word count?

About 40k.

3. Top 5 five by kudos?

Just the three, lol.

4. What fandoms do you write for?

So far just the Afterparty. (If I ever run out of Afterparty ideas, I might dip my toe into Space Force.)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes, comments make my day and I respond to all of them!!! Possibly with lengthier responses than anyone wanted, lol.

6. Fic with the angstiest ending?

I've never written anything with an angsty ending, and I personally don't plan to. My approach is basically: I'm not into writing angst for its own sake, although there are some stories that are impossible to tell without it. Turn Back Time is one example. There's a lot of angst in there, not because I like making the character suffer, but because the entire premise is about engaging with the real emotional aftermath of the events of Season 1. But when all's said and done, I like happy endings. I joke about being a Weenie Hut Jr. writer in that respect.

7. Fic with the happiest ending?

Hard to say. They all kinda take place in the same universe. And Turn Back Time is the only one with like, a real over-arching plot. All pretty happy endings, I promise.

8. Do you get hate?

No, everyone has been very kind. (I think it helps that the fandom is so tiny. You want Afterparty fic? There are max like 3 people who write it, so you're stuck with our limited seasonal menu. 😂)

9. Do you write smut?

Nothing I've published, but I started writing a Brett/Xavier enemies with benefits fic as a joke and it somehow turned into something serious and now I have a 30k word draft??

10. Have you ever co-written a fic?

No, though @deaddeerdonoteat and I sometimes come up with silly Brett/Xavier dialogue that I think deserves to see the light of day.

11. All time favorite ship?

If we're only looking at The Afterparty, it's gotta be yasniq. I am a sucker for a best friends to lovers story. All time, any fandom? That's a really hard question to answer. (I'm thinking about like, a graph where the X-axis is "how much I believe in the ship" and the Y-axis is "how much I enjoy the ship" and then there's a third dimension/Z-axis of "how much content exists for the ship" and it's very hard to find something that checks all 3 boxes. But 1 or 2 out of 3 can still be fun.)

12. WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don't have that many WIPs and the ones I do have are fairly likely to get finished. It's basically just Turn Back Time (which is most of the way done and I have extremely concrete plans to finish), my dumb Brett/Xavier story, and maybe a couple random sequels or oneshots that can exist in the same universe but don't have an over-arching plot (e.g. Chelsea Starts a GSA). OH, and there’s ia Yasniq covid quarantine fic. Decent odds I'll finish that one, though it might take a while.

13. Writing strengths?

Research/dedication to canon (to a degree that I can admit is obsessive). You would not believe the stupid shit I've looked up because I didn't want to get a peripheral detail wrong. I have a folder on my computer with dozens of reference photos from the show that I look at when I want to confirm details about the set. I tried to map out the layout of Xavier's mansion in MS paint (a task which I think is actually impossible). I researched the history of Hungarian-Jewish immigration when deciding on a backstory for Yasper's parents because he made an offhand comment in S1E1 about having visited Hungary many times. “What would Yasper/Aniq have been doing in the early days of the pandemic?" somehow turned into me researching PPP loan eligibility criteria.

Also I think my writing is pretty funny?

14. Writing weaknesses?

Indecisiveness. MAJOR indecisiveness. (See the fact that I’d been working on Turn Back Time for over six months before I started publishing it.) Also maybe over-use of em-dashes and semi-colons.

15. What are you working on that you haven’t posted any of?

I think it's all stuff I mentioned earlier in the post. (Mainly the Brett/Xavier enemies with benefits fic and the Yasniq lockdown fic)

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In terms of tagging people... I am also bad at matching ao3 usernames to tumblr URLs so I can't remember who writes fic, but anyone is welcome to do this and say that I tagged you 😂