#logically its a wip too

[bunningchaos]

Ya-yeet.

[artshokad2]

The unthinkable happened right when i was going to join in wip Wednesday unprompted @twodiamondhoes tagged me in it

I was going to do something a little more recent but the day snuck up on me so have a really old snippet from a fic i may or may not finish that i wrote in a haze of finals stress while listening to “Sleeping in the Kitchen” by Madilyn Mei on loop

Jimmy Solidarity my beloved

Its a little out of my usual style because music possesses me in a way thats a little concerning sometimes but i had fun with it!

Tagging @gladumfdoodles who i know always has a snippet locked and loaded, @raffi-cat who should share their writing more in my humble opinion, @sincerely-nines because my favorite moot you should write fanfic… if you want…

and my friend ani whose tumblr @ is not working rn so im just going to send this to them but they should share their writing on tumblr!!! Its so fun!!

(No pressure to anyone, tis supposed to be for fun :D)

[windor-truffle]

research for 2hcb1 is like 30 percent revisiting canon lore and 70 percent watching therapy videos because *gestures vaguely at Lambda and Asbel* you've got a lot to unpack there, huh 😅

[polux-aka-hyakunana]

Ok but has anyone ever done a Geats sponsor switch!AU because

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Slide behind the cut, who asked for interdimensional shenanigans and is getting “interdimensional whoring for Timkon”. Bullying your alternate self into having the best sex of his life with his bestie counts as "shenanigans", right? Right?? (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Well, at least his other self knows how to package a check-in in a way Kon will be able to relax for. And Tim himself knew enough to loop an arm around Kon’s waist when his other self said “good boy”, which is the only reason his other self doesn’t get knocked on his ass by two hundred and fifty pounds of incredibly dense half-Kryptonian muscle made out of DNA evolved for a much higher-gravity environment than Earth’s. 

Well, that’s why he’s the one facilitating this interdimensional threesome.

“There we go,” Tim hums. His other self shoots him a dirty look again–probably on principle at this point, really, he figures–and Kon doesn’t even try to stutter out an apology or make an excuse. Bonus benefit to sleeping with an easily-overwhelmed version of him, Tim notes: he stops apologizing for existing a lot sooner, and therefore Tim is kept much farther from manifesting any Gun Batman thoughts. Well–his version of “Gun Batman” thoughts, anyway. 

Technically, as far as Tim is aware, his home reality is possibly the literal only one without a potential “and then I became fascist Batman” timeline that was at least at some point lying in wait for its version of Tim Drake–including several where he was never even a Bat, go figure–but that doesn’t actually preclude annoying visits from alternate reality versions of himself. Which is whatever, since most of them just seem to be just genuinely bewildered that all of Tim’s personal technically-supervillain-oriented plans begin and end with “one sec, lemme just see how open to the question ‘hey can I borrow your lipstick and if so does it come in this one hyper-specific shade of red?’ Dr. Isley is feeling this week”, but still kind of annoying anyway. 

Tim finds the “and then I became fascist Batman” path very narrow-minded and not very resourceful of his alternate selves, honestly; seriously, do none of them know how to deal with their cortisol levels actually productively, as opposed to by just getting unhealthily invested in casework and training and contingency plans to the severe detriment of all their personal and professional relationships and own mental health? 

. . . . . . maybe this is not the only sexually-repressed reality out there, considering. Which, come to think, might help explain why there are such a statistically-improbable amount of potential Gun Batman timelines in Hypertime. 

Hm. 

Tim idly wonders if he could spin “for humanitarian reasons, I am going to be running a long-term background project where I get as many versions of myself interdimensionally laid as possible” to Bruce and/or the Justice League. Probably not, but like, if he tried the Titans . . . 

Alternately, he guesses he could just ask Kon for some backup. There’s definitely some interdimensional whatever or another that Kon would be willing to nick from the Fortress of Solitude to facilitate that definitely just noble goal, and also there’s really not better backup for that particular project anyway. Bernard doesn’t have enough vigilante-grade field experience, he is not gonna take another Bat, and Cassie and Bart are great but like, if Tim was picking who he’d want to drop in on him from another reality and ask to ride his dick for the sake of the timeline . . . 

And given Tim is the one picking, well, that’s just the logical option, then. 

He’ll look into it, he decides, and if it’s feasible he’ll pitch a bimonthly boys’ weekend. Do some preventative work in a few realities/timelines or whatever, just in case. 

Seriously, that Savior dude was a real goddamn trip. 

Tim clearly takes himself way too seriously in way too many timelines. 

Okay, though, all tangents aside, he does have shit to do here, so yeah, time to get back to that. 

“Here, let me actually get your good boy out of these,” he says as he shifts back just enough to help Kon out of his pants and jock. He is not remotely merciful about letting his other self pretend not to notice what a fucking mess Kon made of them both during the process. It’s not like Kon didn’t already come all over his jock, so it’s not particularly subtle exactly how much he comes either way. “Where are your wet wipes? Or . . . maybe that’s optimistic of me, actually, maybe you’re not prepared enough for cleaning up your sexcapades, given I’m not entirely sure you’ve ever had a sexcapade.” 

“I’m not–I’ve had sex before!” his other self sputters, turning red. Tim raises a pitying eyebrow at him. “I have!” 

“I didn’t say you hadn’t,” he points out mildly. His other self turns red. “I consider a sexcapade more of an event, personally, so they’re just . . . hm, messier? Yeah, ‘messier’ works.” 

“Rob,” Kon mumbles against his other self’s neck as he curls a hand against his shoulder, sounding a little drunk about it. Or, well–a little concussed, maybe. Kon gets concussed a lot more often than he gets drunk, for obvious reasons. “Y’wanna . . . ?”

“We want to take care of you, sweetheart,” Tim says, taking a moment to press a kiss against the back of the other’s shoulder before folding up his pants and carefully setting them and his jock aside with his shirt. And, well, sparing a moment to admire the come smeared across his S-shield again, because it really is something to appreciate, when Kon’s willing to give that up. “C’mere.” 

He slips up against Kon’ back again and puts his hands on his hips, and it only takes the slightest little tug or two to guide the other into following him back. Which is actually significantly more effort than it usually takes, but Tim’s going to assume it’s safe to assume Kon’s feeling a little torn between Robins right now. 

He gets Kon to sit down on the edge of the bed and cups his face in his hands, and Kon immediately tilts his face up into them. He looks dreamy and dazed and all flushed and fucked and goddamn adorable. Especially adorable because he hasn’t actually gotten fucked, or really even all that much attention. They haven’t even touched his cock all that deliberately. Or really deliberately at all, in fact. 

Tim feels some kind of a way about the fact that this Kon’s never bottomed before and still let him fingerfuck him without even putting a hand on his dick for it–still let him fingerfuck him without putting a hand on his dick for it, and came for it; came for it easily, even. That super-sensitivity is a goddamn gift. 

Or just Kon is, really. 

And Tim knows how to appreciate a gift. 

“Good boy,” he says the same way he’d say “good work” in the field, and leans down to press a kiss to the other’s forehead. Kon melts into a functional liquid under his mouth and hands and starts purring louder than he’s purred all night. 

Definitely, definitely a good boy.

[roguishcat]

The Best Laid Plans

Summary: Even the best laid plans may go wrong. Admittedly, Astarion's plan hadn't been that great to begin with. Part 2 of 'Part of His Plan'.

Pairing: Astarion x unnamed female Tav

Word count: 4k

Tags: Romance, Astarion is bad at feelings, Unnamed female Tav, Angst, Tooth-rotting fluff, Romance and feels

A/N: This story has a wonderful beta!! Thank you so much @preciouslittlebhaalbae! 💖💖💖 You are an absolute gem and the loveliest person ever for doing this! 🫂Thank you for your patience and kind suggestions! (because I'm a silly person who can't spot even obvious mistakes and @preciouslittlebhaalbae has the patience of a saint). You might remember me posting snippets from this back in January, so this is my second finished WIP for @thekindredcollective BG3 Spring Cleaning!

Hope you enjoy the story and please let me know what you think! 💖💖 Comments, likes and reposts are always loved! 💖💖

Tav had a shadow and its name was Astarion.

She didn’t notice immediately. She was far too concerned with saving Thaniel, breaking the curse, helping every single one of their companions on their personal quests, and combating the mindless creatures wanting to murder them from the moment they stepped out of the dome protecting the Last Light Inn.

At first, Tav thought that she was just imagining it. Because every time she looked up, she seemed to glimpse silver curls, feel feather-light touches of cool fingers on her neck, all but taste rosemary, bergamot and brandy on her tongue. This lasted only a moment, yet a moment was all he ever needed to leave a lasting impression on her.

At some point, Astarion seemed to decide to stop bothering to pretend that he wasn’t following Tav around, his ruby eyes all but boring holes into her back as he watched her closely.

Now, this wasn’t the first time that Astarion acted somewhat uncanny. Perhaps two hundred years of being forced to do someone’s bidding did that to an elf. Either way, Tav didn’t want to offend Astarion. So she chose not to comment on how odd his behaviour was.  

However, the longer they travelled, the more Astarion seemed to insert himself into every situation, making sure that he was at her side at all times. She would round a corner and bump into his leather-clad back. Walk down the stairs and he was already waiting for her, tapping his foot in an impatient manner as he scowled at whoever was walking behind her at the time.

Finally, when she almost tripped over him, Tav decided to ask Astarion about it.

"Astarion, is there something you want?"

"Me? Why would you ask such a thing, my sweet?" Astarion said with a crooked smile, and Tav noticed how tensely he held himself. A coil waiting to spring upward at a smallest tap.

"Well.. Lately, I've noticed that you’ve started to… hover."

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say. His expression shuttered and he took a step back.

“And I take it that you’d rather I didn’t, is that it?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, I -”

"If you do not wish for my company, you can just come out and say so! Send me back to camp to wallow in misery as Gale attempts to engage me in decidedly unengaging conversation," Astarion all but hissed at her.

Astarion regretted snapping at her almost immediately. He knew that it was uncalled for. Tav was nothing but kind and accommodating. But he couldn’t help the bitterness he felt when seeing her treat everyone else with the same thoughtfulness, the same caring. Was her protecting him nothing but an obligation? Was Tav offering her neck to him time and time again something that she would have done for any soul that needed sustenance? To him, it seemed that lately she led without making sure that he followed. Was whatever they shared coming to its logical conclusion sooner than he anticipated?

"I didn't say that I don't want you around," Tav frowned and took a careful step towards him, trying to mitigate the conflict before they started arguing in earnest. "I just want to make sure that everything is alright."

"As is your duty, my fair leader. To check up on any and all lost causes that seek your company, hm?"

Tav wasn’t sure exactly what he meant. His words felt cruel, though, and she felt herself flush.

"Sometimes I don't understand what you want from me, Astarion.”

He winced at how hurt she sounded. Another, better adjusted person, would be quick to apologise. Blame it all on being tired and frazzled, suggest with a rueful smile that the shadows were getting to him. Yet, Astarion only watched as Tav walked past the rest of the party. Shadowheart and Karlach, who had been standing nearby, choose not to comment on the exchange.

He'd rather have one of them punch him than have them silently disapprove. At least then he’d pretend he was angry at his companions rather than himself. Anger was familiar territory. Fear was nothing new. Whatever he felt now was a different, unfamiliar brand of torture.

An hour later Astarion found himself nervously pacing up and down his tent. Or at least doing something as close to pacing as he could in such cramped quarters. His thoughts a flurry of worries and poorly supressed insecurities, Astarion had no idea how to fix this mess. He wasn’t even sure why he was so worried about it in the first place.

By now he knew Tav well enough to be certain that she would not banish him. She would not do that to any of them without just cause. And no matter how unreasonable and hurtful he had been, she would not leave him to die.

So why did he want to fix this so badly? Surely not because he was worried that whatever this was, whatever tentative trust he’d managed to establish between them, would be over come morning once she had some time to think? Because even someone as forgiving as Tav had her limits. She was kind and warm, accepting and generous; but she was no fool.

Astarion stopped abruptly and put his arms around himself.

He had to fix this. Somehow.

Turning to his trunk, he lifted the lid and rummaged around, digging up the bottle that he was saving for a special occasion. Grovelling for his lover to forgive him seemed like special occasion enough.

Then Astarion spent an age making sure that he looked his best. After all, presentation was half the victory!

Thus primped and primed - and carrying a peace offering - Astarion stalked through the night, making sure to avoid his campmates. He really did not feel like getting some unsolicited advice from anyone for the time being.

Standing in front of the tent, he suddenly felt nervous. A strange, sick feeling in his stomach, he found he was unsure if he wanted to know what Tav would say to him.

Taking a breath he didn’t need, Astarion plastered his best smile on his face and moved the tent flap aside.

"Dearest, how about we both choose to be adults about this and make up, hm?"

"Sure," Tav said without looking up from whatever she was doing, effectively dismissing him. Clearly, it was 'thanks for the half-baked apology', but 'no thanks' to spending an evening together. Choosing to soldier on against all odds, Astarion pretended that he could not read her body language and sat down beside her on the bedroll.

"Now... Can I tempt you with some wine? Or perhaps with some other… delights?" Astarion drawled seductively, fingers dancing down the wine bottle’s curved side.

He was a vision and he knew it. Hair coiffed just so, shirt slightly loose and showing off more alabaster skin than usual. It was a very tempting sight, if only Tav were in the mood to be tempted.

She didn’t even look up.

"I'm a little busy right now."

Astarion fought back a scowl. He was finding that maintaining a charming façade was quite a challenge when Tav was so decidedly against playing along. Yet, he was not about to give up. Oh, he would not be ignored so easily! He didn’t spend an age getting ready, thinking of what he was going to say, and bringing the bottle of wine that Shadowheart squirreled away, just to be turned down. He would not spend the night alone in his own tent!

Astarion chuckled breathily. "Aren't you always? Which is why you should really let your hair down once in a while,” he dropped his voice an octave, inching towards her. “Live a little, whilst there is still living to be done."

There was a pause, and he would hold his breath if he still needed to draw it.

"Fine," Tav sighed, her shoulders sagging. "Wine, please."

"And whilst you are enjoying a goblet or two, I will fix that tear in your shirt I noticed earlier."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to. Allow yourself to be the one taken care of, for once. Or are you truly that upset with me that you would rather have to walk about with that tear?"

"I'm not upset with you. I'm angry with myself."

Now that was a development that he could not have foreseen. Angry with herself? Whatever had she done?

"Care to share why?"

"Not really."

It seemed that Tav definitely was not in the mood to make this easy for him. Luckily, he knew just how to engage her in conversation.

"And here I thought that we would play that question game you are so fond of! Go on, dearest. Question for question, as is our way."

Ah, finally a little smile for his efforts.

"I suppose.”

Tav took a sip from her goblet, eyes widening when she realised that the wine was actually pleasant. Honestly, did she really think that he wouldn’t bring something half-palatable?

"That's the enthusiastic answer I was hoping for! Now come on, off with your shirt."

Tav put her wine down and pulled the fabric of her shirt up, his eyes following the ascent as soft skin was revealed inch by tantalising inch. He ignored the unbidden, surprising urge to put his lips onto her neck, not to feed but to taste.

Tav handed him the shirt and as their fingers brushed, Astarion was glad that she wasn’t in any hurry to get away from him, allowing him to hold her hand in his.

“So um… same as last time? A question for a question?”

She moved her hand, leaving his digits to cool once her warmth was gone.

“Yes,” he cleared his throat, “that seems reasonable.”

Tav stood up to get the sewing kit and a spare shirt. This gave him ample opportunity to admire her now that her back was turned. One wouldn’t want to be accused of staring! She slid the shirt on quickly, scars disappearing under the simple cloth, making him once again wonder what the story behind those was.

Tav was usually so forthcoming, answering questions without much hesitation or worry. He could understand why someone would be hesitant to talk about scars, but by the gods was he curious to find out the story behind hers!

Seeing that he probably was still in the proverbial doghouse, Astarion decided to start small.

“What is your favourite thing to eat?”

Tav looked at him over her shoulder as she adjusted her clothes.

“I’m surprised you want to know something so boring.”

“My sweet, when it comes to you, nothing could be boring,” he purred, putting his goblet to his lips and looking at her over the rim in a way that had made hundreds swoon.

Tav smiled and sat down on her bedroll, but otherwise did not seem to be affected by his act of seduction. How annoying.

“Well, whilst Gale’s efforts to make something edible out of whatever we manage to come across is close to miraculous, I do miss Baldurian Mash.”

Seeing the look on his face, Tav giggled, “Too common for your tastes?”

“On the contrary!” Astarion laughed. “I am quite sure that I too enjoyed something like this back when… well. Back when I could enjoy the taste of food.”

Tav’s face softened as he muttered the last part. Astarion shifted uncomfortably and took a gulp of his wine. Damn her and that look! Who even looked at people like that! Only Tav did, in his experience.

“As we are on the subject of food, why did you choose me to snack on? Surely others looked just as appealing?” Tav teased.

The truth was at the time he had already known enough about Tav to put his faith in her, to trust her to at least listen to his explanations. He had been almost certain that the others would strike him down for even attempting to come near their necks. Lae’zel would have probably skinned him alive, given the chance. Even now she occasionally questioned whether he was useful enough to keep around.

Astarion poured her more wine, thinking about the best way to answer her question.

“Perhaps you simply looked delicious enough for a predator such as myself to want to take a bite,” Astarion flirted without looking away, attempting to ascertain her mood.

Tav’s lips quirked into a smile and she took a sip of her wine.

“Or perhaps you had already established your reputation as a do-gooder, unable to turn away anyone imploring you to help them. Pick whichever reason you like, dearest,” Astarion shrugged.

Tav gave him a look that made Astarion both nervous and excited. Not exactly a combination a seasoned professional such as he could afford to feel. Maintaining his cool was crucial, he reminded himself. He could not afford to lose focus. Eyes on the prize and all that. The prize being Cazador's head on a silver platter, of course. Not the love of the woman in front of him. Or something equally ridiculous.

“What are you thinking of doing once our adventure is over? Assuming we don’t all die in some horrible manner.”

“I'm not sure," Tav started, "I might stay in Baldur’s Gate for a while. Assuming my house is still intact.”

“You’re from Baldur’s Gate?”

“Yes. Is it so hard to believe?”

“Hah! And I here I was, thinking that you were a country girl through and through. Meeting each sunrise and sundown in some picturesque little village where all the neighbours call each other by their names.”

Tav huffed and moved to punch his biceps without putting much force behind it.

“Oh, don’t get angry.” Astarion caught her fist and put his lips to her knuckles, fangs moving across skin without breaking it. “It’s a compliment, if anything.”

“I will choose to take it as one.” Tav gave a little laugh and pulled back, making Astarion release her hand.

Perhaps he worded it in a way that did not necessarily sound like praise, but he just could not believe that someone as kind and warm as Tav could be a Baldurian. In spite of being thoroughly and repeatedly defiled by him, she still carried that air of sweetness about her. And whilst this irritated him initially, it was… nice. Pleasant to be around someone who did something for others without any ulterior motive. Just out of the goodness of her heart. It was quite frankly a miracle that she hadn’t been killed yet.

Thinking about her mortality had him taking a furtive glance at her side, where the worst of her scars were.

 “About your scars, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, how did you get them?”

Tav’s fingers clutched her goblet a little tighter before she caught herself and made a show of wanting to put it down by the bedroll without tipping it over on the uneven surface.

“No, it’s fine. It’s not much of a story. Just a silly girl falling in love with the wrong person only to find out he was using me for his own gain. So, you are right, in a way. Perhaps I wasn’t quite made to live in the city.”

It wasn’t much, but the way her shoulders hunched, her pained expression, her looking at anything but him felt… wrong. To Astarion, Tav was annoyingly righteous, stupidly brave, incredibly stubborn, frustratingly selfless. She was all that and so much more. She deserved better from the world and seeing her look so small made him want to hurt something.

“About earlier…” Tav began tentatively.

“My words were uncalled for. I apologise. I didn’t-”

He wanted to say that he didn’t mean any of it. He wanted to tell her that he just found himself hating that she gave her precious attention to anyone else when he wanted it for himself. He wanted to tell her many things. Naturally, he didn’t say any of them.

“I know. Which is why I was angry at myself. We are all under so much pressure, it’s a wonder that we aren’t constantly at each other’s throats.”

“I was disappointed with myself for thinking that you were like him,” Tav picked her goblet up and took a sip. “Because at that moment, I looked at your face and I saw a spectre that haunted my waking days. And it was wrong of me to assume that you were like that. So, I’m sorry too.”

Astarion felt like someone sucker punched him. Hells, he’d rather she did punch him. Pain he could take. He was used to pain over the years. But this- this raw honesty, the way she looked at him when she said that, the faith she was placing in him-

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Astarion? Are you okay?”

He was not. Because this was wrong. His nice, simple plan had backfired so spectacularly and in a way he could never have imagined.

Shit.

She was waiting for an answer.

“Yes, of course, dearest! Why wouldn’t I be? We made up! I am well, you are well. All is well,” Astarion put both of their goblets of wine away and then moved towards Tav with an intense look in his ruby eyes.

“Just perfect.” Astarion whispered the last part and pressed his lips to hers to stop Tav from asking any more questions.

Astarion lowered Tav onto the bedroll, one hand behind her head, the other on her hip. Slowly, taking his time to savour the softness of her skin, he trailed his fingers up. The fabric of her shirt bunched as his hand traced the contours of her body and settled just below her breast.

“Are you sure?” He felt warm breath against his lips as they broke apart.

Instead of replying, Astarion put his mouth on Tav’s neck, fangs grazing sensitive flesh, her heartbeat strong in his ears. Her blood called to him, but he didn’t dare bite.

He would tell her everything. And he would tell her soon. Because the thought of him being in any way like that vile man who dared to use her and scar her, to put that dejected look on her face, was something that Astarion could not bear.

His movements grew more frantic as he removed the last of the barriers between their bodies, wanting, needing to do enough that she would stay.

Because whilst he didn’t want to examine his feelings for Tav too much, not daring to hope for anything, he was terrified of what the consequences of his deception would be. 

When Tav opened her eyes the next morning, Astarion was still in her tent, his deft fingers moving with precision and making quick work of the tear in her shirt.

“Good morning,” she murmured, pushing her messy hair out of her face. Gods, she must truly look a sight.

“Good morning, my sweet,” Astarion replied without looking up, seemingly too focused on his task to pay her much attention.

Tav didn’t expect Astarion to still be here in the morning. Not that she wanted him gone. On the contrary, his staying the night was nice. The thought that he wanted to stay made her blush.

Except Tav had a small problem now. She had to get dressed and Astarion was still here. She could hobble about with her bedsheet wrapped around her body, but she would probably just end up falling forward like a graceless lump. And that was less than ideal when one was in the company of the most attractive, stunning elf.

Astarion seemed to be busy enough not to pay her any attention. And Tav hoped that she didn’t look as horrible with her hair sticking up oddly and pillow lines on her face. She quickly brushed it back and tried to tame it by running her fingers through it.

And then she saw a ghost of smirk on those mocking lips. Oh, he knew what she was doing. And he was laughing at her! That ass. That gorgeous, beautiful bastard! She would show him!

Thus, filled with a strong resolve – that is to show Astarion that he could not have her flustered and stuttering over just a smirk - Tav turned around and rose, stretching her muscles in a feline manner that had ruby eyes following her every move. Astarion’s pupils dilated and his nostrils flared, one fang worrying his lower lip.

“How are you feeling this morning?” He gave his work a quick glance before cutting the thread.

“Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and ready to infiltrate Moonrise Towers, actually.” Tav quickly (but not too quickly!) dressed and went at her hair with a comb.

“Hm, seeing as how little sleep you got last night, I’d thought you would be postponing that little outing of ours.” Astarion delighted in a little squeak she gave as she dropped her comb.

“Well, I’m fine. But if you are too tired to come with us today, perhaps I can ask someone else to accompany me.”

“Someone else? Perish the thought lest you wish to perish!” Astarion rose in one graceful movement, taking a step and then another towards her. “Who can possibly watch your back better than yours truly?”

“No one can,” Tav conceded easily. She felt cool fingers on her waist as Astarion handed her the mended shirt.

“Thank you.”

“Darling, the only thanks I need is you not leaving me behind today,” he gave a breezy, lilting laugh, wondering if acting nonchalant would be enough to convince himself that her answer did not matter to him.

Please, don’t ever leave me behind.

“I wouldn’t.”

Because I’d rather take a chance on you than wonder what could have been had I been braver.

“Wise. Having Gale try his hand at picking locks could only end in disaster.”

I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got hurt.

“Oh, can you imagine! No, we need your magic touch and sneaky ways to make sure we are undetected,” she teased him and his eyes were momentarily drawn to the dimples on her cheeks. He wanted to kiss them, then make his way down the column of her neck, and then lower still until she couldn’t tell him to stop.

They were still holding the shirt, fabric bunching as fingers moved closer. Astarion let go of cloth, hesitant fingertips brushing against warm knuckles as Tav looked at him in a way that he had thought he caught her look at others.

And yet…

Perhaps it was simply a trick of the light. Or his mind playing games with him. Just wishful thinking on his part. But Astarion could not help but think that there was something more between them. Something precious and beautiful that bloomed to life among all the carnage and horror that was his life.

“Tav?” He swallowed nervously.

“Yes?”

“I-”

“Breakfast is ready!”

Saved by Gale, out of all people.

And yet…

Astarion felt a wave of disappointment as he watched Tav quickly put on her shirt, the magic of the moment broken, and they were thrust harshly back into their reality.

And yet…

When Tav took his hand and led him out of the tent, her thumb tracing circles on his cool skin, Astarion wondered if this could be real. If they could be real. Tav put her faith in him, chose to trust a predator with her life. He had thought her a fool. Now, as he looked at how radiant she looked even in these listless, lifeless lands, he wondered if he could summon a fraction of her courage and put his faith in her.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9, @hellethil,

@khywren, @maeryls-journal, @larvasmoon, @xxnashiraxx

(divider by @saradika)

[mediumgayitalian]

wip wednesday poll time

hi. how are you. i hope youre well. it is time at the moment to choose one of five wips for me to update tomorrow. will i 100% listen to democracy? we shall see. is there i chance i leave it to the last minute and get too tired to write anything but a 100 ways? you betcha. but regardless: the poll will immediately succeed this message. then, i will link previous iterations of each wip AND a small snippet of what i currently have for the update. i will work on and post this TOMORROW. read snippets before u vote. mwah. love u.

modern courting: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Annabeth hip-checks her brother gently, stepping out onto the porch and sliding the door shut behind her. She yawns behind her hand.

"What's up, dude?"

Nico blinks at her. "I forget you spent much of your life in California."

Annabeth flushes. "I'll go back inside."

"No no no no, I'm sorry, I need your help so bad."

As if Nico had said hey I have a blank cheque here with your name on it, Annabeth perks up. All sleepiness evaporates from her gray eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I'm -- stupid, Annabeth. I have reached the bitter end of processing power in my brain. It's lonely down here. I've got, like, a lonely cracker and some pocket lint. I'm bereft."

"You lost me at the second sentence."

"I just mean --" Nico draws in a breath, pressing his knuckle to his nose -- "I don't...know things."

Annabeth stares at him. 

"...Uh-huh."

"Like. Things of the...heart. Mind. You know, feelings."

"Nico, is this about -- look." She presses her hands together, inhaling. "I'm no matchmaker, man. I support your plan wholeheartedly and am rooting for you but I landed my boyfriend by insulting him upon first meeting him. I just -- I got nothing, okay. Human behavior is the antithesis to logic. Every emotion makes me cry forever. Flirting? I don't know her. I threaten and wink and it works for me. I'm --"

"Percy says he thinks it's a self-esteem problem," Nico blurts. Annabeth falters. "He thinks he -- hates himself."

"...Oh." She sags against the door, sighing. "Oh, um. Yeah. He does."

Yeah. He does.

Nico stands there, struck dumb.

"And -- Percy," he manages eventually. "Hates himself."

Annabeth nods. "Yes."

pomegranate au: 1 2 *NSFW **this snippet is subject to change bc i hate it

They reach the bathhouse quickly. It is a grander building, and as they approach Will quiets, commentary fading back into his quiet humming. Nico blinks, and realizes he misses it. He swallows back the urge to ask him a leading question and follows him instead through the open doorways.

The bathhouse is hot, wet and humid. Braziers burn lowly in between a circlet of forty or more sitz baths, each made of polished stone, each with a stair for an attendant and a plethora of soaps to choose from. In the widened pupil of the tholos is the piscina, steam curling gently from its blue waters, stones warmed and resting gently on the mosaicked base. The tiny colored tiles paint scenes of the Olympians greatest battles; their defeat of the raging Cronus, the subjugation of sneaking Prometheus. Easily accessible in spanning shelves lie bars and bottles of soaps and incense, of perfume and dried flower petals. The entire house smells of sweet oil and clean water.

Will waits at the rows of hooks near the entrance, basket at his feet, eyes trained to Nico expectantly. Nico realizes he is waiting for Nico's direction: hip baths, or communal. Bathing together, or being bathed. Nico swallows, lifting off his robe. Quickly, eyes still steady, Will removes his podea, standing loose and tall in the nude. Nico fumbles with the neck of his tunic, getting it caught on the mess of his hair, and Will laughs, softly, reaching over to his burning face to ease him out of it.

"Early morning, my Lord," he excuses, biting back a smile. "The most robust of gods are not quite coordinated until the sun crests high on its horizon."

Nico does not answer so he does not crack on his words. He turns, instead, and walks, shoulders tense and reddened, to the piscina, pausing at the stone ledge.

Will walks, feet padding, a beat after him.

volleyball: 1

Over the years Will has noticed a lot of his friends develop the idea that he secretly hates the infirmary.

He does not.

Sure, there are bad memories. There are times when he steps on a floorboard that he doesn't usually, and the creak of the wood sounds exactly the same as when he stumbled onto it, time ago, blood on his hand, dead body on his gurney. Or when the wind blows the curling hyacinth in the windows right to him, on busy mornings, and suddenly he hears his older sister's laughter, long gone, swirling among the petals. Or, worst, he sorts through the old filing cabinets, and there is a file he's missed from years past, covered in handwriting that is so familiar it aches.

Of course there is grief.

There is grief everywhere.

He cannot escape it in his cabin, or in the cabin he claims most nights; he cannot escape it in the softened brush of his guitar; he cannot escape it in the campfire, in loud, rowdy mealtimes, in the height of Thalia's pine. He cannot escape it in his tiny room back home where the Texas heat swells and the electric fan never stops humming. He cannot escape it in his dreams, in the idioms he uses he copied from his brothers, his friends. What Will's friends do not understand is that camp is his home. Camp is his home, and his home has long since been haunted, and the ghosts that live alongside him wave to him every morning.

Will waves back, smiling softly.

5+1: 1

"I need you to switch your archery block with me and not tell Will," Nico says, ignoring the insult. "No further questions allowed."

"No questions will be an extra seven dollars."

"What? No way!"

"One dollar per question, Tony Stark." She scowls. "Curse our society for making rich characters cool. I'm trying to insult you."

Nico really considers telling her to stuff it. One dollar per question is a ridiculous rate and he refuses to pay on principle.

However.

There is no way he is getting the forty dollars he has already given to her back, so.

"Your bloodline will be cursed a generation per bill," mutters Nico darkly, counting out the bills. He is in fact short, and has to reach through the shadows to the loose panel under Cecil's bed and borrow a few quarters.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright." She squares her shoulders, staring up at him. She has a way of appearing as if she is six feet tall, when in fact she is four-foot-three. "I will do this for you. But note: I don't need that archery practice." She plants her feet on the ground, tilts her chin up, and stares. Nico realizes abruptly that this is not playfulness on her end, this is not the character she plays when they have these such interactions -- her face is darkly serious, mouth drawn into a thin line. "I think it's funny what you're doing, di Angelo. But my brother is sensitive. This better not be a joke."

Nico's eyes widen. "It's not. I -- swear, Kayla, I'd never do that."

She nods. "Good."

She makes a show of slinging her bow, stalking across the common with the sun glinting off her arrows. Nico is under no such delusions that it is unintentional. He watches her gather her siblings, rushing them away between the stables and strawberry fields before Will notices.

road trip au: 1 2 3 4

It is not quite dark, when they cross the Tennessee border, but the sign is squarely behind them and deep, dark orange, glinting blindingly off the blue road sides. Regardless, Will doesn't falter; he does not slow down and squint at every exit sign or murmur to himself as he counts the miles. This is unusual, because Nico has seen him squint to verify the street signs on the road he lives on.

Nico watches him, quietly.

Will pretends he doesn't.

They are in and out of Chattanooga. The mountains, too, are only flashes -- beautiful, staggering flashes, but Will winds through them with ease, and does not pause. Nico notes the bored holes every few feet and traces the jagged cliff faces with his eyes, memorizing the way the setting sun turns the stone to ruby.

He flinches every time there is a sharp turn, or a hole in the road. Every twitch of Will's shoulders has him gripping onto the holy shit handle, and if Will so much as removes one hand to scratch his nose Nico stops breathing. They are never doing this again.

But it is nice, this one time. To watch the world whir by outside the rolled-down windows.

[at0m-b0mb-baby]

The Unspoken Truth

viktor x f!mage!reader

tag-list: @veru-boom @littleblackcatinwonderland @aise-30 @galactic-magick

part 2 of the series

part 1 here

5.5k words

The light in Viktor’s workshop seemed dimmer these days. Even the once-vivid Hextech core on his desk emitted a subdued hum, its glow a faint echo of its usual brilliance. Viktor sat at the edge of his chair, leaning heavily on his cane as his chest rose and fell in labored breaths. His amber eyes flicked to the corner where you once stood, offering him quiet company as he worked. The space felt emptier than ever.

He turned back to his desk, picking up a half-finished schematic for an adaptive prosthetic, a project he had abandoned days ago. His hands trembled as he held the paper, his strength failing him more with each passing hour.

His thoughts were consumed by you, his beloved... Memories of your laughter, the light in your eyes, and the way you challenged his rigid logic with wild, hopeful determination haunted him like a nightmare. You had always been the light to his darkness. But now, even that shine felt distant, like a star he could barely see on a foggy night.

Viktor let out a quiet sigh, his hand falling limp to his side. He wondered bitterly if you would even succeed. His logical mind told him it was impossible. No magic or science could halt the decay in his body. Yet the part of him that loved you, that fragile, human part, dared to hope, even as it hurt him to think of the toll your journey might take on you. Gods, please bring her back home to him...

The question lingered in his thoughts: What good was his brilliance if he could not share it with you?

A sudden knock at the workshop door broke his train of thought.

“Viktor?” Jayce’s voice called from outside. Without waiting for an invitation, the broad-shouldered man pushed the door open. His usual confidence was tempered by concern. He carried two mugs of tea, a small but meaningful gesture that Viktor immediately recognized as an attempt to lift his spirits.

“Jayce…” Viktor greeted, his voice raspier than usual. He set the creation down, knowing full well that Jayce would not let him return to it anytime soon.

Jayce’s imposing frame filled the doorway for a moment before he stepped inside. His eyes, usually bright with determination, now seemed heavy with worry. His presence brought an almost oppressive energy into the room, though his movements were gentle as he set a mug on Viktor’s cluttered desk. “You look terrible, Viktor. When was the last time you got some sleep?”

Viktor offered a humorless chuckle. “What need have I for sleep, when my body is wasting away regardless?” His gaunt features contorted into a faint smirk, but there was no humor behind it.

Jayce frowned, his jaw tightening. He folded his muscular arms over his chest, the slight tension in his stance betraying his frustration. “Don’t talk like that,” he said firmly. “We’ve been through worse together. You’ll figure something out. You always do.”

Viktor turned to meet his friend’s gaze, his amber eyes clouded with exhaustion and despair. The unwavering optimism in Jayce’s expression stirred something in him, a mix of frustration and gratitude. “Do you truly believe that, or is it merely easier to pretend?” His voice carried a sharp edge that had not been there before.

Jayce did not flinch. “I believe it,” he said, leaning forward with an intensity that matched his words. “You’re the smartest person I know, Viktor. And stubborn, too. You’ll push through this, just like you’ve pushed through everything else.”

Viktor shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Stubbornness is no match for entropy, Jayce. My mind remains sharp, but my body…” He gestured to himself, his thin, sickly frame a painful reminder of his condition. “It is no longer mine to control.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Jayce’s eyes lingered on his friend, searching for something to say. Finally, he reached out and clasped Viktor’s shoulder.

“Then let me help,” Jayce said softly. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Viktor’s gaze flicked to the hand on his shoulder. “You cannot carry this burden for me” he said, though his voice lacked the conviction it once held.

“Maybe not” Jayce admitted. “But I can carry it with you. You don’t have to drown in this, Viktor. Let me be your support you.”

Viktor swallowed hard, his throat tightening. He looked away, his eyes settling on the Hexcore glowing faintly on the desk. “There is no cure,” he murmured, more to himself than to Jayce. “No anchor will change that.”

Jayce sat back, his frustration evident in the way his shoulders stiffened. “And what about her?” he asked pointedly. “Are you going to give up on her too?”

The words struck Viktor like a blow. His chest ached, not from his illness but from the weight of his love for you. “She is the only reason I remain at all,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “But I fear… I fear I may never see her again.”

Jayce studied him for a long moment. “Then fight for her,” he said simply “If can’t do it for yourself, remember what you have. She’s one lucky woman to have you and you’re one hell of a lucky man!”

Viktor closed his eyes, leaning heavily against his cane. “I am tired of fighting, Jayce,” he said quietly. “But I will try… for her.”

Jayce nodded, his expression softening. “Atta boy.”

For a moment, the two sat in silence, the only sound the faint hum of machinery around them. Viktor sipped the tea Jayce had brought, the warmth of it a small comfort in the cold, unyielding grip of his reality.

As Jayce rose to leave, he paused at the door. “You’re not alone, Viktor,” he said. “Remember that, my friend.”

Viktor did not reply, but as the door closed, he let out a shaky breath. His thoughts returned to you, his beloved, and the faintest glimmer of hope flickered in the darkness.

If nothing else, he thought, he would hold on long enough to see you again.

The door clicked shut behind Jayce, leaving Viktor alone once more. The silence of the workshop wrapped around him like a heavy cloak, but his mind was far from still. The tea sat untouched on his desk, the faint steam curling upward dissipating into the cool air. His trembling hands reached for the nearest blueprint as though keeping busy might distract him from the ache in his chest, but the thin paper crumpled slightly under his grip.

His thoughts drifted away, unbidden, to you.

He could see your face as clearly as if you were standing before him. That sweet smile of yours- the one that lit up even the darkest corners of his life. It was a smile that seemed effortless, like sunlight spilling over a quiet morning. It warmed him in ways no machine or invention ever could, a balm to the chill of his ever-weakening body.

Your eyes were what held him most captive, though. They glowed with a quiet fire, as though the magic within you refused to remain dormant. Even in moments when your power was at rest, there was something radiant about them. They shimmered like sunlight dancing on water, and Viktor often found himself lost in their depths, wondering how someone like you could look at him with such tenderness.

He exhaled shakily, leaning forward and resting his forehead against his hand. He missed your laughter too, the sound bubbling up so effortlessly that it filled whatever room you were in. It was infectious, and no matter how bleak his mood, he found himself smiling whenever you laughed. It was a melody he could never forget, one that played endlessly in his memories, offering fleeting moments of solace in the face of his despair.

And your touch. Viktor’s free hand instinctively moved to his own, tracing the phantom sensation of your fingers brushing against his. He missed the way your hands, so warm and full of life, would hold his with such care, as though you were afraid he might break. Your touch was grounding, a tether that kept him from slipping into the abyss of his own thoughts. He longed for it now, more than he could ever put into words.

His lips parted as though he might speak your name, but his voice caught in his throat. He thought instead of your lips, soft and inviting, the memory of their touch against his a bittersweet echo. There was a time when your kisses had made him feel invincible, as though no sickness or weakness could ever take him. Now, he feared he might never feel them again.

The weight of that realization pressed down on him, stealing the air from his lungs. He stood, his cane trembling slightly under the strain of his grip, and crossed the room to where a small table stood against the wall. On it rested a framed photograph of you, Viktor took this while the two of you went on a beautiful nature retreat.

In the photo, you were looking as radiant as ever, you were holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers he decided to pick for you. Viktor couldn’t help but capture the moment. He traced the edge of the frame with his fingers, his chest tightening as the ache of your absence consumed him.

“Moje milá…” he murmured, the word barely audible in the stillness. “Oh how miss you.” he placed a chaste kiss upon the frame where your image appeared.

His vision blurred, and he set the frame down before his shaking hands could drop it. Slowly, he returned to his chair, lowering himself with more effort than he liked to admit. His eyes closed, and for a moment, he allowed himself to imagine you were there.

He could almost hear your voice, soft and full of conviction, telling him not to give up. He could picture you standing beside him, your hand resting on his arm, your presence a reminder of all the reasons he had to keep going.

But when he opened his eyes, the room was empty.

His heart sank, the void where you should have been feeling more oppressive than ever. He slumped forward, his cane leaning against his chair as he buried his face in his hands. “What good is my mind without you?” he whispered to himself, his voice cracking.

The loneliness was unbearable, but he knew he couldn’t let himself fall completely into despair. For you, his beloved, he would endure. He would wait. He would fight, even if every part of him screamed to give in.

Because you were worth it… You had always been worth it.

★✩———♡︎❤︎︎

The faint whisper of dawn broke across the horizon as you walked the winding path ahead, the cool air biting at your cheeks and pulling you further into wakefulness. The world around you was eerily still, the occasional rustle of leaves or snap of a twig beneath your boots the only sounds accompanying your journey. Despite the silence, your mind was far from quiet.

The dream from the night before played over and over in your thoughts, vivid and unsettlingly clear.

She had been beautiful, the woman in your dream. Her presence was striking in a way that words could never quite capture. Her hair was the color of midnight, cascading down her shoulders in soft waves that gleamed with an almost otherworldly luster. But it was her eyes that you couldn’t forget. Burning crimson, like molten rubies, they were piercing and unrelenting as they held your gaze. They weren’t cruel or cold, but alive, filled with a strange, knowing warmth that unsettled and comforted you all at once.

Her voice lingered in your memory, rich and sweet like honey laced with something sharper beneath the surface. Every word she spoke carried a weight far greater than their meaning alone.

“You seek to heal what is broken” she had said, her tone smooth and melodic, commanding in a way that left no room for doubt. “There is a place, forgotten by most, where the veil between life and death grows thin. There, you will find what you need. Beware, for all answers come with a price.”

You had tried to ask her more, to question what she meant, but her crimson gaze silenced you. She continued as though she could already see the questions forming in your mind.

“Follow your heart,” she had said. The words lingered in the air like a soft caress. “It will lead you to the path, as it has brought you to me. Do not falter, and do not fear. You have strength greater than you know.”

The memory of her gaze locked onto yours made you shiver now, as though her eyes still watched you from some unseen distance. Even in the waking world, her words pulsed in your chest like a heartbeat, impossible to ignore.

You hadn’t planned this journey. You had no map, no guide. When you set out, you told yourself you were following logic, searching for ancient texts or artifacts that might hold the answers Viktor needed. But now, after that dream, you knew that something else was guiding you.

Your gut churned with a mix of fear and determination. You had no proof that the dream meant anything, but your instincts, wild and unyielding as ever, told you otherwise. The woman’s words rang too clearly, her presence too vivid to be dismissed as mere fantasy.

The path you followed now was uneven and overgrown, twisting deeper into a dense forest where sunlight struggled to break through the thick canopy above. Every step felt purposeful, as though each twist and turn was drawing you closer to something unseen.

You could still feel the weight of her final words pressing against your chest.

“Remember, that not all healing mends what is broken. Some wounds must be carried, and some scars are meant to remain. Choose wisely when the time comes.”

Her voice had been softer then, tinged with an almost maternal kindness, though the weight of her warning was undeniable. It lingered in your mind now, making you question what she had meant.

What kind of price would you be asked to pay? What choices would you have to make?

You shook your head, clearing the doubt from your mind as best you could. Doubt was a luxury you couldn’t afford, not when Viktor’s life hung in the balance. Whatever lay at the end of this road, you would face it. For him, you would face anything.

Even now, the thought of him brought a bittersweet ache to your chest. You could see his face as clearly as if he were walking beside you, his amber eyes filled with warmth and pain in equal measure. The memory of his voice, soft and accented as he murmured your name, spurred you forward when your legs began to tire.

This path was uncertain, perhaps even dangerous, but it was the only one you could take.

As you stepped deeper into the forest, the air around you grew cooler, carrying with it the faintest hint of something unfamiliar. There was a scent you couldn’t quite place, like the sharp tang of ozone mingled with the earthy richness of damp soil. The world seemed to hold its breath, the quiet growing heavier with every step you took.

And so, you walked on, trusting your heart to lead you where you needed to go.

The forest seemed to thicken, the path narrowing until it felt like the trees were closing in around you. The air that had been alive with a strange, guiding energy now felt hollow and still. That feeling… the one that had tugged at your chest, pushing you forward with unshakable certainty was gone.

You stopped abruptly, frozen in place as dread seeped into your limbs. Turning slowly, you scanned the dense woods around you, searching for some sign, some direction. But the forest offered nothing. The path behind you was as indistinct as the one ahead, the faint sound of leaves rustling in the wind doing little to calm the storm brewing in your heart.

Your hand instinctively reached for the locket around your neck. You’d had it since you were a child, but for the longest time, it remained empty, waiting for something or someone worth carrying close to your heart.

It wasn’t until Viktor entered your life that you knew what belonged inside. Now, the locket held a picture of him, meticulously folded to fit within its delicate frame, and a single lock of his soft, golden-brown hair. The locket felt heavier than usual as you clutched it tightly, as though it bore the weight of your love and the fear threatening to crush you.

The silence of the forest became deafening. Without the pull of that guiding feeling, every step forward felt like a risk, every decision uncertain. The overwhelming doubt hit you like a tidal wave, and your legs gave out beneath you.

You sank to your knees on the damp earth, trembling as a flood of emotions spilled over, refusing to be contained any longer.

Viktor’s face filled your mind, so vivid it almost felt like he was standing before you. His amber eyes, sharp and calculating when he worked, would soften whenever they found yours. That softness had always undone you, as though you were glimpsing the fragile heart he so carefully guarded.

You remembered the way his hands felt against yours—cool, steady, and impossibly gentle. He had a precision to his touch, as if he knew exactly how much pressure to apply to avoid breaking something delicate. You’d never felt like anything in his life was as precious to him as you were.

His voice echoed in your thoughts, low and steady, carrying his thick accent that softened every word he spoke. You could almost hear him now, whispering sweet nothings and caressing your heart like it always had.

Tears welled in your eyes and spilled over, sliding down your cheeks as the memories kept coming. His rare, hesitant smile, the one you lived for, flickered in your mind. It was never quick or careless, it took its time, pulling at his lips in a way that made it seem like he wasn’t sure he deserved to be happy. But when he smiled at you, the world felt a little brighter, a little more bearable.

You pressed the locket to your lips, the cool metal grounding you even as your heart ached.

His laugh came next, soft and unassuming, but contagious enough to fill a room with warmth. You remembered the sound vividly, how it could light up even the darkest moments. Now, the memory of it only deepened the hollow ache in your chest.

You missed him. His voice, his touch, the way his amber eyes would glow with determination as he lost himself in his work. You missed the way his presence steadied you, like an anchor in a storm. Most of all, you missed the way he made you feel seen, as though your existence mattered to him more than anything else in the world.

The weight of it all became too much, and a sob wracked your body, shaking you to your core. You buried your face in your hands, the dampness of the earth soaking into your knees as your tears fell freely.

“I’m sorry, Viktor,” you whispered into the stillness, your voice breaking. “I’m trying. I’m trying so hard.”

The locket remained clutched tightly in your fist, a fragile reminder of the man who held your heart.

Your tears fell silently onto the earth, the cool air brushing against your skin as if to remind you that the world around you hadn’t stopped, even though your heart felt like it had shattered. You clutched the locket tighter, Viktor’s image vivid in your mind as the weight of your grief pressed down on you.

But then, you felt it again… a presence.

It wasn’t threatening, but it was powerful, unmistakable, and familiar in a way you couldn’t immediately place. The fine hairs on your arms stood on end, and you froze, your breath catching in your throat. A soft rustle behind you made you turn your head slowly, your tears momentarily forgotten.

Standing just a few feet away was a woman, a vision of haunting, almost ethereal beauty. She had long, raven-black hair that cascaded down her back in silky waves, shimmering faintly as though catching the light in ways the forest couldn’t possibly provide.

Her tall, slender frame was draped in a dark, flowing gown that swayed gently with each movement. She was effortlessly graceful, her every step seeming to float across the earth with such ease that it almost seemed like she was hovering. Her lips were full, painted in the faintest shade of crimson, and when she smiled, it was soft yet knowing, as though she was privy to secrets you had yet to understand.

She was beautiful, in a way that felt almost unreal. It wasn’t just her features but the air around her, an aura of calm, quiet power that drew you in, compelling your attention without any effort.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you instinctively took a step back, but before you could react further, she moved toward you.

Her hand reached out, and without hesitation, she placed it gently on your shoulder. The touch was warm, grounding, pulling you from the storm of your thoughts.

“You’ve so come far” she said, her voice rich and sweet, like honey. It wrapped around you, soothing and steady, yet carrying an undeniable weight.

You stared up at her, your mind spinning, trying to process what was happening. She looked familiar, her face hauntingly beautiful in a way you couldn’t fully place. Then it hit you. She was the woman from your dream, the one who had spoken to you, guiding you to this moment.

“It’s you…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Her smile widened ever so slightly, her eyes softening. “Yes, sweetie. It’s me” she replied, her words gentle but certain. “You’ve done well to trust your heart and follow it here, but there is more yet to do.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but your throat felt dry, the words caught in your chest. She looked at you with a knowing calm, as if she could see every question you struggled to voice.

The woman looked down slightly, lowering herself to be closer to your level. Her gaze was steady, her eyes never leaving yours. “I know you carry a heavy burden, but the path ahead is not one you must walk alone. Trust your instincts, and you will find the answers you seek.”

You were silent, captivated by her presence, by the certainty in her voice. Something about her was familiar, as if you had known her for far longer than just a dream. The weight of your grief for Viktor, the uncertainty of everything you’d been searching for, seemed to fade just a little in the warmth of her gaze.

The woman’s gaze never wavered, her ruby eyes seeming to pierce through you with an understanding that felt both comforting and unsettling. A soft smile lingered on her lips as she withdrew her hand from your shoulder, her presence still radiating an almost tangible warmth.

“My name is Magnolia,” she said, her voice carrying a gentle authority, the name flowing from her lips like a melody. “And I have been waiting for you.”

The words struck a chord deep within, stirring something ancient and profound. You blinked, trying to grasp the gravity of the moment, the world around you feeling quieter, as though it were holding its breath. The mention of waiting for you, for someone like you, made your heart skip, but also set your mind racing with questions.

You took a breath, steadying yourself. There was no need to be afraid, not with this woman who felt so familiar, yet so unknown. Your instinct told you to trust her, just as you had trusted the path that led you here. Still, your voice caught in your throat as you spoke, trying to match the calm serenity that seemed to envelop her.

You introduced yourself but the words felt heavier than usual and Magnolia nodded once, a soft approval in her expression, as though she had known all along. “A beautiful name for a soul destined for great things,” she said, her voice warm and steady, grounding you in the quiet confidence of the moment.

The weight of her words settled over you, making your heart flutter slightly in your chest. Her gaze lingered on you, unwavering, as though she could see more than you were ready to reveal.

“You have questions,” she said, her voice dropping into a soft, knowing cadence. “Questions that I will answer, but first, you must understand this: you are not alone in this journey. There are forces greater than what you can see at play, and it is your heart that will guide you to the truth.”

Her eyes softened, watching you with something akin to compassion, as if she understood the turmoil within. You opened your mouth to speak, but she raised her hand in gentle command, quieting you without a word.

“Patience, please.” Magnolia whispered, her tone both soothing and firm. “The answers will come when you are ready.”

The days that followed were a blur of learning and practice. Magnolia took you under her wing, patiently guiding you through the basics of healing magic. She taught you to feel the pulse of life energy that ran through all things, how it flowed through the earth, the plants, and even the air itself. You learned how to connect with that flow, drawing upon it to mend the broken, the injured, and the weary.

It was challenging at first, as you struggled to focus and control the energy that surged within you. But with each passing day, you began to grasp the fundamentals, feeling the energy settle within your hands before channeling it into whatever needed healing. At first, it was small things: a scratch on your hand, a wilting flower. But then, Magnolia guided you to greater feats, showing you how to close deeper wounds, how to ease pain with a touch, how to coax life back into the fragile stems of dying plants.

The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt before. Each time you healed, it was as though your own body hummed with the power of the world itself, the magic flowing through you with a strength that left you breathless. It was a strange, heady feeling—this connection to something larger, more ancient than you could comprehend.

Magnolia was impressed by your progress. She watched as you healed a small cut on your arm one afternoon, her gaze thoughtful as she observed the ease with which you manipulated the energy.

“You learn quickly,” she remarked, her tone filled with quiet admiration. “The magic seems to come naturally to you. It is rare to see someone with such raw talent.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of pride at her praise, but it was clear that she had seen something in you that went beyond mere skill. She had always been kind, guiding you with patience, but now, there was a flicker of something more—a deep respect, even awe. She seemed to recognize the potential within you before you did.

As you continued to train, you discovered a new aspect of your magic that seemed to surface on its own. You had always felt a strange connection to plants, as if they whispered to you when you were near them. Now, you realized it was more than just a passing intuition—it was magic. It came from the earth itself, and you could manipulate it in ways that were both powerful and delicate.

One afternoon, as you practiced with a small patch of withered vines, you reached out, your hands hovering just above the brittle stems. Your magic responded almost instinctively, a wave of energy that pulsed through your fingertips and into the ground below. The vines trembled for a moment, then began to stir. Slowly, they lifted, their leaves unfurling, vibrant and green, as though brought back to life.

Magnolia stood a few paces away, her eyes wide as she watched the transformation unfold. There was a flicker of surprise in her gaze before she gave a small nod of approval.

“Remarkable,” she said softly, her voice filled with awe. “You have a gift for plant magic—a connection to nature that I have not seen in good while. Your abilities go beyond just healing. You can command the life force of the earth itself. Remember that.”

You could hardly believe it. The plants had always felt alive to you, but to see them respond to your touch, to feel the energy flowing through them as you healed them, was something altogether different. It was a power unlike any you had ever known, a bond with the earth that was deep and unbreakable.

Magnolia smiled, a proud and knowing smile. “You are more than ready for what lies ahead,” she said. “The journey you are on will demand all of this—your strength, your connection to the world around you. It will not be easy, but you are capable of more than you know.”

Her words filled you with a sense of calm determination. You had come so far in such a short time, and now, it seemed that the path before you was clearer than ever. With Magnolia’s guidance, you were ready to face whatever trials awaited you, knowing that the magic within you was stronger than you had ever realized.

But there was still one thing that weighed heavily on your heart: Viktor. Every moment spent away from him felt like an eternity. Your magic had grown, but you knew that it wasn’t enough yet. You needed to find the cure. You needed to save him.

And with the newfound strength and knowledge you had gained, you would..

[toffeebrews]

Been seeing you reblog a bunch of Abyss!Sans related stuff. However, I have no idea who the guy is

Me want to know more about him

Mwhahaha MWAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA

Okay, well to summarise (there will be spoilers but also this comes on early on so its not too big of a deal)

Abyss comes from the au Abysstale, sometimes called "Celltale." He and the rest of his au code was erased. How does this not kill everyone in the au? Well, via the sacrifice of the most determined individual, of course , idk man. It's like...anime logic or something. This technically makes Abyss and the rest of Abysstale "codeless," making them unable to be assessed via the Doodlesphere and theoretically OT doors as well. The reason the au is sometimes called "Celltale" is because Abyss, his brother and presumably others are made of a new type of "soul" called "CELLS". It's explained that its theorized monster souls are unfinished and via completing it with DNA monsters are able to achieve a new level of magic and invulnerability. Thats putting it simply but there's a more in depth explanation in this lore dump in the new abysstale. To note, it's not like they can't die; they just can't be altered by changes in code.

BUT SIT DOWN, we haven't gotten to the main conflict yet.

Due to an incident involving some mysterious creature Abyss' papyrus falls into critical condition. Due to the brothers unique composition they cannot be healed by normal monster magic so Alicia (Abysstale Alphys) creates a teleporter so can move papyrus to a location with more resources safely but OH NO the teleporter goes wacky funky and that's how they end up the multiverse. Accidental teleportation.

You can also check out stuff about him yourself via the doc I made, cause information about him is kinda sprawled out. It's still a wip so don't mind random text without links...

Oh and Abyss is a sassy bitch...thats it!

[peronasilly]

HI PERONA!! It’s ry!! Can we maybeee get a snek peak of the sanji fic :3

- @itzrycey

HAIIII RY!!!!!

Heh… yes you can 😼😼…

Uhh cw!! Zoro is an even worse caregiver to sanji in chapter 2 than in fhapter 1!!!

Sneak peak is below cut ^_^!!!!

If he wasnt crying before, now he more than certainly was. He feel worse than when he woke up, his headache persisting, the chills and heat flashes getting worse, and not to mention the sinking feeling in his chest that he triggered a panic attack for usopp.

He felt like a horrible person for that last part.

He shivered and wobbled around the deck, he knows logically that usopp is upset cause of his mama, but he wasnt exactly thinking logically.

Maybe he should just go to the infirmary.. by himself.. chopper should be there to give him medicine or.. something? And, he wouldnt have to keep hobbling around for any of his caregivers!!!

He thought about it for a moment, and decided he should.. after all, he wouldn't even need to bother chopper, he could just rest and take some pain meds for his now burning throat and runny nose!!

And if chopper paused his work to cuddle and take care of him, he would probably enjoy that too!!

He made a small noise of happiness, as he started to slightly speed walk (wobble) to the infirmary, thinking about feeling better (and definitely imagining chopper taking care of him and spoiling him since its one of the first times he’s been sick.)..

Sanji finally reached the infirmary after getting lost a few times (and stumbling over himself more times than he’d like to admit).. he entered into the room and looked to choppers desk, where he…

“I don't know what the fuck he did, but it was bad enough to set usopp off so much.” Zoro scowls, speaking to.. predictably the doctor.

Sanji flipped his head around to see Zoro angrily explaining to Chopper who was listening carefully, nodding and jotting things down in his notebook.

Usopp was sitting on the edge of one of the beds and licking a small lollipop, hugging one of his stuffed animals. He seemed much calmer than before, which was good.. chopper really did work miracles!!

Remember!!! This is still a wip, i will be going back to edit things and work on stuff to make it less harsh and more cohesive, but constructive criticism + suggestions r alwayyysss appreciated!!!!

[distant--shadow]

WIP of The Witch and the Widow, chapter 10

admittedly, the sip of water Imogen had offered before laudna just had to bring attention to her scars had not quite quenched her thirst- 

(it hadn't at all). 

to reach the glass she would have to wake Imogen; Imogen with her long lashes brushing her freckles, a crease that waxes and wanes over her brow, a hum that swells and turns like a foot on gravel in her throat, fitful in exhaustion induced sleep between Laudna and the obnoxiously ostentatious cup.

like glass cut by diamond could transmute the water in the chalice. like they do not all drink from the same well. 

like the intentions of a human’s hands could craft a design more sublime than the complexities that form its organics

tea is nice. nature grows tea. humans learned to steep it in water. the rivers swelled and the seas surged and the earth boiled and bubbled, made a broth of botany and bone. 

all that has happened is intervention. all history is is intervention, meddling, manipulating. 

she had awoken wanting for tea. for that she would have to ring the bell - she could perhaps pull the rope without stirring Imogen, but it would feel wrong to break the privacy of her ungloved hands that she had offered her surely not more than an hour ago 

she offered it surely. she can live without the tea. she has been living off of her own tinctures that she had brewed with foresight for such very instances.

interventions

she never quite figured out a flavour that fully covered the acrid burn that lingers towards her tonsils

least she wasn't awake to taste it, so what does it matter? 

what if Imogen would need to be drip-fed such tinctures in the future? 

if she stays-

her hand is still in Laudna’s; she reached out surely in sleep, surely guided by sleeping logic, her fingers clasping around weathered webbing, the small surface of the pads of her fingertips radiating heat across Laudna's palm. 

radiators - Laudna smirks, thinking of a walrus-moustached man in his top hat showing off his house-warming invention intervention at the last science fair she had attended-

those excursions had become a distant memory without Andrew by her side. 

“too much for the fragile female mind.”

what chance did she stand of appearing normal if the parameters are hair-width narrow? she can only fold herself so small, can only dislocate so many bones, can only fracture them into so many pieces before the marrow is confused for the medulla upon reassembly (she is often certain she was assembled wrong) - unbecoming to be curious, a waste to be barren, improper to write, to lead, to touch, to hold with one's left hand-

Imogen stirs

complete and utter horse shit. 

Imogen's hands are so sore. sacred. their intervention divine. 

they look so sore; must sting from the salt of her own sweat meeting Laudna's clammy palm, skin glossy and exposed before it is ready, premature and weeping where the epidermis has been scrubbed away with friction the dammed salve is further out of hand than the obnoxiously cut glassware her scars look like the illustration look like the spines of the sea lilly fossil the hidden arms of the sea anenomies tangled curling climbing grape vines something completely different she must commit it to memory for when she has parchment and graphite ink red ochre iron oxide cinnabar and minium

Imogen held her hand so she can touch it, can surely use her free hand to join them, feel canyons and the mountain ridges the fissures and highlands how the earth the tissue the colour changes with the age, layers in the seaside cliffside calloused and richer from knuckle and deeper still towards fingertip, pale and softer as it branches out and flattens towards the beggining of her hand, her sun-shy skin, not pale in the manner that Laudna's sickness ailment condition situation influence leaves her wearing, just shy, just not introduced to the grip on reins on pitchfork handle on burlap sacks that have in their own way softened and coloured the leather of her gloves, her freckles immediately dense and skin golden tan where the shield barrier cloak garment would end Laudna is still sure that she can feel the heat of all of the time she has worked under the sun trapped carried worn shared there radiating lavender sun-bleached hay dirt sweat her sweat still lingers on her husband's clothes in the wardrobe, 

at least they still smelled of her six days ago. 

96th. 90th. the frequency is alarming; she hadn't quite prepared - was preparing, scribing, conjoining - laudna can feel the difference between the skin on Imogen's tan forearms and her usually covered wrist - how long? at what age? did her father ever tell her anything? did her father know anything? perhaps her mother also wore gloves. 

and Imogen seeked employ here. 

curious girl - woman - brilliant. 

her hair is perhaps as long as Laudna's, maybe longer were it to be straightened out; wavy and slightly unkempt but healthy thick curling the outer layers more golden where they have been bleached by the sun like the bundles of hay and brilliant brilliant auburn autumn in the hedgerows in the forests maple leaves red ochre iron oxide cinnabar and minium she will have to mix a new ink for her. 

[waffledforbreakfast]

Dreams of you - SAE X READER [oneshot]

Sae x Reader , oneshot, angst + comfort(??)

[pt.2 ]

[Kaiser edition (wip)]

[ BLLK Oneshot Masterlist ]

TW: heavy ooc, bad grammar, bad spelling, bad formatting, cringe, scuff, etc.

“I love you, Sae.” “I love you too, [Y/N].” “Please babe. Wake up.” 

Sae shot up, cold sweat running down his body. His hands were shaking and his breath was uneven, how many times has this been now?

26. It had been 26 days since he broke up with you. Why was he still having dreams of your first date? Your loving words and tender affirmations, your smile so bright it had engraved itself in the back of his mind.

It had been a month since he broke up with you, and yet every night your warm touch had seeped into the back of his mind, and into his dreams.

Breaking up with you was meant to help him focus. Not the other way around.

He wondered if it would’ve been better if he just didn’t leave.

“Whatever. What’s been done has been done. There’s no going back.”

He took a deep breath, fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose.

The clock read 4:02 AM. Not that he had to check, it was always 4 in the morning that these dreams released him.

Sae wondered what you were doing in Japan, did you have lunch yet? What were you eating? Who were you eating with? Was it your new boyfri-

“Stop.”

Sae hissed at himself, trying to keep his thoughts in check. He would think of you everyday, he hated it. Whenever he saw your favourite food, he’d think of buying you some. A plushie, would you like it? The cats at the shelter, maybe he should send you a pic…

He grabbed his hair, nails digging lightly into his scalp. It was always you. Why must you haunt his poor heart  head? 

He refused to waste more time on this. He stood up and fixed his bed, a habit he got from you. It was already 4:11, he’d used almost 10 minutes thinking of you again. He clenched his jaw, mentally noting that he didn’t deserve to get himself a sweet treat today, for wasting such time.

But it was better than yesterday’s 18 minutes, right? That’s improvement! Plus, he had trained for 10 hours yesterday as a punishment, so surely it’d be okay to take it easier today, right?

Sae remembered how you used to convince him to take breaks from training with such logic.

He dug his nails into his palm. Enough of you already, he had things to do.

Sae left the apartment, wandering the empty streets illuminated by the streetlamps and the few open cafes/restaurants. 

Sae used to blast music through his headphones to mute his thoughts, but it stopped working after he was reminded that you were the one who handcrafted all the very few playlists of his.

So now he just tried to focus on his surroundings, promptly ignoring any thoughts of you.

He’d been doing this for weeks now, did he feel any better? Would he be happier if he fully got over you? Sae didn’t let himself answer that question.

He was well familiar with the area by now, becoming a regular at any place open at this time around here. There was nothing new for him to focus on.

No no, surely there was something. Wasn’t a new cafe opening somewhere? He could’ve sworn someone handed him a flyer about it…

But truthfully, he could barely remember anything these days. 

Sae pulled out his phone and looked through his gallery to find the picture of the flyer, pretending to not see the dozens of your photos, which he had deleted and re-downloaded multiple times now.

He followed the map towards the cafe, flipping through its online menu. It seemed that the cafe really was new, almost nothing had been set up online, no images, no menu, no reviews. It seemed to be a small struggling business. Sae almost pitied them. If he was capable of such emotions anymore.

Sae pushed open the door, the small bell dangling above it rang a light jingle, notifying the worker that there was a guest

“Oh hello! Uhm… that door was supposed to be locked, haha…”

The poor employee laughed awkwardly, sweating visible bullets.

Sae turned around to look at the door, the rusted lock fell off the frame on to the floor.

The employee gulped, “So, what can I help you with!” She tried to put on a bright smile, since the customer was clearly wealthy, given his looks, there was no way she’d be able to tell him to get out!

Sae looked around, the place really was run down, was it really ready to open?? 

“What do you have?”

“Uhm, let’s see… We have water?”

“...”

“uh- hahaha… just kidding! W-we have other stuff too… uhm- dango, milk tea, tanghulu, pudding, anddd milk?” 

The worker gave a weak smile, Sae was staring right into her eyes, she felt like he’d jump her at any moment!

“Get me two waffles”

“I- sorry?? We don’t offer those, haha…”

She did NOT remember listing waffles as an option, was the guy even listening???

“Oh”

He was not listening

“... Actually- I’ll get that done for you! Give me a few minutes….”

She headed to the back to get his order done.

Shit. Sae impulse ordered waffles again. He doesn’t even like waffles! It was supposed to be your favourite food, not his. Why’d he do that…

He knew exactly why, but refused to admit it.

What was he even going to do with two of them!? The only option really was to scarf it down…

“Uhm… you’ve been staring at me for a while… is there something wrong?”

“Hm? Oh, I wasn’t aware, sorry.”

The worker gave him a skeptic look, as he was still staring, even after the apology. “This guy must be barely awake…”

“Well, here’s your waffles!”

She handed him a paper bag, with clear plastic on one side so he could see inside. Two warm waffles sat, Sae could feel the heat.

“Could I ask, what made you think we were open? No offense or anything- It’s just that the sign on the door said we were closed, and all the flyers said we’re opening next month… I don’t wanna mislead anyone or anything, haha..”

Sae gave a confused look, did he hallucinate…? It wouldn’t be the first time…

He pulled out his phone to check, and sure enough, “GRAND OPENING: NEXT MONTH” was written in bold. How did he miss that???

“Sorry, [Y/N].”

He mumbled, pulling out his wallet, and putting a few hundred bills on the table and sliding it to the worker, “For your troubles”

“Oh! Uhm, Thank you!”

The worker was visibly taken aback, he had given her $750! If she was in a different situation, she probably would’ve insisted on giving it back, but with the way the store was looking, it would go a long way.

Sae headed towards the door, checking the time

“Uhm sir, my name’s not [Y/N] by the way… you can just call me-”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Sae cut her off. He didn’t really care who she was. Now he knew why he was staring at her the whole time, her eyes looked like yours.

“Barely. [Y/N]’s are darker.”

Sae took a waffled from the bag, taking a bite as he walked home

“What am I doing with my life, I can’t even remember Rin’s eye colour but I know her’s? What curse am I under…”

“Maow!”

Sae looked down, a tabby cat was jumping up his leg, reaching for the waffle bag.

“Maowmaowmaowwwwww”

Sae leaned down, squatting as he opened the bag and gave the cat a waffle.

The tabby ate it happily, it seemed well groomed and clean, maybe it belonged to someone?

Sae pet her head, the cat leaning into his touch with a content smile as she purred.

“How cute, they have the same eyes…”

Sae stood up, dusting himself off. He waved goodbye to the cat and continued walking home.

But the cat followed, meowing loudly to get his attention. She didn’t seem to have any intention of leaving.

Sae looked at it for a bit, hesitating. You had always wanted a cat, you even had names prepared. Maybe one day, when you visit, he could show you the cat and convince you to come to his apartment.

“Forget it. She’s never coming back.”

There was no point in keeping the cat, he was never planning on getting one.

And yet he still stared at the cat, the cat staring back with those eyes that he oh so loved, resembling yours.

Fuck it.

Sae scooped up the cat, and continued walking,

“You’re mine now.”

A/N: Teehee! First oneshot :3 this ones inspired by irl events ;) bc i have a crazy rate of dreaming- (daily. And I can remember 75% of the time, which mean my dreams give me crazy amounts of content LMAO)

Hope u like it :3

[eylih]

Frozen fandom, I have a message for you!

Y'all really need to calm down on the asumptions cause it's possible that none of them turn on canon. I'm gonna adress the two big ones: Norse myth and Hans (by extension Helsa)

Unless, we've heard completely different speeches, Jennifer Lee never mentionned Norse myth. The castle in the sky could be Asgard as much as it could not. Let's not forget the question castle ruins in Ahtohallan. Ahtohallan already being its own entity. Norse myth could play a role in F3 and F4 as well as it could not. Yes, Frozen has inspirations and references to Norse myth, but it's not the only one . One thing you tend to forget is the great inspiration of Saami culture the Frozen franchise have, especially in the second movie. It would be more logical if they keep that way for the new movies instead of going after Norse myth as their main base. Nothing's confirmed.

Y'all have the right to make every theory you want but, keep in mind that at the end of the day, they remain theories. Mrs Lee told us to not hold onto that concept art. Let's consider all possibilities. It could be completely wipped off and we wouldn't know before 2027. Don't forget they were still chanoine the script a few months before F2 premiere and that Elsa was villian before Mrs got involved in the project. We're never sure with Frozen.

I'ma be fully honest, I don't want Hans to be a relevant character again and I'm quite fine with him being a joke along the franchise. The idea of a redemption arc with him having a positive role in the sisters' story, the possibility of Helsa even more make me sick. BUT all I'm about to say could also apply to my views on Honeymaren and elsamaren.

"Coming out of Frozen 2, we still have some questions. A lot of questions. That is just page one. Now you see why it will take two films to answer them. Just a tease, once again just a tease." These are Mrs Lee's words

This more looks like a list of the questions they've received. Rather than the ones F3 and F4 are gonna answer. Mrs Lee didn't say that. Considering the fact that the first two are already answered. Ahtohallan. The fifth spirit is the human spirit, Elsa and Anna are the bridge between spirits and humans (one side of each). Just watch Frozen 2 and the Myth short, please.

But let's say, all of these questions are gonna get answered. Some of them can just be mentionned a few seconds. And It's still not a confirmation of Hans's return and even less of a potential redemption arc. You can theorize what you want but Hans could also remain a blatant franchise joke. Or we could just see a memory of him in Ahtohallan showing what he became. Mrs Lee didn't confirm which characters are coming back for the sequels (even though it seems clear our five MCs and the Nokk are). We don't know anything about Hans's future.

1- Long story short, I'm not telling y'all what you should believe or not, I'm just asking to not act like what is NOT confirmed is. Don't hold too much on your asumptions cause you might end up not appreciating the actual movies if none of them happens. As an elsamaren shipper, I feel what I say.

2- I also fear y'all might start a new misinformation wave. Critical thinking and media literacy being concepts unknown in most of the fandoms, it can turn out really bad. I haven't forgotten how dirty some of you did Honeymaren just you didn't like the idea of lesbian Elsa. To this day, there are still being convinced she is her cousin. I remember really well how many people fall for that ai fake news made by a SATIRE disney account that Elsa was getting married to a woman in F3...

[patheticjayce]

A scene from a wip modern au I've had in the works for awhile and its finally starting to take shape... It's not finalized but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Feedback is welcome, just. Don't be an asshole about it please

(A bit of context: they are at a wedding. There's been a vibe all night. Both of them independently decided to make a move that same night.

Viktor is cross-faded and Jayce is drunk by the time this happens in the story, but they’ve started to come down from it. )

There's a pleasant numbness extending from his shoulders down to his calves, buzzing soft and warm.

like someone is running their fingertips up and down his legs.

He imagines the friction of warm rough fingers on the hairs that cover his thighs, the subtle scratch of fingernails that have been left unclipped for a few days.

There's pressure around his forehead, radiating all the way down to the nape of his neck, right past his too-hot ears.

The world is fuzzy, as though painted in tiny strokes of velvet, a cacophony of drunken laughter coming out from his back molars. There's something stuck in his throat, perhaps it's gas, perhaps it's a chunk of rogue meat that Jayce managed to get past his lips…

Perhaps it's a clog of regret like slimy, wet hair in an old drain, chastising him for thinking of Jayce’s thick fingers invading his mouth,

Jayce's incandescent smile blurring out as he slowly closes his eyes and bends back his head, surrendering completely, allowing Jayce to go deeper…

…Jayce fucking his throat with his fingers, surrendering to his desires, surrendering to the invasion, surrender, surrender, Jayce, JAYCE…

The music suddenly stops playing. Someone is slurring sentimental nonsense, he can hear the drunks agreeing and cheering.

He is slouched back in his chair, his foot still keeping rhythm with the ghost of a song that lingers like the circles around a stone dropped in a pond, wider and softer as it fades out.

His stomach is tight now.

Is he nauseous? he panics for a moment, takes a deep breath.

No one has died from being too high.

He repeats the sentence in his head, at first his own voice speaking to him, slowly morphing into another voice.

A voice that looks like sweet sun tea in the summer.

the weight of an invisible hand on his shoulder feels so real…

A large palm is rubbing comforting circles on his back.

warmth, real warmth.

A purr, a tickle, like a knife dripping with icing slicing through the shell of his ear, a surge of heat from his spine to his head like a carnival hammer game, and

Why did you have to think of hammers??

A heavy swoop as the white-hot ball of lead now formed in his head falls down through the tunnel of his esophagus, burning straight through his entrails, landing with a loud clanging noise against the hollow cavern between his legs.

“...it's ok, darling, I'm going to take care of you, I'm here…”

The soft murmuring of wine-sticky lips making direct contact with his ear snaps him out of his tornado of doom.

Jayce's voice is feathery, sweeping away his anxiety. His arms are draped snugly around Viktor's shoulders, they are so heavy, and so warm...

His perfect face is tucked into the space between Viktor's logic and Viktor's self-resolve, which is feeling more like someone has peeled back the sheath from every nerve in his entire system and less like something he can keep up with at the moment.

Viktor leans back into Jayce, resting his head on the hollow of Jayce’s clavicle, lifting his face to graze the tip of his nose all the way from the base of Jayce’s neck to the crook behind his ear.

He inhales, as deep as he possibly can.

Jayce smells like cologne, like midnight sweat, like his future favorite mistake.

Jayce turns his face into his, eyes closed. His long, dark lashes cast dramatic shadows in the half-light of the patio lights strung between the tables.

They meet in the middle.

Jayce's lips taste like stale, fruity gasoline.

[that-hippie-user]

Hi there! so, i'm looking to extend my demographic a bit. and to that end, i'm making an offer to any casual or vanilla audiences out there.

:3 my name is Luna Stardust. i'm a hypnotist. and while normally thats because i enjoy participating in the kinkier side of the community, i also practice for more wholesome means.

some of my partners are from religious homes that shamed them for certains ways of thinking. some are any form of neurospicy and wanted to let go of their cringe instinct to follow their hyperfixations shamelessly. and some are just people i know who need a bit of comfort and security in their life.

:3 if that is you, here's my offer. below is gonna be a "read more" tag. clicking on it will show you a simple hypnosis script i wipped together to help alleviate stress or shame.

the script is for reading, whenever you have time or a place to sit/lay down and relax to it, which will help you enter trance so that i may assist in letting go of some stuff you dont want.

and to be clear, hypnosis is NOT brainwashing. i cant make you do anything dangerous or unwanted. you yourself have the power to wake up on your own, say no to anything i say, or just walk away. you can even block me if you so choose, and i wont hold anything against you if you do.

:P the only potentially lasting thing will be a basic trigger phrase IF you desire it, which will make hypnosis easier if you ever wanna try again. this phrase will only work if said by someone you trust, including yourself if you wish, and will only work when you are in the mood to try hypnosis again. and if you dont want it? thats fine, im not making you keep it. you'll have the power to throw it out on your own if you wish.

^u^ with that in mind, come along if you like. :3 i'll be your host on a journey to self acceptance.

:3 and here we are, past the "read more" section

UwU i thank you humbly for joining me. and welcome you kindly.

:3 some of my followers have already done this with me before. if thats you, then welcome back. ^u^ and if you're a newbie, welcome also!

:3 the process for this couldnt be simpler. just get into a relaxing position, and take some time to read along.

as is said many times in the hypnosis community. "all hypnosis is self hypnosis." which is to say, YOU the subject are the one who's hypnotizing yourself. :3 hypnosis is ultimately just guided meditation. anyone can do it, even on their own. but its even easier with a guide.

^u^ even by choosing to read along with my words, we've already begun. you being here is a show of trust. logically, you wouldnt be here if you werent at least a little interested.

:3 well, i hope to prove worthy of that trust. so i will do my best to make this a good experience.

to start with, let's do some simple breathing exercises.

breathing in

and out

in

and out

in a simple steady rhythm.

not so deep to exhaust you.

and not too shallow either.

just getting into a cozy rhythm like unwinding after a stressful day.

breathing in

and out

as we continue forward

with every breath in, a soothing sensation fills your lungs and spreads through your body

and with every breath out, you release tension and stress, flowing out of your breath and away into the air.

and as this goes, you take in more and more feelings of relaxation, letting them wash over you, and you release the tension that holds you back.

but this puts you in a cycle.

you soothe yourself so you relax

you relieve stress so you relax further

you relax further so you feel more soothed

you feel more soothed so you relax deeper

you relax deeper so you let out more tension

the tension fades away, so you relax even deeper

this endless spiral of relaxation pulls you deeper and deeper

you see, hypnosis is an interesting thing.

it's kind of like a feather falling gently down.

down down down

further further yet further

into the deep deep depths

but there is no real bottom to reach

no ground to land upon

because with hypnosis, you can always go deeper

how is that possible?

because hypnosis isnt a light switch can only go on or off

hypnosis is an endless void that you can go endlessly deep into

easily escaped, easily traveled, and even easier to fall into.

and the deeper you go the more relaxing it is

and the more relaxing it is the deeper you go

and the deeper you go the more you listen

and the more you listen the deeper you go

and the deeper you go the more you focus

and the more you focus the more you listen

and the more you listen the more you obey

and the more you listen the more you obey

more and more you listen and obey

you listen and obey

listen and obey

listen and obey

listen and obey

DROP

there we go

nice and deep

but always able to go deeper

you listen

you obey

you listen and obey

you are doing wonderfully.

and as promised, i am here to help you let go of your worries and fears.

firstly, lets give you that special trigger phrase. its a very simple set of words. if spoken by yourself or someone you trust, it will help you enter trance. and it will only work when you wish it to.

these words are Hypno Naptime

when read or listened to, if you wish it to work and trust who said it to you, you will enter trance with these words.

Hypno Naptime. :3 simple enough, and its yours to keep or to throw away if you wish.

now then, lets continue our lessons.

too often people are burdened with shame for who they are. for any number of reasons. maybe some feel they arent smart enough, or feel guilt for liking people outside the dating norm, or even wish they could just enjoy their favorite shows without feeling "cringe" for doing so.

in our minds, we build barriers to hide away from aspects of ourselves, as if shame alone can fix us.

but these sorts of things dont need fixing, they arent wrong or broken. if everyone is unique, why shame them for being so? isnt that a beautiful thing, worth celebrating?

well, the thing is, we've already found a way to lift barriers.

letting yourself enter trance like this, that was lifting a barrier in itself. letting you listen more deeply to my every word.

if we can open you up like this. we can easily lift away those worthless barriers that hide away your wonderful features. we dont need to live in shame.

so, lets do our part to make living life the way YOU want to, that much easier.

before you is a button, simple big and red. pressing it lifts the barrier and reveals the shame behind it, which we will dispose of.

on my mark. press the button.

1. 2. 3. *click*

the barrier lifts, and we see what hides behind.

before you is an otherwise ordinary desk. filled with small well crafted objects representing the interests desires or traits that you needlessly felt were worth hiding away.

and on that desk is one object, broken and worthless, taking up space. it is shame.

it's an eyesore compared to everything else here. and it only makes the desk less organized by being here.

it serves no purpose, it has no value. this shame is best thrown away.

and nearby, is a bin with a trash bag, where you can throw it out.

the next choice is obvious.

on my mark, we throw this piece of junk away.

1. 2. 3. *it falls into the bag*

and there we go! and now this lovely little space is unhindered. its a beautiful sight, i dont see why it was ever tucked away like this.

such a lovely feature should be kept with pride, maybe even shown off if you have friends who'd appreciate it.

:3 i think id be proud to have something this nice. and i think you should be too.

^u^ well, we've made some good progress here.

:3 id say, now is the time for me to wake you from trance so you can continue your day.

^u^ so, im going to count to 10, and when i reach 10, you will awaken feeling refreshed and happy.

1 we begin our ascent up to waking

2 rising further an further

3 feeling coming back to your body and mind

4 shifting in place as you re-learn to move around

5 halfway there

6 like stirring from a cozy sleep

7 the soothing feeling of waking from a nice dream

8 eyes fluttering

9 becoming fully aware

10 rise and shine!

:3 hiya! so, i hope you enjoyed my little post. hopefully its done some good.

^u^ in case you're one of those subjects that forgets trance when it happens, we just did a simple hypnosis induction!

:3 if you have trouble remembering what we did here, the description for what this was for is at the top of the post, or if you back up its the section right before you hit "read more"

X3 careful if you re-read the whole post tho, beneath that section is a fully functional hypnosis script, and you may sink in again! :3 hypnosis is even easier once youve done it before.

^u^ if you're new to my work, you can give me a follow. but juuuuust be aware, i do cater to the kinkier side of furry communities. :3 might have a youtube channel with my own audio hypnosis later on, we'll see!

[gumnut-logic]

Thoughts on Tracys

Well, I did dig into my fic folder and did find the ‘Thoughts on Tracy brothers’ fic and yeah, I left it at just Scott. Sorry. Must see if I can continue that one at some point now that I even know it exists.

But I did find something else. This is me in early 2020, before Covid hit, fortunately, as I had an infected foot at the time and could barely walk.

-o-o-o-

I was re-reading part of my Kermadec fic and encountered the bit where Scott comes across the hot spring and it occurred to me the difference between Scott and Virgil as to how they interpret their environment. This led me to thinking about characterisation and point of view and how you write a character to sound like themselves. Then, because I’m lying idle around the house with a mild headache and a bung foot, I pondered how each of the five brothers might interpret the same scene. I sat their idly constructing scenes in my head and how this might illustrate how a character thinks.

So, now because I’m still sitting around the house with a mild headache and a bung foot, I thought I’d give this exercise a go...cos actually writing one of my many wips would be far too logical ::headdesk::

Anyways, five brothers, same beach, same time of day. Let’s see if I can make them sound like themselves....and not end up writing another wip :D Note: these scenes are separate and unrelated to each other...just flotsam my brain threw up. Guess which brother is which?

-o-o-o-

His running shoes hit the sand hard, gouging holes in the pristine surface. The air was still and clear, the ocean quiet, his breathing drowning out the sound of the waves. This was his third lap, but his first step onto this beach. He usually avoided this patch of sand because it was Virgil’s favourite and often the place his brother came to be alone. But today was a day that wouldn’t see Virgil outside the villa. Not today, not tomorrow, not for some time at all.

His breathing lost its regular pace and he had to force himself to concentrate harder on his rhythm.

His feet hit the sand and he kept on running.

-o-o-o-

There were times being a brother of the commander of this outfit really sucked.

One foot after the other. Scott may feel exuberant at this time of the morning, but honestly, this time should not exist.

He was only awake because the smart ass had called a drill. God. He ran a hand through his hair and guzzled the coffee that was automatically poured into his face.

He swore Scott did it because of his comment about Thunderbird One’s erotic symbolism yesterday. But hey, he was the one who had compared Two to a pregnant turtle.

Turtles lay eggs, you idiot.

But that hadn’t been enough, so he’d resorted to a dick joke.

And had been dragged out of bed at 5am.

Ergh.

His staggering finally led him to the beach and the moment he stepped onto the sand, the breeze caught him and brushed away his frown.

A sigh fell from his lips and he closed his eyes.

The sounds of the ocean caressed his ears and washed away the aggravation. The calm seeped into his bones and his shoulders dropped.

But he kept his grip on his mug of coffee.

Another sip.

Another grateful sigh.

And a plan began to form.

-o-o-o-

Before he knew it the sun was peeking over the edge of the planet and the stars were fading.

His butt and back were damp from lying on the sand.

There was dry seaweed in his hair.

He reached up and untangled the mess, frowning as it caught and pulled. Ow.

It wasn’t often he used a beach for stargazing, but he hadn’t had the energy to climb the stairs to the observatory and to be honest, he wasn’t looking for a specific event, more just comfort in the familiar.

He had come out here in the early hours, his circadian rhythm still slightly off and done his best to connect with what he loved.

He had forgotten the inconveniences of sand, mosquitoes and was that a crab?

He shifted his leg out of reach and clambered to his feet.

The sun flashed everything gold, including him.

A sigh and he turned to walk back to the house.

-o-o-o-

One of the advantages of living on your own secret tropical island is that he could run around in whatever clothes he wanted and not have to worry about what the public might think.

A pair of flip flops and his swimwear, mostly because it was just after his morning laps. Specimen bags in hand, he headed down to the beach to check on the morning’s finds.

The ocean was still puking up stuff from the storm that passed to the south of the Island two weeks ago and he was making sure to check the beaches every morning to see what treasures might surface. One of the things about cyclones is that they churned the ocean as much as the land and often interesting things appeared with the tide as a result.

Fortunately the storm hadn’t actually hit the Island itself and the beach was on the protected side, otherwise there may have been no beach left to comb. This time the conditions were perfect and he wasn’t going to miss out on the opportunity.

Clambering around the Island in flip flops would probably earn him several frowns from several quarters, but to be honest he didn’t care.

From the moment his feet hit the sand, he was discovering and cataloguing. Three different types of sponge all seen before. A nasty chunk of the rare kelp from that isolated patch to the south, damn. An array of shells of which one he was unable to identify. He grabbed that one for identification purposes and one other simply because it was pretty and he knew a brother who might like it.

He found the waves tossing about a large chunk of broken coral and he swore. Damn. Cyclones were nasty to reefs and they took eons to repair.

The worst find was a relatively small mola mola. The young sunfish looked like it had been caught up in an argument between the surf and the volcanic rocks of the island.

He carefully picked it up and placed it in a bag, commemorative words for a life lost passing through his mind as he sealed it tight. Size and details would be sent to the NZ DoC south of their island for research purposes.

Reaching the end of the beach he turned back and trailed his feet in the water. A glance at the rising sun and he headed back.

-o-o-o-

He bounded onto the beach and kicked the sand with his foot. This was so unfair! Why couldn’t he do what everyone else was doing?

He stomped his feet into the sand and took some satisfaction in the deep divots his feet left behind.

The water was whispering as if to herald the rise of the sun.

He didn’t like it.

It mocked him.

Why? Why? Why?

The question bounced around his head and just fuelled his anger.

There was a roar and the island shook as behind him Thunderbird One leapt into the air. Further in the distance he heard the deeper rumble as Two ignited her rear thrusters and a moment later the great green ‘bird appeared over the palm trees and shot off into the distance, Thunderbird One darting down to escort her.

Both were lit up by the sun.

His heart was caught between pride at the sight, and the anger that he wasn’t with them.

As they disappeared in the sunrise, he glared after them.

-o-o-o-

Okay, that exercise did not go exactly the way I had planned, but I hope you enjoyed these little snippets. I hope you can tell which bro is which. I haven’t really gone to any effort to hide them and I’m kinda hoping it is obvious. Maybe take note of the bits of information that give it away?

Or which bros I’m better at writing, maybe :D

Fun to write. I hope they are fun to read.

::hugs you all::

Nutty

(Yeah, well, my brain is weird, I can’t help myself)