#snippet: hidden attachments

[miraculouslumination]

I might go further into detail on this and I haven't really looked much in the tag to see if anyone else has offered this idea, but, like

Here's one of my biggest theories regarding the shenanigans in Welcome Home, summarized in one sentence:

Wally is sick.

[astrolovecosmos]

*Pluto Natal Aspect Snippets*

Sun Trine Pluto: May be charismatic, influential, magnetic, and highly perceptive. They can easily read and intimidate, persuade, or manipulate others. They can handle pressure and change well, believing what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. While the trine aspect is generally harmonious, the connection between the Sun and Pluto can sometimes lead to a tendency towards being overly intense, obsessive, overbearing, or controlling.

Sun Opposite Pluto: May struggle with their darker side often, especially obsessive and compulsive behaviors. They may deal with a lot of power struggles in life, feeling like they always have to defend and fight for themselves. But they can develop sharp intuition, self-awareness, and inner power.

Sun Square Pluto: May deal with a lot of tension and conflicts with others in life. Others may find them to be too intense, intimidating, mysterious/private, or others may be jealous of their authenticity, passion, or depth. They may feel like others are always out to one up them, control them, or put them down. HOWEVER they must also mind a possible paranoid side. The tension between the need for self-expression (Sun) and the deep, transformative energy of Pluto can lead to obsessive thoughts and behaviors. A positive to this aspect is these individuals do not fear their shadows or the skeletons in their closet. They may be brave, strong-willed, and always willing to grow.

Moon Trine Pluto: This can be a highly deep and intuitive individual. At a young age they learn how to sooth and heal themselves and can act as a great healer or guide for others. But their emotions are intense and they can be highly controlling towards their closest loved ones.

Moon Opposite Pluto: May easily overreact, is hypersensitive, volatile, and can easily drain themselves or others emotionally. Can fall into relationships that have a lot of hidden tension, leading to feelings of resentment, manipulation, or emotional blackmail. Over time they can have a great understanding of their emotional landscape and the ability to transform their vulnerabilities into sources of strength and wisdom.

Moon Square Pluto: Could be a highly manipulative individual. Can find themselves caught in a cycle of emotional highs and lows, frequently feeling consumed by their own intensity and drowning. This can lead to a sense of inner turmoil and difficulty in maintaining emotional balance, often resulting in stress and anxiety. Can grow to be emotionally strong and very self-aware.

Mercury Trine Pluto: Likely a deep, insightful, perceptive, and investigative person. They have a love for researching and analyzing subjects in depth. Could become a master of a subject. Can be a passionate teacher/professor. But this aspect is famous for becoming too obsessed with a subject or obtaining knowledge to their detriment.

Mercury Opposite Pluto: May be combative or competitive in their communication style. Could try to "dominate" conversations. Can easily misunderstand others or become misunderstood. May be plagued by paranoia at times. Can easily mistrust others. They likely learned to trust their intuition at a young age and may heavily rely on it. They may have a talent for always getting to the heart of an issue.

Mercury Square Pluto: Can be stubborn in their opinions and have an all-or-nothing mentality. Can overlook what is important by jumping to conclusions or being preoccupied with finding hidden meanings or uncovering perceived deceptions. But they mentally approach the world with a lot of depth and sensitivity. They notice what others don't and some can be a good judge of character.

Venus Trine Pluto: Intense and passionate in their relationships but in a way that is magnetic, sexy, and maybe commanding. It's a great aspect for deepening intimacy and fostering meaningful growth in relationships. But those with this placement can become unchanging or controlling in their relationships too. Their attachments may usually be harmonious or loving but they can also be extremely strong.

Venus Opposite Pluto: There can be intense emotional power struggles in relationships. There can also be profound transformations or challenges in many of your relationships that lead to empowerment and self-mastery.

Venus Square Pluto: Associated with control, power dynamics, jealousy, and possessiveness in relationships. Needs to learn to manage their own intensity when it gets out of control or unhealthy. Or may need to learn how to listen to themselves more in relationships, follow their intuition/heart.

Mars Trine Pluto: Is a focused, passionate, magnetic, and inspiring or leading individual. They have a lot of confidence with heat, power, and determination to back up their confidence. But they can have an overpowering side to themselves that causes friction with others or gets them wrapped up in competition or conflict.

Mars Opposite Pluto: May be a ruthless individual who is out for conflict, finding it to be stimulating, to feed their ego, or to feed their hungry drive. Can be self-destructive and reckless. May be manipulative or controlling and really struggle with collaboration and cooperation. They can have a lot of willpower and endurance.

Mars Square Pluto: May be aggressive, forceful, could frequently and quickly escalate situations. May push others away from being close to them. But may be a survivor in life, someone who has to empower themselves often. They might be a very strong individual on many levels. Must learn to open up and find peace in their own way.

Jupiter Trine Pluto: A whole lot of inner strength. This aspect fosters a deep sense of purpose and the ability to influence and inspire others, making it easier to effect positive change on a larger scale. However their intense drive for success and transformation can sometimes lead to an obsession with power or control, potentially causing strain in personal or professional relationships.

Jupiter Opposite Pluto: Can indicate someone who deals with a lot of explosive power struggles in life. May be manipulative or power hungry themselves. Can give into obsession and extreme behavior of all types. Has a great ability to empower themselves by facing their inner demons head on.

Jupiter Square Pluto: May be a dogmatic, closed-minded, judgmental, and overly harsh person, especially in their beliefs. A desire for control may manifest through philosophies or religion somehow. But this person can have a lot of determination and depending on their ethics may be a great force to change the world around them for the better.

Saturn Trine Pluto: Makes individuals perceptive, hardworking, diligent, strong, and determined. We have two powerful planets working together. Pluto brings depth, destruction, healing, transformation, empowerment. Saturn brings wisdom, maturity, strategy, lessons, and realism. They can be blessed with self-mastery and a strong, effective willpower. But they may be overly serious, negative, or controlling, and easily stressed.

Saturn Opposite Pluto: May struggle with inner power struggles. They may swing from intense confidence to crippling anxiety or self-doubt. Can easily feel overwhelmed or restricted by responsibilities and limitations, resulting in periods of frustration and potential burnout. These individuals will likely experience many profound transformations in their life. Introspection and honing their intuition will be helpful to them.

Saturn Square Pluto: May feel like they never have enough control or power over their life. Leaving their comfort zone, sticking to discipline or a routine, inner authority, independence, and ultimately empowerment may seem extra hard for them. But they can learn to be resourceful, perceptive, and enduring over time. They may find empowerment in unexpected ways.

Uranus Trine Pluto: May be highly unconventional, radical, or revolutionary in their mindset and goals. They can navigate big changes in society or historical events a little easier than others. They are open-minded to the future and can be adaptable and enduring. However they can get obsessive with some of their ideas and opinions. May also not see the value in older structures or traditions. May not learn from past mistakes of others.

Uranus Opposite Pluto: A tornado within and chaos outside - these people are likely very familiar with instability in life. They can also struggle to deal with sudden changes whether they are burnt out from many upheavals in their life or have experienced events that cause them to fear change. Internally they may have a tug-of-war between the desire for freedom and the need for control, leading to feelings of being torn between competing priorities. However this placement can learn to embrace authenticity in themselves and others, they may be passionately honest, and can find hope in the future.

Uranus Square Pluto: May be use to power struggles throughout life, especially in terms of them trying to be more individualistic, independent, or moving forward with change and adaptability. Can encourage others to be rebellious, despite this square's challenges they can have a rebel heart themselves.

Neptune Trine Pluto: This aspect fosters profound spiritual growth and transformation, allowing individuals to deeply connect with their inner selves and pursue meaningful, soul-enriching experiences. They are likely highly intuitive, may be prone to intense dreams, and has a knack for digging up the truth or is a natural healer. However they can be highly unpractical and may neglect the more day-to-day needs and demands of life.

Neptune Opposite Pluto: This aspect can lead to intense inner turmoil and confusion, as individuals may struggle to reconcile their deepest fears and desires with their idealistic visions, resulting in periods of uncertainty and emotional instability. They may be very familiar with deception and betrayal. They can have a great capacity for self-awareness, healing deep wounds, and finding empowerment in soft or spiritual ways.

Neptune Square Pluto (2050s - 2070s): May face a lot of disillusionment in life, both in belief systems and people. "Don't meet your heroes" is an important message for this placement. Has susceptibility to deception or escapism, as individuals may struggle to see situations clearly and might resort to avoidance or denial when faced with harsh realities. They can grow to have a lot of psychological depth and insight.

[lovesicklovermia]

𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚

﹒﹒ ﹒summary - snippets from yours and carls relationship <3

﹒﹒ ﹒set in - season 3 to season 8

﹒﹒ ﹒pairing - carl grimes x reader

﹒﹒ ﹒ content inclusions - pre relationship to relationship, spoilers, character death, angst AND fluff!! lots of feelings <3

﹒﹒ ﹒requested by - anon! hopefully this is somewhat what you asked for, enjoy 🤍

⇛ you’d been giggling and joking since the beginning of the prison, with practically everyone other than yourself noticing the glances and soft touches of hands, when things got particularly troubling.

⇛ yet, as his mother passed away, so did his surges of confidence to let your hands brush with his, and he’d pushed away. it hurt, but you understood.

⇛ then, as he’d come around again, more open to what had once been, you’d disappeared from his life.

⇛ the prison had fell. he remembered squeezing your hand as a goodbye, as he recalled his mother and father doing in reassurance many years ago, but then you'd been gone anyway. he needed the reassurance too. he struggled. 

⇛ his anger for his father, in that old home, when he was unconscious - not only had that been fuelled by losing judith, but also by losing you.

⇛ his hands had been cold, colder than usual, and in these struggling times, he couldn't help but think back to everything he'd taken for granted. happy days, playing card games and watching you do cartwheels with lizzie and mika on the grass.

⇛ so, days later, when you reunited as he escaped terminus, your face bashed and bruised, yet cheeks still bright with warmth, he’d practically pulled your hand to his, but still let you make the first move. so, with some sense of anxiety, you’d squeezed his hand, and he squeezed yours back. he’d gone to pull his hand away, yet you kept holding on tight. and he let you.

⇛ even rick, despite his anxious tendencies, enjoyed knowing his son had someone permanently attached to his hip. you were always there. holding judith, holding carl’s hand, holding bags, holding the group together in general. no matter what you were doing, you had somebody else in mind. yet, always, you were close to him. 

⇛ in the church, hidden away at the back, you felt the chance to laugh and joke with him, like teenagers, normal teenagers, could. with a soft hand under his chin, you’d reached forward, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. he’d loved every second, yet as abraham began his speech, and your face had grown tired and weary, he’d felt you slipping away, for a second or two.

⇛ the church was no easy place to stay, despite the boy’s newfound positivity. so, you’d all soon left, and were struggling on the road. your own positivity was born from his joy at the very prospect of the prison, a mere few days before. every time you’d clung your arm to his, you’d pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

⇛ what you were not expecting was, one night, in the old barn, as the storm boomed above, for him to turn his head slightly, a kiss on the cheek turning into a full kiss. you both never looked back, from that day on.

⇛ the next morning, as an unfamiliar man stood, holding apple sauce, he’d noticed the pair of you, nestled in a corner on the floor, you asleep on carl’s shoulder, your arm still looped around his. 

⇛ the night you’d reached alexandria, as the group waited downstairs, nestled in sleeping bags and cramped on sofas, you’d been upstairs. you hadn’t showered yet, for judith had sought your attention for the entirety of the day, but now you had a chance.

⇛ carl had stood outside the bathroom, practically rigid, in case the water was acid, or something (you presumed, anyway. he hadn’t explained his reasons.) you’d emerged thirty minutes later, dressed in a fluffy white robe.

⇛  he’d sat you on the last remaining seat on the squished sofa, and brushed through your hair, as you leant one hand on his knee behind you. 

⇛ the lineup, the most difficult moment of your lives, had ended in everyone, on the ground, hours later. those moments you kneeled under lucille, nobody’s hand to hold, had shaken your heart.

⇛ yet, hours later, as you stood up for the first time, you’d clung to your boyfriend, and had practically physically attached yourself to his arm, considering it looked like he was going to lose the remaining other.

⇛ the looming war soon after left little time for you two to spend any time together, let any time affectionately. as negan really did make himself at home, he’d noticed your hand, tucked in carl’s pocket, perhaps some way of comforting yourself, yet not making yourself known.

⇛ negan had quickly caught on, and had made carl feed you some spaghetti. you both would have laughed, had the entire event not been so painstakingly awful and embarrassing.

⇛ and later in life, as a walker bite doomed both your fates, you’d laid together, side by side. his arm looped around your waist, a hand pressed to your heart. for once, he initiated the affection. you’d died together, side by side, as close in death as you always were in life.

[racingghost]

please......please....... knight seb....... pleas.e share...

Somehow I knew you'd have my back ahaha

So, about this AU + snippet

For anyone who isn't comrade @backmarkerr over there, every AU I have is basically OUR AU. Mine and Max. Mi casa tu casa and all that.

So in this one, Kimi's a prince, and Seb is a Knight from a very stern order (Red Bull Order) who is assigned to protect him. Red Bull Order knights are very strong, capable, and known to be these legendary, cold-faced warriors.

They're also massive virgins, because of their strict vows. They're trained from a very early age to form little attachment to people, and have as little personality as possible.

So that's the context, here's the snippet...

---------------------------------

Sebastian Vettel was an attentive man, who took credence to any gossip he heard. His caution always served him well, as the word on the street was often more perceptive and accurate than the stories nobles and courts tried to pass as truth. Pretense was not a commoner concern.

With that said, while Prince Raikkonen’s favoring of men wasn’t by any means a new rumor, Sebastian found himself questioning it for the first time.

It seemed that his young royal’s visit to the brothels wasn’t going to show any sort of decorum, but contrary to what he was expecting at the beginning of the night, that had nothing to do with men as a preference, and everything to do with… well…

A loud, ecstatic moan vibrated through the door he was guarding, as if on cue.

Whether the prince liked women or not, it was certain that women very much liked him. To add to the embarrassment, the explicit sounds were something Sebastian never heard before in his life, which for a man his age was bordering on preposterous. They had an effect on him, one that left him feeling too hot under the collar and all the same relieved his clothes were heavy and dense.

“Ahem.” A cough at his side made him glance at Heikki Kovalainen, a fellow knight, albeit from no remarkable order. “Plan is going well, huh?”

Sebastian didn’t respond, instead pressing his lips firmly together.

“You know she’s being theatrical right?” Heikki glanced at Vettel with a smug face, as if he could smell his inexperience from a mile away.

“What?” Sebastian reacted, unable to help himself.

“The moans, the shouts. She’s doing her little performance too, no offense to the prince.”

“I wonder what the prince will think when I relay him your words.”

Heikki only scoffed at the threat, as if he wasn’t concerned with that at all.

“He’s probably thinking the same as me.” He leaned a bit closer to Sebastian. “As far as preferences go, he tends to like them more quiet. More discrete.”

“This might be one of the few things I don’t have to know about him.” Sebastian replied, feeling his face warm to a noticeable degree.

“God, you’re a prude.” Heikki leaned back to where he was, as another pleasured shout came from the room. “Guess it’s true what they say of the mighty Bulls.”

If only he were a tortoise, Sebastian would have hidden his face inside his shell as he so wanted to. Unfortunately, his lack of response didn’t stop Heikki from bringing up the inevitable.

 “You’re all virgins.” Oh the grin in his voice.

“You must find trips to the brothel to be better than committing to honorable vows then.” Sebastian defended himself. He tried to sound as snotty nosed as a true Holy Knight would have felt, but next to an older peer he only sounded juvenile, even to his own ears.

“Nothing honorable about blue balling yourself.” Heikki laughed. “What are you, a nun? Even those escape the convent some nights…”

“Don’t speak heresies…”

“Well I’ll let you know right now, if a girl moans the moment you touch her waist, she likes your wallet more than you.”

“I would never!”

“Pay for it? Because I hope you get to experience it someday. It’s what makes a man, a man.”

While Sebastian kept a sour glare towards Heikki, deep within himself he couldn’t lie and say he hadn’t thought of it. Especially now, with all the noises coming from behind that door.

He wondered how it would be to see a naked woman, see her large breasts and nothing between her legs. He twitched his fingers as he imagined how it would be to touch fleshy thighs and see the fat and muscle in them move beneath his hands.

Sebastian’s only point of comparison was seeing a sharp blade effortlessly glide through meat and even bone. He was curious, certainly, but he wasn’t yearning for it.

However, the thought of Kimi in there changed it from pure anatomy to something more. There, Sebastian had a point of reference. He saw Kimi’s body when he was wounded and needed to be cleaned and bandaged, he felt the strength of his arm around his waist, he witnessed the droplets of sweat sliding down his neck when it was too hot outside.

The muscles he saw still and bruised, how would they look in action? Pulling and tensing with movement, putting their strength to use by holding this woman in position? How would he look naked? Not vulnerable, but confidently naked?

A hint of a response came from the room once again, a loud and stretched out cry that sounded as ecstatic as it was out of breath.

No matter how much Heikki babbled, that one didn’t sound fake at all.

[witchofthesouls]

I love your bayverse Isekai AU, will there be any more snippets on the shenanigans with our feral wildling prime with equally feral newsparks and politically rogue sentinel actively failing and somehow successfully courting the said feral prime while simutaneously giving the metaphorical middle finger to the council regime.

You're standing in the middle of a pale desert. The white sand ripples without wind, and it's endless without anything in sight. A stark divide between the ground and dark sky. The stars are strange. Dripping like a child's clumsy first ventures into watercolors; saturated, vibrant hues fading into weak trailing brushstrokes. With enough concentration, you parse out the shapes of the stars, outlines squirming, moving back and forth, bleeding across the night like odd-shaped marbles.

Someone calls out, and you turn to see a fluttering-

______

You wake up, and the dream fades. The remaining echoes of crying easily meld into the newsparks' wails for your attention, even under Thundercracker's crooning engines, calm field, and fuel production. They look for you, blindly reaching out, fields refusing to settle until well entangled under your own and dozing on your chest.

______

Because you and information slugs don't mix, you're learning the old-fashioned way: direct practice.

And there's nothing in this current life nor your past human one that could prepare you for Iaconi dining etiquette and their culinary practices.

Sentinel is surprisingly patient and encouraging. Star Saber, on the other hand, is demanding and pompous as usual.

A few pieces of the cutlery are familiar in a vague shape-sense, like a spoon should be a spoon, but the spoons' handles have delicate metal leaves with tiny bundles of shiny berries. One grouping is so fragile that the shells jiggled as it rose from a well-hidden compartment from the table. Another clutch isn't round but more hexagonal. A blue hexagon-like raspberry with reddish fuzz.

There's also a tool that looks like a love-child between a well-used slinky and nunchucks and a doohicky that combined a two-pronged fork with a honey dipper.

There's nothing on the table that looks remotely close to honey or a sauce to use said dipper.

You deeply yearn for the simplicity of Thundercracker's cubes and her endless supply of snacks.

Biting the bullet, you commit to a spoon, and Star Saber exudes disdain as you try to scoop out the plain tofu lookalike on your plate. It jiggles and warps the moment the utensil touches it, and the berries, every single one, fall off. The hard ones bounce off, tinking across the table and floor, and the fragile ones splatter the tofu. A contained mess of color and sound clash as discordant strings and chimes overlay and warp.

Sentinel is then right by you. "Like this," he says, and he takes your hand to pick up the fork end, guiding you to twirl the dipper right over the plain tofu block. It quivers, and there's a lovely wind-chime noise before the entire thing flows upward, carving into long, unbroken chains by following the grooves, and artfully twirling backdown into a nest.

A plate of color-splattered noodles now sits before you.

Sentinel uses the slinky, applying the nunckuck ends to his thumb and middle finger and gently bounces the slinky over the noodles. The noodles slither their way into the middle, and after a mouthful is gathered, he brings the contraption near his face, flicking off the thumb attachment and the flexible tubing and 'drinks' his food as if it's a straw itself.

A sharp, ringing hum grabs your attention, prickling over your senses at vibrates in your field. When Star Saber stops circling the rim of the wine glass, the hum dies down as well.

"You failed when we entered." You stare blankly at the Seeker, and he clicks his glossa before explaining, "The most prominent member signals the rest to sit."

"But I waited for you because you're the most experienced!" Star Saber had literally spent weeks beating it into your processor about the teacher-student dynamic: who sits, who stands, who dismisses, and many other important, little steps of social nuance.

"Yes. If this was an educational setup, but this is a formal meal, it's the established Prime that signals to everyone else to sit."

You throw all caution to wind and reach over to the turn table in the middle. Sentinel laughs as you manually spin it until you reach your target: the deconstructed savory pies basket.

Star Saber remains unamused as you take a bite of the sphere, and spices flood your senses, coating your glossa with a hearty, thick gravy. The 'wrapping is supposed to be peeled, but it's completely edible and flaky layers.

It's a performance piece with the right sounds and gestures. The wrapping would gracefully unravel, and the contents reorganize itself into a sophisticated piece of art before settling into cups to be eaten one by one.

You find it more comfortable to eat the pie in one whole go. Star Saber deeply sighs at your atrocious manners and actually snaps at Sentinel when the mech decides to follow your lead.

[sharieb]

hi! just dropping by to say i looove your non!mc series. i read your original post about the concept and i too was curious about the aftermath of angsty non!mc fics so thanks for filling that void! so grateful for the work you share with us :”)

but also, it got me thinking, i know very little about caleb in-game, but from the snippets i’ve seen, he seems to be the least likely to get hung up on non!mc considering how attached and borderline obsessive he is over mc (captive bird scene, for example) would love to hear your thoughts on this! 🤓

Hi darling, I'm glad that you enjoy reading my fic. It's nice to know that you find it interesting to invest in reading the entire series. As for my thoughts on Calbe's relationship with non-MC, I had always seen him as one of the LIs that would have a really hard time having any romance with non-MC due to the trauma-bond (how I personally see it at the start when they're kids) he has with MC. It's understandable as MC was the only person he had known the longest besides their adopted grandma. It also comes down to how Calbe always had the need to protect MC and have her depend on him for so long that the thought of MC not needing him anymore caused his once hidden obsessive tendencies for MC to surface. For this reason, it became the norm for most Calbe x Non-Mc fanfic to be angst, since his duty and love (whether it's romantic or platonic, depending on the fic you read) for MC always hinders any romantic progress with Non-Mc, to the point that Non-Mc ends up moving on, while Caleb began to accept his love for Non-Mc and the need to be with her, all too late. It's not to say he can't have fluff fics with non-MC; however, the angst genre just fits well with his situation with Non-MC.

[wickedsmille]

snippet saturday

I got tagged by @takemetomyfragiledreams for a Snippet Saturday! (I love getting tagged in these things. You spoil me so good. 🖤) And I did a thing. Like a continuation of my jaytim one-shot monster mash kind of thing. And what's under the cut is probably more than a snippet but, hey, short and concise just ain't my thing and I've made my peace with that. That being said, enjoy this heap of dragon!Tim riding in to save his damsel familiar demon!Jason. (I didn't edit nuffin' so beware, probably typos afoot.)

Idk who to tag 🥲 So, if you're reading this, I tag you. No take backsies.

-

Most people wear their glamors whenever they’re out in public. The mixing of humans, creatures, humanoids and all those in-between has come a long way. It’s harmonious, almost. Not everywhere, not all the time. Crime against creatures and hybrids is higher still than humans and those creatures human enough to pass for normal. So whether out of fear or consideration or conformity, glamoring is as prevalent as it has always been.

For Robin, for Tim, that is doubly true. 

Dick and Jason were witches. It didn’t matter for them. The ethereal, glowing eyes of a witch in their half and full forms are hidden by the dominos. For all anyone else could tell, Robin was something but no one could ever pin down exactly what. There’s too many magical beings now openly living shoulder to shoulder with humans for it to matter. Too much magic freely floating through the air to definitively pick out a specific thread and follow it from the vigilante to the person behind the mask. Being witches allowed them the freedom to fully spread their wings without fear of giving away their identities whether they were Robin or Dick or Jason. 

Bruce has the world convinced Brucie is a bumbling idiot of a human while Batman is very obviously more but there’s enough creatures out there like daevas to muddy the waters. 

Of course, Tim’s parents wanted a flashy hybrid to parade around the balls and galas they bothered to attend when they were in Gotham. A new treasure his father could point to and boast about, proof of his mother’s superiority over the other children of the elite. They’d hoped he’d even get the unique ability to function without a familiar afforded to creature and humanoid hybrids. Rarely, the tempering magic of a humanoid would be enough to balance and tame the raw, electric power of creature magic. Then there’s no need to balance the scales through unnecessary attachments. 

Tim visited enough doctors as a kid, paid enough to keep their mouths shut to do procedures typically only done after seventeen at the limit of when bonds form, for his parents to come to the early conclusion Tim wouldn’t be one of the lucky hybrids. They got their trophy to stuff into stiff suits and march across marble floors but their disappointment in the knowledge Tim wouldn’t be able to function independently was a weighted, palpable thing. 

It’s always been customary for the wealthy to hide their true forms but, after that, they gave him a talisman to wear to events on top of his own glamors.

Becoming Robin and having Bruce harshly demand he always keep his glamors up wasn’t jarring because he’d already grown used to it. The magic started to itch if left too long. Sometimes Tim would forget to remove them even at home despite the cold, empty rooms being his only company. Sacrificing the truth of himself for Robin wasn’t a hardship. Nowadays, it’s second nature. He hardly even remembers what he looks like in his half and full forms. But he does know a half dragon, half elf is too conspicuous to ever be seen as Robin. It would be all too easy to connect the dots between such a rare hybrid and Tim Drake. 

Even just the thought of breaking his glamors, in public no less, is enough to make his heart race and his palms sweat but his bond is screaming familiar in danger over and over again as pain dances along every nerve. Tim can’t see any other way to neatly wrap up the mess Jason has created. From his vantage point perched on a billboard across the street from a nondescript warehouse on the southside of the docks, Tim counts at least fifty heavily armed mercenaries and one Red Hood.

Jason is powerful. Incredibly so, but everyone has their limits. The relative stability of Tim’s fused magics, his more prominent elven blood making the powerhouse magic of his dragon side more docile, compared to the volatile churning of Jason’s does come with the perk of not needing contact with his familiar as often. Which is all the better since Jason has made himself scarce since their last meeting. He’s posited that Jason likely doesn’t enjoy the same benefit given the incendiary nature of his magic, where the demon side reigns supreme and feeds, feeds, feeds off the magic of the witch. 

He can’t imagine what state Jason is in. Tim had already drafted a plan to hunt Jason down again for his own damn good. 

Now he’s being forced to speed up his timetable and make what seems like an impossible choice. Fifty guys, most likely armed with bullets and magic themselves, is something Robin can’t handle with a handicapped Red Hood. The thought of calling in Batman and Nightwing for back up rankles. There would be no hiding the bond with him and Jason close to one another, not from Bruce and, by extension, from Dick who serves as his familiar. Tim isn’t ready to share this part of himself yet. It’s a tender, open wound Jason tore open again, a weakness he hasn’t created a workaround for yet. 

Damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t, though. 

Heaving a long, weary sigh, Tim straightens up and hops down off the billboard while casting a temporary veil of invisibility over himself. With deft fingers, Tim does the latches on the Robin uniform and stuffs them into a cache stored inside the defunct AC unit nearby. Left with nothing but his undershirt and tights, Tim stands at the edge of the roof and grimaces. He can feel the swell of magic bubbling under his skin, equally soothing and irritating the pain channeling through the bond into him. 

Man, he really hopes he isn’t making a terrible mistake. 

Mind already made up, Tim shoves away his self-doubt and leaps off the roof with his arms spread. He closes his eyes and wipes away the haze of the glamors while pulling on his own magic to wrap around himself. To embrace himself and what he truly is. It’s pain and relief rolled into one, like scratching an itch viciously enough to bleed. His skin ripples and stretches, bones breaking down and knitting back together while muscle and sinew stretch to accommodate. As much as it sucks, because it does, Tim feels freer than he does swinging from his grapple through Gotham’s skies. 

He wants to laugh but it comes out as a chuff because of his snout. His paws slam into the concrete of the road, claws digging in and ripping it up. Bounding towards the warehouse, Tim decides to go for shock and awe. Most people don’t expect a full-fledged dragon to run into them head on. He knows even as a drake he's on the smaller side for dragons and doesn't have the added bulk wings would give his silhouette. Still, a dragon no matter the sub-type is a dragon and their reputation as an apex predator has been well earned in and out of the magic community.

Running on four legs is weird, especially with the unwieldy weight of his tail thumping clumsily against the ground behind him, so Tim stumbles the first couple steps but he settles into a loping run as he closes the distance between himself and the warehouse. The spines along the top of his head and down his spine shift with each powerful push of his legs. By the time he’s throwing himself bodily into the wooden bay doors of the warehouse, Tim has even managed to wrangle his tail into some semblance of order so it's not throwing off his balance so badly. 

The wood gives way easily, no match for Tim’s plated scales and thick hide. He skids across the warehouse floor, claws leaving gouges in his wake. Everything inside the building stops as Tim settles in the center of the room. No one so much as moves, too busy gaping at Tim to fire their guns and shoot off a burst of magic. His inner elf wants to preen at the stunned attention but Tim squashes the stupid impulse. 

Instead, he roars into the silence of the warehouse. The sound of it reverberates off the glass of the windows, completely destroying the ones closest to Tim. Tim’s tail swings back and forth agitatedly as he bears his teeth. The deep black of his smooth scales explode into a brief starburst of color when the light catches them like he’s been armored with plates of black opal. Tim rears his head back and roars with his whole chest this time as his tail slams into the floor and cracks the concrete.

The first roar was an announcement of his presence. The second is a warning to stay away from what is his.

[wbbdirtybubble]

To those who are new to or don’t know about the Liz and Georgia lore:

Liz and G had some sort of thing going on b/t 2020-2022, and G apparently cheated on Liz many times bc G wasn’t very committed, and Liz took her back every single time. But in 2023, they were finally committed in this hidden relationship (somewhat like pazzi), which explains why there were so many Queens of Cassell podcasts last year in the late spring and summer, and they seemed to be attached at the hip when they went to the Bellair’s house alone. Also, when I saw one of Liz’s TikToks from the Greece trip, there were snippets of G sitting across or next to her at the table while eating. And I saw a pic from Cayla King’s VSCO in which Liz and G were sitting across from each other at a table for two.

Sometime after the Ally Tip-Off vs Iowa, G either cheated again or had some kind of huge fight, which Liz took very personally, and there weren’t as many podcasts. And they didn’t spend Christmas together for the first time and eventually stopped being roommates. Sometime in February around Valentine’s Day, Liz renamed her Apple Music playlist titled “Georgia” to “2020 love,” which includes love songs and breakup songs. As of today, the beef is still stirring between the two.

[16scuderia]

might as well be interactive so i’m posting a snippet of my wip from my lestappen pillow talk series 🤫:

He takes longer to reply this time, but when Max sees a video file attached, he understands why.

Charles’ face remains hidden above the camera’s frame, his legs straddling a large bolster as he grinds his hips desperately against the pillow. For the most part, the video is filled with Charles’ pitiful whimpers, his frustrated moans as he drags his cock across the surface in search of friction. Not once does his hands wander to touch though, remaining dutifully flat on his thighs. Max smiles. He can’t help it — it’s nice seeing the fruits of his labour. There’d been a time when Charles had been so impatient, so eager to chase after his orgasms. Max had been quick to put a stop to that behaviour, teaching him the benefits of patience.

Max continues to watch, enamoured. He soaks in each and every gasp, taking sick pleasure at how Charles will speed up, chasing after his climax before tiring out, inevitably failing with a soft cry. Max wishes he could see his face, itching to cup his cheeks and wipe away his tears. He’s so engrossed in the video, he almost doesn’t catch when Charles begins to speak. Almost. There’s a beat of silence as Charles stutters over himself. Then, he hears a quiet but earnest, “Has— Has to be your fingers, Max,” before the video stops.

[lazerswordweilder]

What if instead of his finger Anakin wore his wedding ring on a necklace, because it would be suspicious if he had a wedding ring and he’s worried he’ll lose his other arm and if he loses the necklace that means he’s lost his neck so no matter anymore right.

What if Anakin gifted his mother a japor snippet too (the necklace he gave Padmé in a Phantom Menace), and after her death he added it to the necklace with his wedding ring because now they’re close and how he wishes they got to meet.

What if when Ahsoka left, she gave him one of the Akul teeth (from her headdress) and he added it to his necklace next to his mother and his wife because she was his little sister and his family not just an apprentice.

What if Anakin never got anything from Obi-Wan, symbolism for his loyalty to the Jedi order (which prohibits attachments and presumably memorabilia) and how it distances him from Anakin his master his brother why doesn’t his brother love him as much as he does.

What if the clones have nothing to give despite them being family. Except one day on a mission, one of them finds a piece of wood and together they carve and paint it into a helmet and Anakin adds it to his necklace they said it was a joke but it wasn’t they can’t believe he really cares.

What if after Padmé died, Anakin managed to get both her ring and japor snippet and he adds them to his necklace. Wedding rings are meant to be kept together after all. WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHY-.

What if even all these years later, Vader cannot bring himself to get rid of these memorabilia, and he still wears them. Hidden from sight by his suit, but always a heavy weight on his neck which feels so suffocating one moment and so grounding the next.

[ofcrowsanddragons]

#5 for story time DLC De Riva edition if you'd like.

#5 Rook fighting against a Crow from a rival house

Please enjoy this surprise 3,000 word short story set Post-AWR and pre-Veilguard. The prompt is from @hyperions-light's De Riva Story Time Prompts ask game. Magpie Files tag here for more snippets.

Includes all the Dellamortes.

Tags: Outsider POV, pre-canon Rookanis, The Ridiculous Schemes of Magpie "Mags" "Rook" de Riva (in support of Teia's mission to turn the Crows into a family)

Warnings: Fledgling whump, injury, concerns about torture, disassociation.

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

Crow Games

“Does this scream ‘trap’ to you?” asked the Magpie, with a sidelong glance to their masked companion. The man tilted his head to the side in acknowledgement.

Ludovica Conti tightened her grip around the hilt of her rapier, growing irritated when her target just sighed. “Fight me, damn you,” said Ludovica, raising the tip of her sword. Tonight would mark either her death or her graduation from fledgling to full Crow, and she wasn’t going to give up her life without a fight.

It was an insult that Magpie de Riva didn’t even go for their sword. “Your grip is too tight,” they told her. “You're showing overt signs of stress. Do you even have a real contract, or did Massimo Conti just throw you to the wolves so that he’d be able to demand reparations?”

Licking her lips, Ludovica could admit to herself that it was the latter. It was part of why she hadn’t hidden the heraldry attached to her collar. The fact that she knew the game didn’t make a difference, either: the word of the head of her house was law. She and her little brother had joined the minor Crow house as orphans, and lived at his sufferance. If Massimo got what he wanted out of her death, he might choose to be merciful and not pass the failed contract-that-wasn’t-a-contract along to her brother.

She was also one of the best fencers in her age group. It was correct that he had chosen her.

Her feet were light against the stone, letting her fly toward Magpie. The stance was perfect, the blade raised in absolute precision as it darted toward Magpie’s heart.

An arm caught her around the neck from behind and jerked.

The momentum that had carried Ludovica forward left her gasping now. Her vision reeled as she tried to catch up to the fact that the masked man’s arm was now around her neck. She wheezed in the chokehold, realizing that she hadn’t even seen him move. Her neck hurt—unsurprising given the impact, and she felt nausea build up somewhere in her chest. She tried to establish where Magpie was in the room, but the light was too bright and the spinning sensation didn’t diminish. She couldn’t breathe.

“Yield,” said the man, increasing the pressure.

She dropped the sword.

A chair scraped across the polished stone floor, and it was at this point that the terror sweat began to break out across Ludovica’s body. Being killed outright was one thing, but the sound made it clear that she was to be questioned. She bit back a whimper.

“Mags,” the man said, and there was something in his voice that Ludovica couldn’t place.

“We’ll figure it out,” Magpie said, and this tone was easier to put into words. It was cold and dead, a mask of indifference and purely rational decision-making that all of them learned to put on at will. Ludovica took in a steadying breath as she readied herself for what was to come next.

The two Crows pushed her forward and she retched into a bucket that had been laid in front of her. OK, fine, she thought, struggling to make sense of it as she tasted bile, Smart of them to leave less mess to clean up.

Murmers in another language were passed back and forth between the pair as Magpie systematically searched her for weapons. With each pass, she felt a little more helpless, which was stupid, as she was already helpless. She had miscalculated by attacking Magpie in front of her mysterious ally, who was almost supernaturally good. That was fine. At this point, all she really needed to do was exist until she didn't have to anymore. It's not like she knew anything that Massimo considered valuable.

Her head was forced back, and a liquid was poured down her throat. She tasted elfroot—for the soporific effect, perhaps?���along with comfrey and lavender in some kind of astringent solution. Her stomach heaved, and she struggled against her captors without meaning to. Strong hands held her steady and one of the Crows began tracing soothing circles against the nape of her neck.

It was a mistake to relax into the sensation, and she knew it, but nothing really mattered anymore. She was already dead. Rising from somewhere along her spine, a pleasant floating sensation sunk its hooks into her gut, and she chased the little kindness of that touch for as long as it deigned to last.

For a long moment, there was only calm.

When Ludovica came back to herself—no, there was no coming back; she was already dead. She blinked through the tears as Magpie blurred into her sight. The Crow was seated across from her on their own stark, wooden chair. Their hands were clasped loosely on their lap and their expression was cool and professional. The hands of their companion were on the fledgling’s shoulders. He held her from the back, a clear threat and a warning not to move.

The instant she came back to full alertness, Magpie’s eyes flickered from the partner’s face down to her own, meeting her gaze with cool certainty. “Do you know happen to know,” they said, and the words were carefully neutral, “what the correct course of action for me to take right now is?”

Biting her lip, she found herself wishing she still had the excuse of the disorientation or headache for her poor comportment. Both symptoms had subsided almost entirely.

“Are you—” she coughed into her hand, despairing at the fact that the Crows didn't even feel the need to bind them, and willed her voice into steadiness. “Are you going for the professional mask, then?”

“Well, of the three of us, I'm clearly the one with the best poker face,” said Magpie, raising their eyebrows minutely.

She could barely feel the bruising that should have been laced across her throat as she croaked a laugh. “Does that mean your partner is the sadist, then?” she asked, trying not to break into hysterical giggles. “You’re the reasonable one, and he's the threat? If I tell you everything, will you even let me die?”

The dizziness was back. She was breathing too fast. Magpie didn't move, and the hands on her shoulders tightened just the barest amount and then forced themselves to relax. That was all right. The touch was grounding, if less soothing than the circles that she thought had been Magpie. She would allow it to hold her together until the Crows chose to do otherwise.

“How about we start by getting everyone on the same page,” stated Magpie. Neutral, neutral, neutral. Like Antiva, in a war between Ferelden and Orlais. “Tell me what should be done with you, according to our rules.”

“It would be correct for you to kill me,” she said, trying to flatten her voice. Magpie was patriotically neutral, and so was she.

“No.”

She ignored the fluttering of her pulse as she tried to speak around the dryness in her mouth. “What?”

“That’s incorrect,” said Magpie, and their words grew colder as they leaned forward to set their elbows against their knees. “After failing to find me while I was alone? After failing to even meet my blade, let alone wound me? The correct thing would be for me to tie you up and ship you home to your head of house. That would rather solve most of House de Riva's problems in one swoop.”

There was a scuffle that Ludovica was barely aware of, for all that she had initiated it. On her knees on the polished floor, she realized that her arms were being held at her back by the iron grip of her captor. She strained to look up at Magpie. “Don't,” she begged.

Magpie hadn't moved an inch. “How many people that you love is Massimo holding hostage for your ready sacrifice?”

“Everyone I have left,” said Ludovica, hating herself for it. They had barely touched her and already she was broken. “Please don't take my cowardice out on them.”

Those cold eyes looked deep into her own, and Ludovica shivered with the intensity of them. “Child, if you agree, then I am going to get every one of them out from under Massimo.”

A demon’s bargain. Ludovica licked her lips, not willing to cast aside the potential for a miracle when she had no better options. “How?”

“You're going to sit back in that chair,” said Magpie, their voice going polite and pleasant in a way that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “You're going to tell me everything you know about House Conti and its business. And then House de Riva is going to eat everything that Massimo has ever worked to build.”

The partner released Ludovica, and she caught herself with perfect balance, too unnerved to be grateful. She stood, slowly, and sat back in the chair. A slow turn of her head revealed the man leaning against the back wall, but Ludovica had to turn her back to him to look at Magpie. The man was still wearing his mask, anyway.

She was steadied by the ruthlessness in Magpie’s cold eyes, and she nodded. “What else?”

“We'll neutralize any threats to your family before Massimo learns anything” said Magpie, “but as a member of his house, I'm having you deliver the message to the First Talon that De Riva is making its move.”

“Can you authorize that?” Ludovica asked, instead of shouting, The First Talon?

Magpie tilted their head. “Viago could have me killed for it,” they said, and Ludovica appreciated the honesty, at least.

“Viago wouldn't and we all know it,” the partner interjected from behind her. “Beyond that, I would not allow it.”

“Thank you for that,” Magpie said with a warning look over Ludovica’s shoulder. “Viago would only kill me for it if he was already looking for an excuse. I don't think you realize how small of a player House Conti is.”

A huff from the man still leaning against the wall. “Even if he actually wanted you dead, Teia Cantori knows where he sleeps.”

“They haven't—”

“Well, not yet. But she’s a woman who knows her blueprints.”

Ludovica tuned the couple—who were almost definitely lovers themselves—out as they began to argue about the Fifth and Seventh Talons that they both referred to so familiarly. It was difficult for her to feel foolish when her head of house had underestimated the situation so thoroughly. She knew the game: he had gone after one of the Fifth Talon’s favourites. This might still end with every person she knew and didn't put on a safe list dead by the end of the week, but that was the hand Massimo had chosen to play. She didn't have any say in how it played out, other than what little leverage Magpie allowed her to bargain for.

Magpie’s partner didn't watch her so closely after that. Eventually, he left to get them food from the kitchen. Ludovica struggled to determine the hierarchy of the two Crows’ relationship. His manners were more polished than theirs were, but Magpie didn't defer to him, either.

The sun was starting to rise by the time Magpie (“Just call me Mags, seriously”) called for an end to the questioning. “We're just going to go in circles at this point,” they explained, cleaning off their pen and setting aside the journal that they had been filling with names and dates and gossip. “You’ve memorized the message that you need to deliver?”

Ludovica nodded, and when Magpie handed her the vial, she drank it without question.

When she woke, she was peering into the eyes of the most handsome man she had ever met. She blinked. And blinked again. He was still there, seated on a chair next to the couch she was lying on.

“Did it not work?” Ludovica wondered. “Am I dead?”

He grinned at her, and she blushed as her words caught up to her. “Hardly. The thought that I might make it onto the Maker’s choir?” he said, leaning back and putting a hand to his chest, “Ha! I tend to guide souls along from this side.” He graced her with a wink.

Oh no. The words had fallen right out of her head.

“Ah… but you're rather overwhelmed, are you not?” he asked, looking away and shifting away from her in a way that was rather endearing. Probably deliberately so. “Miss, do you know where you are?”

The pieces resolved in front of Ludovica, and she drew in a breath. “Did I make it to Villa Dellamorte?” she asked.

“Rather spectacularly. When we pulled you out of a shipping crate, we thought you were dead. It’s fortunate for you that the antidote was made so obvious to us.”

She nodded. “I have a message for the First Talon concerning House Conti and House de Riva,” she said with a steady voice. She had rehearsed it.

“I'm Illario, her grandson,” he said. “Please, let me take you to her.”

The Dellamortes weren't idiots, and they obviously knew she was an assassin, but she was also a young and recently-poisoned assassin. Any poison powerful enough to simulate death took at least a little while to throw off, after all. Illario still helped her to her shaky feet, as Ludovica stood up from where she had been lying on a sofa. She really should have guessed that the higher houses were all terrifyingly polite—with the emphasis on terrifying.

Fortunately, she was steadier by the time she was actually admitted to the First Talon’s study. She took a fortifying breath, let go of Illario's arm, and strode into the centre of the room.

Another man stood at the Talon’s right. He straightened from where he had been bent over a piece of parchment. “You don't need me here,” he objected, and Ludovica’s heart turned to ice as she recognized the voice. “The contract is solid as it is.”

But the First Talon's eyes had already found Ludovica.

It would have been less intimidating to be a sparrow caught in the gaze of a bird of prey. The woman was seated in a chair behind the desk as if it were a throne, and her hard eyes glittered like the multi-faceted masterwork of a gemsmith. Ludovica swallowed, feeling a tight, twisting sensation form under her breastbone, but her work tonight was too important. She refused to quail. “First Talon. My name is Ludovica Conti.”

“So I had determined. My name is Catarina. This is my grandson, Lucanis.”

Ludovica tried very hard to keep any expression from her face. “Pleased to meet you both,” she said, trying not to let irony colour the statement. “I have a message from Magpie de Riva on behalf of the Fifth Talon. The head of House Conti has attempted a grave injury upon both myself and Viago de Riva, not bound by the limitations of a contract. The Fifth Talon believes it is his right to enact justice upon House Conti for this, and he asks for your judgement.”

There was a long silence as Ludovica kept her head high. Catarina's stare seemed to bore directly into her soul. Ludovica tried not to think about strong arms holding her down on a chair, the man standing next to Catarina, or secret lovers meeting in a remote location that Ludovica had chosen as her killing ground.

“Granted,” said Catarina, and Ludovica held in a sigh of relief. House Conti was no more.

“That's it?” asked Illario, from where he still stood by the door.

The old woman smiled. “Do you think I don't get my own information on these situations as they develop? You young people are very dramatic,” said Catarina, as Ludovica held back a flinch, “but we must anticipate our allies as well as our enemies. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Illario said stiffly, stepping closer and holding out his arm. “Ludovica, would you like something to eat? I'm sure our House can sort out a meal, even for an unexpected guest.”

Ludovica looked back over the desk and met Lucanis Dellamorte's eyes for a moment. She could see a cool and deliberate distance there. “Thank you for your hospitality, First Talon,” she said, looking back at Catarina. After everything, she truly was grateful for how gently they were going about getting information from her. She brought her hand to Illario's arm and allowed him to lead her through the villa.

She understood enough. Mags de Riva had the full backing of the Fifth Talon and enough sway with the Seventh to make Viago reconsider removing Mags from the board if the Crow ever became a threat. Beyond that, Mags had somehow become the lover of the First Talon’s grandson, and would presumably back his play for the position when the time was right. Ludovica shook her head at the audacity of it all.

Illario smiled at her. “What are you thinking, I wonder?”

“It's just such a big house,” Ludovica gushed, letting her blush colour her face. The man really was very handsome.

But the Magpie had earned—or was about to earn—Ludovica’s loyalty in a way that no one ever had. Mags's allies were also positioned more closely to the First Talon than Ludovica could have imagined, and that made asking for outside help more risky than the possible benefit. Sadly, it also made Illario an enemy of sorts.

Or it would, eventually.

In the meantime, Mags had said not to try to deceive the Dellamortes, so Ludovica told Illario the story. Most of it, anyway.

🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛

Later:

MAGS: Why do people think I’m some kind of evil genius?

LUCANIS: Why do people assume Catarina knows everything?

MAGS: Because it’s safer to operate under that assumption.

LUCANIS: There you go.

[littlebittyhollowbugs]

Hollow and The White Lady?

Ooooh I like this one !!

I haven't spoken about them at all and I have so many thoughts so this will be long...

So their relationship pre-sealing was... basically non-existent.

The White lady was willing to do anything for her husband and the kingdom but was obviously deeply devastated by her actions. Racked with guilt from the moment the vessel plan was conceived and saddened by the fact that the only one of her children that should live had been hollowed out and was more tool than child, she spent the almost entirety of the vessel's upbringing avoiding it.

She didn't spend much time after its birth in the basin anyway, eventually imprisoning herself in her garden indefinitely.

But the time that she did spend in the palace, she would actively ignore the vessel as a way of preserving the many feelings surrounding its creation. (That its very presence would provoke)

She didn't really grow any attachment to it, the way that the king did, and that is largely because she didn't want to. (The king didn't WANT to either, but he never expected that he would.)

My interpretation of the Pale king and the White lady is that even though the queen was more willing to put herself in the public eye, and would shy away from no one, she was more detached to people in general. The king, despite his extreme introversion, formed attachments easily. (his greatest dedication, though, was always to his kingdom.)

The white lady only expected she might become fond of the vessel due to it being her offspring, (she had always desired to have children of her own) and thus chose to remove herself from the 'life' of the vessel entirely to avoid that.

I'll also note that she could definitely see how fond of it her husband had become, and her feelings on that matter were a bit of hidden jealousy, but mostly sorrow on his behalf.

On Hollow's end... I actually wrote about this a bit, too, in my fic, which I will add the snippets from at the end of the post.

Hollow pre-sealing was obviously repressing every possible individual thought and feeling,

But those thoughts and feelings did exist!

(I am strongly of the opinion that the vessels were never truly hollow, and that the plan was doomed the moment it was established.)

Its mother's dismissal of it was not unnoticed by the vessel, and it did affect Hollow. (Especially when compared with how its father treated it.)

Hollow always found its mother's presence on those rare occasions that it was given such a thing to be confusing.

A presence that was gentle and serene while simultaneously tense.

It was soothed by her singing and playing. (The white lady was fond of music)

It admired her grace, she spoke kindly, she seemed perfect,

But she did not care for it,

And it knew that.

It knew that its very existence disturbed her, and obviously, it did not let that knowledge bother it.

It was a pure vessel after all... (It was, in fact, bothered by this.)

Post-canon:

In our post-canon series, the white lady is introduced in an early episode titled "Quest for a queen" The basic premise is that Hollow, Ghost, and Hornet work together to motivate/inspire the old queen of hallownest to leave her self imposed prison to help the regrowing kingdom, which is a more difficult task than they had expected.

This would be the first meeting between Hollow and the white lady post-sealing. The feelings are very very complicated.

There is another episode a bit later on titled "lessons in lullabies" which focuses entirely on the relationship between these two.

The white lady attempting to finally reach out to her child through music and there is a lot of unresolved tension.

From the white ladys perspective, She is glad that Hollow is alive and free at last, feels all the guilt she ever did and more, but as usual does not allow those feelings to show, or at least shows them only to an extent.

Over time after eventually freeing herself and helping her remaining children and kingdom to grow, she sees Hollow for the person it really is (and in some ways always was) and is very pleased to see her child grow and heal and to truly live for the first time,

But still out of guilt, she chooses to distance herself from it.

Then of course after quite some time she is finally convinced to reach out, and it is almost too late.

From Hollow's perspective, the feelings are all over the place. It respects its mother, (mostly on behalf of its father.)

It is also disappointed in her. (For abandoning everything purposefully)

It feels pity for her, believing she desrved a much better life and still not being able to let go of that built-in guilt (for its failure to provide a better life for her, and for its mere existence symbolizing her own guilt and unhappiness.)

It doesn't want to resent her. (But there is a bit of resentment.)

It wants to admire her, to love her, and doesn't want to at the same time.

It wants her to love it in return,

but believes that she doesn't.

All these conflicting feelings and, of course, Hollow acts on none of them. (Save for respect.)

By the time the white lady finally acts on hers, Hollow is completely unsure of how or even IF it should react at all.

I'm not going to get into the details of the episodes here, but while their relationship does slowly repair, it is a delicate thing throughout the entire series.

For some extra angst, in our series, Hollow watches as the white lady willingly bonds with her other remaining children, Ghost, Kin, and the greenpath vessel (who we've named Nimble) and feels happy for them, that they have a mother figure in their life while they're still young, but also quietly feels saddened by the fact that it never did.

Another important note about their relationship post-canon,

The white ladys presence in Hollow's life enhances its desire for its father. It misses him always, and she reminds it of him. (It wishes he were there instead.)

In turn the white lady thinks of her husband often when in his child's presence. She knows how much Hollow meant to him.

That's something they have in common. The king haunts them both.

Truthfully, the White lady and Hollow have a lot in common.

They do both enjoy music.

They both enjoy nature, to see the world around them breathe and grow.

They are both gentle and composed.

They are both bound by tradition and desire to live orderly lives.

They are dutiful.

In some other universe they would have been as a mother and child should be.

They would have been very close.

They both quietly long for this impossibility.

(and there's another thing they have in common. The quiet longing.)

Here's the white lady flashback snippets

Bonus:

The shade theme is the lullaby their mother sang to their eggs before they were born.

My sister wrote lyrics to it, which do make an appearance near the end of the fic !!

[sjmprideweek]

*Shuffles up like a drug dealer in an alley* You want fic recs? I got fic recs

*Deep breath*

A Court of Threads and Daises by @shi-daisy. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra.

I was sucked into Tamcien by this glorious fic, it is my comfort fic and I love it with all of my soul. If you like sweet, fluffy with a side of heart-wrenching angsty Tamcien, this is one for you. I will never shut up about this fic and I recommend it to literally everyone. 

A Second Chance by @goforth-ladymidnight. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra. 

Adorable, amazing, delicious are the first words that come to mind. I am genuinely in love with this fic, the plot is amazing. The angst is angsting and the fluff is so sweet I cried. 

Lovely and Lonely by @praetorqueenreyna. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra.

 EYFBI3UWEGJFH9UO2HQ I actually adore it so so so so much. We stan gay Lucien, and the angst that comes with the curse in the later chapters had me staring into the void as I grappled with my feelings. 

Wildflower by @mathiwrites. Tamlin/Rhysand. 

*Chefs kiss* Mathi’s works slap so fuckin hard, I can’t even. Tamlin and Rhysand’s story prior to Feyre’s arrival is so beautifully written, (side note, baby Tam is fuckin adorable) and I love the inclusion of the stories of characters we don’t get to explore in the actual books. Amazing worldbuilding, beautiful writing. 

A Court of Beasts and Chances by M4r0u_Mar. Tamlin/Tarquin. 

Never even thought of Tarquin and Tamlin before this fic, but now I do. Tarquin is adorable and I wanna squeeze him so bad. I love how they switched up the events of UTM, the foreshadowing is incredible. Amazing read. 

Still Beautiful, Still Mine by @goforth-ladymidnight. Tamlin/Lucien 

For such an important canon event, I don’t see a lot of fics centering around the aftermath of Lucien losing his eye, but this portrayed it utterly beautifully. The softness between Tamlin and Lucien, and their bond was written so well, I get butterflies reading it. 

A Sunbeam Shining Bright Into the Night by @nocasdatsgay. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra. 

 I love Calanmai smut fics with all my heart, and this one especially is amazing. I love the bond thats shown in this fic, I am always drawn in when I get to see the snippets of love and friendship in Tamcien, and the beautiful writing makes it so immersive and captivating. 

Forbidden by @nocasdatsgay. Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra. 

Okay but like, Tamlin being completely and utterly undone by Lucien, and just so down bad for him is one of my favourite things in the world. And this gave me everything I want from that. 

Breezing on by Sprighnt (SliPuP_Slit). Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra.

I love modern Tamcien so much, and this is just perfect. I love their friendship, and I love reading about their dynamic. The way Tamlin and Lucien perfectly balance each other out in this fic is amazing. And the little slice of Azriel/Eris Vanserra is the cherry on top. 

By the Fountain by Sprighnt_(SliPuP_Slit). Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra.

EEEEEEEEEE First kiss scenes always get me, and the way Tamlin was just a little jealous and possessive of Lucien had me kicking my feet and giggling. I adore them, this is a fic I go to when I want a quick hit of fluff. 

When The Sun Came Up (I Was Looking At You) by pansexual_intellectual . Jesminda/Tamlin/Lucien Vanserra. 

I want to hug the person that made this, it is that good. Omg, more people need to read this. I didn’t really like second person before, BUT I DO NOW. The angst made me cry, the OCs included I adore. I have a deep emotional attachment to this fic and I need everyone to read it so I can ramble about it. 

A strange thing happened the night of the High Lord meeting by @umthisistheonlyusernamenottaken. Tamlin/Rhysand. 

Desperate Rhysand is best Rhysand. I love all the undertones and the barely hidden crushing longing between these two. They are AFTER each other and I am here for it. How Tamlin’s mere presence seems to make Rhysand implode is a total vibe and I adore it. 

A Court of Lies and Resurrection by @ashintheairlikesnow. Tamlin/Rhysand.

I hated having to go to work, sleep, eat or do anything in the four days that I read this, because it meant I wasn’t actively reading it. My brain latched onto this fic like it was my only life source. I am in love with it. The plot is amazing, the characters are amazing, the love story is actually to die for. This broke and rebuilt my heart. 

I love all these works with all my heart, and everyone please go check out the creators of these fics as so many of them have other amazing works featuring LGBTQIA characters and relationships!!

(I may send in more as I find them, sorry for the amount I am sending in but I wanna bring light to all these fics!)

This is the best intro to an ask I've ever seen! Thank you so so much for compiling this list and helping to further the queer agenda throughout the maasverse ❤

[fairyringsandwings]

Starlight Chapter 7 Sneek Peek! 😏

Summary: What if Osha and Qimir never left The Jedi Order

Osha knows she is dreaming. 

She can feel the tether slithering around her limbs, gently pulling her from a dreamless slumber to the waiting arms of darkness.

When she opens her eyes, she finds herself in a darkened throne room.

Upon an oval podium sits two thrones. They are illuminated by moonlight pouring in through the mosaic window behind them, the stages of an eclipse captured within the glass. Straining her eyes, Osha can make out crimson banners cascading down the walls on either side of the vast room, the crest of The Sith proudly embroidered upon them in black thread.

What is this place?  Osha wonders, an uneasy feeling trickling down her spine.

"It's a possibility," That cold, metallic voice calls out. Osha sees The Stranger then, standing between the thrones as he steps into the moonlight. "Or an inevitability, depending on who you ask." He tilts his head, his voice turning appreciative. "You look beautiful in that dress. It suits you."

Osha glances down.

The gown she wears is as dark as a sunless ocean, the edges detailed with silver embroidery. It has an off-shoulder neckline, dramatic bell sleeves, and a trailing skirt that flares as she moves. Upon her waist is an alloy belt, forged in the shape of a willow tree's branches, the leaves detailed by tiny emeralds. It is there that her lightsaber is secured, attached by a magnetic clip at her hip. Her hair feels longer too, her locs resting over one shoulder, adorned by silver flowers and stars. There is a diadem upon her head, hidden below her fringe. 

It is an outfit fit for a Queen, more luxurious than anything Osha has ever worn.

"No," The Stranger corrects the thought, taking a step forward. His hand caresses the arm of the left throne. "It's a gown fit for an Empress." 

Second snippet

"Have you told him about us?" 

"There is no us," Osha grits out. "Not now. Not ever."

"Would you consider it?" The Stranger asks, his voice deadly soft. "If I were a Jedi like him?"

Osha ignites her lightsaber. 

[holybasementdweller]

[dismp] how do you love?

“Showing love to me is…. Difficult? Mine certainly isn't traditional. I'm horrible with words and talking about my feelings. I do better with… with showing my love in other ways. Providing. Protecting. Gifts. Little things I know they like, or need, or something I find meaningful. There are no strings attached. I just want to make my commitment clear.”

His eyes cast down, for a moment. He sighs.

“It… doesn't work that well, sometimes. Sometimes it's like I'm speaking an entirely different language- and I guess I am, to others, who don't see it that way. But I don't know how to speak theirs. I don't know if I want to, sometimes, anymore.”

There is a shulker buried in a not-quite-so-hidden place. An orange shulker. The items inside are polished; dust recently cleaned off them. The flowers carefully tended to, preserved within the little snippet of space and time in a box. Hidden with them lies a half-finished book with ink smudges and ripped-out pages.

They really struggled to find words, sometimes. There was a reason they liked to write.

[vanfleeter]

Wildflowers (coming this fall)

Characters: Jake Kiszka x Daisy (why yes, another oc 😉)

A story about a young man running from his past, determined to break a generational curse. Stumbling upon a small, coastal town he meets a young woman. Falling in love was not a part of his plan. Within in this story comes pain, grief, struggles to reconcile with the past while also finding the path to a brighter future no matter the bumps and potholes that comes with it.

Warnings: 18+ || Trauma. Grief. Death. Mentions of murder (nothing graphically depicted). Physical violence. Abandonment. Heartbreak. Love. Sex. (Each chapter will have their own warnings listed)

If you think this story may not be for you, do keep scooting along.

Attached below is a small snippet of the beginning of Wildflowers.

Also a big thanks to @losfacedevil for listening to my crazy ideas.

The sun beat down heavily on his leather jacket as he bent over the side of his motorcycle, digging the toe of his boot into the dried dirt on the side of the road. Clearing his throat and flicking the ash of his cigarette in the air, he pinches his thumb and index finger around the stem of a wildflower that had seemingly pushed its way through the cracked and dry soil. The vibrant color of the thriving flower caught his eye as he was scanning his surroundings.

If he has to be honest, he has no clue where the hell he is. He had no destination in mind, he just got on his bike and took off. He can still hear his twin brother yelling over the roar of the bike’s engine to have his voice heard. “Call me when you find when you’re going!”

He scoffs at the memory, shaking his head and plucks the wildflower from the dirt. He twists it between his fingers examining the details of the petals. Instantly he was transported back to a familiar place. One he hasn’t been in since he was young. The flowers were tall. Or at least they seemed like they were to a little six year old boy. They grew everywhere in the garden. His mother’s favorite. He could remember the many vibrant colors that bloomed everywhere and he could still remember watching his mother scatter the seeds one summer.

Clearing his throat, he sticks the flower in the chain of his boot before taking his cigarette and pressing it into the dirt to extinguish it and flinging it into the dirt. Kicking the stand on his bike, he revs the engine a couple times before riding down the empty road.

-

What felt like hours, he finally reached the edge of civilization, living along the edge of the southern coast. Finding the first bar, he parks his bike in the empty space furthest away from the door. He still has no idea where he is and he still doesn't care. Pulling out his phone, he presses the on button but the screen flashes an empty battery before going black again. He shrugs his shoulders and stuffs the device back into his pocket.

Stepping into the bar, he takes off his sunglasses and hooks them on the pocket of his jacket. The place was pretty empty, save for a few patrons sitting at the bar and a couple of them huddled around the jukebox. After ordering a drink at the bar, he gravitates to the corner booth of the bar.

Within the hour of nursing his now watered down bourbon and taking the last sip, he closes out his tab and heads back out to his motorcycle. He stops on the sidewalk, mid way through pulling another cigarette out of the pack, and cautiously watches the woman checking out his bike. She was dressed in a floral top, the cut just low enough to show a little bit of cleavage. She wore a pair of boot cut jeans, ripped at the knees, similar to his own that he was wearing. The outfit came together with a pair of black combat boots, hidden slightly by the ends of the legs of her jeans. Her dark hair hung in loose curls down her back and blew in the slight breeze.

She looked curious. Intrigued. Invested.

“Like what you see?” He asks as he sticks the cigarette between his lips and lights it up.

She spins around, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “Nice bike you got here,” She says, crossing her arms over her chest, as if a chilly breeze had come through.

“Know much about them?”

“Nope,” She says with a smile. “But my dad did. Had one when I was growing up, then he sold it to pay for my college tuition–even after I told him not to.”

“Mmm, daddy’s girl.”

“Is that necessarily a bad thing?” Jake chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re new around here,” She continued. “Moving to town?”

“No, I’m only riding through.” He says, puffing a smoke off the cigarette.

“Getting a little late,” She says, stepping up onto the sidewalk. “There’s an inn, just down the road. Owned by an elderly woman, Isla. If you give her my name, she’ll give you a room for half the price.”

“And what is your name?” He asks, withdrawing the cigarette from his mouth.

“Daisy.”

“Like the flower?”

“Yes, like the flower.”

He chuckles and steps off the sidewalk. “Daisy.” He swings his leg over the seat of his bike and puts out the cigarette. “Pretty.”

She shrugs her shoulders, her eyes flickering down to his boot. “Funny how that happens,” She says. Jake glances down at his foot finding the wildflower still stuck in his boot.

A daisy.

“Give her my name and get some rest.” She says, before turning on her heels and walking away down the sidewalk.

The engine of the motorcycle roars to life as he turns the key. Daisy glances over her shoulder watching him as he revs the engine a couple times and walks the bike backwards. He looks at her one more time before sliding on his glasses and riding out into the street.

If this is something you'd be interested in reading, please reach out so I can tag you when the first chapter gets posted 🤭