#A Dim Capacity for Wings

[dee-writes-smut]

FALL (Chapter Three)

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY after falling down a flight of stairs, you are forced to realize that you aren't alone and that it's time to start healing.

CONTENT WARNINGS mentions of nightmares, apologies, scared reader, comforting Azriel, nosy Rhys, Amren (she's a warning), and injuries

AUTHORS NOTE I kind of hate this a lot, but here is the third part of the Season's series, Fall. Hope you enjoy! <3

Autumn descends upon the world like a tender-hearted healer, enveloping all in its embrace of warmth and renewal. The air takes on a crisp clarity, carrying with it the subtle scent of earth and fallen leaves, a fragrance that whispers of new beginnings. Trees, once adorned in the lush greens of summer, now don their autumnal attire, each leaf a masterpiece of vibrant hues—amber, crimson, and gold—painting the landscape in a tapestry of healing colors.

As daylight wanes, the sun bathes the world in a soft, golden glow, casting long shadows that dance gracefully upon the earth. The breeze, gentle yet invigorating, rustles through the trees, a comforting melody that speaks of resilience and growth. With each step, fallen leaves crinkle beneath our feet, a soothing reminder of the cycle of life and the beauty found in letting go.

In the fall, nature herself undergoes a profound transformation, shedding the old to make way for the new. Trees release their leaves in a graceful dance of surrender, preparing for a period of rest and rejuvenation. Yet, even in this quietude, there is a vibrant energy that pulses through the air, a reminder that healing is not a passive act, but a journey of growth and renewal.

As I found myself immersing in the healing embrace of autumn, I was invited to shed the burdens of the past and embrace the beauty of transformation. Like the earth itself, I was reminded of my innate capacity to heal, to grow, and to emerge stronger and more vibrant than before. In the gentle caress of the autumn breeze, I found solace, strength, and the promise of new beginnings.

(Early September, House of Wind)

Morning light spilled through the windows of the House of Wind, painting the stairwell in hues of gold and amber. Each step I took down the winding staircase echoed softly, the sound muffled by the quiet of the early hour. Shadows danced along the walls, elongated and wavering, as if unsure of their own existence in the gentle glow of dawn.

As I descended, a flicker of movement caught my eye—a subtle shift in the darkness that should not have been there. My heart skipped a beat as I turned to look, dread coiling in the pit of my stomach. The shadows seemed to solidify, taking shape in the form of a figure I knew all too well. It was Lyris, his smirk cruel and taunting, his blade gleaming with malice in the dim light.

Panic surged through me, my breath catching in my throat. It wasn't real, I told myself, but the terror it invoked was. Before I could react, before I could rationalize, my foot missed the next step. There was no time to regain my balance, no wings to unfurl and catch me. I reached out desperately, fingers grasping for the banister, but it was too late.

The world tilted violently as I fell, the sharp pain of impact shooting up my spine as I collided with the unforgiving stairs. Each jolt sent waves of agony coursing through me, my body bouncing helplessly until I finally came to a crumpled stop at the bottom of the staircase. Dazed and disoriented, I tried to gather my bearings, the pain a sharp, throbbing ache in every limb.

Footsteps echoed through the hall, growing louder with each passing second. Then, Azriel was there, his face a mask of concern as he knelt beside me. "Don't move," he said softly, his hands hovering over me with a hesitant touch. "We need to get you to the healer."

"I'm okay," I lied, attempting to push myself up despite the searing pain that shot through me. The room spun sickeningly, and I winced, sinking back down with a pained gasp.

"No, you're not," Azriel insisted, his voice firm but gentle. He assessed me quickly, his expression grave. "We need to get you off these stairs. Can you stand?"

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, frustration and pain mingling into a bitter concoction. "I don't… I can't…" I faltered, unable to voice the depth of my vulnerability.

"It's okay. I've got you." Azriel's arms enveloped me, lifting me gently from the cold, hard floor. I buried my face against his chest, seeking solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat amidst the chaos of my own.

As we moved, the memory of the fall replayed in my mind—the hallucination of Lyris, the terror of losing my footing. I had lost more than just my wings that day; I had lost a piece of myself. How was I supposed to heal when my own mind betrayed me with such vivid, haunting illusions?

Azriel's presence was a silent promise of protection, his concern a soothing balm to my fractured psyche. I clung to it, to him, as we made our way to the healer's chambers, the shadows of the stairwell receding into the background as we stepped into the light of a new day. I would allow myself to let him seep in my darkness for a moment. I would be selfish for just this moment and then it would be back to struggling alone, to protecting them, him.

Madja's room was filled with the subtle scent of lavender and sage, a calming ambiance that did little to ease the knot of anxiety in my stomach. The healer's hands were warm and gentle as she applied salves to the bruises that marbled my skin, her touch careful around the tender areas where my wings once were.

"You're healing well physically," Madja said softly, her voice soothing. "But healing the mind… that takes time, and often more than just my skills." She offered me a small, understanding smile, though her eyes were stern, hinting at the depth of her concern.

Before I could respond, the door creaked open, and Azriel stepped inside. His expression was unreadable, shadows swirling slightly at his feet—a sure sign of his inner turmoil. Madja excused herself with a knowing look, leaving us alone.

I shifted on the cot, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders as I faced him. "Azriel," I began, but my voice cracked, betraying my nervousness.

He moved closer, his movements graceful and deliberate. Stopping at the edge of the cot, he knelt so he was eye level with me, his gaze intense. "I've been patient," he said, his voice low and strained. "I've given you space, but we can't keep avoiding this conversation."

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "I don't know if I'm ready," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel reached out, his hand hesitating in the air before gently brushing a stray hair back from my face. "I know you're hurting. And I know I can't understand everything you're going through. But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to go through this alone."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I blinked them away furiously. "It's not just the pain, Azriel. It's the fear," I confessed, the words tumbling out. "Every shadow, every noise—it takes me back to that moment. And I feel so powerless."

His expression softened, the shadows receding slightly as if in response to my distress. "I wish I could take that fear away," he murmured. "But since I can't, I'll stand with you against it. Every step of the way, until you feel strong again."

"How do you do it?" I asked, searching his face. "How do you live with your own shadows?"

A sad smile tugged at his lips. "By knowing which shadows are mine to control, and which are simply part of the world. And by having people I love to light the way when it gets too dark."

"What if I'm not strong enough?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me like a heavy shroud. Despite my efforts to steel myself against the pain, I couldn't help but curl into myself, feeling small and vulnerable in the face of my own fears. "What if I never get over this and—" I choked back my tears once more, the fear gnawing at my insides too overwhelming to voice aloud.

Azriel's heart clenched at my words, the rawness of my pain mirroring his own. With aching tenderness, he reached out, his hand hovering over mine, a silent beacon of comfort in the darkness. "You are strong," he said softly, his voice a gentle reassurance. "Stronger than you realize. But even the strongest among us have moments of doubt, moments when the weight of the world feels too heavy to bear."

My eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, sought solace in his unwavering gaze. "And if you never get over this… if the shadows linger longer than you'd like, know that you are not alone. We'll face them together, every step of the way."

The weight of my fear trembled through my shoulders; the depth of my anguish palpable in the air. "But what if I pull you all into it too?" I whispered, my voice barely above a hoarse whisper. "What if my darkness becomes yours?"

Azriel's heart ached at the thought, but he refused to let me drown in my despair. "Your darkness is not a burden," he said, his voice steady, unwavering. "It's a part of you, just as much as your light. And I would walk through the darkest of nights if it meant I could stand beside you."

He reached for my hand, his touch gentle yet firm, anchoring me to the present moment. "Let me help you carry this weight," he urged, his eyes locking with mine. "Let us carry it together."

For a moment, there was only silence—a heavy, pregnant pause that hung between us, charged with unspoken emotions. And then, with a shaky breath, I nodded, my grip tightening around his hand as if anchoring myself to his steadfast presence.

In that moment, as we sat together in the quiet sanctuary of Madja's room, surrounded by the gentle scent of herbs and healing, Azriel felt a flicker of hope ignite within him. No matter how dark the path ahead, no matter how daunting the shadows that loomed on the horizon, we would face them together. And with love as our guiding light, we would find our way back to the warmth of the sun.

(Mid-October, River House)

The air in the room seemed to hold its breath as I gathered the courage to speak, surrounded by the Inner Circle whose presence felt both comforting and daunting. Cassian's warm gaze, Nesta's softened expression, Rhys and Feyre's silent solidarity, Amren's unreadable yet somehow reassuring presence, and Mor's gentle smile—all of them were a testament to the depth of their care.

With Azriel standing at my side, his silent support a steady anchor in the storm of my emotions, I began to speak. My voice, though laced with uncertainty, carried the weight of my sincerity as I addressed them.

"I want to apologize," I began, each word heavy with meaning as I met their eyes, one by one. "For the distance I've kept, for the walls I've built around myself. I've been… cold, and for that, I'm truly sorry.

A hushed tension hung in the air, anticipation mingling with apprehension as they waited for me to continue. But instead of judgment or reproach, I found only understanding in their expressions—compassion and empathy reflected in their unwavering gazes.

"I'm ready to try," I confessed, the admission a revelation in itself. "To try again.. To heal."

Cassian's hand found mine, his touch grounding and reassuring as he squeezed gently. "We're here for you," he declared, his voice a solemn vow. "Whatever you need, whenever you need it."

Nesta's usually sharp gaze softened, her features etched with genuine concern. "We've missed you," she admitted, her voice carrying a rare vulnerability. "But we understand. And we'll stand by you, no matter what."

Rhys and Feyre exchanged a silent glance, their unity a beacon of strength amidst the uncertainty. "You're not alone," Rhys affirmed, his voice steady and resolute. "We'll face this together, as a family."

Amren nodded curtly, her demeanor as inscrutable as ever, yet there was a glimmer of warmth in her eyes that spoke volumes. "Don't make a habit of apologizing," she quipped dryly, a subtle reassurance in her words.

Mor's smile was gentle, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf me. "We love you," she said simply, her words a promise of unwavering support.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I absorbed their words, the weight of their acceptance washing over me like a tidal wave. In that moment, surrounded by the love and understanding of my chosen family, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for me yet.

With Azriel's hand firmly clasped in mine, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the arduous journey ahead. It wouldn't be easy, and the road to recovery would be fraught with challenges. But with the unwavering support of those who loved me, I knew I could face whatever lay ahead.

Night after night, the nightmares clawed their way into my sleep, tearing through the fragile fabric of my dreams with merciless intensity. Each time, I would wake in a cold sweat, heart pounding in my chest, lungs gasping for air as if I'd been drowning in the darkness of my own mind.

Azriel had been there from the beginning, his quiet presence a steadfast anchor in the storm of my nightmares. At first, he would come at the sound of my screams, offering comfort and reassurance until the tremors subsided and sleep reclaimed me once more. But as the nights stretched on and the nightmares showed no signs of abating, his visits became more frequent, his presence a comforting constant in the ever-shifting landscape of my dreams.

I would wake to find him sitting beside my bed, his gaze watchful and protective as he kept vigil over my troubled sleep. His presence was a balm to my fractured mind, a beacon of light in the suffocating darkness that threatened to consume me.

At first, I protested his presence, insisting that he had better things to do than waste his nights sitting by my bedside. But he brushed off my protests with a quiet determination, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that spoke volumes. He didn't need words to convey the truth—that he would stay for as long as I needed him, no matter the cost.

And so, night after night, I would wake to find him there, his presence a silent reassurance that I was not alone in my suffering. With each passing night, his visits became longer, his presence more palpable until it felt as though he had practically moved into my room.

I would wake to the soft sound of his breathing, the warmth of his presence a comforting weight beside me. His steady heartbeat echoed in the silence of the night, a rhythmic cadence that anchored me to the present moment.

In those quiet hours before dawn, with the weight of his presence beside me, I found solace in the knowledge that I was not alone. No matter how dark the night, no matter how terrifying the nightmares that plagued my sleep, Azriel was there, a silent guardian watching over me until the first light of dawn chased the shadows away. And for that, I was endlessly grateful.

(Late October, River House)

As Azriel sat across from Rhysand, the weight of the conversation about you felt even heavier upon his shoulders. His mind flickered back to the recent events—the trauma you had endured, the pain etched into your every expression, and the way you had leaned on him for support during your darkest moments.

"I've noticed the way you look at her, Az," Rhys's voice broke through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. "And I can't help but wonder… Are you two… a thing?"

Azriel's gaze softened with a mix of fondness and concern as he thought of you. "I… I care about her deeply," he confessed quietly, his voice tinged with emotion. "Especially now, after everything she's been through."

Rhys nodded, his eyes reflecting understanding. "I know you've been by her side through it all, Az. And I'm grateful for that. How is she holding up?"

The concern in Rhys's voice mirrored Azriel's own worries. Your recovery had been slow and arduous, marked by moments of progress followed by setbacks. Azriel had been there every step of the way, offering his support and comfort whenever you needed it most.

"She's… she's trying her best," Azriel replied, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "But the kidnapping still weighs heavily on her. Some days are better than others."

Rhys reached out a hand, placing it reassuringly on Azriel's shoulder. "You're doing everything you can for her, Az. And she knows that. Just keep being there for her, okay?"

Azriel nodded, gratitude swelling within him for Rhys's words of encouragement. Despite the challenges they faced, he was determined to stand by your side, offering you whatever solace and support he could provide.

As they parted ways, Azriel's thoughts remained with you—the strength you had shown in the face of adversity, the resilience that burned bright within you. And though he knew that your path to recovery would be a long and difficult one, he vowed to walk it with you every step of the way, for you had become more than just someone he cared about—you were his guiding light in the darkness, his reason to hope for a brighter tomorrow.

(Late November, Velaris)

Stepping beyond the familiar walls of the House of Wind felt like a liberation, a triumph over the shadows that had threatened to consume me. As I walked alongside Feyre and Mor, the streets of Velaris buzzed with life, each step forward a testament to the strength I had found within myself.

Beside me, Azriel's concern was evident, his worry etched in the furrow of his brow and the gentle pressure of his hand in mine. But this time, I was determined to show him—and myself—that I was stronger than the nightmares that haunted me.

"Don't worry, Az," I said with a reassuring smile, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'm ready for this. Feyre and Mor are with me."

Feyre and Mor nodded in agreement; their expressions filled with confidence. "We've got your back," Feyre said with a reassuring smile. "We won't let anything happen to you."

Their words filled me with a sense of reassurance, a reminder that I wasn't alone in this journey. With their support, I felt invincible, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

As we walked through the bustling streets of Velaris, I couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration coursing through me. The sun warmed my skin, the wind tousled my hair, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I felt truly alive.

But amidst the excitement, a part of me couldn't shake the worry that lingered in Azriel's eyes. I knew he cared about me deeply, and the thought of causing him any more pain weighed heavily on my heart.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" he asked quietly, his concern palpable. "We can turn back if you're not feeling well."

I met his gaze with determination, my resolve unwavering. "I'm more than ready, Az," I replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I've spent too long hiding away. It's time for me to start living again."

[PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

[sssammich]

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed

i got you anon! sorry this took a while.

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed for supercorp*

ask meme

THIS ABSOLUTELY RAN AWAY FROM ME IM SO SORRY

---

"your true love is an alien."

well. there's certainly a lot to unpack from that, isn't there?

let's try.

first. this short and frumpy old lady with both hands on her hips is standing in front of her desk, somehow able to bypass security and her assistant, jess, who is mysteriously absent from her desk.

second. aliens aren't real. right? (right?)

third. the concept of true love is laughable. this is the 21st century and subscribing to these silly fairytale notions of true love is a lot of bullshit. let alone the idea that there is someone even out there for lena in that capacity. nevermind that apparently the only possible candidate for such a title is someone who isn't even human.

fourth. what does this even all mean? and why is she allowing her conference call to madrid get completely derailed by this woman who looks like she's more suited for the kitchen of a small hole in the wall italian restaurant and not the middle of a fortune 500 corporate office.

(all this to say that when lena eventually looks back at her life, she'll think that this is probably not even top five of the weirdest things to happen to her. it might just barely squeak into the top ten, though.)

still, she's faced with a strange predicament at this time. like how to get this lady out of her office.

yet instead of shooing this lady out, her mouth opens to say, "what's next, are you gonna tell me that magic is also real?"

the old lady in front of her just shrugs. "true love is magic, dearie. keep up, mm?"

when she opens her mouth again, she's just about to dismiss this lady, but it doesn't even matter because as soon as she blinks, she's alone.

-

something saves her.

no wait, it's someone. someone saves her.

her helicopter is crashing, the pilot is dead and dying beside her, and they're plummeting.

until, of course, they're not.

because someone is carrying her burning helicopter down on a hellipad and yanking the door out to check on them. lena's heart is in her throat and her lungs are somewhere in her stomach and she doesn't know if she's still even alive. but this someone is definitely hovering before she's holding lena securely.

"hi," the woman says, tentative, blue eyes and blonde hair and armsarmsarms and a red cape and--

something inside of lena's heart changes-transforms-evolves.

and then she passes the fuck out.

-

when she wakes, it's to dim lighting in a hospital room, the beeping of her heartrate monitor. distantly, she hears very little outside which means she's in a much more private wing of the hospital.

she sits up a little when a nurse comes in holding a tray.

except it's not a nurse at all. but the same lady from before.

"you."

"hello, dearie."

so many questions jump at the forefront of her mind. understandable and reasonable questions like hey lady what the fuck are you doing here? how did you get in? what do you want from me? are you here to kill me? stuff like that.

except the flashes of earlier appear in her mind and she recalls blonde blue red. she gasps.

the old lady smiles. "very good, dearie. they did say you were smarter than the others."

"what do you want from me?"

"nothing."

"then what are you doing here?" she asks, her voice gaining strength, her hands balling into fists by her side.

"just consider me an invested party."

before she can voice anything, the old lady places her cup of jello and plastic spoon by her thigh.

"take care, dearie. tell her i said hello, mm?"

lena's brows furrow, questions crowding her mind as she attempts to make sense of everything but failing to do so. the last she hears is a snap of fingers and she falls into a dreamless sleep.

-

when lena next wakes, she's back in her office. a week after the failed assassination attempt on her life.

the buzz of her intercom signals jess's voice. "miss luthor, your 2pm appointment is here. would you like me to let her in."

"go ahead."

she stands by her desk and brushes at her skirt just as the door opens to reveal a beautiful and bespectacled woman with her hair pulled in a ponytail.

blonde blue red.

lena's mouth dries and her insides do a somersault. she remembers the helicopter, the hospital, the old lady. the words your true love is an alien pinballing in her head (in her heart in her heart in her heart).

"hi, miss luthor. thanks for meeting with me."

lena looks at the offered hand. strong hands that have held her before. on a burning helicopter.

"of course..." she says, waiting for the woman to fill in the blanks.

"kara. kara danvers."

"well, kara, call me lena."

it takes five eternal seconds for them to let go of each other's clasped hands.

-

lena finds out about kara bit by bit. through interviews, through professional coffee meetings, through informal coffee meetings, through casual walks around downtown and the city parks, through casual lunches and dinners and desserts.

congregating around food so she holds a fork or a burger or an ice cream cone in her hand while she fights the urge to hold kara's hand.

lena learns about who kara is. a reporter by day (who moonlights as a superhero, lena muses, but kara doesn't share that information). an avid pop music lover and movie buff. a regular buff with hard cuts of muscles. arms arms arms arms--

kara is lame. a dork. goofy. foolish. beautiful. quiet. pensive. perceptive. deep. kind. loving. oh, so loving. so very loving.

kara is a hugger. a holder. an engulfer. an overwhelmer. she is the ocean and lena is the lone driftwood that crashes against waves. lena wants to be washed ashore only for the ocean to capture her once more because the ocean can't be denied.

she doesn't want to deny kara.

"lena?"

she blinks back to her present, washing away the cloud of her thoughts. right. they're at dinner. her fork held midair just before her mouth. they are in kara's apartment.

"yes, darling?"

kara smiles at her, though there is concern in her eyes. "where'd you go just now?"

she wants to say she went to the ocean but it's true either way when she offers her best smile to kara who mirrors it easily, breezily.

"i was just thinking that your cooking has gotten better."

kara ducks her head, her smile turning shy. "thanks, lena."

lena doesn't want to deny kara.

-

briefly, distantly, lena thinks that perhaps there's an inevitability to this moment.

this moment being:

kara is standing in front of her with her button down shirt opened to the fifth button where lena sees the S emblem over kara's chest.

"i wanted to tell you. f-for so long, i just--" she stops herself and takes a deep breath. "i'm sorry, lena."

lena is quiet. her vision unable to focus on any one thing. she looks at the blonde of her hair out of its regular ponytail. at the blue of kara's eyes. at the red of the symbol atop her chest.

blonde blue red.

"you're an alien." she announces it for the first time, despite the truth have sat carefully under her tongue for months.

kara swallows, then nods. "lena-"

what did that old lady say? she can't remember right now because her brain is buzzing, her heart is thumping, and the overwhelming urge to melt into kara is all she can think about.

she propels forward, pushing up on the tips of her toes, and kisses kara.

kara's arms are around her, hands holding her, body engulfing her.

soft lips slide against hers, press upon her, permanently transforming the chemistry of her body with the way that kara is now part of her.

when they break apart, she only grins at the dazed expression on kara's face.

"you...you like me too?"

she is beaming because of course she likes kara too, likes her more than like. so she answers by kissing kara again.

-

for their first date, kara takes her to a small italian hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

"this is my favorite italian spot in the city. in the state, actually. maybe even the country!" kara exclaims, excitedly talking and gesticulating but making sure that their hands stay interlaced with one another.

when they get there, they're seated right away, a young woman seating them in the back booth.

"hi, kara. table for 2?"

kara nods and lena watches. "you come here often?" she asks.

"yeah. i hit this place up at least a couple times a month. good thing my metabolism allows me to eat as much pasta as i want. the chef in the back makes it fresh every day."

amidst drinking wine and twirling their forks in their pasta, kara is leaning closer to her, the two of them sitting adjacent to each other, their elbows grazing each other on the corner.

when they finish, kara pays, insists on it, and asks if they can stop by the kitchen to pay compliments to the chef. with hands still intertwined, kara pushes the swinging door forward, and calls for chef nina.

lena watches as kara releases her hold of lena and approaches the short and frumpy old lady who only wipes her hands on a stained white apron before opening her arms up to receive kara's hug.

over kara's shoulder, the old lady winks at lena.

and lena?

well, she just laughs and laughs, kisses kara on the lips, and hugs the old lady.

[aloysiavirgata]

Twelve opening sentences to twelve different fics

Thanks to @slippinmickeys for the tag! This was really fun and I wholeheartedly encourage everyone to give it a go!

***

1. Dana Scully rejects tasseography, astrology, tarot cards, chiromancy, augury, crystallography, spirit boards, runecasting, scrying, and all other methods of prognosticative divination.

- The Parting Glass (FTF)

2. He sits on the porch next to a little propane heater, gazing out at the Winter Hexagon as it slowly rolls above the horizon.

- Albedo (Cozy at the Unremarkable House)

3. She recites The Raven to herself on the drive in, lists all the state capitals in alphabetical order, and goes through the periodic table.

- In The Gale (IWTB)

4. “I got each flavor of the high-protein kind,” Scully says, gesturing at the cans stacked on her coffee table.

The Ineluctable Tendencies Of Tumbling Toast (Queequeg)

5. Their cars are conspicuous in the nearly empty parking lot, which magnifies the free-floating uncertainty.

Dichotomous (s11e09)

6. Lauren Atwater sits on the edge of the front stoop, drinking coffee out of a worn plastic travel mug she bought a year ago from a Dunkin' Donuts in Abilene

A Dim Capacity For Wings (On the run)

7. That Phoebe Green brought this to her attention is somehow the most rankling thing about it, Scully thinks.

Anthemoessa (Scully - Bedelia - Stella - Clone Club)

8. Sunday morning is pancake morning, and William charges into his parents’ room just shy of 7 am.

Dryad (AU casefile)

9. They’ve been going through the storage room for hours, marveling at the sheer volume of items her mother had held onto.

Madeleine (s10e04)

10. The bodies are small, the heaviest weighing in at forty-seven pounds.

Hic Jacet (Emily)

11. There are ghosts afoot in London, stirred by the excesses of humanity in the face of their own dull eternity.

White Winter Hymnal (post Bad Blood)

12. She finds Mulder behind the house, drowsing in one of the hammocks they’d strung between the ancient oaks that tower above their patch of the planet.

Rags of Light (IWTB)

[snakegorl212006]

Exploration(pt3)

Octavinelle

We left savanaclaw once grim had enough energy to continue. I can only prey that this one wouldn't be so bad as both previous wings weren’t actually half bad and got a little workout from it. I entered Octavinelle only to get a hit with a stale smell. Almost metallic but seemed to be covered by this smell of the sea. There are aquariums in here don’t get me wrong but there’s no fish so it shouldn't smell, especially after making sure the tanks are clean. I looked down at grim who looked scared and made an attempt to climb up my pants. After allowing him to hike on my shoulder I began exploring. The entire place was cool and due to the blueish lighting, places were a bit dark. While walking I entered the dining room which looked like it was turned to a restaurant in the 20’s. The place was lit by dim lamps which were soft on the eyes which accompanied the large light glow of the tank next to us. “Welcome” a voice echoed. I turned in front of me to see a silver haired male. He just has a white blouse, a purple bow tie,dress pants that are clipped with matching black suspenders and cummerbund. He had golden glasses attached by one gold chain that had pearls. He was leaning back on the bar facing me with a casual smile “we were waiting for you” he said as a shadow passed making me turn to the tank. Nothing. The necklace vibrates like crazy as hands slide on my shoulder making me swiftly move out the way to see him behind me “Azul Ashengrotto, at your service” he said while he bows. I looked at him a bit freaked out while grim hissed equally as freaked out. “Allow me to get you a drink.you look in need of one.” azul said sounding slightly concerned. He vanished before i could protest. We left the restaurant as soon as he left. This reminds me to start looking for that key to that locked room. I began my journey upstairs in the office but i only found a feathered pen. Hey might as well take it. Now I have a feather pen in my inventory. On the desk next to the pen was a newspaper. All of this was about business ratings and the stock market with a few ads here and there. Nothing important. When I put the paper down I heard bangging downstairs. I knew where it was coming from. I walked back downstairs and reached the locked door. Grim meowed in protest but I just gave him an apologetic look. I pulled out the pick lock kit and began to unlock the door. By this time grim is off my shoulder hiding between my legs. Inside the room was a large and deep pool. I guess that’s what Crowley was talking about. The pool had a soft blue glow due to the pool lights which did not help the dark room once so ever. Then the door slammed shut behind me. When I turned I heard rippling notices from the water which added to grim hissing as his hairs stick on ends. I looked back into the deep pool to see  a pair of heterochromic eyes gazing at me from the deep end. Watching my every move. Without skipping a beat, some person lunged out from the pool making me scream and fall backwards as grim hisses and yelps just as mortified as me. This teal like being crawls along the now wet floor towards my terrifying form as he laughed.  A second almost identical creature crawls out from the water and just sits there watching and grinning at my misery. With all of my mental capacity I got up from the floor, grabbed grim who was practically clawing on my shirt and ran out the now unlocked door. I slammed the twin doors shut as I huffed and puffed, regaining the air I lost from that jumpscare. My legs shook as I began to walk out the door “do come back” I heard Azul say as I left the door. When i whipped around the doors closed shut

[dusteebowl]

A rose by any other name

bless the server for giving me this idea.

pairing: wyllstarion

tags: angst, hurt/comfort

All things were abuzz in the Ravengard Manor at Baldur’s Gate. Servants were bustling about like bees of the forest, the sound of plates and various cutlery could be heard clankering away down in the kitchens as dishes were washed to perfection. Hells, even the birds seemed to twitter and flutter about with more vigour than usual.

The whole city was alight with excitable energy. For you see, the former duke’s estranged son and now present duke, Wyll Ravengard, was to be wed within the tenday. A most joyous occasion for all.

It was to take place at night, of course. As did all the social gatherings that occurred since Wyll Ravengard’s return. His intended had a certain sensitivity to the sun, they said. A most dreadful allergy. Then again there were more sinister claims that prowled through the streets. That his fiance was a creature most foul, with a thirst that could only be quenched by the vilest of drinks.

But now was not the time for such awful words. There was to be a wedding! And the sun filtered through the windows as though the gods themselves were elated. That’s what the maids said, at least.

Yes, all in Baldur’s Gate were excited. Elated even. All except one.

-0O0-

“…We’ve arranged for the city’s finest chefs to cook your favourite meal, my lord…”

“…500 guests…up to capacity…we’ll make it work…”

“…purple drapes over the windows…”

“My Lord, …a little light…?”

“No.”

The conversation that had floated through Astarion’s ears as he stared ahead were cut suddenly at Wyll’s uncharacteristically short and cold answer. The vampire snapped out of his reverie and looked at his future husband who now had a stern look on his face. They were in Wyll's office, which he'd moved to Astarion's wing. It had a large drape that covered any sun that could filter through and not a mirror could be seen.

“My fiance’s sensitivity is incredibly serious, Mrs. Greenwood. I’m afraid the most you can do is work with the light you’re given.”

“How can he even look at himself in the mirror in such dim lighting?”

Wyll gave the wood elf a stern look and she frowned. As Baldur’s Gate's most esteemed seamstress at nearly 500 years old, she’d seen it all. And she made sure to tell Wyll that every chance she got.

“I’m old enough to remember making your great-grandmother’s wedding gown. But this! This is just unprecedented, my lord.”

“Well consider it precedented now then, darling, hm?”

Everyone turned at Astarion’s quip and Wyll let out a snort after a moment. Until then, the normally talkative pale elf had said nothing.

“Excuse me?”

“An hour’s reprieve, yeah?” Wyll said. “I’m sure we could all use a break.”

The various servants in the office exploded in chatter again, desperately vying for his attention. “My lord but the drapes—”

“Chefs—!”

“Guests—!”

“Out!”

He had to push them all out, yes even Mrs. Greenwood herself much to her chagrin, before he shut the door behind him. There were muffled words on the other side, but they ceased after a minute or so.

“An hour’s reprieve!” Wyll yelled.

The sound of disgruntled footsteps fading away could be heard and when Astarion gave the final nod that they were well and truly gone, Wyll sighed and sat on the chair next to him before taking his hand.

“‘An hour’s reprieve’, hm?” Astarion asked. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the one that was being tortured by Madame Prickly Pear.”

“Her name is Mrs. Greenwood, and I had my turn last week.” Astarion felt the fingers on his squeeze in a calming gesture, and he had to admit that it had brought some comfort. The familiar feeling of his husband-to-be's warm skin on his own brought him some form of peace. “You know, these last few days the servants have been crying for us like kittens waiting upon their mother. Drapes this, silverware that…I thought you’d be preening under the attention. Yet, do you know what I realised just a moment ago while all those servants scuttled about us while the seamstress was adjusting your wedding outfit?”

Astarion could only guess, but it didn’t matter because Wyll answered his own question.

“‘All that fuss and you only had one thing to say.’” He cocked his head and took his other hand in his own and looked at Astarion with concerned eyes. “So here I am, asking you…what’s wrong?”

Astarion looked away. Wyll was being so sincere. Too sincere. There was still some getting used to that. He didn’t even realise that his eyes slid back to where they were before while the seamstress was pricking at him.

But Wyll saw and he stood up to grab what had taken the elf so far away from him. They were papers that were littered about the desk, intricately lettered with golden calligraphy (Astarion said gold was his colour) with pictures of roses with thorns.

“The RSVP’s? Don’t tell me we invited someone you secretly hate?” Wyll joked. “Is Lady Muriel actually a siren you have a rivalry with? Or…Is Lady Andria a devil disguising themselves for political power? Or is it--”

“How long has it been?”

The duke stopped and looked at Astarion whose eyes seemed to be far away again.

“Weeks? Months?” the elf continued.

“Astarion?”

“We did all this planning. The wedding is next week, and it’s huge and everyone will be there.”

“Is this what this is about? The size of the wedding?” Wyll grabbed his hand gently. “We can make it smaller; invite a few friends. I’m sure the staff wouldn’t mind.”

“No, that’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is it about?”

“I don’t know!”

“You just said— ”

“I know what I just said. It’s just…so hard to explain, Wyll.”

There was a vulnerability in the way he whispered that last part. It was a rare moment of authenticity from the elf, and he didn’t know if he liked that he found it a lot easier to be that way these days or not.

Wyll put on a thoughtful expression. “Try me.”

Astarion laughed bitterly. Where could he even begin?

“Acunin.”

The word was barely above a whisper, but Wyll raised his eyebrow in slight confusion at the way he’d said it. Like it was poison.

The elf stepped off the tailor’s pedestal and grabbed one of the many envelopes that the duke was holding. “All these letters, addressed to Duke Wyll Ravengard…”

“…and Astarion Acunin,” Wyll finished with confusion.

“You do know the duke keeps records of all the comings and goings of his lands, did you not? Taxes, trades, that sort of thing.”

Astarion was scarily calm now, putting on a character as he tried to explain what pained him so. He knew Wyll didn’t like it, but old habits and all that.

“I’m aware.”

“So, you’d know there’s a registry of all the magistrates that served Baldur’s Gate? No? I don’t blame you. Made for a dreadfully boring read, really. Volo would be reduced to tears if he saw the first page.”

He tried to keep his voice steady; he really did. It took everything in him not to have his hands shake visibly, to have the extent of his distress known. But one look at Wyll told him his normal tricks didn’t work.

“What are you getting at, Astarion? Speak plainly.” Bless him, his words were of genuine care and concern.

Astarion took a deep breath.

“It’s Ancunin. With an N.”

There was a silence. The kind that was solemn and took place after a tragedy. The kind that made you want to drown.

 “Astarion, I’m so sorry. If I’d known…” He trailed off at Astarion’s expression.

“How could you have? I was the one who told you how to spell it.”

“Astarion—”

“Of course, you’d trust me with my name. Who doesn’t know how to spell their own name, after all? Even toddlers have that ability. I knew how to spell it. I…” He took a broken breath in and the way he said the next sentence chilled the air. “I should have known how to spell it.

“For two hundred years all I’ve had is my name.” Astarion shut his eyes. “I repeated it to myself whenever I could because it was the only thing he said I had. For Two hundred years… I— I treasured it.”

Wyll stepped closer and hesitantly placed his hand on his fiancé’s shoulder. The room suddenly felt a lot colder than it did a few minutes prior and the air felt heavy. After all this time that man still had this effect on the one he loved.

“All I had was my name.”

“We agreed that you can keep your name…or we can hyphenate it. You don’t have to take mine.”

Astarion shook his head and stepped away from his embrace. “No, this isn’t…that isn’t—” Words failed him, and he growled in frustration.  “We sent out those fucking letters with our names plastered all over them three months ago. The halls and party favours, hells even the napkins have this mistake I’ve been telling myself for two hundred years stitched into their very seams. Wherever vampires piss off to after this mess we call life he must be cackling at my torment.

“Two hundred years, and I forgot the spelling of my name. Two hundred years I repeated it, holding on to the man I was. But if I cannot remember the colour of my own eyes, the letters in my own name…” He paused and took a deep, despondent breath. “…what of me is left?”

It was only after Wyll collected him in his arms that Astarion realised that tears were falling from his eyes. His shoulders shook as he let go of the pain he’d been holding in since he made the discovery days ago.

His wails must have echoed down the hall, must have travelled to the ears of gossipy servants, but he didn’t care. Astarion just couldn’t bring himself to.

“You are left, Astarion,” Wyll said gently as he grasped more firmly onto him. “You are left. Perfect and whole and here. The man I fell in love with is not in those records. He isn’t some magistrate who serves the courts. He’s here, with me.”

“But I used to be so much.”

“And you are now so much more, my love.”

Gently, Wyll grasped Astarion’s face as he looked at him. “We have been through so much together. You grew and changed so drastically that the man I met in the grove and the man you are now are incredibly different. You have a future. A home. Friends who cherish you. A real family. And you have me.”

Astarion shook his head. “This doesn’t change anything. This doesn’t change that I forgot who I was.”

“So, what if it doesn’t? Is it so bad? To change?” Wyll wiped his tears away with his thumb and leaned in. “You have the opportunity of a lifetime. To reinvent yourself. To become someone new. To be who you want to be. To the hells with who you were before. That’s not who you are now.

“Not to mention,” he continued with a small teasing smile, “you’ll be getting married to a duke. Whatever interest you may have, whatever it is you want to pursue, I’ll do everything in my power to make that a reality for you. If it is the stars you want to grasp, I will get the smartest wizards I know to find out how. If you want to sail the seas, I shall commission the very best ship be built in your name. I love you, Astarion. Don’t you ever doubt that for a moment.”

Red eyes met as Astarion looked into Wyll’s eyes fully for the first time in the last few nights. He gently caressed the hand on his cheeks as the first real smile he’d made in days stretched across his lips. They met Wyll’s in a gentle kiss, one that was so chaste and innocent that it made for a very welcome change.

“You have a way with words that could turn the hearts of the gods themselves, darling,” Astarion said once they broke apart.

“Words only meant for you, I assure you, my love.”

Astarion chuckled. He was sure that if he were still alive, he'd be blushing. “I suppose, I do have one request. If I am to reinvent myself.”

“Anything.”

Astarion took a deep breath. “I do rather like the sound of Astarion Ravengard, don’t you?”

Wyll’s eyes widened in surprise for a spell, but then the brightest smile Astarion had ever seen appeared as he suddenly felt himself being picked up and spun effortlessly. “Astarion Ravengard. It’s like the sweetest melody to my ears.”

“We would have to tell the servants about the change.”

“500 napkins need to be redone.”

“The party favours need to be adjusted.”

“I’m sure if I paid more for a rush fee it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“We should let them know immediately if we are to pull this off.”

Wyll set Astarion down gracefully and bowed. “It would be my honour to make the necessary calls, Astarion Ravengard.”

Astarion took his hand. “Allow me to accompany you, darling. I couldn’t possibly let you do preparations yourself, can I?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my love.”

[isolaradiale]

You can find Phase 1 here!

ALERT. ALERT. ALERT. PREPARATORY PHASE COMPLETED. SELENE'S SYSTEMS RESTORED. SATELLITE CANNONS REACTIVATED. SWITCHING DEFENSE RESPONSE PROTOCOL TO PHASE 2.

Red lights flashed across Selene as this announcement was broadcasted. For some reason it was enough to drive the swarm that had plagued the station back into hiding as lights and life support systems came whirring back online along with the portal in the Shopping District that could return everyone to the city.

The battle was far from over though, both for the island and the space station. Hologram broadcasts returned, showing clearly the enemies they faced. Terrible monsters located in the branches. Kaiju of a sort with swarms of small and medium sized variations of the aliens they had already fought flying about with wings. While in space? A massive beast could be seen in the crater of the moon with its maw pointed at the space station, swarms of its own sailing through space.

NPCs could be heard fretting. What were they supposed to do? Their home was under siege by creatures beyond their wildest dreams. "We have means of removing them now that the cannons are active but the Dwellers, the big ones, are still too strong for us to do enough on our own." A projection of Ofiuco could be seen wearing fake glasses and a lab coat while she awkwardly pointed at things she had scribbled on a white board. Evidently she'd gotten a little too into things.

"We'll need some of you to stay on the space station, but those of you who are able to fight? We need to secure the branches around the city and deal enough damage to the Dwellers so that the cannons will work. It won't be easy, especially not with the Latchers, the smaller ones, respawning in swarms, but... your Spiramonsters."

"We're going to unlock your powers temporarily." The Spiramonster partners of everyone began to glow with rainbow colours before the light dimmed. But everyone could still feel it. Some kind of connection with their critter. "Whoever caused this problem tampered with the data of the Spiramonsters, but that allowed us to construct a... We'll call it an "antidote" for simplicity's sake. That connection you feel means all of your attacks will have the capacity to slowly whittle down their strength."

"The city itself has a barrier around it so none of the Dwellers can damage it. Think of it as a safe zone for now, but Latchers might be able to slip in through cracks in the barrier. We've managed to set up smaller barriers around the settlements in the branches too but who knows how long those will hold. I know we're asking a lot of you but, please..."

———

SO WHAT'S GOING ON?

The Selene Space Station seems to be secure for the moment, and countermeasures for the attack have been realized. But there are some caveats in the defenses of the kaiju known as Dwellers that walk some of the branches. The Stars need those who are able to stave off the Latchers and deal as much damage to the Dwellers as possible so that their countermeasures will be effective.

To help, everyone's abilities and weapons have been completely unlocked for the duration of phase 2 and they'll need them. The Dwellers cannot be truly defeated by any characters regardless of damage as they can regenerate from nothing, and the Latchers are numerous, respawn after about an hour, are varied in size, and can now fly.

For those who can't or do not wish to fight the city and settlements in the branches are protected by barriers. Latchers may slip in but it is still safer than being out on the battlefield. As for the space station, swarms approach from the moon which hosts a Dweller of its own although it seems to be incapable of uprooting itself from the crater it is trapped within.

THE DWELLERS

Giant monsters that communicate with eerie, whale-like noises and lead Latchers. Very territorial, they will not leave the branches they are in but those that are close to the city have made attempts to attack the barrier surrounding it.

SKY-STREWN DWELLER Looks like a cross between a huge eel and one of those eastern dragons that are long and noodly. This one flies, and it's high in the air. Sends out huge gusts of wind which hurls debris like projectiles. May or may not have wings? Beautifully iridescent but Watch Out!

LAND OF BURNT UMBER DWELLER Very scorpion-like? Multiple eyes, a hard shell for armor, pincers, a tail that sprays acid from a huge stinger? Can bury into the sand and play the worst game of peek-a-boo. Looks like its made of black glass.

SUNSET CIRCUIT DWELLER Obnoxiously colorful and has coral growing on it that it uses like spines and blades. Probably venomous? Have you ever seen a sarcastic fringehead fish? Like that. Has a long tail for sweeping and emits a super-sonic shriek that sounds like every bad guitar pitch all in one.

THE ECHO DWELLER A mass of writhing tentacles that are dark and inky, covered in eyes that look in all directions and mouths full of human teeth that are constantly chattering, giggling, screaming, whispering, all in a cacophony of voices. Will occasionally say someone's last words before their previous deaths (if they've died in the city.) Shit your pants instantly if all the eyes look at you at once.

DWELLER OF YESTERYEAR The worn city already unstable, the presence of a wasp-like creature as big as an airplane with eyes on its back has made things even more dangerous by digging its nest into the city itself. Its Latchers are more wasp-like than other regions with stingers, each about as big as a car. Be careful not to fall into the tunnels of the city where the queen has nested else you may not see the surface again without a respawn.

MOON DWELLER Everything above its "waist" has emerged from a crater on the moon itself, and even what sticks out is about half the moon's size. It resembles a praying mantis with giant claws and a giant maw with row after row of teeth in an almost leech-like mouth. It is colored the same gray as the moon. Facing Selene, it fortunately isn't close enough to reach it and instead sends swarms of Latchers to try and destroy it. But once in a while it launches a powerful laser beam from its mouth...

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION

Phase 2 is not mandatory for participation if you have done Phase 1. Likewise you can do Phase 2 for participation instead of Phase 1 if you'd prefer!

If you didn't design a Spiramonster you don't need to write your character as not having the "antidote". You can just off-screen a supposed Spiramonster!

There will be a power / weapon unlock for participating in this event that will be available after the event ends. We'll have more information at that time, but you only need to participate in one part to be eligible!

The event ends at 11:59:59PM EST on Friday, September 1st.

[mintytoastypoetry]

Woman’s Land

In this world of “men”, cheeks aren't rosy,

Strawberry sodas drowned in stoic prose,

Stars dimmed by societal pressure,

Clouds obscure dreams with their measure.

Burnt for showing emotion's fire,

Labeled a dick, just another dire,

Centuries pass, but the shame's entire,

Forced into roles, we didn't aspire.

No mourning for sons lost unseen,

Their deaths unnoticed, mere routine,

Boy children linger, orphaned, unseen,

While sisters find homes, in dreams serene.

Gay men face discrimination's sting,

More than sisters, lovers, it's a thing,

In a world where masculinity's king,

Authenticity punished, silenced wing.

Father Time’s dying, who's scoring the lore?

In this man's world, disposability's core,

But I won't dwell here anymore,

Refuse to be just another score.

If you have a father, son, or friend,

Consider the world they navigate, contend,

Not the same for us, it's a bend,

So don't judge us for the path we fend.

Spring comes, not just for women's plight,

Men bloom too, in their own right,

Don't underestimate our capacity's might,

In a world that stifles, dims the light.

So don't punish me for not fitting your plan,

Rejecting this world that suffocates man,

I'm more than a label, more than a clan,

Not just a man, but human, understand.

[audiofanficpod]

Top 3 On the Run Fics

There’s angst and desperation and hope. There are cats, an orgy of tabs, and a lot of overlap. Tune in while @darkesttimelinestuff, @msrtheatre0223, and @red2007 count down their favorite Mulder and Scully on the run fics.

A Dim Capacity For Wings by @aloysiavirgata LISTEN🔊

50 Ways to Leave Your Lover by Marigold LISTEN🔊

First Few Desperate Hours by @all-these-ghosts LISTEN🔊

Titan Arum by @edierone LISTEN🔊

KM4596 by @lepusarcticus LISTEN🔊

Busting Ghosts by @lilydalexf

aiteall by @all-these-ghosts LISTEN🔊

i don't want this to end by @r00m203 LISTEN🔊

he and i in a borrowed car by audries

one another, and time by @sarie-fairy LISTEN🔊

The Silver Thread by @aloysiavirgata LISTEN🔊

Wilson River Road by @aloysiavirgata LISTEN🔊

Interlude in a Miserable Year by @slippinmickeys LISTEN🔊

Submerge by @slippinmickeys LISTEN🔊

Three Part Harmony by @slippinmickeys

Simple Needs by @atths--twice LISTEN🔊

Wednesday Night at the Fluff and Fold by @atths--twice LISTEN🔊

Things to do at the end of the world by @emilys-list LISTEN🔊

Christmas Day 2002, 4:20 p.m. by Forte

Souvenir by @h0ldthiscat LISTEN🔊

wherever you will go by @sunflowerscully

[everydayoriginal]

Chrysalis by Sam Hogg

FROM THE CHRYSALIS

My cocoon tightens, colors tease, I’m feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear.

A power of butterfly must be The aptitude to fly, Meadows of majesty concedes And easy sweeps of sky.

So I must baffle at the hint And cipher at the sign, And make much blunder, if at last I take the clew divine.

Written by Emily Dickinson

Inspired by the beautiful poem above by the US poet Emily Dickinson, this piece is a continuation of my exploration around the themes of life, death and grief in my work. Piece comes unframed, in a simple white photomount and ships from the UK.

8 x 6, watercolour and gouache on hotpress watercolour paper, matted to 10 x 8

https://www.artofsamhogg.com/

VIEW DETAILS brought to you by Every Day Original

[sour-heart-treats]

[Hold Me, Among the Stars - CW: None]

Lights dimmed in a lavish, circuit-covered bedroom… Nothing to be heard other than the quiet hum of an obscured air conditioner… A leader and his researcher would sit beside one another at the royal's bedside. The gaze they shared was soft. Vulnerable. The both of them knew the other inside and out, and the adoration they held was easily recognized by one another. Xylitol Nova, ruler and creator of the very society they lived within, quietly splayed his arms out. "Here," the king spoke in a whisper, rolling his wrists to prompt his researcher towards himself. "Lay yourself against me… I wish to show you something I learned from Earthbread."

The other Xylitol, Researcher, would give a curious raise of the brow. "You seem to have such a keen interest in that planet. I do wonder why…" They'd mumble, following their leader's instructions and leaning into him. The difference in height wasn't too big, but it's times like this where Researcher certainly felt much smaller than they actually were. They waited patiently, watching the leader's movements carefully as they were gently wrapped in the other's arms. The motion felt similar to holding a Xyl-dog in one's hands, though on a much larger scale. Or, perhaps, it was more akin to the safety harnesses adorned by those making rare manual repairs? In either capacity, it felt… Warm. Safe.

"Ah… what is this called…?" Researcher would look up to Nova, eyes glistening with intrigue. A gentle laugh came from the taller, who adjusted his hold ever so slightly to make it more comfortable for the both of them. At this point, Researcher may as well be sitting on the king's lap. "The term most often used for this is 'hug', though I have heard others call it an 'embrace' or a 'cuddle'." Nova would lean his head down, setting it carefully on top of Researcher's head. "It is meant to be a display of affection… And you and I both know that you should be the first to experience it by my hand."

"Flatterer-" The smaller would playfully snip, looking down to the cybernetic arms that surrounded them and… carefully attempting to mimic the action. It seemed successful, considering the way that Nova's wings didn't even twitch to move out of the way. "I… quite enjoy this, your highness. It is very comfortable- though that may simply because it is you that I am being 'hugged' by. That is what the past tense of 'hug', yes?" The quiet nod brought a flourishing sensation to Researcher's chest. "Those on Earthbread certainly know how to create comforting actions towards one another…" They'd purse their lips, lightly tightening their hold on the planet's creator. "May I… ask we perform this 'embrace' more often? When neither of us are busy, of course. To savor it."

Little did Researcher know, Nova was planning on doing this quite often already. Or, perhaps they did know, and were simply being polite about it? Both of them knew how much they enjoyed being with one another; this was merely an extension of their closeness. The royal gave a chuckle, pulling the smaller Xylitol closer even if it made the other have to readjust their hold. "So be it. I shall decree that we will have mandatory moments to hug one another…!" The jest got laughter out of the both of them. A sweet sigh fell from Nova's mouth as he kept his royal analyst there. Safe. Warm. Right by his side, where they belong…

There's nowhere else the two of them would rather be.

[thedragonagelesbian]

@mypeggableromance replied to your post “the ancestral guardians subclass just has such...”:

oouughh yeah those tags,,, tasty (also welcome back!!!! the way i started buzzing when i saw cyrus postin,,, real)

​omg <333333 i missed yelling about him with y'all

i have. so many thoughts about the relationship between barbarian rage & the dark urge, because the two are so similar-- the loss of control, the bloodlust, the reaching beyond your mortal capacities to become an instrument of death...

but rage also has a survivalist component that the urge doesn't, and in my head, that's the aspect of being a barbarian that cyrus first reaches for. in the fight outside of the emerald grove, he ends up pinned underneath the warg and close to having his throat torn out. already once dead and resurrected that morning, some quiet, half-conscious part of him says no, i want to live. and he taps into a well of resilience he didn't know he had, sprouting his wings and finding a frightening, furious desire to survive.

when the haze of blood dims (because it never disappears completely), cyrus begins to worry that this new way of fighting is feeding his urge, and it takes him a lot of time & introspection to separate those two things. to understand that his rage taps into something deeply and fundamentally his, whatever profound and minuscule kernel of himself that can be said to be his alone and not bhaal's. becoming a path of ancestral guardians barbarian--being able to use his rage not just to kill or to survive but to protect others--is a part of that realization.

also, i don't think durge!cyrus was a barbarian pre-tadpoling. he was still plenty ruthless, but too poised and efficient and perfect for that kind of butchery. rather, he was an order of the profane soul blood hunter (instead of post-tadpoling ghost slayer) with bhaal as his patron with a couple of levels of oath of conquest paladin. bc. it's not cyrus if there aren't some levels of paladin in there somewhere.

(and i know bhaal probably doesnt count as a great old one, but i think you could do something fun chaining its frightened on a crit + aura of conquest's auto psychic damage to frightened creatures...)

[poetryandthoughtsblog]

My cocoon tightens, colors tease, I’m feeling for the air; A dim capacity for wings Degrades the dress I wear. A power of butterfly must be The aptitude to fly, Meadows of majesty concedes And easy sweeps of sky. So I must baffle at the hint And cipher at the sign, And make much blunder, if at last I take the clew divine.

—Emily Dickinson

[feral-babe]

The Ten of Antennae speaks to the human experience of carrying life's burdens, often to the point of exhaustion. It reminds us that while diligence and dedication are virtues, there comes a time when we must assess our load, prioritize our tasks, and release what no longer serves our well-being.

In a beautiful parallel, we find the damselfly embodying these themes in the natural world. In our lives, as in nature, we must recognize when we are carrying burdens beyond our capacity. Interestingly, the damselfly illustrates this lesson, as they will sometimes discard their fertilized eggs if conditions are unfavorable, choosing to preserve their own vitality. From this, we can learn the power of prioritization and self-preservation. It's a profound reminder that, in our journey through life, we must balance our responsibilities with self-care to thrive and ensure our own well-being. These delicate insects, often celebrated for their ethereal beauty, symbolize the pursuit of aspirations. Yet, even in the enchanting world of flight and freedom, they too must contend with the weight of existence. This card admonishes us about the consequences of taking on more than we can bear. It implores us to examine our own lives and reflect on the burdens we carry. It teaches us that while ambition is a noble pursuit, overcommitment can lead to exhaustion and a dimming of one's spirit. As the damselfly navigates a world of boundless skies on wings as fragile as dreams, they too face constraints and limitations. They maintain their grace and poise despite the turbulence of their environment, illustrating that even the most delicate beings can exhibit remarkable endurance.

Remember the profound wisdom these animals share: embrace the art of discernment, know when to release what no longer serves you, seek solace when necessary, and in doing so, rediscover the vitality that propels us toward the boundless horizons of our dreams. Letting go is not a sign of weakness but an act of wisdom. This card serves as a reminder to face challenges with grace and emerge from them with a deeper understanding of our inner fortitude. In their delicate flight over the waters of existence, they whisper that even in the face of adversity, we can emerge stronger, our spirits unbroken.

Prints available on Redbubble and Inprnt

| Instagram |

[aloysiavirgata]

I just reread A Dim Capacity For Wings after years and fuck you need to be writing books or Netflix shows or something. Your writing is on par with the best published authors out there. The idea of the boat is such a brilliant gift idea and says so much about yours and Mr. V’s relationship.

Thank you dear anon! You are more generous than I deserve but I loved writing that fic so much. It was a delightful little world to build. I wish I could have left them in it.

I’m not really into jewelry and such, and generally gifts aren’t really my “love language.” So when I think of gifts they’d give to one another I want them to really speak to a fundamental understanding of the other person, because THAT is what love is all about for me.

On my 40th birthday we planned to go to Bangkok, a city we’ve been to twice and love. But I turned 40 during COVID. He bought a bag of cat food and took me to a local cat colony to feed the cats. We had cheap takeout Thai food for dinner and watched HTGSC as a family. Incredible, amazing birthday. I would have been crushed if he’d just gotten jewelry or something and called it a day.

Edit: @red2007 read this beautifully for @audiofanficpod

[xadoheandterra]

S H A T T E R E D

Series: Purple Stars (formerly Shattered and Stuck)

Title: S H A T T E R E D Fandom: Undertale Scenes: I | II Characters: Wing Dings Aster, Sans Tags: Horror, body horror, graphic depictions of a violent nature, zalgo text Summary: Wing Dings Aster, Gaster, made an incalculable error. In that error the Void swallowed Reality. Aster, in turn, swallowed the Void, and Reality with it. The results were not wholly expected, and yet not wholly bad either. At least he had a way to stop it now. Once, you know, he could recall who the fuck he was and stopped another War from wrecking everything.

Sometimes Aster wondered if Font and Star Clan ever regretted adopting him. Hope knew Aster regretted himself enough as is, especially with becoming nothing more than 'Mage-trash' in the aftermath of everything. He was never going to live this down.

--

Explosions rocketed the C.O.R.E. facility as the thermal-generating structure began to strain under the force of the experiment. They'd only just turned the damn thing on a month ago--they'd only just began harvesting the ley line in the increased capacity the previous C.O.R.E. project could never have achieved. The magical energies were necessary, though. The projected numbers were needed if they were ever to expand out of this cave system, back to the surface, back to the stars. Aster's eyelights dimmed as he watched hard work begin to crumble, as the generator dragged and dug deeper beyond the ley line. This was not within the predictions. This was not expected.

Another explosion rocketed through the facility with a sudden burst of flame and heat, and one of the interior walls collapsed. Aster stood stock still as his subordinates ran and fled from the building, although not everyone could or did escape. He could see a fair few slowly dusting, even more slowly turning into piles of ooze as raw magical energy overloaded their systems. It was such an utter failure, yet another mistake on a pile of mistakes. He clenched his broken hands together tight, felt the way his bones ground against one another and let the pain drag him back into focus.

Despite his efforts everything Aster touched failed. He failed Asgore and Toriel with the human child. He failed Asgore with his son. He failed to stop the Mages from sealing them in this space, from hurting his Queen. He failed to stop Rivers, and Grillby, and Gerson from drifting away. He failed to stop his own son from suffering the horrors of War out of sheer ignorance. He failed to stop himself.

Aster always failed to stop himself most of all.

With a slow turn, Aster began to stride through the facility as explosions went off at random intervals. He had to make sure at least most of the staff made it out safe. Alphys and Sans would have the emergency protocols for who would take over what projects in the event of a catastrophe such as this--at least he had those protocols made, even if Sans had to bully him into putting them together. The threat of not getting a family day with Papyrus had worked wonders in motivating Aster to actually getting the paperwork finished in time, so he knew at least those two would be able to handle things in his inevitable absence.

This section of the lab would be cordoned off. Aster would see to it personally; he'd make sure the barriers were raised and would last long enough for the effects to hopefully dissipate. If they didn't, he'd written down to Sans to bring Rivers to the area. If anything they could make sure the V̶̢͕̔́ó̴͂͜į̶̮̚d̵̢̯͌ spread no further, and ensure that it wouldn't corrupt the ley line above it. Once everyone had been properly evacuated, and Aster would be sure of it, he'd turn to making sure the machine was shut down for good. Even if he had to destroy the damn thing himself, he would stop this before it spread any further.

Aster stepped into the security office and up to the camera's that overlooked every portion of the lab. With barely a strain on his own magic he began to send his Hands to the trapped monsters within. Several worked to free them, several more directed them to safety. He looked through each screen methodically, moved through patterns with haste and concentration as quickly as he could. Alphys had evacuated first thing, took with her a good chunk of the upper level staff. Smart girl. Aster knew he'd chosen well when he'd chosen her. Most of the lower level staff were unfortunately beyond saving; the air was rife with dust, or thick with goop, and Aster moved on from rooms whose cameras refused to even work from the rising magical energy. Anyone there would be ash by this point, or a puddle of liquid.

Security room beta held a flurry of activity, the room that contained the power and maintenance equipment for the additional C.O.R.E. amplification device that they'd just powered up. No one, feasibly, should be in the room. Aster had flicked the switches remotely with a Hand as he had wanted to see the device power on with his own sockets. Sans had been with him at the time, and the first of the explosions had separated them. Aster had not seen his oldest on any of the cameras, either, now that he thought about it. He hoped Sans had already gotten out, that the boy was smart and took a shortcut between. While it was dangerous, dipping metatarsals into the V̶̢͕̔́ó̴͂͜į̶̮̚d̵̢̯͌ like that, short bouts that his boy could do were safe enough and Aster had long decided it was not worth the headache arguing with the boy over it.

A few buttons, a few switches, and Aster pulled up the security footage of room beta. He needed to know which foolish employee thought to mess with the room, and then he needed to remove them as quickly as possible b̵y̸ ̵a̶n̸y̸ ̴m̵e̴a̶n̶s̷ ̸n̸e̸c̶e̴s̴s̸a̵r̷y̸. His sockets narrowed as the feed pulled up, static interference from the nearby over-saturation of magical energy made it difficult to make out at first. White lab coat, obviously not one of the interns then, but also white structure outside of the lab coat which told Aster nothing of importance. It wasn't until the form turned and he caught sight of cyan-yellow-blue out of a singular eye and everything in Aster stilled.

"Sans," Aster breathed, and without thought he ran from the room. There was too much magic in the air, especially that close to the C.O.R.E. Sans was too fragile. Sans would dust, or worse, the over-saturation would twist him even further. The boy had enough magical prowess, enough power, that any further twisting upon his SOUL could be detrimental to his health and if anything Aster was dedicated to making sure his boys were healthy, once he understood. Once he knew.

He can still remember finding Sans in that battlefield, bones soaked red, a fine layer of dust and blood mimicking the viscera of a human. The rictus grin on his skull, the empty sockets with eyelights off. He can still remember the feel of the ground between his metatarsals, how it made him pleasured sick at so much destruction, at such a curious display of violence and ingenuity. He'd almost been distracted by the corpses if it still weren't for the soft words that urged him onward, the ones that sent him here in the first place.

"The Mages have a young skeleton captive. Bring him to me."

He can still remember the feel of baby bones phalanges in his hand, of the spark of like-magic-familiarty that surged through him. He can still remember the moment the eyelights flickered on. The moment Sans first looked at him, eyes wide in wonder.

"S̶a̷n̶s̷!̶" Aster yelled as an explosion rocketed him into a wall. It nearly brought the door down to security room beta. Aster was lucky one of his Hands formed in time to stop the collapse, while another reached out and grabbed Sans by the back of his lab coat. "Foolish boy, get out of here!" Aster tried to stand. He slouched instead. His side hurt for a moment, then felt numb.

Oh that wasn't g̷͓͗ô̴̲ǒ̵͖d̴̰̆.

"Dad?!" Sans yelled, one reached out toward him as one of Aster's Hands dragged the boy backward, out, away.

"G̷̙̯̑ō̴͎̓!̷͉̗̜͒" Aster snapped back, and with force shoved Sans back with magic, urged the Hand to take him to safety. He didn't stare at his fingers, didn't watch the way they melted for a moment as he lost all feeling in his hands. He could not let the terror consume him.

You've not had much feeling there in a long time anyway, Aster reminded himself sharply. His right hand had always been the worse off of the damage. He dragged himself forward, Sans' screams urged him onward toward the C.O.R.E. project. He had to get this done. He had to shut this off, destroy it, q̸u̴a̷r̸a̴n̷t̶i̸n̸e̶ ̵i̵t̵. He ignored the way his SOUL shuddered beneath his breast. He ignored the feel of magic on his bones, of V̶̢͕̔́ó̴͂͜į̶̮̚d̵̢̯͌ in his marrow. He ignored how hard it was to move.

This is nothing, Aster told himself silently. T̵h̶i̶s̵ ̷i̶s̷ ̴n̴o̵t̶h̸i̴n̸g̷.̶

It was everything. He had never felt so scared in all his life, the moment he saw Sans in that saturated room. He'd never felt more terrified as more and more of himself became numb and number. He would die here, or be mutated, or changed, or twisted and Aster did not know what to expect with the outcome only that it was an outcome he could not predict. How fascinating, he thought only for a moment, before he shuttered his need to know with years of practice.

Fascinating, horrifying, i̶t̴ ̴n̵e̸e̸d̴e̸d̸ ̷t̵o̶ ̶s̵t̶o̷p̸.

It needed to S̵̢̆ ̵̝̈T̵̤̈ ̵̰́O̸̢̊ ̷̘͂P̵̜̽.̶͓̚

--

The V̶̢͕̔́ó̴͂͜į̶̮̚d̵̢̯͌ swallowed all.

--

Á̸̱͕s̵̺̀t̵̗͉͒ȅ̵͙ṙ̵̳̺ ̴̢̘̃s̵̫͔̀͘w̷̠͆å̷̠l̶̳̓l̴̹̱̒͝ỏ̶̲w̸̧̪͊ȅ̴̦d̵̡͛ͅ ̴̲͐͂t̴̗̊͑h̴̭̻̀ē̴̳ ̸͎͓̅͋V̶͙̓͒ͅȯ̶̻̆i̵̝̖͘d̷̼̀͂.̴̢̼̀

[meep9898]

"Well, not to brag, but I eat at least 6 times a day to make sure my productivity is at maximum capacity. I do have my food delivered via a variety of different services as well...~"

This chubby detective is way too simple and cute~

Elizabeth's seen her snooping about her company building from time to time, studying the obesity epidemic occurring within. The curious, dim sort is just her type, and she'd become a chair member of this "Feeding Faction" herself in a lardy heartbeat if it meant being able to spoil Fio rotten.

And with each poke to her her girdled gut, it shouldn't take long before...

*SNAP*

A beanbag sized belly breaks out from it's restraints like it was spring loaded, encasing it's pale dough around the inquisitor's face before pushing her back a few feet-

"Oh dear, I do apologize. It seems I've gained more weight than I let on. Maybe I was hit by an invisible calorie ray by those dastardly villains just now? Go on, do investigate deeper~"

This 700-plus pound woman might just be Detective Fiorella Casablanca's final boss...

Removing her hands from her client’s many suddenly exposed rolls, afraid she may fall under the effect of the Feeding Faction’s fattening ray, Fiorella takes a step back. Taking a moment to scrutinize Elizabeth’s impressive roundness and softness, the delusional woman came to a worrisome realization. This was no mere woman that had fallen victim to maniacal and fat-inducing schemes of her rivals. Elizabeth…if she could even trust that name, was one of The Fifteen Leaders she had declared war against!

“You! You are one of them! You thought you could fool my all-seeing eyes and all-knowing brain, but you’ve been foolish in underestimating The Great Detective Fiorella Casablanca! I may have almost been tricked by your charm, but I know better, for justice prevails and protects me under its wing!”

Her seductive mannerisms, her heavy waistline, her teasing personality, and her lustful behavior, wanting her fat touched and prodded revealed ‘Elizabeth’s’ real identity. An identity which she knew far too well thanks to her chuuni fantasies.

“I may have not recognized you at first, but I’m aware of who you are now! You are The Queen, Second Leader of The Feeding Faction and one of my sworn enemies. Now that you’re in my headquarters, you won’t escape from my sight so easily!”

In reality, Fiorella has never seen this woman before in her entire life…