#ANOTHER snippet i found in my notes section

[wickedsmille]

Tim stares at Jason at an event. Jason catches him. Tim steals some looks, Jason steals some looks. Then Tim goes inside to do the clean up after offering so Alfred could take a knee. Jason corners him inside.

Jason: I noticed you've been looking at me

Tim: Wow the ego

Jason: Tell me I'm wrong

Tim: You're wrong

Jason: Here's the thing, I'm great at spotting liars

Tim: Apparently not

Jason: Fuck, do I like 'em feisty and you? You're taking the cake, baby

Tim: As much as I love the unsolicited and unwarranted pet names, I was kinda in the middle of something

Jason, hoisting Tim up onto the kitchen counter and running his hands along Tim's legs: Have to wait, cause I'm in the middle of something too

Tim: You're used to getting what you want, aren't you?

Jason: Contrary to popular belief, being a crime lord isn't all sex, control and violence. That's reductive thinking

Tim: Oh and what's this then?

Jason: Seduction, is it working?

Tim, leans in a kisses him: I don't know, is it?

Continued here

[binarystarhero]

hi i just wanted to say- bsh is absolutely incredible and ive found myself deep in hyperfixation for the past week over it (i . may or may not have gone through blogs when i originally found out you had privated the asks from your dev tumblr + combed multiple for crumbs of ray lore hPOSDHIS). but like . it is so so lovely and im glad i finally gave it a shot. ive replayed it over a dozen times the past week and ive kicked my feet like a teenager with a crush whenever i thought of him!! i found this blog a bit less than an hour ago and reading the asks i missed has been THRILLING.

also like?? the wound scene in particular is INSANE? because i remember reading through it the first time and being struck with the most insane urge to be like . what if mc sank their fingers in a bit . bc its so insanely erotic to me oDOFHSID. when i saw the ask from another fellow ex-catholic i felt so vindicated ab the brainrot over the side wound and im !!! the fact he's forcing mc's hand into parting his flesh , , , i read up on the reasons behind it but also . the fact that it could that beneath the annoyance and resentment in the moment that him shoving their fingers into his wound could also be seen as a desperate bid for connection, for understanding that mc, in that moment, could not possibly comprehend has me going insane .

also !!! hes so fucking cute when the player meets him first in game??? like its so awkward and it endears me soooo bad . like "i prefer it that way" only to audibly say "lets just stop talking" had me in TEARS . i bet he rehearsed that interaction for hours and was mentally cursing himself for how it actually turned out lol

ALSO . the fact that ray is so off-put by the mint latte's color makes me hysterical . bc in this modern day and age matcha has become so popular (and idk how it is in bsh, but im just headcannoning it as the same in my head) so the fact ray is so perturbed is delightful . like damn . u rlly are an old white man (affectionate). it makes me want to have him try desserts from my culture (which can be bright green among other colors) and its so !!! it makes me so genuinely delighted to have had this little interaction with him and also knowing he enjoys watching the great british bake off . i want to see the inside of his fridge so bad .

OH on that note, did ray not have a lot of exposure to different cultural foods after he debuted as a hero? i know he grew up in a gov. facility and then lived in oklahoma with steel sherrif, and can cook well now, so is his culinary know-how mainly derived from western cooking standards/varieties?

oh- and did you have a cologne in mind for ray? its mentioned offhandedly in bsh that mc finds his cologne pleasant, and i wanted to know if you had one in mind when writing the scene/scents that you associate with ray!!!

and also- you mentioned ray has had sexual experiences in the past- does he have experience being pegged/penetrated? for . scientific purposes . of course .

(dont feel pressured to answer all these questions but im just so curious about ray and his backstory- i adore him so much sidofiUSDFH)

ANYWAYS im digitally sending you so many flowers and hearts, concrete. binary star hero skyrocketed to the top of my fave visual novels and i know its going to be consuming my mind for the foreseeable future LOL

Thankyou for your ask, it's so lovely and thoughtful 💕 I'm so sorry you had to wait so long for me to bring back the asks!

"That him shoving their fingers into his wound could also be seen as a desperate bid for connection," - Oh absolutely! The whole game Ray is searching desperately for that connection in a way that is so inhuman it inherently separates himself from the connection he desperately wants. I also love that section of the game because it does feel like a snippet that is so thematic of Ray's whole character in that way.

"i bet he rehearsed that interaction for hours and was mentally cursing himself for how it actually turned out lol" - Yep, he rehearsed it in his head a bunch and still fucked it up, in that moment he really wished he could kill himself lol.

RE: the mint latte - Ray just does not get out that much because he is so busy with work and even if he had the time he isn't really sure what he would do or where he would go. So that being said, Ray absolutely wouldn't know what matcha is 💀. He is an old man, not necessarily in age, but absolutely in being out of touch with current fads and events.

Did ray not have a lot of exposure to different cultural foods - He hasn't, most of his cooking knowledge is pretty western. But he would be absolutely delighted to try a bunch of new foods he hasn't had before.

did you have a cologne in mind for ray? - Nope, I would have to do some research to figure this out lol.

does he have experience being pegged/penetrated - All of his previous experiences have been pretty vanilla, but that is due to him not being fully invested in those experiences/partners and mainly just preforming for what his partner wanted. So he hasn't been penetrated in any of his previous sexual encounters... but with MC though he may be skeptical he would be willing to try (smirk)

[exaflux]

BTAS pre-production stuff/official designs and artstyle stuff

Don't mind the title, I'm a bit naff at titling things...

I'm sure people have made posts about it before, but just in case there's anyone that doesn't know, there's official documents on BTAS floating around the net. Things covering episode writing, bios, a bunch of art that animators would have used. Whole lot of stuff.

I've seen people ask questions/have discussion on things like imitating the style/character heights/other general things. These documents are all official and might be helpful so, hey, might as well share for those not in the know.

Gonna keep it short (I'll provide some links so you can check out for yourself as there's a lot I won't cover) but I'll outline some stuff that catches my eye (first bit is about pre-production and ideas they had, second bit is stuff about how they went about drawing/designing the characters)

Pre-production

In animation, it's standard to have a thing called a writer's bible, also called an animation bible. They include everything from plot synopsis, character/concept art, character bios, episode ideas, basically the whole nine yards. These are used mainly in the early stages to pitch ideas and get projects greenlit, but are also kept around as a handy shortform thing to summarise the whole project as much as possible.

As it turns out, the BTAS writer's bible has been extensively documented! There's a PDF of it actually! And if you don't want a PDF, there's a website that covers all the contents too.

As per writer's bibles, it has a ton of their ideas and direction they wanted to take with the show, from episode structure to joke writing right down to how much settings should be able to change per-episode. There's a whole lot of art too! Here's a snippet about some of the changes they wanted to make with the Dark Knight himself:

And just for fun let's also leave some info about how they approached writing Bruce Wayne:

Anyway! On a more interesting topic- some of the rogues. The bios of most of the rogues are included, as are some art of earlier designs. Riddler looks like a sleezy car salesman and Joker is kinda just missing his lips and has stripy pants is seems.

Also of note: in some alternative timeline somewhere we could have had Calendar Man and Gentleman Ghost in BTAS...

As for character heights... The height chart is sectioned into "head" height for Batman's head. The uppermost line is Batman's height, so Batman is 8 Batman heads tall. While it can be hard to make out some of the character heights due to the poses, it'd be safe to guess that you do take poses into account on the height chart. Two-Face is shorter on the chart than Harvey is for example but you'll notice that Two-Face's art shows his head tilted down slightly, so Two-Face isn't actually shorter it's just his pose.

You'll notice these characters are uncoloured. The colour palettes featured are an interesting point that deserve their own post. I'll touch on them another time.

Style Guides / Character Sheets

Style guides tell animators how to correctly draw characters. Can also be applied for things like backgrounds and props and the likes though, whatever feels needed to be noted to keep consistency even if other people are drawing the characters.

Character sheets are character sheets. 'Nuff said. These just show off a character looks from different angles. Expression sheets showing how character emote, art on full-body posing and sheets on hand poses are things that also tend to be covered in animated productions.

Can be found here and here. A lot of overlap in the art shown between the two links but they're absolutely full of character sheets and turn-arounds. There's definitely a lot more design documents I've seen about in other places, but alas, I can't track them down for the life of me.

Here's some highlights:

(When Twoface blinks only his good eye closes completely. His injured eye only partially closes)

("John Crane")

Some early character art:

~~~

If you made it this far then congrats here's some Batmen for your troubles

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Word Find WIP Game

Thank you for the tag @inkedmoth ! I’m not usually someone who has many WIPs going at once, but I got by through a combo of WIPs and little fragments of things that are either proto-WIPs or just drifting around!

How it works: I search for the words assigned to me by the person who tagged me and share the relevant snippets. I then choose four words for others to search in their own WIP(s).

I was assigned: Swift, Tree, Hunt and Fall. It was tight, but I found them all!

Swift (Lithcynd, wife of Dúnhere, reflects on the muster of Rohan, which she organized, after the riders head out): 

Only hours before, all of Dunharrow had thrummed with activity, the constant hum of men talking, laughing, cursing, calling to one another as they ducked in and out of makeshift shelters or sat huddled in small groups in the dewy green grass of the Firienfeld, trying to keep their socks dry and their courage up. She had patrolled that field like a general reviewing troops, only rather than inspecting the men she looked instead at the camp around them: the clean, sharp edges of tautly pitched tents, the swiftly moving lines at the ration distribution points, the carefully color-coded flags that marked which sections of the picket lines belonged to which éored’s horses. 

It took well over an hour for her to get from one end of the crowded meadow to the other on these patrols, stopping often to point a wayward rider to the weapontake or to note a company in need of the crushed herbs used to deter lice and fleas, and every hour yet more arrivals had poured in. Fresh faced and battle hardened, high spirited and reluctant, calm and terrified, she had greeted as many as she could, vowing that they would be warm and well fed and safe, at least for as long as they were in her care. But now they were all gone, marched off into the gloom of a dawnless morning on a path to Gondor and to glory.

Tree (Théoden goes to the halls of his fathers and reunites with his family. But first he has to realize he’s dead):

Théoden woke to a soft breeze against his cheek and silky petals beneath his fingertips that perfumed the air with fresh sweetness. Opening his eyes, the sky above him was a blue of impossible purity, interlaced with arching boughs of trees laden with white blossoms at the peak of their fullness. He was in a field, simple green grass and clover stretching off into the distance like any of the numberless plains that had made up the setting of his life. But somehow this field was different, the colors more intense and the shapes more graceful. Every familiar element felt brand new, like his first glimpse of the masterwork of a true artist after only ever knowing the idle sketches of an amateur. 

He shifted onto his side and winced in anticipation of the stinging twinge that always accompanied a twist of his spine, but it did not come. In fact, nothing seemed to hurt anymore, not in the way he was used to. His knees bent without the feel of a rusty hinge reluctantly scraping its way open, and the shoulder of his sword arm did not pop and crack as he lifted his arm. Instead, he felt a lightness, a sort of spry energy from the days of his youth or perhaps a rare morning after he had slept a great many hours undisturbed by either the complaints of his body or the pressing cares of his mind. 

Hunt (Stillerith, the sister of Grimbold, returns to Grimslade after the war — predicated on my little idea of Grimslade as a village on the Isen that is deeply connected to the Dunlendish clan just on the other side of the river. It’s this clan that gave the Rohirrim the first warning of the pending invasion at the Fords):

Stillerith peered across the river, wondering what had become of Tryffan and his clan. They weren’t friends in the traditional sense but certainly not enemies either. Rather, they had been some third thing, joined in the bond that develops over many years of simple proximity and the necessary exchange of goods and words and people. It was the end of a long slow process, reached when the truth that they shared undeniable commonalities even among their sharp differences no longer felt bold but obvious. Rumors had already spread through the borderlands that Tryffan’s whole village was gone, razed and burned by the other Dunlendish clans for the crime of having chosen neighbors over nationality, and she could see nothing from this distance that would argue otherwise. No boats on the water, no smoke from cooking fires, none of the telltale falcons circling overhead as the clan’s hunters pursued their rabbits and squirrels. 

Fall (prequel to Askance about how Vidumavi and Valacar met and fell in love. Here Valacar is doing his best to get used to life in Rhovanion, including figuring out how they ride their horses):

If Valacar was nervous about this riding lesson, he was hiding it well. His posture seemed relaxed and his expression calm, both marked improvements from earlier in the week. He didn’t lack coordination generally — he was an excellent archer and quick with both hands and feet in the sparring ring — but he had recently decided to learn to ride in the Rhovanion style, and it was proving to be a particular challenge. Without a saddle or bridle to rely on, the effect of any error in horsemanship was magnified, and even such basic tasks as mounting became troublesome when he no longer had stirrups, pommels or reins for help. 

He had been offered a mounting block or a leg up, though no Northman used them and so neither would he. Instead, he stood at the side of his new horse, a particularly tall chestnut roan named Marhail, and tried repeatedly to get himself from ground to back without falling. Sometimes he would hoist himself up on his belly only to flop around like a fish on a boat deck when he couldn’t find sufficient leverage to swing his leg astride while his horse shifted nervously beneath him. Other times he simply slid right back off again, and more than once he’d accidentally kicked Marhail while trying to get purchase, unexpectedly sending the horse bolting forward and himself flat onto his back in the dirt. 

*****

Thanks again for the tag! If @hobbitwrangler @dilettantefeminist @fishing4stars or @butoridesvirescens have snippets they’d like to share, I give you the words: Hand, Laugh, Dark, Remember (Or, feel free to use any of my words if you need them instead!)

[cafecitowriter]

In Her Embrace (I Was King) - Steggy Fic Preview

It's Day 6 of Steggy Week at @steggyfanevents (and possibly my favourite theme) WIP & Updates!

For this one I decided to go a bit out of the box (for me at least) and share a snippet of a WIP that I haven't even started posting yet. The prologue itself is already over 10K words so it's going to be a big one, and pretty plot heavy, so I need to make sure I don't write myself into a corner three chapters in.

Fic Summary: After an Old Law is invoked, Steve Rogers is denied his rightful claim to the throne. In order for power to remain with the Rogers bloodline, he must marry a Council-approved suitor by age 27.

As the Widow who is trained from childhood to be the Crown Prince's Captain, his protector, Peggy makes it her own mission to find a way around this law - all the while vetting any potential prospects that crop up in the meantime (for the sake of the Crown, of course).

But in a desperate bid to keep Steve safe, Peggy unwittingly becomes entangled in a larger political scheme, where she learns that her enemies have been lurking in the walls of the palace itself, threatening not only their home, but also the bond that Steve and Peggy have built since they were born.

Fic Sneak Peek (Steve and Peggy are ~15 years old)

Peggy rushed through the palace halls, her heart racing as she turned the corner toward the staircase that would get her closer to the West Wing. However her trajectory was stalled when she ran into Bucky and Natasha - literally.

“Woah, what’s going on?” Bucky asked after she’d regained her balance. “Where’s the fire?”

“And where’s Steve?” Nat asked.

“Shut up,” Peggy hissed, clamping her hand over her mouth. “Someone will hear you.”

“Did you lose Steve?” Bucky asked with a raised eyebrow as she lowered her hand.

“I did not lose Steve.”

“Then where is he?” Nat cheeked.

Peggy let out a slow breath as she narrowed her eyes at both of them.

“He is in a place that I will be in very soon, and until that happens, no one is going to know that Steve left my sights for even a second. Not the Queen and especially not my mother. Or worse, Melina.”

“You’re really hard on Melina,” Natasha pointed out.

“She’s the one that’s hard on me” Peggy scoffed. “Just don’t tell her, alright? Or anyone at all? Please?”

“You know I won’t say anything, but you better find him, Carter,” Bucky told her. “Before Jarvis does.”

“I don’t need to find him, I know exactly where his Highness is.”

Without bothering to hear a response from either of them, Peggy swiftly made her way to the library in the West Wing, the one closest to Steve’s bedroom, then, upon confirming no one else was there, sprinted up the three flights of stairs to the restricted history section.

“Really, Steve?” she groaned, looking around where he had at least half a dozen books open and sprawled out on the floor around him. To his left he had his tablet that he was making notes into. “Again?”

“Hey, you found me,” he grinned before looking at his watch. “Record time, too. Only took you about fifteen years to get it under five minutes.”

“And yet you still managed to make just as much mess as usual.”

“One of my many talents,” he winked, ignoring her arched eyebrow.

Peggy snorted and shook her head as he started speaking.

“Well come on, Captain, grab a book and I’ll catch you up so you can help me find a way around this stupid law.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his use of her newly appointed title, and sat down across from him, picking up the closest book.

“You think the answer to the Council accepting you as the rightful heir lies in the War of Nations?” she asked as she glanced at the title.

“The only other time the law was invoked was right before the War began,” he shrugged. “Might just be a coincidence, but it’s worth a shot.”

“If you say so,” Peggy shrugged in agreement. The more time that passed by, the more desperate they were both becoming. She chanced another glance at Steve, who had returned his attention back to his book, a furrow in his brows.

She ignored the flip her stomach did and focused on the book in her hands in earnest.

[cinnamonbunpuff]

how a song changed my year.

achilles, achilles, achilles come down, won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

it's officially been one year since i first heard this song. it's kinda crazy how much can happen in that time, in reality and in mentality.

i still remember stumbling upon it. i'm sure i've seen it on my recommended in the past but this was the first time i really listened to it. it was late and i was sat on my bed, recovering from a cold. stressed over my barely-started application for some of the UC schools i never saw myself going to. i paused to take a little peruse through youtube, where i saw this performance. based on the song of achilles (a familiar name), and choreographed to achilles come down (an unfamiliar title).

i was drawn immediately in. not just by the smooth flow of the dancers portraying their characters, but by the power of the lyrics and how it affected what i was seeing of achilles, patroclus, and briseis.

and so i decided to look up the actual song and its lyrics, to see what they really were. and they were beautiful.

today of all days, see, how the most dangerous thing is to love,

this song, all seven minutes and two seconds of it, has seen me through so many monumental changes in my life. from growing positively mentally, to graduating high school and starting uni, to familial tensions.

how you will heal and you'll rise above, crowned by an overture bold and beyond,

it's honestly a wonder how i haven't grown bored or tired of it yet. and i think that's because every time i sit and really listen to it, there's always something new i'm discovering or interpreting, whether that be compositionally or lyrically.

to start, it was realising that the only instruments are strings - definitely a cello, and in all most likely a string quartet. as a violinist myself, i love hearing any use of strings in modern songs. having a whole song relying on the softness and dynamics of them though? that's gonna get me every time. how almost the entirety of the song is underlaid with the eighth notes of the cello, and throughout the verses the intermittence of the higher strings.

as i grew familiar with achilles come down, i discovered the power that all the lyrics held. there were a select few that drew my attention, from either how poetic they sounded, to how they seemed to mirror an aspect of my life that i didn't know could be put into words.

loathe the way they light candles in rome, but love the sweet air of the votives,

then there were the sections of spoken french. i thought that the addition of a second language in the song really added to it as a whole, but upon looking up (and attempting to translate what i could), i found that they added another level of melancholy. because what better way is there to make the song more emotional than including snippets of french philosophy about the value of life?

qu'on appelle une raison de vivre, est un même temps une excellent raison de mourir

through this year, i've found myself coming up with scenarios in my head, with this song playing in the background. mostly it's been with characters of my current hyperfixations, but i've found myself in these situations as well. it's definitely a reflection of who i see myself to be, but i hope it's also an envisioning to who i hope to be.

thank you to achilles come down for finding its way into my life. thank you for the past year, and i hope the next is just as exciting.

throw yourself into the unknown, with a pace and fury defiant

[qlala]

Long casefic mentioned: screaming crying tearing at the walls of my enclosure

listen I know I've been sooo lock and key about this one for years because I wanted it to be perfect before I posted any WIP snippets, BUT... 2024 we are all learning to say "death to perfectionism," so december 2023, I am also saying "After all, why not? Why shouldn't I share a little snippet?"

setting notes for the below: a CCPD precinct, a few months after Flashpoint. (If you never got there in the show, don't worry about it; Len doesn't know what it means, either.) Barry and Len haven't seen each other since Len tipped him off to the Trickster ambush the previous Christmas, and as far as Barry knows, Len has been off with the Legends ever since. (He hasn't been.)

It was fascinating to watch Snart pull the Captain Cold bravado around his shoulders, even with his hands cuffed to an interrogation room table and no parka in sight. He rolled his shoulders back, slouched down in the chair—as far as the cuffs allowed—and crossed one ankle over his opposite knee. Then he rolled his bored gaze insolently in Barry’s direction and raised an eyebrow. 

“Seems you have me at a disadvantage.” 

Barry realized his mistake, a moment too late; as far as the CCPD was concerned, he and Snart had never met.

“Right,” Barry said. He wasn’t an officer, so protocol was fuzzy on whether he was supposed to introduce himself to an... inmate? Had Snart gotten himself arrested again?

Snart’s smirk deepened at his obvious floundering, so Barry looked to Joe instead.

Joe gave him the same resigned look he’d just received from Singh, but unlike Singh, Joe took pity on him. He flipped shut the file he’d been reading, then slid it across the table toward him.

It came to a stop within inches of Snart’s fingertips, and Barry saw him test the cuffs covertly as if considering intercepting it. Barry picked it up before he could try, throwing him a knowing glare. 

Snart didn’t bother looking chastened. 

The file, Barry noticed, was thicker than most that passed through the CCPD. When he flipped it open and saw the FBI seal emblazoned on the front page, he understood why.

A paper clip held a picture of Snart to the next page: a recent shot, judging from the hints of gray in his hair. Barry started to turn the page, then became aware of the twin looks of apprehension he was receiving from Joe and Snart. When he glanced questioningly at Snart, he looked away, feigning interest in his handcuffs. Barry looked to Joe instead, and felt a prickle of uneasiness when Joe only shook his head, knuckles pale where they were wrapped around the back of the empty metal chair across from Snart.

Barry flipped forward in the file. The next few pages were background on Snart, with no major changes from what Barry had expected. He was familiar with Snart’s rap sheet already, and the psychological profile they’d drawn up on him was about as accurate as a tabloid horoscope. He did feel an old pang of guilt when he passed a memo noting the unexplained disappearance of Snart’s electronic files, but it was getting easier to brush that feeling aside every time.

Unsurprisingly, the medical records from Iron Heights were sparse. Several pages were entirely blank, but there was a scribbled correction stapled to the bottom of one, noting, of all things, a severe food allergy to pineapples. Barry couldn’t help but grin at that; for such a mundane detail, it had apparently only recently been wrested from Snart, and with great effort. 

He skimmed the rest of Snart's section. It was obvious that—tropical fruit allergies aside—the FBI knew less about Snart than he did. He pulled up short, however, when he turned to the next section and found another photograph clipped into the file.

“What is this?” He looked up at the answering silence, but Snart avoided his gaze, and Joe crossed his arms with obvious discomfort. “Joe?”

“Bartholomew," Snart interrupted, before Joe could answer, and Barry looked over at him in surprise. Snart gave him a slow, knowing smirk. “It is Bartholomew, isn’t it?” 

No one had ever said his full name with such obvious relish, and Barry seriously considered throwing back a Lenny just to see how he liked it. But he caught himself in time, and he bit back an exasperated sigh.

“How do you know my name?” he asked. 

It wasn’t very convincing, and a flicker of annoyance crossed Snart’s expression, obviously displeased that he wasn’t playing along with proper enthusiasm. Then the smirk was back, and Snart leaned back in his seat with an air of indifference. 

Barry watched him suspiciously; he looked far too in control of the whole situation despite being the one handcuffed to the table.

“Feds didn’t tell me much,” Snart said. “But this…” He dragged his gaze down and back up Barry’s body in a long, appraising look. “This, I can work with.” 

“Joe,” Barry repeated, pointedly ignoring Snart. There was a slightly hysterical edge to his voice, though, and Joe sighed and unfolded his arms. 

“What do you know about the Morellos?” 

Barry blinked; whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. The name was vaguely familiar, and it took him a few moments to put together where he’d heard it before. 

“They’re an East Coast crime family,” he said, slowly. He looked to Joe for confirmation, and Joe nodded. “They practically ran Metropolis during Prohibition. Not much from them, since? I think they’re still active, but… they’ve mostly been pushed out by other Families.”

“Someone’s been listening to his podcasts.”

Joe didn’t so much as glance at Snart for the interruption, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Until recently, that was the case,” he said. “Members of the other Families have started dropping like flies, and the FBI thinks the Morellos are moving to take back power.”

Barry flipped through the file until he found a brief on the topic, and nodded for Joe to continue. 

“Last year, they worked out some kind of alliance with the Russian mob,” Joe said, “and now they control ninety percent of the heroin passing through Metropolis. The FBI couldn’t figure out what they were trading for that kind of power, until they realized the drug deals were lining up with major art thefts in the city.”

Barry glanced up from the brief, thrown by the apparent non-sequitur. “What would the Russians want with stolen art?”  

Snart snorted, and Barry turned to him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Universal value,” Snart explained. He swept his palms in a broad gesture, though it was restricted by the limited reach of the handcuffs. “Markets crash, currencies fall. A Picasso stays a Picasso. And canvas is easier to smuggle than gold.”

There was a certain logic to it, though Barry suspected it was a lot more complicated than Snart was making it sound.

“And, what, you’re involved with this?” he asked.

Snart actually looked insulted. “Drug trade’s a nasty business,” he said, a curl to his lip despite his light, almost bored tone. “Messy work. Lotta bribes, lotta bodies. Hard to make a profit when the product keeps killing your buyers. Not my scene.”

“What’s this got to do with you, then?” Barry asked. He pulled the second picture out of the folder and held it up. “Or me?”

It was a copy of the photo from his CCPD identification. It was a few years old—his hair was longer on top, his shoulders a little narrower—and Snart’s lips twitched in amusement.

“Cute,” he said. 

Barry rolled his eyes and slid the picture back into the file.  

“Snart’s managed to get it into the FBI’s head that he’d make a good criminal informant. Apparently, he’s an expert in modern abstract expressionism,” Joe said, the last part clearly a quote. When Barry turned to him, surprised, Joe only shrugged. “I know. Surprised me too.”

“Learn all kinds of interesting things in my line of work,” Snart said, picking idly at the edge of his handcuffs. “Ab Ex dominates the market, has for decades. Post-War’s always in style. It's easy. People get it.” 

His fingers didn’t curl around air quotes; they didn’t have to, his voice going vapid in a way that almost, almost pulled a smile out of Barry. Leonard Snart, closet art snob.

 “Unspeakable horrors,” Snart continued, with a lazy, ‘and so on’ twirl of his fingers. “Expressible only through feelings over form…” He circled the gesture back the other way, with momentarily distracting, long-fingered grace. “Yada-yada-yada. Modern art fan, Bartholomew?”

He was having too much fun with the name, and Barry gave him a flat look for it. 

“Barry.”

Snart’s lashes dipped on another once-over before he met his gaze again, eyes sharp and amused. “Pleasure.” 

Barry didn’t need the way Snart leaned hard on the word, drawing it out even as his lips curled up at one corner, to tell him he’d walked right into that trap.

Snart lifted one hand and twisted the cuffs to extend the other out toward him, as close to offering a handshake as he could manage. “Leonard Snart. At your service.”

Doubt it, Barry thought. But he bit back the comment and crossed his arms instead, folding his hands pointedly against his sides, then said, “Yeah. I know.”

Snart’s eyebrows lifted at the slight, and he lifted both hands in surrender. “Ouch.” He dropped his lashes on a private smirk just to flick his gaze back up again, not finished with the taunt yet. “Thought we might have something in common. Civilian to civilian.” 

Even the decades-old camera in the corner could probably pick up the amount of irony dripping from Snart’s voice, but Barry’s warning glance didn’t deter him in the least. 

“What with you being an employee of the CCPD,” Snart said, tilting one hand in Barry’s direction before curling his fingers back to indicate himself, “and me being an employee of the FBI…”  

“Criminal informant's not an employee.”

Barry didn’t jump at Joe’s correction, but it was a near thing. What was it about Snart that made it so easy to forget that there were other people in a room? 

“Tomato, tomato,” Snart drawled. He didn’t so much as glance in Joe’s direction, attention still trained on Barry. “Feds want me to infiltrate the local underground in Metropolis, see if I can't rustle up a few Morello 'associates.’” That time, he did curl his fingers in quotation marks around the word. “I pass along the names, the feds arrest them. Everybody goes home happy.” He paused, then added, “Morellos excluded.”

Barry was tempted to ask Snart how long he’d been waiting for him to ask, but he had more pressing questions. “And you agreed to help, what, out of the goodness of your heart?” 

Snart leaned across the table towards him with a dangerous smile, handcuffs scraping pointedly over the metal surface. 

“Let’s agree to disagree about the goodness of my heart,” he said, and any lingering concerns that Barry might've had about Snart might not know exactly who he was disappeared at the private gleam in his eyes over those words. “But no. Feds had a little chat with the District Attorney here in Central City. Detective West knows the details, but—“ He drummed his fingers on the table, then ticked his head toward one shoulder in a shrug. “Like I said. Everybody goes home happy.”

When Barry looked at Joe for clarification, Joe shifted his hands to his hips before pulling his glare away from Snart, one hand settling pointedly beside his gun.

“The Mayor of Metropolis reached out to our governor," Joe said. "They’re talking pardons.”  

“Yahtzee.”

There were a hundred follow-up questions Barry could’ve asked. But Snart was clearly still enjoying himself too, and Barry wasn't in the mood for more roundabout non-answers. So Barry turned his back on Snart and faced Joe head-on. 

“I still don’t understand,” he said. “What's my role here?” 

“For the record," Joe said, slowly, almost placatingly, "I told Singh this was a terrible idea.”

Joe hedging was never a good sign, and for the first time, Barry felt the stirrings of real apprehension in his chest.

“You told Singh what was a terrible idea?” 

[charlies-cluttered-trainstop]

Had a field trip day to a local college; here are my thoughts nobody asked for:

On-campus Sculpture lectures

This was actually more fun than it sounds. Our tour guide, who I'm assuming was likely French/Italian from her accent, led us around the campus to show us different sculptures created by past professors, world-reknown artists and etc. There was one sculpture made entirely of copper, brass, and bronze, and it was this huge bird's wing sculpture ! I was really captivated by that, and admired the intricate detailing and colors. Also, we passed by a Theatre hall, and I thought that was super cool. 10/10, enjoyed the scenic walk around campus and loved seeing different takes on artwork as a whole, and got a lot of inspiration. Also, there was a crow really close by during one pitstop and I thought that was really fucking neat because I fucking love crows and ravens. Also, there were ducks. Ducks are cute.

Astronomy

I'll be honest, nearly fell asleep during the lecture. Don't get me wrong, learning the different constellations was interesting and figuring out the placements of Ursa Major, Orion and Sirius and stuff was fun, but it was like pitch dark through most of it and I kept yawning. Some people actually dozed off during the lecture, and I kept checking my phone ocassionally (which I wasn't supposed to do btw) to see how long this would drag on. The only way I kept myself mildly awake was by putting a plushie on my head and to balance her. Even now, that segment doesn't feel all too real because I was half asleep. 6/10.

Lunchtime

There was a lot of food options like usual. I got ramen noodles, two of my friends got burgers, another got a dry sandwich apparently. I got confused about where to leave the dishes afterwards and asked a college student where to find it. It's near the Deli section and I have to take a right. Thank you random college student, that was helpful. Had to lead the others where to also find that area, again, thank you random college student. Listened to music and tried to draw (I gave up, it wasn't working), and wasn't really doing much. One of my friends was complaining about the internet. Also, we all had to take a group photo. 8/10.

Stream Table/Greenhouse

I was really invested in this one. First, we were separated into two groups, and my group had a stream experiment first where we learned about geology, hydrology and geomorphology. Me and another kid were basically answering 90% of the questions, and I kept accidentally blurting them out because I was getting too excited. We operated a fake stream, pointed out changes in the "land" (which was just sand in a box), learned the terms floodplain, delta and another one I can't remember, and we were supposed to build a dam but we ran out of time since we had to switch to the next activity. Fun as hell, though.

Next was the greenhouse. We explored the different plants with the task of finding one far far away from where the college was located. After some searching, I found one and loitered about for a bit. I took a few pictures too since the tour guide said it was okay. While I was waiting, I commented to him that it smells very strong of cilantro in the greenhouse, and he showed me a plant that I also forgot the name of, but I said it smelled like roses. He agreed, and explained that the plant is usually used to ward off mosquitos and other general parasites. I made a connection and said that I probably recognized the scent because of essential oils, and he also agreed that was very likely. He also walked me through the process of growing and potting more plants from snippets of ones growing on campus to give away. Super informational, really enjoyed that. Also, all of us got it correct about the task of finding a plant from far away origins. Anyways, next we went to an Ecology lab, which had taxidermied animals on display. I thought this was fascinating, and noted aloud to the tour guide how this is super helpful for artists since they can actively see a model of an animal's proportions and would make a useful study. At first I just took pictures for later reference or stuff I thought was cool, but I began taking pictures of the plushie I had on me with the displayed objects around me to show one of my friends later. Also, I drew a TBH creature on a blackboard and had the Phineas and Ferb opening lyrics next to it. Also, one of our school chaperones knows about Vocaloids??? Hello????? Anyways, for the rest of the segment, we got to look at other taxidermy displays downstairs and some sealife related plants and objects too like seashells, coral and more. Took more pictures with the plushie. I showed them to my Social Studies teacher and he said that was great. 10/10

Typography

This was fun as hell, like, right outta the bat this was enjoyable. We entered an Art wing, and we loitered around for a bit in the lobby because another group was still working upstairs. My friend and I did our own thing, I kept taking pictures with the plushie and she hung around one of her friends. Eventually we were let upstairs and were greeted by two people, this super energetic, chill dude with great fashion sense and a quieter and more reserved girl who didn't say much. The guy walked us through what typography was, and how there were different variations of what typography could be. He told us we were going to make wooden-stamped..anything, really. He showed us these wooden letters, and told us we could create anything out of them. A design, words, names, anything we could think of, we would put them on this taped wooden board and create our stamp. I had a very clear idea of what I wanted to make, and I was excited to get started. I spelled out two words, and asked him if there were any "&" ones I could use. He told me no, but thanked me for telling him about it. He explained that he actually did want to make more wooden punctuation stamps, but never got around to doing it, and mentioned I was the first one to even point it out today. I found that funny, but told him "You're welcome" and eventually was in line to have my letters painted and stamped onto paper. During my turn, I had one word be painted this pretty lavender, and another red. I also asked him to explain to me what typography really was in general, and he gave me a really nice explanation about it. Again, after I had my paper stamped I just sort of stared at it and then after some boredom, took out the plushie once more to take some final pictures since this would be our last "class" for the day. I spelled out her name in wooden letters, "Airi", and looked through a book about typography and took a shot of her "reading" it. Also, I drew on a whiteboard thanking the people for letting us attend today. Super fun, 12/10.

Ok thats all i have to say, if u got this far congratulations i guess

[truerhearts]

Dark Academia one shot

Eren x Reader X Levi love triangle

I've had this idea in my head for a while: a Dark academia series with an Eren x reader x levi love triangle. Here's a little snippet of that. I'm debating making it a full series if I have time to write it.. but let me know what you think!

(Y/n) quickly walked the corridors of the castle hall in search of the library. She needed to find a copy of some literature texts that were assigned as homework that she had completely forgotten about. She was falling asleep at her desk when she was awoken by utter panic realizing she hadn’t started her paper yet, so she threw on her robes, shoved a bottle of ink and a few quills in her bag, along with some paper, and quickly made her way down the halls.

Few students were wandering about, chatting amongst each other, or slowly making their way back to their dormitories, looking utterly exhausted.

“Hey, (y/n)!” Her friend, Jean called as he saw her rushing down the hall. By the time she registered who it was, she had already far passed him. She quickly looked over her shoulder and waved to him. “Hi!” Before continuing to her destination.

Once she finally made it to the library, she pushed past the large wooden doors.

The librarian was already gone for the evening, and it was quiet. Out the large library windows you could see the vast grounds of the castle. Snow danced from the dark clouded sky and added to the already thick blanket that covered the ground.

The library was one of her favourite places in the castle. It was magnificent. The ceilings were unbelievably tall and many of the shelves managed to reach the top, only accessible by ladders and the occasional flight of stairs. She was terrified of heights and hoped she’d never have to search for a book at those heights.

She was scanning through the books in the section dragging her fingers along the spines. She found the one her class was assigned to study. She noticed there was a book missing from the collection. She thought it was rather odd because the librarian may have fixed it before leaving, aligning the books to make sure there were no empty spaces in the middle. She shrugged and removed a book from the shelf.

She began to make her way to the seating area, turning the corner and pausing for a moment when she noticed the light from a candle. She peeked further around the shelves and saw another student. She noticed he was writing notes from the same book she was assigned, dipping his quill carefully in his ink jar before gracefully scribbling on his parchment.

Upon further inspection she realized she recognized the boy from her class. She didn’t know his name, or couldn’t remember it at least, but was he ever handsome. In class he sat at the back near the door, was always the last to arrive and the first to leave. He was quite elusive, as she didn’t see him in the great hall during meals, if he was even there.

He heard her gentle footsteps as she peeked further yet and turned to look at her, his green eyes immediately meeting hers. His gaze immediately sent a shiver down her spine. The candle gently illuminated his face giving her the perfect view of his features.

“Hello,” she said, feeling a bit nervous, slowly walking towards him. The sound of her footsteps on the stone floor echoed through the vastness of the library. She paused at the end of the table, still a foot or two away from him.

“Hey,” he said cooly. He noticed the book in her arms and connected the dots, so she assumed. “You’re in Professor Smith’s class as well?” He asked.

“Yes.” She stepped forward. The boy motioned for her to have a seat and she obliged, placing her bag on the chair beside her. She sat across from him, sharing the candlelight.

“Eren.” He said, holding his hand out.

“(Y/n).” She said, taking his hand. It was surprisingly smooth, and quite warm.

She admired him without trying to make it obvious. He was very handsome, his dark brown hair thrown up messily, some strands framing his face. His black tie was loosened, and the first few buttons of his shirt were opened. She felt herself growing more nervous with every second of silence that passed. While he was secretive and mysterious, he exuded such confidence that it was impossible to ignore. She swallowed thickly, not knowing what to say next. Thankfully, he was the one to break the silence, retracting his hand as the handshake was done.

“I forgot about the assignment until a few hours ago.” He admitted, breaking the silence, scribbling some notes on his paper.

“Same,” she said. “That’s why I’m here now. Just trying to start it.”

“Would you so want to work together a bit?”

She glanced down at his paper, which was almost filled with notes. He had been working hard that evening.

“Sure,” she said. “I don’t really know where to begin.” She pulled out her own quill, ink, and paper.

“I’ll share what I have so far,” he said, leaning in and turning his paper towards her.

They began to collaborate on their assignment, sharing ideas and building off one another. She was surprised at Eren. For someone who wasn’t fond of literature, he was well versed in the topic, using words and phrases that she wouldn’t have even thought of using.

They must have been there for a few hours, as the candle had nearly burnt through the whole wick, the wax dripping onto the table below.

They could have kept going if they hadn’t gotten interrupted.

A new pair of heavy footsteps echoed through the empty library. A figure began approaching, slowly coming into view. Eren looked over his shoulder and (y/n) looked past Eren.

“Professor Ackerman,” Eren said, turning his body in his chair.

Professor Ackerman was their physics professor, the class that (y/n) wasn’t too fond of all. Though, she did have a soft spot for the professor, an innocent little crush… To be fair he was as young as they came. She heard he was also a student just a few short years ago. He excelled in physics and the university wanted him to stay to continue his research as well as teach.

He strides towards them, his finger wrapped tightly around a candle stick holder. A lit candle flame flickered rather violently, threatening to extinguish itself at a moment’s notice if the professor didn’t let up.

“What are you two doing here?” He said in his regular monotone voice. His brow was furrowed, and while he never showed much emotion, she could feel the irritation radiating from him.

“Working on literature.” (Y/n) piped up. The professors’ grey eyes turned to her, another gaze that sent a shiver down her spine.

“The library is closed now.” He said flatly. “It’s time for you to head back to your dorms. He turned on his heels, expecting the two students to follow.

“We need to put our books away- “Eren stated. The professor stopped.

“Leave them. Let’s go.”

Eren and (y/n) exchanged looks as they gathered their things. Eren blew the candle out before they ran to catch up to the professor.

The three exited the library and the professor closed the doors behind them.

“Mr. Yeager, I trust you can make it back to your dorm? And I trust that you will go straight there?” Professor Ackerman asked.

“Yes, sir.” Eren said. Eren gave (y/n) an unsure look before departing, not wanting to get reprimanded.

Professor Ackerman turned towards (y/n). He looked at her up and down carefully, his gaze unnecessarily cold. (Y/n) looked past him and saw Eren walking away. It was almost as if he felt her gaze, as he looked over his shoulder at her one more time before pressing on.

“I’ll walk you back to the ladies’ dormitories.” The professor said, drawing her eyes back to him.

“I know my way back,” she said hesitantly.

His eyebrow twitched, “I need to make sure you go back there.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and began walking in the direction of the ladies’ dorms. “Let’s go, I want to go to bed.” He said flatly.

They walked in silence for a bit, her head hanging low as she shuffled behind him.

They were both silent for most of the walk, her eyes occasionally moving from the floor in front of her to the back of her teacher’s head. Her stomach was swirling with different emotions. On one hand she was nervous. She did have a small childish crush on her professor, but she knew nothing could or should ever come of it. On the other hand, she was upset with him because she was having a great time studying with Eren in the library. She didn’t want it to end.

She felt conflicted…

“Here we are,” the professor said as they approached the entrance to the ladies’ dorms. “Don’t let me catch you out past curfew anymore… or there will be consequences next time… Our university is a prestigious one and there are rules in place. You should be honored to be studying here.”

She didn’t reply, gazing at his feet, not knowing what to do.

He then cupped her chin, guiding her head so her eyes would meet his grey ones once again. “Do I make myself clear, (y/n)?” He asked. He seemed to linger on the names a bit, and she was surprised he even remembered it with all the students he interacted with every day.

“Y-yes… sir.” She uttered. He held her chin for what felt like an eternity, examining every feature of her face.

“Also… you should stay away from that boy.” He said, gazing into her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat at his words. “I think you deserve much better.”

Before she could question why, his hand left her chin, and he began walking down the hall. His touch still burned her skin as she starred at him, dumbfounded as he continued. He tucked his hands in his pockets, the only remnant of him were his echoing footsteps until those too had become lost in the darkness of the corridor.

[jazlynriddle-legacy]

Deleted Scenes Ch 2:

In light of the Estate

Summary:

Anne wasn't the only one who changed after the curse, Ominis swallowed the words, grieving once more for the brief happiness they'd had together.

A series of fill in snippets of interactions between Sebastian and Ominis in-between quests, starting with Ominis confronting Sebastian after he catches Main Character leaving the Undercroft.

Ending with a longer epilogue chapter that takes place post-game, where Sebastian and Ominis find a way to move on and mend their friendship.

Warnings: Spoilers

Link to AO3 can be found here (with additional tags)

Notes:

This chapter takes place between the Shadow of the Undercroft and Shadow of the Estate, tackling the question of how Sebastian learnt of the Scriptorium in the first place.

Sebastian sighed as he turned yet another page of the large tome he'd been thumbing through for the last two hours.

One would think that a book from the restricted section, titled Memoirs and Legends of Salazar Slytherin would have more descriptions of Dark Arts in it, but alas, the title seemed to be more misleading than he'd expected. Being ninety percent Legends and ten percent Memoirs.

"What have you got there?"

Sebastian jumped slightly as the silence of the Undercroft was broken but didn't bother looking up. Easily recognising Ominis' calm tones, as his best friend ducked under the gate's rising bars and crossed the expanse between them. Before carefully settling onto the bench beside him.

Sebastian took the moment to stretch, back aching from being hunched over a book for so long, releasing another sigh as he propped his head up on an arm and turned to face Ominis.

"Nothing much, just a book about Slytherin, though it's turning out to be more of a book about what people say about our house founder." Sebastian rolled his eyes.

"As if it's any news that he supposedly had a chamber in Hogwarts, that supposedly had a basilisk in it." Sebastian shrugged, before tipping his head thoughtfully. "Though, I suppose it's interesting to know that he might also have had an undiscovered scriptorium here too. Not much use, since it doesn't say where that might be, of course."

Ominis couldn't prevent himself from jolting at the word 'scriptorium', trying to cover up his reaction with an awkward laugh. "A-ah yes, that doesn't sound very helpful."

The silence stretched on for a long moment and Ominis cursed internally, of course the one time Sebastian actually paid attention to him, it would be when he was trying to hide something.

"I don't suppose you might know something about this scriptorium, now would you?" Sebastian's tone was sly, dragging out his words meaningfully and Ominis shifted uncomfortably at the sound.

"I can't see why you might think so, besides, you probably shouldn't look into anything like that. Anything connected to my ancestor is bound to be full of Dark Magic." Ominis folded his arms, turning to face the other direction, away from Sebastian's voice.

"Come on Ominis, none of us will be able to avoid Dark Magic forever. So, the more we know about Salazar Slytherin and the Dark Arts, the better prepared we'll be!" Sebastian reasoned, leaning away from the table, trying to get a look at Ominis' expression.

"Well I for one, would like to at least try to avoid it forever, thank you very much." Ominis tipped his chin up, stubbornly refusing to allow Sebastian to get a glimpse of his face.

Another long moment of silence passed. Unfortunately, Ominis knew his best friend well enough. This wouldn't be enough to get him to leave this alone, and sure enough Sebastian's steely voice came not a moment later.

"You might be able to avoid it, but I can't. I won't. Have you forgotten that Anne needs a cure?" Sebastian's words were biting and Ominis felt his stomach clench at the accusation in them.

"Of course I haven't!" Ominis shot to his feet, his chest burning with the urge to flee. "How could you possibly think so!?"

"Then tell me!" Sebastian stood as well, gripping Ominis' forearm firmly to keep him there, his voice pleading. "This scriptorium could hold the answers we need!"

"You can't keep doing this! Using Anne to justify dabbling in something that's irrevocably wrong!" Ominis' voice was pitched high with distress. He knew what Sebastian wanted and he understood wanting it, but he also knew what was at stake.

"I'm not using Anne! Nothing I've said is untrue! If you cared about her, you'd do anything it takes to cure her, like me!" Sebastian shouted, pulling Ominis by his arm to face him.

Ominis was glad that he couldn’t see whatever expression Sebastian was wearing, he had a feeling it would have frightened him terribly. As it is, his voice was doing the trick well enough, but Ominis knew he had to stand firm on this. Sebastian simply didn't understand the risks involved and no matter how Sebastian had changed, he was still Sebastian and Ominis wasn't going to lose another loved one. Like he'd lost his aunt.

"I'm sorry Sebastian, but whatever is in there might do more harm than good. Ask anything else of me but I shan't help you with this." Ominis shook his head, prying Sebastian's fingers from his arm and high tailing it from the Undercroft.

"I'm not going to let this go."

Notes:

I feel so weird making these chapters so short, I usually write long chaptered stories but these are supposed to be snippets between quests, so I want to split these up scene by scene like the way they come to us as quests in game, rather than long and continuous, since I don't really see the need to rewrite scenes that are in game.

I might eventually write a proper story for this game rather than a collection of snippets like this.

[go-to-two]

Any fic writing tips? I really want to get into it. I’m always so amazed by your writing and was hoping you could share some of the methods behind your (wonderful!) madness lol

Thank you! I can share my own madness, but bear in mind one person's madness isn't always the same flavor that will work for another.

1. I started with a one-shot after an episode (9x13). If you're wanting to get into it, I think that's a much more natural jumping off point than trying formulate a fully original, multi-chapter story. If you're looking for somewhere to start, I say expand on an episode/moment/scene you love, or try to think of a scene you wish we got. It's great practice to build stories within the existing world.

2. Write dialogue how it sounds in your head. Pauses, stutters, contractions, all of that. It helps differentiate the characters speaking from the rest of the story.

3. Write what's interesting to you, and avoid thinking about what readers might think. I know everyone gives this advice, but it's true. There are some snippets that I've written that people quote back to me, and I don't like them. Then I have some snippets that I love, but no one has ever picked out. If you write what you like, it's never a waste of time or effort on your part.

4. (I have to tell myself this one constantly 😂) Your first draft is never your best. Don't hit post yet, go to sleep, read again tomorrow, and you'll find something you want to tweak.

5. This one is hard to verbalize, but I've found the right plot points or stories will almost always come with time, they'll come when you don't expect them to, and they won't feel forced. If something feels forced, sit on it for a bit. Chances are something better will come to you (just have a notes section ready to go on your phone because no matter what you tell yourself, you won't remember later 😭).

6. Don't worry too much about grammar rules or strict punctuation. Is it readable and makes sense? Yes? Then you're good!

Good luck!

[mareenavee]

Last Lines Tag

Hi! I was tagged by @greyborn2 and @archangelsunited to share the last lines of a few WIPS. I do have some of those!

tagging the amazing and wonderful @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @tallmatcha, @thana-topsy, @thequeenofthewinter, @dirty-bosmer, @gilgamish, @snippetsrus, @elfinismsarts, @rainpebble3, @rhiannon1199 and an honorary tag to @kookaburra1701 in case another WIP snuck up on you while you weren't looking (:

Without further ado, small tiny snippets below the cut! 5 active, 1 inactive, with two more collabs in planning stages and too many more of my own with plans but no words yet.

So not quite as unhinged a deal with the Daedric Prince of Unfinished WIPs as KB has going(💖), but a deal nevertheless.

(The thing about that Daedric Prince is She always wants more words, but never grants more time, sigh.)

From Chapter 29 of The World on Our Shoulders:

Teldryn carefully placed everything he carried on their desk, content to be ignored and eavesdrop. Neloth was explaining something he’d been able to puzzle out — he pointed at a rough diagram depicting a cross section of a skull and brain. Unnerving, but nothing anyone who’d studied Restoration wouldn’t have seen before. Nyenna reached out and touched his wrist without looking up from Neloth’s notes. It was a silent thanks, or perhaps a reassurance. He could see the set of her shoulders; the conversation was stressing her out in equal measure to how much it calmed Neloth.

From an Untitled (so far) Sequel to Little Dragon:

Teldryn heard the crackling of Magicka being pulled over the sound of the Familiar – soft, like embers on a log. He turned, and watched as Anisa, cheek still pressed to the bench where she sprawled, curly hair cascading down, untucked her arm from underneath herself and lazily cast Magelight with a small grumble. Shalnouada reached up and scooped the ball of light into its mouth in smooth, practiced movements. The Magelight passed through it, causing its body to glow a myriad colors, throwing glittering light across the walls and ceiling. The happy chittering of mudcrabs filled the room. Teldryn blinked in shock, then ran his palm over his face. He cast another instance of Magelight and pushed it toward the spectral crab. Its eyestalks rotated, locking onto its food source. Again, faster than anything, it scooped the magic up into its mouth, then made a contented sound as the glittering erupted and faded, just like before.

*Shalnouada = Dunmeris for River Spirit (Shaln (Spirit) + Ouada (River))

From Darkest Before the Dawn (A Varlais extra chapter):

Varlais jumped back as it expelled a stream of bile and blood. Ancarion had resummoned his Atronach, which crashed into the side of the dragon’s head with the full force and weight of its whole body. There was a sickening snap, likely somewhere in the beast’s neck. It was just a beast, after all. It had to be. Its bones still broke the same as everything else’s.

From Recurse, an upcoming Ondolemar fic for a prompt challenge:

He thought back to the revelations the odd Dwemer machine had given him. Each moment was recursive, trying to tell him something, puzzle pieces clicking into place. Things he’d forgotten, or not seen in the right frame of mind.  It could have been a blessing, had things not already been so complicated.

Untitled Sideways Sequel to World, featuring Athis:

"Think of it like this," Farkas started. He paused and tapped the edge of his fist against his forehead. Athis snorted. Farkas grinned, but squeezed his eyes closed. "We'll be founding members of a new guild, kinda, right? And I know how much you hate vampires. It'll be fun to bring a bunch of 'em down. You won't have to think about, well, all of this. We'll be too busy." Optimistic, really. Athis did appreciate it, though. He looked over at his friend and managed a half-smile. "That's the idea, Farkas," he said. Farkas nodded and grinned widely and returned to his task. "I miss Nyenna, too, though," Farkas said after a moment. "A lot, actually." He pulled a long piece of grass taught and carefully braided together another ridiculously tiny row. "I'm sorry it all fell apart like this. It wasn't fair. But I'm with you, whatever you want to do." Athis looked at his friend who pointedly did not look back up from his work. This time it was the right thing to say. He felt marginally better. Maybe just halfway not as alone as before. He sighed again. "No turning back now, I suppose," he said with a shrug. "We'll be at the fort in no time at all."

and BONUS! The last lines of my writing from a secret, untitled prompt fill collab I'm writing with @changelingsandothernonsense.

You cannot stop it no matter how you rail. No matter how hard you pull back against destiny. You scream, and once again, the sound is lost to the Heart.  And then –  She is there, her golden skin a balm in this place of terror. She approaches, gilded form languid and graceful. Unbothered by the mountain. Untempted by the heart. She is real, and she is not. You are not. And still she approaches.

[titaniumpsychologist]

Duality of Light // Tue 2038-12-14 // Part Two (teaser? ish?)

I'd been so bogged down with work, research, and presentations this summer, and the semester is starting up again in the next few weeks? And two days ago a huge project was dumped on me for my research? After trying so hard to get this next chapter done? Aggghhh. I love what I'm doing, but I have no time for writing fanfic 😞

Because I feel bad that I haven't been able to put out a chapter for this fic on Ao3 for so long, I'm gonna share another snippet at least for those here on tumblr. Not yet edited (the chapter is looking to be 15k-16k before editing. RIP.) but I feel that these sections are closer to what I want to be in the Ao3-ready version that I intend to publish once I find time again to work on it.

FYI, even though this isn't the whole chapter, it's still a bit of a read (about 4000 words). So please don't freak out if you see the huge wall of text when clicking that "read more." Also, this obviously makes no sense if you haven't read the fic on Ao3, so here's the parts that come before it here lol (please heed the warnings and tags at the top of the fic): https://archiveofourown.org/works/37467820/chapters/93505051

Warnings, tags, and fic spoilers under the cut:

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: Gen

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)

Relationships: Connor & Gavin Reed | Hank Anderson & Connor | Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed

Characters: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) | Gavin Reed | Hank Anderson | Elijah Kamski

Tags (straight from Ao3): Enemies to Friends | Found Family | everyone is bad at feelings | Gavin Reed Redemption | Android Gavin Reed | Connor Deserves Happiness | Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Half-Siblings | Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human) | Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human) | Angst and Feels | Drama | Connor is a Mess (Detroit: Become Human) | Tags May Change | Other Additional Tags to Be Added | Warnings May Change | Gavin Reed Being an Asshole | Gavin Reed Being Less of an Asshole | Canon-Typical Violence | Post-Canon | Reconciliation | Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human) | Elijah Kamski Being Elijah Kamski | like seriously Elijah why did you do this to my plot now I gotta deal with the consequences | The Author Regrets Everything | all the happy tags are endgame so buckle up for a long ride | It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better | Good Parent Hank Anderson | Implied/Referenced Suicide | Implied/Referenced Character Death | now with workskin | No Romance | sorry i can't write romance but if you see something if you squint i won't stop you lol | Grief/MourningIdentity | Case Fic | Angst with a Happy Ending | Connor Needs A Hug | Everyone Needs A Hug | Character Death? | Character Death | Betrayal | Dubious Morality

Tue 2038-12-14 // Part Two

Irrelevant.

Possible lead?

Irrelevant.

Irrelevant.

Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant…

Another lead to follow, higher in priority. Connor made a side note to reference it later.

Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant.

Indeterminate, no leads.

He paused in his interface with his terminal, going over all the case files that the DPD had and seeing if there was a possible connection with them and their current case that involved the recent murders.

>> CR# 11762

>>> STATUS - CLOSED

Closed case. It might've not been related, however, there were several redacted notes that made it nearly incomprehensible and possibly even unimportant because it was considered a resolved report under normal police procedure. There was enough information in it that, knowing what he knew now, Connor had reason to believe that the people involved in this report was Reed and Stevens. Eyewitness report, but who was this eyewitness? Who were these people involved in their extraction?

And then there was a similar copy that was with the data that was seized from Kamski's property for their investigation. It was related to their case, beyond all reasonable doubt, but how can a report that detailed the events that started it all have so little to go on? He was so quick to label it as "indeterminate," too, because it didn't register as something important with a cursory parsing through the database.

He withdrew his hand from the interface. He should bring this up to Hank. Maybe this needed organic eyes to make sense of all of this.

However, when he turned to ask him something, he saw Hank fully engrossed in his own terminal and stacks and stacks of case files near to toppling off his desk, an intensity in his expression that he hadn't seen before. Lieutenant Anderson had a focus or… feeling around him that said to anyone watching that he was a man on a mission and nothing would stop him to accomplish it.

That was a feeling that Connor knew, and maybe even he missed, that feeling where he had no doubts to distract him, no layers and layers of emotions that he had to parse through first before redirecting his path towards accomplishing his mission.

No, he should stop thinking like that. This was better than being a machine. This, and all its troubles was better than going back to what he was before.

He dug into his pocket, taking care to avoid brushing his fingers against the storage drive and brought out his coin. There was a strange feeling—another glitch, maybe—when Connor held his quarter in his hand again. There were so many things that he didn't know about life, about humanity, about Hank, about Reed.

About himself.

Given that he was a prototype, other people didn't know much about him, either. Except Reed had a possible answer as to why he did a few things the way he did, like his quarter. He liked dogs, but why? He had his Zen garden in his mind palace, empty and fractured it may be right now, but why? Could they all be related? Could understanding the different choices behind the design of his basic programming help him fix all the errors he was experiencing in his software?

He wondered maybe it was mutual. Maybe he knew more about Reed than what Reed knew about himself. At the very least, he had the rest of Reed's fragmented programming sitting at the bottom of his pocket.

Referring to his directories holding all his references and cross-references with his experiences with emotions, he dredged aup a word for the strange feeling.

Dread.

He stood from his seat as he pulled up the building's map and navigated himself to the rooftop. Reed wasn't the only one who needed a change in scenery today.

[scene break]

Connor was wrong. He had to be.

"I think many people care about you, Detective Reed."

Gavin tapped impatiently at the side of his terminal input, waiting for the database to load all the information they had on their case. Damn, did they end up with a big one. His eyes glossed over the titles of some files, recognizing the naming system Elijah used. The information on the victims in the case updated with Chloe's information. Deactivated.

Dead.

He turned off the screen, keeping the process running, but not wanting to really see more of it yet.

Or ever.

Tina passed by his desk, pulling out a memorandum from Fowler and putting it on a stack of papers next to him. And he noticed a small scribble of her handwriting on one corner: "You're the baddest bitch in town."

A stupid motivational message as condescending as always.

Gavin felt a firm thud at the back of his chair as Chris went to get up, accidentally knocking his desk chair against Gavin's for the thousandth time and immediately trying to apologize and offering to get him a coffee from the break room to make up for the slight. For all he knew, with how much Chris had done it, he did it on purpose.

It was all routine. Even when Gavin had a literal life change and had to have a whole reclassification of his employment files, Chen and Miller still kept to routine. He should be mad at them. He should be angry that they weren't angry at the whole injustice that this all was. They worked alongside this lie for years. Shouldn't they also feel betrayed?

Shouldn't they all see what a fucked up mess this was?

Chris brought him his coffee, as promised, smiling at him before placing it Tina's handwriting on the memo and returning to his own desk.

Gavin took a peeved sip of the coffee.

People cared about him?

He skimmed the memo from Fowler, a notice that he was going to have to do a press meeting about how fucking slowly Anderson, Connor, and Gavin were making any kind of headway into their case because media finally noticed that Elijah was in the police station a bit too long. Almost as if he was being held for a crime.

The thought of having to somehow get him to answer to the fucked-up shit he did made him grip the page a lot tighter, nearly damaging a few pixels on the digital paper.

But then he saw Tina's words in looped cursive, a skill that was utterly useless, but she insisted on practicing her handwriting whenever she could because she felt she could at least leave a human touch on things in her own way.

"You're the baddest bitch in town," Gavin whispered, reading the words with a half-chuckle.

He sighed and turned the memo over. Scrubbed his eyes. He blindly reached for his coffee and took another sip. It was steaming hot but the pain didn't register, and damn, now that he thought about it, he wondered how we went on for so long never noticing that detail. He wondered if anyone had noticed his lack of reaction towards a burning hot liquid.

Someone must have.

Anyone.

Gavin stared down into the dark liquid of his cup, its surface catching the lights in the ceiling.

There was a mole in the DPD. They must've known.

Gavin turned his head slightly, watching Chris as he typed out a report. Could he have been the mole?

What about Tina? Could she have known? Were these condescending messages a hint toward something else? Or were they actually people that cared? Were they people without ulterior motives? Chris had a family to take care of. Tina had her sister and her mom to look out for. Both of them would have too much at stake to be playing at two sides. Were they people willing to sacrifice what they had for the sake of greed?

"How's Damian doing?" Gavin asked, spinning his chair around to face Chris.

"What—?" Chris stopped his typing and turned his own chair around. "Oh! Uh… He's doing good. Why'd you ask?"

"Just wondering."

"Are you… okay?"

"Fuckin' peachy."

"Are you sure? Honest answer, please."

Gavin let out a short laugh. "Of fucking course not, but I'm managing."

"I'm… sorry to hear that." Chris scratched the back of his neck. "If… you wanna talk about it—"

"Why do you do it?" Gavin asked. "You and Tina. The notes. The coffee. Why?"

"Because it's a nice thing to do? Learning about what you're going through right now… We can't even imagine. We thought with how much is changing for you, you might appreciate if we kept a few things like they were before. At the end of the day, you're still our coworker, and we watch each other's backs."

"Right." Gavin sighed and shook his head. "Right. Of course."

"Is there a problem? That you're… okay with sharing, obviously."

"Nah, I'm good. That's a good answer."

"…okay?" Chris returned to working on his report. Gavin could see that Chris wasn't "okay" with the probing, but at least he seemed cool with leaving it at that for now. He mulled over Chris' answer.

They only did it to be nice.

Damn it. This case was getting into his head.

Okay, so maybe Connor had a point? People cared about him, or at least maybe Miller and Chen did. Maybe not in the way he'd want them to, but they did in their own way. Maybe in the way he needed them to.

Gavin snuck a quick glance over to where Connor sat at his desk from across the bullpen, his coworker in the middle of an interface with the terminal, LED still having one spot perpetually stuck on yellow.

And Connor said he cared.

After a few moments, Connor turned to Anderson and opened his mouth to say something, but his LED quickly flashed to red with that one dot of not-red. Connor really should get that light of his checked. Weren't those supposed to be indicators for what kind of processes were running in their heads?

Gavin couldn't imagine anyone having a glimpse of what was really going on in his head, how exposing it would be to not have that amount of privacy in the least.

Maybe that's why some androids chose to remove theirs.

But that posed the question of why Connor still had his.

Connor frowned, withdrawing his hand and stuffing it into his pocket, bringing out that coin he always had on him. He must've noticed that Gavin was watching him, since he inclined his head a bit in his direction before standing and leaving his desk.

Must've given up on telling Anderson what he wanted to say. The lieutenant was engrossed in the stacks of case files on his desk and was wholly unaware of Connor's leave.

Fucking Anderson. Even if he supposedly got his act together, he was still dropping the ball like he always did.

Gavin shook his head disapprovingly.

So maybe people cared about Gavin.

But how many cared about Connor? In the way they needed to?

Gavin pressed his hands against the top of his knees as he watched Connor take the door to the rooftop access stairs. Gavin debated whether he should follow him, pressing his hands firmer against the grain of his jeans enough to leave indents when he removed his palms to look at them. He caught a glimpse of his split knuckle as he did so.

…fuck it.

[scene break]

Going up here was a mistake.

Connor gripped the chainlink fence surrounding the half-walls of the rooftop as another… 

…preconstruction?

…memory?

Whatever it was, it assaulted his sensors, making it nearly impossible to focus on any other inputs he was trying to override it with. He was fine when he made his way up here. The malfunction triggered by seeing how high up he was.

Fighting. Blood spattering in crimson and sapphire. The mission to kill Markus. To kill these DPD officers. To kill Hank. All these people getting in the way of his main objective. This wasn't what he wanted to remember of what he used to be the days before the revolution.

What could've been.

But maybe he needed to. Maybe this was how he could keep from ever wanting to be a machine again.

If only Hank weren't so prominent in these malfunctions.

"Hey!" Reed called from suddenly too close behind him. How had he not noticed that he followed him up here? "What the fuck are you doing?"

Connor tried to speak, to exit the processes that were currently running this preconstruction, but he found that he couldn't. His grip on the fence tightened, rattling the metal as he trembled.

He couldn't let go.

He couldn't exit the nightmare program still running.

He was stuck.

And someone, worst of all Detective Reed, was watching him as he tried to pull his programming together and failing. No one was supposed to know. They didn't need to.

He felt his breaths quickening, too hot, his stress rising, stress-sensor still broken.

"Connor?" Reed asked him.

Connor tried to loosen his fingers, to at least hide how much he was shaking. Tried again to turn off the bombardment of fists and gunshots and dropping Hank from the building—no, Hank charging at him and falling—no, Hank shoving?—dropping?—him from the building.

Then it stopped.

He found that Reed had brought him away from the fence and closer to the rooftop access door.

"Shit, why the hell are you burning up?" Reed said under his breath.

Connor brushed off Reed's hands on him and he took off his jacket to try to cool down, his armband dropping onto the thin layer of snow on the roof. Reed stooped to pick it up, hesitated, then handed it to him.

"My stress was too high," Connor said. "Androids tend to overheat once stress reaches a certain point."

"Right. Right. The orientation. That uh… is a thing that happens. Right."

Connor could tell that Reed wanted to say something else, but instead looked away.

"You good now?" Reed said after a few moments.

"Yes. Why are you here?"

"Wanted to check on you. Y'know… 'cuz uh… you checked on me earlier. When I…" He rolled his wrist, circling his hands ambiguously in the air. Both of their gazes went to Reed's split knuckle on one of his fingers. He cleared this throat. "What was that?"

Connor draped his jacket in the crook of his elbow after replacing his band where it belonged around his arm. "It was nothing."

"Nah, not this again. You need to get this checked, whatever the fuck this is."

"I will," Connor said.

"You better," Reed said. "Because that was…" He exhaled, chewed a little bit on the inside of his lip. "That shit didn't look fun to experience."

"And how would you know?"

"I… get like that, kinda. Sometimes. Maybe it's different, being uh… different… android models but… Maybe not all that different, considering…" Another wrist roll. "All our shit."

He could see how carefully Reed tried to pick his words, as if he didn't know how to talk about whatever it was he was trying to get at. Both unable to bring themselves to talk about something so… unpleasant. There was a small rumble from deep in Connor's chest, and he couldn't help but pull the corners of his mouth upward.

Connor laughed.

"How the fuck could you be laughing right now?" Reed asked, half in his usual irritation, other half something… concerned?

"I don't know," Connor said in between fits. He started up again, this time with even more force. It wasn't until he realized that there was moisture running down his face. He brushed it away with his sleeve, and felt even more running down his chin, and he realized that he was crying.

Laughter morphed into sobbing.

"I don't know," Connor said, his vocal modulator stuttering. "I don't know, Detective Reed."

"Shit," Reed said. "Shit. Uh…" Running his hands through his hair, Reed shuffled his feet, and then: "I should get Anderson."

"No," Connor said, grabbing Reed by the elbow as he was about to leave. Why couldn't he stop crying? "He can't know."

He expected Reed to just ignore him and go on with getting Hank. Instead, Reed nodded. "Okay, what do you need me to do?"

"Forget you saw anything."

Reed huffed out a breath and nodded. "Alright."

Reed wasn't putting up a fight about this?

"What?" Connor said.

"I'll forget this happened," Reed said. "Or pretend at least. As long as you tell me what the fuck is going on."

Connor looked down at his jacket and his shirt sleeves. The saline had frozen into small beads of frost, with more continuing to be added to it. And these were his new clothes, too.

He started sobbing again, not because of his clothes, but because of all the things he could be thinking of, he was concerned about something so trivial. Maybe his software was getting dangerously unstable.

"I'm scared," Connor said softly. "I don't know what's wrong with me, and… I don't like where it's going." He swiped at his eyes, catching more of his tears with the cuff of his sleeve. "I don't think anyone can fix it."

"What is 'it', Connor?"

"I had an AI handler," Connor said. "I destroyed her after she took over my functions to try to assassinate Markus, and I damaged several parts of my software in the process."

Reed brushed the scar on his nose, not saying anything as he looked off into the distance. "Her…?"

There it was, that look again. Right before he gave Connor information about his fixation about his quarter.

"Can you describe this handler?" Reed asked.

"Her name was Amanda," Connor said. "I believe she was modeled after Kamski's former mentor, Amanda Stern."

Reed's hand dropped and formed into a fist. "Fuck. He did not. He did not fucking do that." He sighed and shook his head. "Sorry. Continue. Why are you afraid of getting rid of her? Sounds like she was a real bitch if she tried to take control of you."

"She was… amicable at first." Connor said. "I thought I could've trusted her. She was a part of my programming, acting as a liaison between me and CyberLife but for her to take complete control was…"

Cold. Bracing against a harsh blast of chill, Amanda making him take aim at Markus, as he stumbled and crawled his way to the emergency exit. A gunshot rang in Amanda's triumph—

Reed shook his shoulder. "Hey, you're doing that thing again."

"Sorry." Connor moved his jacket to his other arm to use another sleeve to wipe the moisture from his eyes. "I'm not too pleased with the possibility that she's not completely gone. I don't want Hank to know, because he's aware of what she was capable of and what she tried to make me do, but I don't want him to worry about it."

"And what would 'it' be?"

"I don't want him to worry about—" Connor closed his eyes the moment he caught what his next words would be.

"About what? Her coming back? You losing control?"

Connor shook his head. Those were concerns of his, yes, but… it was more than that when it came to Hank. That wasn't what he was about to say.

Again, that unnamed emotion rose up to the top of his processes, error codes and all. That feeling—he hated it. But he could feel it start to corrupt the controls in his speech synthesizers, as if that feeling wanted a way to escape…

…and he didn't want to keep fighting it.

"I don't want him to worry about losing me. I don't want him to worry about me… dying."

Reed's expression softened. A little sadder. A little… lost.

[scene break]

Gavin had to step away, hearing Connor admit that; had to resist cupping his hands over his ears and shoving the memory away. Connor no longer had to say anything else to explain his situation, because that was something Gavin knew intimately.

His feet had stilled near the entryway of a hospital room, hovering near enough to the opening to overhear the whirring and beeps of machines helping to stave off the inevitable as his mother talked to Chloe before she went off to surgery. A surgery that would help take her pain away, but with complications that would take her away years later.

"It's not that, Chloe," Mom had said as Gavin eavesdropped on their conversation. He hadn't trusted that machine to be alone in the same room as her, especially not after witnessing the destruction Chloe created of that ST200. "I worry him enough. I don't want him to worry about losing me, but… you know how Gav is. He's stubborn enough to act like it doesn't bother him, but he's already lost his brother to his inventions. I don't want him to feel like he'll lose his mother the same way. You'll keep an eye on both of them for me, will you? You'll keep them from doing anything they might regret later?"

"I'm afraid I can't make any promises for the latter," Chloe had said. "But I can assure you that I will watch over them for you the best way I can."

"Good. That's good, Chloe. You're doing really well, I hope you know that." A long sigh. "I wish that Eli were here."

"He wasn't able to attend due to several business meetings today, but I can at least tell him for you later."

"I would like that. Thank you. Oh, and Chloe, before you go get Gavin." A pause. "Keep this for me. It's a gift."

Gavin shook out his hands, giving them a break from how much he was clenching and unclenching them. It was hard to believe those memories were not real.

And damn if he was going to just stand by seeing someone else feeling like his mom did that day and not do or say anything about it.

"Alright, here's what we're gonna do," Gavin said, shoving the memory back and trying to keep to the present with Connor. "I won't tell Anderson, like I promised, got it? I'll even pretend I didn't see anything up here, but there's a huge… something about this that you're not confronting. And believe me when I say I get it."

Connor's processing LED spun yellow—for good reason this time and not looking like a glitch. "Why are you doing this, Detective Reed? I find your change in demeanor surprising, if I'm honest."

Damn Connor for being so perceptive, even after experiencing a full-blown panic attack in the middle of a flashback—or whatever it was that Connor was experiencing. It was fucking disturbing to have to witness someone like Connor in the throes of what looked like a trauma response.

There was no fucking way Anderson of all people didn't notice something was up.

But he promised Connor he'd keep quiet just to get him to talk through it because, goddamn, was that not fun to watch.

So why was he doing this for him? Why was he willing to stick his neck out again for someone? Connor could end up being another Ray, or another Eli, or another Leah, or Mom, or Dad, or…

Or maybe he really wanted to believe that Connor was different. Maybe he was the exception to the rule.

Maybe Gavin was open to hoping again.

"Alright, I'll add another condition to forgetting this happened," Gavin said, holding up his index finger to emphasize. "You don't fucking say what I'm gonna say to anyone, got it?"

A small smile stretched across Connor's lips, and he nodded. "Of course, Detective."

"You weren't that bad of company for lunch, and I thought about what you said, earlier. About people caring, about you being one of them and maybe I wanted to return the favor. At least a little."

Connor's smile widened, same crooked way he did earlier. "I see. Thank you, Detective Reed."

"Remember what I said, Connor," Gavin said. "Tell anyone I said this, and I'll tell Anderson."

Connor laughed. It was a good laugh, not as strangled as it was before, which meant that Gavin was at least not completely fucking this up. A blue LED was also a good sign, too, but with Connor, that could be a false positive.

Gavin still couldn't quite shake the feeling that Connor was still hiding something. He wanted to ask, but… after what happened earlier?

Maybe it was nothing.

[vollzz]

new chapter just dropped for Diverging Paths of Heart, my chaptered eleonora/yura fic exploring them as dragon hunters. small snippet of chapter 3 is under the cut, and you can read the whole thing on my ao3. thanks for reading! :)

Perhaps we will cross paths again, should the grace will it to be.

That word, grace, had wormed its way into Eleonora’s thoughts. It burrowed, a near-constant presence reverberating throughout her mind as she finally set sight on the distant light of a settlement glistening within the darkened horizon.

“You tread on ever-thinning ground, Eleonora. The Land of Reeds is your lifeblood. Do not tarnish the years honing your razor’s edge. This is your life, your eternity. We bloom from blood-soaked soil and one day water it with our own.”

“But I don’t want to-”

“There is no want. We do what we need to reclaim what we have lost. Such speak is the language of exiles.”

Her memory still felt as though a thick layer of fog lingered above everything, obscuring more than the bits and pieces that dared stick through. Eleonora knew deep in her bones that she’d been sent here as an outcast, and there was something about grace involved, but she still struggled to glean anything beyond that.

That mystery could continue as such until another time, when she had food in her stomach and a roof over her head.

It took another hour of travel but Eleonora finally found herself approaching the entrance to the town. It wasn’t anything particularly grand, and had a meager excuse of a boundary consisting of not much more than a row of tall wooden logs. They stood rather haphazardly, many of their pointed tips having broken off or otherwise wrecked, and a loud minority of them had fallen over completely. Looking past the sorry border, she glimpsed that the road she had been walking along continued straight through the town and made a sharp right turn once it hit grassy fields.

The town’s main road hosted a variety of small, rickety-looking stores with signs flaunting a variety of wares, weapons, armor, and food. It seemed that the residents’ homes all branched off of the main road, spread out within the confines of the town. There were very few souls roaming at this hour, though that was to be expected - it looked to be just before dawn.

A tall, pointed building caught Eleonora’s eye as she crossed the town’s threshold. Its facade was fashioned from a truly ridiculous amount of concrete and cobblestone, and an abundance of twisting vines creeping across it betrayed its old age. At the very top of its spire lay a hollowed-out section housing a large bell.

As she approached the building she was greeted by large, wooden doors fastened shut and a huge sculpture of a woman looking down upon her. It seemed as though she’d been crucified, but Eleonora noted the distinct lack of a cross behind her body. Two long braids framed her elegant face, which assessed her with what she hoped to be a warm smile.

---

dpoh tag list- (ask to be added for fic updates!)

@kourumi

[sir-bonesly]

Instead of posting yet another ao3 work, I'm going to drop little snippets on here. These will mostly be set in the world of Harrison and his friends' time at Hogwarts. There may be some posts about their time afterwards. All posts will be dated at the beginning with the month they took place/school year, pov character and their corresponding age, and the general location.

September 1st, 1991 Harrison James Potter, 11 Hogwarts Express Train, compartment 23

The air is chill as the boy across from him loses his smile. Harrison refrains from punching the boy, or hurling an insult at his tact. It is quite hard considering his words. But aunt Petunia's taught him how to hold his tongue if nothing else.

"I suggest you leave, Ronald. I'm not very fond of the excitement surrounding my parents' deaths."

Like a chastised child, Ron grabs his rat and leaves the compartment. He grumbles about rich prats and Harrison wonders if the Weasley's can properly afford so many kids. In total, it has been nearly ten minutes since Harrison boarded the train, and he has the feeling that Ron is no longer his biggest fan.

No matter though, as Harrison is much more interested in old potions notebook he found in his mother's vault. Pulling out the new potions textbook he bought on his birthday, Harrison starts to annotate the notes into the textbook. He circles sections that differ from the notes and promises to find time to ask the professor. He uses highlighters to colour code his notes. Red for changed ingredients, yellow for timing differences, blue for preparation, and green for the outcomes.

He's just finished the seventh potion when the compartment door opens once again. Harrison caps his highlighter and turns to find the blonde boy he'd talked to in Diagon Alley. He's already wearing the school uniform, as are the two boys behind him. The boy looks around at the slight mess Harrison has created, sticky notes and pens are scattered across the seats and Harrison is sitting on the floor with the books propped against his trunk. The two larger boys sneer at him, while the blonde looks rather curios.

"I've heard the Harry Potter is in this compartment. You never told me that."

Harrison remembers his manners and stands, offering his hand to the blonde. He shakes his hand and Harrison offers it to the other boys as well, with more hesitant responses.

"Ah, well, didn't have much time to introduce myself between you and my aunt. I prefer Harrison anyways. Harris if you're in a hurry."

"Draco Malfoy," He nods to the boy on his left and then his right. "This is Crabbe and that's Goyle. You said you were with your aunt, I didn't know the Potter's had any living descendants."

Draco tilts his head back at Crabbe and Goyle. The boys shrug and leave without a goodbye, leaving Draco and Harrison alone in the compartment. Harrison clears a spot on the bench silently offers Draco a seat, closing the doors behind him for a bit of privacy.

"I don't believe they do. My aunt's mundane, my mother's sister. She's not a huge fan of magic, doesn't like how it can't be explained, but she jumped at the chance to send me off for the year. Didn't know much about magic until Professor Sprout visited to talk to her about it."

"Didn't know about magic?! But you're Harrison Potter!" Draco nearly slips on the name, but he save it with a small nod towards Harrison. He seems utterly confused as how Harrison knows so little about magic, as he's a celebrity in this world.

"I swear, if it were up to my father, no magic child would be under the care of those muggles. It's bad enough we have mudbloods and traitors in our country. Father says the muggles steal away our magic, and that's how squibs are made. Squibs are wixen without access to their magic."

Harrison bristles at the insulting words Draco uses. The boy uses them so casually, Harrison has to question if he knows the true meaning or if he's just repeating what his father says.

"My mother was a mudblood you know. That word is a slur, so I'd be careful who you say it around." Draco flushes red at the call out, but doesn't protest. Instead, they sit in silence for a while longer. Harrison starts to clean up his mess when Draco asks to look at his potions notes. He hands the blonde the annotated book instead of his mother's notes, and packs those into his trunk. By the time Draco's read his notes and Harrison has finished packing, the compartment door is opening yet again.

"Have either of you seen a toad named Trevor?" A black girl, with her hair styled in two buns, stands in the door with a tall, nervous boy behind her. The two look at them expectantly from the hall for a second before the girl startles slightly and sticks her hand out.

"Oh, that was rude, wasn't it. I'm Hermione Granger, first year, new-blood. This is Neville Longbottom, first year, pure-blood."

Malfoy shakes the girls hand quickly, subtly wiping it on his pants afterwards. Harrison kicks his foot as he stands to shake the girls hand, smiling at her as he introduces himself.

"Harrison Potter, half-blood, first year. My friend here is Draco Malfoy, first year and pure-blood. It's a pleasure to meet you Hermione and Neville." Draco gives them both a small and polite smile that seems dim in comparison to the grin Harrison uses. He can't imagine Draco grew up hearing the best things about new-blood wixen. The term itself seems to be new as well, Draco had furrowed his brow for a mere second after hearing the term. When the blonde opens his mouth, Harrison is prepared to either kick the boy or apologise to the others.

"We haven't seen a toad anywhere, but you'd best check with the prefect's cabin at the end of the train. They'll know the correct spells to use." Draco's tone is nothing but polite and informative, though Harrison can detect a bit of hostility trying to seep into it.

"Of course! Thank you both, it was a pleasure to meet you. Let's be off Neville, we've got a toad to find!"

With the two gone, and no more interruptions seeming to be on the horizon, Harrison settles into the seat once more. He kicks his feet up, smiling when he hears Draco squawk at the poor manners. With his eyes closed and the curtains on both the door and the window closed, Harrison nods off.

[atthebell]

okay morning (well, afternoon) update:

so, the instagram account posted another photo with the caption "65 83 67 73 73," which is ASCII for ASCII (very funny, cellbit).

as a reminder, here's the original not_past image. anubis found that using ASCII and the triadan system numbers to shift the numbers on each side, we get "my#missing#piece" [this whole section being "you are my missing piece" then, which is very cute]

using "my#missing#piece" as the password in winrar for https://oth3r.site/you_are_ gets the file "RMG.z64." to run this file, you can use the software at this link (downloaded myself to make sure it's safe, and was rec'd by stralo as well): Rosalie241/RMG.

opening the file with this software opens a snake game, with a start screen with the ordo realitas logo.

every time you get the snake to the pixel, an audio snippet plays, and putting them all together gets an audio clip that says "THE GOD OF FEAR IS WATCHING" in a garbled, robotic voice. [this was found by Flipo in the discord!]

to add to this, the input profile for the RMG file contains the acronym "t.g.o.f.i.w.," or, again, "the god of fear is watching."

getting to the end of the snake game showed the text "FOLLOW THE WHITE RABBIT." now, the grid for the snake game is 25x25 pixels, meaning it works for a QR code, so

and here is the qr code completed, which takes us to the link https://oth3r.site/erimia_, another mega link site. [including the improved qr code bc the first one didn't work for a lot of people]

this time there's no password, just this image of mia and lupi titled "1 - Mia e Lupi.png" art by torrente, absolute legend!!!! also stralo noted that the scarecrow on the right of the image is the same one in the v1s_un1ta_f0rt10r profile photos.

if you look closely, the bottom of the image is the same as the blue sem_sinal image above, but with a different code on the book.

[showing it cropped and flipped so everyone can see how the enigma is meant to be read] so for this cipher, otaviobia in the discord discovered that this appears to be using the daggers' alphabet. decoding it gets us the phrase "NON MEMINIT," latin for "he does not remember" (i'm not sure on gender here in latin, but i would assume it could be non-specified third-person singular (he/she/they/it/etc.) rather than specifically he).

and riaodmdl in the discord made this to show how the cipher in the image resembles the daggers' alphabet and how to decode it.

Enigma do Medo ARG

okay so! so far cellbit's discord has found a few things aside from what was tweeted (^^), as they knew to look elsewhere to find more clues.

this led them to find two images, one from the nuuvem page and one from the steam page. you can see a dog (lupi) and a girl (mia) in them respectively.

which then led to a christmas image ordem tweeted at one point-- and it's very glaring that the two images that led here included mia and lupi but not veríssimo. adds to the whole element of him being missing.

they're also working on a few things with numbers hidden in the cracks of the images, but right now these are the biggest updates and most solid leads! ill keep updating periodically 🩵🩵