#I refuse to learn more than snippets about this because that makes it better

[rainbow-femme]

Theater is wild because you’ll find an extremely passionate and evocative song and when you look up the musical it’s from the description includes the phrase “in a relationship with an abusive vaudeville clown” so you look up images from the musical and yup sure is

[starry-bi-sky]

for clone Danny, Clone Damian

I give you

Edit Clone Talia as somehow Girlfriend of Danny, just think of the comedy

nah brO BECAUSE LITERALLY I HAVE THOUGHT BOUT THAT. Literally since the conception of Clone Danny, I have thought about it. If only for, as you said, the COMEDY of it all. Plus I love writing romance.

Literally my motto for my aus is: A) is it plausible, B) is it FUNNY (and a secret third option C) is it ANGSTY)

Clone Talia would be an offshoot au of Clone^2 because idk how she'd fit into the original timeline, bUT, she'd exist. And to avoid confusion I'll call her Nasra - I thought about Tameka (which means twin) but I like Nasra better. "Talia and Nasra" just flows so nicely doesn't it?

Idk WHY there's a clone of Talia running around -- maybe the LoA made her, maybe n unknown organization who hates Batman and knows he has romantic ties to Talia, and started making a clone of her to fuck with him and then she got nabbed by a portal when she was still Danny's age and in the middle of training. She might be like Connor (??) and have memories and thus her training is more proficient than baby Dames.

Either way, regardless of how she was made, I think it's hilarious if she, much like baby Dames, immediately attacks Danny on sight. She falls into his city and Danny only has a moment to go "goddammit not agaIN" before he's fending off a very confused, very violent Nasra. Fortunately he's able to actually try and talk to her and be at least somewhat successful -- Nasra knows english. although even if she didn't, Danny would still be somewhat successful since he knows Arabic.

Also Bruce and Danny are the battinson bat because i think that is also hilarious and 'wet rat' is STILL the perfect energy for Danny as Phantom - especially in the early days when he's running around in all but jeans and a hoodie. (and god watch me go on a rant in a separate post about his outfit and reasonings for being Phantom when he has no powers later on because it makes me go FERAL. and his active choice to look as inhuman and ghost-like through his behavior as phantom and the decision to wear such a creepy mask as possible)

(like seriously, imagine walking home late at night while danny was still in his early vigilante days (and even now when he's got damian and a better suit) and seeing a skinny figure in the shadows with sunken in black-and-glowing-green eyes, and a bone white, skull-like face, crouched on all fours like a wild animal about to pounce. THAT is the level of creepiness I was going for for clone danny)

In my head, Sam offers to house Nasra and Nasra stays with her. SAm is able to convince her parents to let her stay, or she pulls a Danny and just straight up smuggles her in and her parents are none the wiser. I also think it's funny if they have unspoken BEEF with each other. Only to later become like sisters. Nasra teaches Sam the martial arts she knows, and also Danny joins in too with Damian because goddamn he needs it even IF he's learning stuff from his mom (as per the most recent snippet post I made).

OH AND DAMIAN AND NASRA. I think it's equally as funny if they ALSO have beef with each other. Nasra is a clone of his mother (of whom he might have complicated views on due to being a clone but still is his mother) and Damian is a clone of Nasra's "son". This beef largely starts from Damian's own refusal to want to share his Danny with another clone, especially with a clone of his MOTHER.

Danny and Nasra don't become lovers for a good, long while I think. They're besties first before they even consider the idea of dating -- not only just because of the whole "uhhh our counterparts dated so it'd feel kinda weird and forced if we dated" and also because Nasra, with her newfound freedom, is busy trying to figure out herself.

A big theme here in clone^2: discovering your identity and who you are as a person when the only thing you own that's unique is your name (which isn't even the case for Damian), and figuring out if your choices are your own or because you're a clone and its something your original would have done. Nature vs Nurture and the illusion of choice and whether it really is one or not.

Also Nasra also becomes a vigilante. Danny appreciates the help but is also tearing out his hair because what the fuck is up with these assassins and becoming vigilantes?! Nasra goes by "Nesha". She's similar to Red Huntress at first where she kinda does her own thing, but is lowkey forced to team up with Danny about it because she doesn't have any proper ghost hunting equipment with her.

And then a duo becomes a trio, and Danny is spending more time with her. And they steadily become friends. Very snarky friends who are very bratty to each other, but friends. Damian still doesn't like her so Danny spends extra time during patrol keeping the two of them from making insults at each other.

"Nesha please stop fighting with a nine year old. Wraith, quit insulting Nesha."

Nasra also uses like, weaponry as Nesha which exasperates Danny a little because why are you using swords??? They're already dead its not gonna kill them,,,, If you cut off their heads its just gonna piss em off, its re-attachable. Let him ghost-proof it first too. But well, its still gonna HURT he supposes. He's still a little exasperated.

And MMM i'm sorry lmao im so focused on Nasra becoming her own person than the actual romance aspect of it all. Nasra cuts her hair short for the same/similar reasons that Danny keeps his long - to try and gain a semblance of autonomy and identity that's away from their original. Danny has his alternative rock-kinda geeky look and Nasra's got, from influence from Sam, a more alternative fashion style. Although she still leans into being feminine, which is a good challenge to Sam's belief that feminity = bad, and gets her to unlearn those bad habits since her new adoptive sister is feminine while still being an unapologetic badass.

And ykw I think Nasra gets into rollerblading and loves it. She rollerblades constantly. Damian is furious because skating is his thing (even if what he gets later on is a skateboard - skater boy damian ftw. i can see him wearing flannels and graphic tees as a teenager. very grungy/skater aesthetic. He also has a much more relaxed and teen-y speech pattern compared to DW's more formal way of talking. He also spray paints as his form of artistic medium.) and he refuses to have Nasra be a copy of him.

They will sort out their differences eventually. LMao.

Anyways they eventually do get together, but not before Danny finally has his run in with Mister Wayne. Which, they only meet because Danny starts destabilizing, and thus needs Bruce Wayne's DNA to help stabilize himself. Which that meeting in and of itself is pretty chaotic on its own, but then add clone Damian and Nasra? Bruce needs coffee.. or alcohol.

Because picture this: its late at night, you're on patrol with the rest of your family. It's like, two in the morning. You suddenly get a call in from your butler, Alfred, informing you that not one, not two, but THREE children -- two of them in their late teens and the other one not even ten yet -- showed up on your doorstep. One of them is unconscious. They are all clones.

The girl and the boy are twins - and are clones of YOU - and the girl isn't even technically YOUR clone she's a clone of your clone - and also this clone of you is your college friends' kid. And then the youngest boy is a clone of your youngest SON. Bruce is running across rooftops when he gets this call and does a literal 180 degree turn and touches the ground because he basically did a figure skating turn, and sprints back towards the manor because what the fuck? He needs to check this out.

And then half a day later a clone of your fucking ex shows up on your doorstep demanding to see the clone of you - the boy that is, not the girl - and then immediately gets into a verbal lashing with the clone of your son. Like what a fucking DAY. Your kids are equally as baffled but also laughing their asses off -- except your bio son, who is very unhappy about this turn of events and keeps getting the stink eye from his clone.

Like??? I'd quit right then and there.

While Danny recovers he's staying in Wayne manor and Damian is very reportedly not leaving his side. Ellie has to leave to help take care of Amity Park with RH, and then Nasra is also very determinedly not leaving his side either. This is her friend dammit. The first thing she does when he becomes lucid is insult him, and he insults her back - they're bantering. It's how they flirt later on. None of the Bats know how to deal with this situation.

[fictionfixations]

Kalim in RSA (and I get off-topic)

Spoilers for Book 4 and 5 (im sorry jamil enjoyers. but im so biased towards kalim its not even funny)

(this spiraled into me talking all about kalim in the actual game so oops)

imagine how different the story would be if kalim was in RSA

and we just hear from jamil about these snippets about his 'master' (although itd be weird they'd be separated if jamil tended to him often to where he'd prob be like his personal servant? idk what situation would have jamil talk to us anyway but yknow maybe we get close, he's like the other friend who seems cool? he'll basically help us out with knowledge about things, fleshing out the world a bit more, as the only sophomore in the group cause he kind of feels responsible maybe? then BETRAYAL)

and then eventually partway through the school year KALIM IS THERE (we know why though) and he somehow ends up housewarden.

i have a dislike against RSA. its very petty and its kind of because they keep winning (and they dont even mean ill intent which is worse! …but its kind of like kalims kindness. and i like kalim but that might make me biased. SO. thus the existence of this.)

we probably wouldnt like him much right? (and i imagine he'd get his fair share of bullies. we find this out. he laughs it off like 'nah, im used to attempted assassinations and everything. this isnt nearly as bad.')

(id do the clapping between but ppl get annoyed, and i get annoyed) CUE KALIM BEING MORE THAN SMILES AND WE LEARN THAT ABOUT HIM !!

HES aware enough that he can cook food good using JUST magic (which takes precision to use it as good or even better than your hands right??. its in his labwear vignette. ruggies teaching him ofc so ruggie wants it to be good cause hes taking leftovers, BUT CMOONNN he can learn. ..and yeah it took a few years for jamil to teach kalim antidotes to common poisons so he could do it easy but kalims hardly a master at making potions so i call that good)

AND in book 5 he noticed vil had like the same look as jamil to where he knew something was going to go wrong (aka the poisoning)

maybe its to show how much kalim doesnt belong in NRC and thats why they dont pull the 'more than he looks at first glance' like cater with glimpses in vignettes and etc

but like COME ON.

the sultan might be dumb (i recently re-watched aladdin) but at least he knew enough that he didnt want jafar marrying his daughter cause hes OLD and also he doesnt want to force jasmine into anything (good intentions. im sure if they just waited and she didnt find a suitor in time he would've just CHANGED THE LAW like he did IN THE MOVIE because he wants her to be happy!)

ALSo he tried to look through the law jafar claimed to say that would make her have to be married to the vizier or whatever (aka jafar) but then jafar just pulled it away before he could (and then attempted to mind control him when he refused) mans was prepared to spend hours reading over it even if he didnt understand it but he wasnt given the chance

also kalim is worryingly nonchalant about stuff. i mean. you can get used to horrible things to where they just feel so normal and uninmportant i guess? but poor bby. hes been like 'i want to keep myself alive because if i die then someone else will get punished.' or like about poisoning, if someone has a change of mind and hes already dead, then he cant do something to help them, so he has to make sure he'll live.

..i really doubt that hes just. so oblivious. maybe in denial, but still.

anyway i got very off topic. my bad. and to be fair we do get to see more of him at some parts. but hhh

okay listen. denial. (i am also a believer that if when kalim confronted jamil, if he said he didnt do anything kalim wouldve believed him. bruh gave him excuses like '..i just got tired, right?')

"The real Jamil would never do such things! He's a good guy. He's always helping me, giving me a shoulder to lean on, and—" (Book 4 • Chapter 33)

we just. dont see him really crumble?? he just. keeps being optimistic

we convince him jamil is bad. he resolves to punch him for being a traitor and THATS IT?

he sobs at the end of jamils overblot but then he goes back to being optimistic like 'lets be equals!' (..it feels like he didnt really learn much though as he's still 'I didn't notice--' 'I--' and i wish he couldve gotten more awareness. cause he makes it about himself yknow and blaming himself but COME ON put some blame on jamil PLEASE? or like. ANYONE ELSE. you also cant notice shit if no one ever tells you about it that you dont even know to look for it! he doesnt want to be cautious about who he can trust so like, why would he think to doubt the person who hes known his entire life??? especially if its something that was just always there that it feels natural, how could he know better? hes sheltered! so someone shouldve explained it to him, made him realize things! aghhh)

heres the book 5 one btw

"I got a real bad feeling when I saw the look on your face after Neige's rehearsal. It was practically the same look I saw on Jamil's face when he lost control of himself over holiday break." (Book 5 • Chapter 62)

And I mean maybe he did learn in that he's more aware of this now than others because he knows what people could look like because of Jamil, but I feel like a lot of things were just so unsaid. That the first time blindsided him, but now he's kind of a little more worried about something happening while he's there that he didn't notice so now he's trying to notice things more??? Or like maybe having gut feelings that he'd ignored before because it was Jamil but now knowing better?

So he can be aware. but then the rest of the time he's just thought of as dumb or an idiot or forgetful and it just makes me sad. and i mean i get that he wants to see the best in people but we never really talk about how its more that its denial. a refusal to see it, and i want to understand why

or maybe its because he sees the good in people that he trusts they'll do the right thing. or he believes that the good outweigh the bad (although i dont know if it'd be the same case if it was someone he knew who got hurt)

like. okay back in book 5

"Besides, I would bet there isn't a single person in Scarabia who hasn't gotten help from Jamil at some point. Am I right?"

"See? There you go. He's been a model vice housewarden. In fact, he's put me to shame. He let dark thoughts get the better of him for a brief time. Other than that, he's a perfectly capable guy." (Book 5 • Chapter 10)

He justifies it with that Jamil isn't the only one to blame (he also blames himself), and that Jamil hadn't done anything wrong before then

which. AGAIn. means that in his eyes the good outweigh the bad. jamils better at his duties so jamil should stay as vice housewarden.

this was the first time jamil did anything bad so it'd be fine, it was just an error in judgment

AGHHh

nothing about the fact that his closest friend he views as a brother

"He's grown up with Jamil since a young age, and considers him a brother in all but blood." (from the In-game Album)

who would be the last person he'd expect to do such a thing BETRAYS HIM, planning to make everyone (or well just the people in scarabia) turn against him

like. that has to be a shock right??? AND THEN HE JUST. welcomes him back into his life like it was nothing im just. kALIM. SWEETIE.

and i mean i get its for the best since if anyone knew what actually happened anything could happen to jamil (and jamil has his own reasons i get that but this is about kalim)

but he still hangs around him. has him as his aide. so while something did change, it also feels like nothing changed at the same time.

"I'm always chosen. Always. That's such an obvious truth that I never even consciously processed it. But now I see that was only possible because of Jamil's constant sacrifices. He created that "truth" in my mind by always holding back. By always letting me win. ...It stings. "Galling" doesn't even begin to describe it." (Book 5 • Chapter 30)

also like one of the very few times he expresses how he feels about something (how it hurts not to be chosen for the first time, and/or that he was only chosen because of someone else so he wants to work hard)

and then grim shuts him down with "You wanna talk about galling? Imagine how I feel not even makin' the cut for the audition to start with."

like. COME ON.

Kalim responds with, "Ah, you're right. My bad! I didn't mean to rub it in. Goodness, there I go again! I'm super sorry, honest."

and yeah it can seem kind of spoiled but also. its probably because of that that he doesnt want to share his troubles because he's very privileged so it feels like he might not deserve to act like its anything when everyone else has to work so much harder, right?

AND ITS JUST. REAFFIRMING TO HIM THAT his troubles are nothing compared to anyone elses and im just aghhauihduadhw

he also cares a lot about other people (people like him as housewarden because he listens to their troubles and supports them) so i just. want him to be able to take a moment to care about himself and just admit these things that he usually doesnt get the chance to.

i got a lot more worked up than i meant to

[sunwarmed-ash]

Sinful Sunday Snippet

cuz im in a good mood 😘

Hankconvin-NSFW 🔞🔞

<1 MMS>

[U up?] 2:53 AM

Read at 2:53 AM

Gavin looks at his, unresponded to, dick picture again. It wasn’t a bad pic, it was arguably one of the best ones he’s ever taken of himself. But it was unprofessional, scratch that it was downright career suicide, to send a drunk (okay high, phck off,) dick pic to your direct supervisor. 

But Gavin and Hank were different. They had a history, and with Christmas next week… maybe he wasn’t handling the approaching holiday well. He tended to self-destruct a little, hence the eighth ounce of pot he’s already smoked and the stupid photo that’s been sent, received, and left on read for over 4 minutes now. 

His phone buzzes in his hand the next moment and his blood pressure sky rockets.

[Very] 2:57 AM

He didn't expect any response, let alone a potentially interested one. Another two agonizing moments pass and he gets another response, a picture message. And when he opens, his jaw drops in surprise. It's certainly not the response he expects. 

His eyes are currently making eye contact with the man in the digital photo who was not Hank but Connor, Anderson’s newest plastic fuck buddy. But that wasn’t even what surprised Gavin. What surprises him is the fact that the robot's mouth and throat have seemingly swallowed all 9 inches of Hank’s thick, monster cock and is looking up at the camera so pitifully like its still not enough to satisfy him. 

A sea of complex, conflicting emotions flash through Gavin’s body in a fraction of a moment. Anger, jealousy, arousal, fear, irritation, rejection; and it makes him want to toss his phone across the room and bury himself under another three joints. Instead, his cat chooses that moment to walk across his chest and knock his phone out of his hand anyway, demanding affection. Gavin would have been annoyed, if he didn't actually need a minute to breathe. 

Besides, they left him on read for a few minutes, they will survive.  

Gavin takes the moment to try to understand what he’s feeling, the jealousy and resulting anger mostly. He’s been trying to do better, and that includes attempts at understanding where all of his anger comes from. He got arm twisted into therapy a week after the Revolution and now here is, trying to get healthy and shit. But he is jealous. 

Why? He doesn't hate the view. Gavin thinks the picture of Connor’s stupid, smart mouth finally given something better to do than yap looks amazing. 

Maybe he's jealous because it's not him? 

No, that's not quite it. Probably more that he’s not there too. Gavin hates feeling left out, which is something he’s learned about himself after 6 weeks of compulsive therapy. And he’s always had a thing for Anderson. 

Or maybe Hank’s just letting you down easy… the darkest corners of his mind whisper. Because even weekley therapy couldn't silence all the pasts demons. They seem to always win in the end, because he’s typing,

[Sorry. See you got your hands full already.] Before he can stop it. 

Hank’s response this time is almost immediate. 

[That was an invitation Gav, not a rejection.] 3:02 AM

[If you're still interested, that is.] 3:02 AM

Hell phcking yeah he was interested. So much so he was practically flying out of bed, pissing off Venom, his 11 month old, all black, brat of a kitten. (Named because she literally climbs the walls of his apartment constantly and refuses to eat anything but tater tots). She hisses at him before running to her cat bed. Gavin sends one more text before walking out the door. 

[I can be there in 15] 3:04 AM

-

check back tonight at 10 PM Mountain Time for the full fic 😘

[echo-bleu]

Hi! I really like your stuff about disabled elves! Especially the headcanons about the Feanorians and the deaf Artanis fic. Also I love your Elrond vs the Valar idea and i'd love to hear more about it!

Hi! Thank you so much, I'm really glad to hear that! The disabled elves series is so important to me and it makes me so happy to see other people enjoy it.

Elrond vs the Valar (explanation | tag) is getting away from me lol, I genuinely didn't think anyone would be interested. I don't have a whole lot more at this point than what I've already talked about but here's another snippet for you:

“You were created to be as you are even now. You do not change, you do not evolve, you do not grow. I don’t think you truly understand the right to self-determination, because the only one of you who ever exercised that right,” he pauses to take a fortifying breath, “was Melkor.” It’s a calculated risk. Bringing up Morgoth may well undermine his entire argument, but Elrond has learned from long experience that it’s better to pre-empt certain counterarguments than to let them come and destroy the whole house of cards. Morgoth, like Fëanor, is bound to come up, and he’d rather do it in the most shocking way possible.

Elrond is not pulling punches xD

I haven't really decided yet if only the kinslayers (the Fëanorians, and possibly Fingon) have been refused re-embodiment, or if the only ones who are back are Finrod and Glorfindel. Both options attract me for various reasons, and I haven't not yet determined which is the most suitable for my purposes.

On the one hand, it's more heartbreaking if they've all been held back, and I'm not going to lie, heartbreak potential has been a major factor for deciding things in this story. On the other hand, it would mean that Elrond has very few people in his corner, and I have a lot less of a playground to mess about in, because, say, Fingolfin's perspective on things could be fascinating to write.

Until I properly decide that, I'm a little stuck! But I'll get there.

[morningstargirl666]

Sneak Peak

Sneak snippet for chapter 27 of TBBW, and I say snippet, but really its a couple of pages - though that isn’t much in the grand scheme of things (yes, it’s turning into another long chapter and I refuse to split this one up, so like, we’ll see how long this one gets).

Sam didn’t notice the change, not at first. The nagging feeling at the back of his mind that something was off.

It started at Caroline’s house, when he decided to make those damn burgers he never got to eat. After the day he’d had, he’d just assumed the craving to eat some good, greasy food was the wolf not so subtly telling him it needed its daily dose of protein. Just scratching an itch for his next fix, if you will. He hadn’t considered he was actually hungry. Like, vampire bloodlust ripper-style hungry. When he pulled over on the way back to the mansion after leaving Caroline’s, just because he saw someone walking down the street, and then proceeded to pounce on them the second he got out the car like some kid of feral cat-

Well, now Sam was considering it.

It didn’t matter that he’d already drunk an entire blood bag on Liz Forbes’ couch with her daughter not two hours earlier. It didn’t matter that he just drained some innocent bystander dry in the middle of the fucking street-

The hunger didn’t go away.

Keira found him in the Mikaelson’s kitchen later, dripping head to toe in blood because he’d killed two more people on the way back, before raiding the Mikaelson’s entire blood store in the fridge, draining that dry too. And it was only then, when his body was still shaking with bloodlust, and the fear in Keira’s eyes matched his own, did Sam finally admit to himself something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Now, Sam wasn’t a ripper. He hadn’t been concerned about the bloodlust part of becoming a hybrid, mostly because Klaus hadn’t been, and Sam trusted Klaus. He’d given him the Vampire 101 with the same annoying sharp-edged bluntness that somehow - Sam had no idea how, Klaus was paradox at the best of times - bordered on gentle, teaching him to feed and most importantly stop feeding, regardless of how bad the hunger got. Sam, having reigned in his temperamental wolf side for most his life, took to the lessons like a fish to water, and when Kiera arrived, she’d given him her own tips which he’d taken to heart, and just like that, the bloodlust part that came with being half-vampire never arose as a problem. So much so, that Sam started wondering what all the fuss was about, even aloud, which often ended with Klaus muttering under his breath about how easy kids had it these days.

(“Surely it was hard for you to fight off the hunger the first time-”

“Well, yeah but-”

“Exactly. Now imagine doing that without someone explaining in your ear what to expect, or how to control it. And then add in the factor you’ve been fighting the bloodlust for weeks, not even aware it is bloodlust, and your control has finally snapped, and maybe, you might be close to what it felt like for me when I tore into my first victim’s neck.”)

Sam had just thought Klaus was jealous that he was better than him at something. Now though, Sam saw it for the warning it was: the greatest illusion is the idea of control. You can’t control bloodlust. You can learn to live with it, learn to fight it, and some are better at fighting it than others - side-eyeing you Stefan Salvatore - but you can never permanently control it. That would be like trying to wrestle a saddle onto a dragon and expecting it not to burn you to a crisp the minute you get close.

So, seeing his hands dripping in blood and still feeling the urge to lick every drop of his skin was certainly a rude awakening.

He’d barely gotten himself together before the Mikaelsons arrived. Kiera had more or less thrown him into the shower, and he’d listened to her talk on the phone through the tiled walls as lines of red water dripped down his face into the drain below, trying to focus on her voice instead of the dozen or so human heartbeats belonging to the people the Mikaelson’s employed. By the time he got out and pulled himself into a fresh set of clothes, her witch, Delilah, was waiting for him, standing right next to Kiera in their bedroom, grey hair twisted into an elegant hairstyle and arms littered with bangles, warm brown eyes kind.

She’d asked for symptoms. Kiera had answered, the hunger building in Sam’s throat stopping him from doing so himself. He spent a good few minutes entranced by the pumping artery in the poor witch’s neck, and it was only when she snapped his fingers in his face, repeating her question and asking if Kiera had left anything out, that he finally tried to concentrate enough to formulate an answer.

Because there was something else, now that he thought about it. The left-side of his chest hurt too, right over his heart, like a pressure was building and Sam couldn’t release it.

Delilah had nodded, brow furrowed, and then quickly began to run some diagnostic spells. Kiera hadn’t questioned what she was doing - the two had known each other for about two and half centuries, and with it came a loyalty that was nigh on unshakable.

(Kiera was Delilah’s daughter’s godmother, and her granddaughter’s godmother, so really, it was a family business at this point)

When Delilah had finally finished all her spells, an answer not immediately on her tongue, Kiera had spoken up, prompting her.

“What is it?”

Delilah had paused, for the first time since Sam had met her, seeming unsure.

“It is…strange.” She had begun. “Physically, there is nothing wrong with you. You are not on the brink of dessication, nor are you recovering from it, and your undead heart is fine, if beating at a slightly higher rate than your vampire counterparts-”

“And magically?” Keira had jumped to ask, familiar with how these things worked by now.

“The pain, the bloodlust… you can feel it, but I cannot sense it, which leaves me to conclude either it is something mentally crippling or…” She had stopped, staring down at him where he sat on the bed, a consideration in her eye, before it snapped into realisation. “...Or it is not his own. An echo, almost.”

As soon as the words had left her mouth, Sam understood. The puzzle pieces clicked into place. Sam may not be dessicating right this second, but they knew someone who was. Or already had.

Klaus.

Sam was starving because Klaus was starving. Magically starved to the point of desiccation. And Sam’s chest hurt, experiencing the symptoms of more or less a heart attack, because Klaus’ heart had stopped.

The realisation had been sickening. Sam had nearly thrown up the entire contents of stomach right then and there. But after the horror and nausea, then came the rage. A fury so hot and all-consuming, that if Delilah’s attempt to dull the pack bond between him and Klaus hadn’t succeeded - therefore dulling his second-hand sympathy bloodlust - he would have punched a hole through Elijah’s face the minute he suggested making a deal with Elena and her merry band of idiots.

As it stood now, Sam wasn’t ruling out punching Elijah in the face just yet.

Can anyone take a wild guess how this chapter is going to end? Lmao

[manie-sans-delire-x]

tell us about your favorite oc!

Id love to!! So she's my first real OC, this is from the Skyrim universe. *holds up doll for show and tell* Her name is Lilith, shes around late thirties. Shes a bosmer/wood elf who later becomes a vampire. And in Skyrim lore, she's the "dovahkiin", basically a mortal with the soul of a dragon. To me, that means an endless lust of power. Lilith's goal in life is to experience almost everything at least once, explore and learn as much as possible, gain as much power and freedom as possible, and collect trinkets, knowledge, and whatever items she wants (a dragon's hoarding). She lives for the excitement of fighting and actively delights in bloodshed. That being said, she's morally (dark) gray because despite having a hatred of authority and a refusal to follow rules, she has her own sense of a moral code. She is both better and worse than people think. I picture her as being a terrifying character, playful and dark, walking right on the edge of evil.

My story starts from when she first arrives in the land of Skyrim, bound and about to be executed, and follows her journey of self discovery and gaining massive power, including becoming unwillingly shoved into the politics of a foreign land in the midst of a civil war.

In the first part of the story/the set up, Lilith is exploring and wandering Skyrim as a vagabond/rogue, hunting, thieving, dealing drugs, working as a bounty hunter and monster slayer, etc while she attempts to find more information about dragons.

She ends up accidentally adopting a child when she is begged by a boy to kill his abuser, a cruel head mistress of an orphanage that he ran away from.

But in doing so, she unknowingly makes contact with an ancient death worshipping cult who work as assassins, who she ends up joining and eventually inherits the leadership of.

----------

Here's a short snippet:

"Oh the mage?" Lilith glanced over at him. "He's my guide through Skyrim."

"Although lately I've been more of her guide though morality," Marcurio said with a charming grin, reaching over to shake her hand. 

"Madame. Marcurio, battlemage of the Imperial Mages Guild and college, scholar of ancient Nordic and Dwemer history, and explorer and mercenary for hire."

"My," said the woman with an overwhelmed blink, uncertainly taking his bejeweled hand.

"Not much of a guide then," Lilith said dryly. 

"Compared to you? I'm a saint!"

"A saint?"

Lilith leaned closer with an impish grin. 

"The only time Ive heard you call to the gods was that night in the temple of Dibella- " (the goddess of love and sex)

"My, dovahkiin, you have a big mouth!" Marcurio cried loudly, laughing nervously at the woman's bemused expression as he heavily threw an arm around the elf's shoulders. "And you breathe dangerous fire, my friend. Must be the dragon in you."

---------

(I have a writing blog if you're interested- https://www.tumblr.com/coffee-4-dinner )

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Actually, actually, actually! Idea! (But only if you like it.)

In HoS, it has literally been 10,000 years since all 3 died.

What if Shadow wasn't supposed to be all-the-way back? And the only reason he is is due to being the Hero?

What about Hemisi & Nabooru?

Who's to say Gdorf's magic would've even worked on them? What if they were already reincarnated by that point?

What if, even reviving their bodies would've resulted in little more than mindless puppets? (Honestly, I kinda wanna read about the shear horror on both their faces. Like, horror & panic on Gdorf's end & horror, but slight relief on Shadow's. Because he can only hope that whatever's keeping Nabooru from suffering the same fate as himself means that she's free.)

What if the only way to get them back fully was to do some pretty dark, nasty stuff? Like, legit bad, horrible stuff? What if Gdorf has to sacrifice their new incarnations to do so?

What if, in order to even bring Shadow back, he'd already done something bad? Though, due to the Hero's Spirit, he was able to get away with just the sacrifice of someone who'd been related to Shadow? Like a great x1000 times grandnephew or something?

What if Shadow learned of this? The betrayal.

Like, massive dark spell stuff. Which, I've always found it weird that he & the Twinrova were the legit only Gerudo with that shading, yet each of them used black magic.

So, that's what I think causes it. Black magic. Like, legit evil deeds.

Who knows, maybe that stuff actually corrupts the mind the more you use it? What if you have to stop cold turkey to stop the process?

What if Gdorf had stopped doing that stuff, but the Secret Stone tapped into that source & now it's sort of rotting his brain away?

Also, what's the deal with the Twinrova here? They evil witches? No?

Sorry, when I get started, my braims refuse to shut up. 😓

Don't be sorry, you're fine! ;D It's fun to talk theories and ideas!

Ganondorf would be so devastated if Nabooru and Hemisi were just mindless puppets, I think. But I also think he wouldn't give up. He'd just be like "Well, this is a setback, but at least they'll listen to me until I can figure this out better." I don't know if Link would feel much relief from it or just be plain horrified, it would feel like such a desecration to him.

If they'd actually reincarnated, though, and if Ganondorf needed to sacrifice them to revive them, I wonder whose Nabooru would be? The best person I can think of is Urbosa, which, uh, makes things difficult. Should've thought that one through, Gan, before your stupid Calamity wrecked teh place! >:|

But anyway, Ganondorf isn't using black magic - Urbosa and Riju have lightning magic, which Gdorf also has in OoT, so honestly it seems very much like the Hyurle Royal Family - they just have a high affinity for it. (also, not gonna lie, Twinrova plays absolutely no part in this storyline because I don't know what to do with those two, honestly)

What Ganondorf does have, though, which is unusual for his people, is healing magic. I thought it would be interesting to give him this gift, it would add another layer to him as a character, especially since he actually cultivated it a little. Here's a snippet from a draft I have tucked away (I have been writing entirely too much for this AU LOL I am gonna have to make a word document to organize it, honestly):

“Here, let me see your hands,” Ganondorf said, pushing Link away enough to gently grab at his wrists. He flipped the teenager’s palms up, thumbs brushing against them as Link hissed in pain. His skin was blistered angry red from burns, standing out easily against his all-too-pale, practically grayish complexion, and he knew his face probably was too. Ganondorf swiped at his hands again with his thumbs, and Link felt a tingling, warm sensation on them. The pain numbed into nothingness, and he glanced down, confused. The burns were gone. “How—you know healing magic?” He whispered, looking up at the man. “Is it the stone?” Ganondorf smiled a little, brushing hair out of his face to examine a burn on his nose. “Secret stones only amplify one’s power, Link. Of course I know healing magic. You thought I didn’t?” Link hesitated a moment before just saying what was on his mind, looking down and muttering, “I thought all you knew how to do was destroy.” “One has to burn the forest to make way for new growth,” Ganondorf replied simply, easily, as if it were just like gardening, as if people’s lives weren’t at stake. “A good king must know how to rebuild as well as how to destroy.” “You’re just full of idioms, aren’t you?” Link sighed. It was almost funny, having this conversation. Almost. “Because I’m right,” Ganondorf said firmly. “Nabooru and Hemisi didn’t seem to think so.”

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week 2024-01-15

back in the saddle

Listening: The Skeleton Dance, a single from Perennial which I clicked on solely because the title and band name go together so well.

Short and sweet post-punk snippet. Go check out their other albums, probably? I'm still going through those too.

Reading: New Murderbot, which I am very glad to say I actually liked. I did not really like Network Effect because it was too all over the place and felt more like three murderbot novellas in a trench coat. System Collapse is much more tightly written thing that actually fits its length.

Two big things going on that make it work: a strong focus on Murderbot having a hard time dealing with trauma because it refuses to acknowledge it is like a human in any way. Murderbot not wanting to be human and refusing all attempts to characterize it like a human are such strong parts of its personality that it's interesting to see it get hit by that revolving door.

The other thing is very tightly constraining the tools and environment. Murderbot has strict enough rules and solid enough explanations that mechanical limitations build well into actual narrative tension. Murderbot only having two camera drones and no armour is responsible for a solid half of the tension of the book, and controlling how much access it has to other systems is a big driver of the ebb and flow of that tension.

Murderbot as a series has such a delightful economy of worldbuilding. There's the entire implied world of hyperintelligent bots existing just out of view, things on par with Peri hiding in systems and allying with a select group of humans because it likes them. The whole human/construct/bot divide is repeatedly shown to be extremely blurry, which is fun because Murderbot treats it as unimpeachable truth.

Also one of the handful of book series where I read about some little thing and search for parts at my electronics supplier.

I have just started Hannah Ritchie's new book Not The End Of The World which is a bookified form of her general research on "things are getting better, there's a long way to go, but fatalism is not only unproductive it's incorrect". Having already read a lot of her work it retreads that a lot, and if you see a long patch of text without any citations you can skip over it, but it is handy to see all the numbers laid out.

Ritchie's research seems more correct than not most of the time, so while I do sometimes go "oh come on" at specific claims or propositions, it's generally interesting and worthwhile if you care about the data behind modern climate change and how it relates to economic and technological development.

It is really funny how much of climate discussion really does boil down to "for the love of god stop burning things."

Watching: Noah's Shark at Bad Movie Night, a Polonia Brothers movie about the curse laid on the secret fourth son of Noah when he brought a demonic third shark on the Ark. Yeah.

It's on YouTube in its entirety.

There's something funny about the fact that the Polonia team have put out so many movies that even their bad movies have flashes of clear competence in writing. Some genuinely good banter in between everything else going on in this movie.

Playing: Briefly picked up Dark Souls long enough to get to the Capra demon, but I have not tried to fight it yet.

Making: 3D printing a microphone holder for Dark Souls recordings because I did like editing those supercuts and the bad audio was killing me. Had a good time experimenting with dovetails and other sliding joints. Learning a lot about OnShape, especially poking at the Assembly system for the first time and finally using it enough to start picking up the shortcuts in earnest.

Tools and Equipment: Hey did you know that oranges are one million times easier to eat if you just cut them into slices and then peel the skins off. I have basically not eaten oranges for years because you can't peel them easily by hand. Oranges are great. Just cut them into quarters and go to town.

[borathae]

Sibibaby that chapter was the cutest!!! Omg it healed me in more than one way tho hehe i’m so soft 🥺

1- I kinda wanted Yoongi to be with oc tho :(( i’m a sad potato 🥔 And the fact that she is still in shock and refuses to talk to anybody 😭 Jungkookie boy protect my baby oc and don’t leave her alone 🥺💜

2- i’m so happy about Taeboy trying to make up with Yoongi you have no idea i miss cute Tae so much 🥺

3- OooMmmggggg we finally learned about how Yoongi became vampire and i was like WHATTTTTT? It’s all because some kind of freak ( with all respect hehe) decide to punish him?? Wow. Just wow.

4- And he was a warlock????? God he is so cool no joke i wanna lick and bite and smooch him 😳

5- But…what broke me most is…he is trying to find a way to being mortal or kill himself just because he doesn’t want to live after oc dies…😭😭😭 I’m gonna fucking cry like literally i’m gonna ugly cry 😭 When he said something like ‘You expect me to live after i watch her die?’ My heart broke 😭

6- I���m happy that Tae and Yoongie Boongi are on good terms ( part of 😏) for the sake of oc

7- but i’m gonna go and cry again because of the…you know… his confession about wanting to die

I can’t wait for the next chapter Sibibaby!!! 🩵🩵🩵💜💜

P.s would u like to share with us a little snippet ?? Or pictures to summarize the next chapter? 🥺🥺🥺💜

I'm so happy that you loved it heheh I love youu 💜💜

honestly I just wanna protect her :( gosh I bet she must be so disgusted at herself too, like omfg she actually killed someone. Poor girl :( rest assured though that Kook is taking the best care of her :(

I'm so happy too!! I missed their lovely interactions so much :( istfg that scene where Tae rests on Yoongi's lap and cries while Yoongi comfortingly plays with his hair is burned into my brAIN

we did!! istfg I love his lore so much!! pLEASE FJADJFA

SAME BRO SO FUCKING SAME I NEED TO EAT THIS MAN FANDNFA

same same same 😭😭😭 y'all always wanted to know how he would react to OC's death and now we know 😭😭 but I honestly understand him, watching your one true mate die would honestly break me too especially after three thousand years of loneliness and then having your happiness die AGAIN :(

same same same :( I missed them so much :(

fajdjfaj ME AFDJF

YES I CAN SHARE A LIL SNIPPET OMFMGM

Hoseok proceeds to take off his hoodie, draping it over your bared legs. You feel warmer instantly. Seokjin takes off his cardigan, wrapping your torso in it. The warmth is instant. Their arms are both exposed now, but they don’t feel the cold.

“That’s better”, Seokjin says.

“Yeah, so much better”, Hoseok agrees.

They fall silent, looking out at the ocean. You should feel better now that you aren’t alone anymore, but you don’t.

afadsjfa

[grayintogreen]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Hello, hello. Since there won't be an update for a bit, I COME BEARING GIFTS. A little snippet from the unfortunately massive Chapter Seventeen, featuring the Tether Twins.

“I don’t like him,” Molly snapped as he stalked side by side with Lucien through the Firmaments. The perpetual night meant always being in Catha’s glow no matter what the time and it should have made every trip out bliss for him, but Essek’s shadow seemed to hang over everything, leaving him constantly vigilant, like the Shadowhand fully intended to pick them all off to isolate them from Caleb, whom he seemed to have the most interest in.

“Careful,” Lucien said, biting into a sweet plum he’d managed to talk a fruit vendor into giving up for less than it was worth for how rare it was. Molly hadn’t even gotten irritated about it. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

He was poking him in the ribs. He had to be. But when Molly looked over at Lucien, juice on the corner of his lips that he licked off with an unforked tongue, he wasn’t teasing. “I don’t want you to be me. I’m me. You’re… The cast off bits I didn’t want.”

“Why Lucien, that’s as close as you’ve come to reconciling me as a person out loud.” The anger didn’t stop Molly’s sarcasm from coming out like melodrama. He clasped his heart. “I’m gonna get the vapors.”

Lucien rolled his eyes. “There you are. Now stop pouting just because your sweetheart is having his intellect tickled by a pretty wizard.”

“I’m not jealous.” He wasn’t. He didn’t get jealous. He and Caleb didn’t have that kind of possessive relationship because neither would thrive in it. Molly would run as fast as he could if Caleb tried to make a cage of his arms around him, even after Molly swore up and down that he’d given himself over to him when they shared blood during the ritual. The fact that he knew Caleb would never take advantage of him was why he could do it.

Conversely, Molly knew that Caleb had methods of dealing with problems that might lead him to… well, whatever he was doing with Essek. If it led him to Essek’s bed, that would be fine if Essek weren’t a fucking wizard, whom they had notoriously bad luck with, or one of the most powerful figures in the Bright Queen’s court and Yeza’s jailer, and he was both.

He knew why Caleb was doing it. He knew he could trust Caleb. He didn’t know anything about Essek and no way of learning more since the bastard kept refusing to meet anywhere but at the Quavein Estate when the rest of the Nein were out save for Molly. It was an obvious ploy, but Caleb was certain his was better, and all that left Molly with was an impotent fury that he could do nothing but wait and watch and hope.

“You know, there’s a simple solution.” Lucien paused to finish off his plum. “Think of what I could do with a body like his.”

Molly almost choked. “I thought you wanted to keep this one.”

“Yellow’s not my color,” Lucien shrugged, throwing his own words back at him. “Might be nice to be the one with all the power at my fingertips again.”

The worst part was Molly was deeply considering it, which meant it was a bad idea. Lucien could do a lot of damage with that kind of power and that was with Molly trusting him not to go completely evil on them. Calling him the cast off bits of his soul he didn’t want might as well have been a flat admittance that he didn’t want him anymore and therefore had no reason to turn on the Nein unless his dignity was worth avenging. It also meant that he was rejecting all the good he could have had in him, which was sort of a step backwards. “We would have to kidnap a political figurehead who knows Dynasty secrets. What d’you think happens in that scenario?”

Lucien sighed in mock-whimsy. “I set everyone on fire and it’s wonderful.”

“I think you dream so much it fucks up how you see reality.” Molly shook his head. “You have to keep your feet on the ground sometimes.”

“That’s a laugh. Advice on staying on the ground for the whimsical, untethered circus clown.” Lucien’s cackle alarmed a couple of small drow children playing ball on the cobblestones and they darted away lest the scary yellow tiefling eat their hearts the same way he ate that plum.

“There’s a difference between knowing what’s real is shite and making it better and dreaming it away, Lucien. When you wake up, it’s still shite. D’you ever think that was what your problem was the whole time?”

“We’re not talking about me. We always talk about me and what my problems are.” He scoffed, bitterly. “You think you don’t have any worth talking about and I know that’s a lie. Maybe you’re not jealous, but you want to break that wizard’s neck because he’s fucking up your plans and holding you all hostage. You like having control over things just as much as I do.”

“Not just as much.”

Lucien made a noncommittal hmph noise and licked the clinging plum juice from his fingers where they stained the yellow skin purple. He drew them back a bit, studying the hue, his tail swishing a bit in clear agitation. This body wasn’t right either and every now and then it seemed to hit him- a glance in a mirror, the horns not responding right, the tail having the wrong shape.

Stain from a juicy plum on his fingers turning the topaz flesh to lavender.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and changed the subject, lest they both banter analysis of each others’ mental states back and forth like a shuttlecock. The worst part of the tether wasn’t the risk of bleedover or influence or unwanted shared memories but the mortification of having every single bit of emotional turmoil being right there for perusal through the tether to be thrown out as a smokescreen to avoid difficult conversations. “I’ve done some research into this consecution business.”

Molly whipped his head towards him, so shocked that he forgot he still had plenty to be annoyed by. “Why?”

“Well for starters, everyone forgets I haven’t been here for all of your little adventures.” Molly wanted to say, flat out, that of course everyone remembered that Lucien wasn’t there and those times were better, but found he couldn’t for a reason he didn’t want to examine. He was fine with badgering Lucien, but somehow actively hurting his feelings was where his line hit now. He deserved to be pestered, not bullied. “And if I want an explanation that isn’t inane, I have to find it myself.”

“For starters,” Molly repeated, just in case Lucien had designs on keeping the other reasons secret.

Lucien went silent for a moment, his stained fingers flexing like he wished he had something to do with them. “If DeRogna was doing studies on this Luxon Beacon, then maybe she used that knowledge to botch the ritual.”

Molly stopped walking abruptly. “Lucien, why would you want to know that?”

Lucien stopped too and eyed him. He could see it in his head, a series of thoughts that weren’t performative the way his words always were. Unschooled, unpracticed, and left to roam, they were explosions of sharp indignation and little pinpricks of fear and revulsion. Without that little insight into his motivations, Molly wouldn’t have believed him when he said, very seriously, “I want to know what was done to me, so it won’t happen again.”

What could Molly say to that? He was well within his rights to want to know. Even if he wanted to recreate it to inflict it upon someone else, he would have still had a right to figure it out for his own peace of mind. The Nein weren’t his masters. He was free to do what he wanted so long as it didn’t hurt anyone in the group or put them in danger and every time Molly believed that Lucien might be thinking of putting them in danger, he felt that sharp explosion behind his eyes of Lucien’s indignation, like he was trying to stab him with it.

He can’t change if we don’t let him.

Molly just shook his head and sighed in defeat. Some days it was easier to remember Lucien wasn’t the monster he’d made of him in his head, just someone disillusioned enough to cause harm while trying to do good and jaded enough to believe good alone would never be efficient enough to fix a broken age. He was still that person, hiding behind an armored shell of necessary evils and slowly peeling back the layers and every single time Molly or anyone else saw an opportunity he might latch onto to pull himself out of his bad situation and braced themselves for it, he slipped further and further from grace. Eventually, he might not even think about it happening at all and just stay there, rather than begrudgingly pull himself back.

“No one’s gonna let it happen to you again, Lucien,” Molly blurted out before he could stop himself from getting too schmaltzy with his intent. “Nothing like that is gonna happen to you or anyone else. If you want to understand it, fine. But we’re not going to let anyone hurt you like that again, so you don’t have to worry about it..”

The filigreed cleaver-end of Lucien’s tail flicked back and forth. There was shock behind his eyes before he closed it all off and started walking again. “I’ve heard that before.”

And just like that, Molly’s irritation was back, as if it had never left. A cloud passed over Catha as if to reflect it. He yelled after him, “You make it really difficult to do right by you, you arsehole.”

[truly-morgan]

[cuckJade brothers]

ChengXian | Mo Dao Zu Shi Modern AU 10-06-2021

[#chengxian feat. xicheng and wangxian]

We often see cuckji, but what about cuckjade twin? Both brothers end up being clueless cuck at first, until they realise chengxian aren't just friends again.

Like, they finally reunite after /years/ apart and spark old thing.

maybe chengxian has a little something going on already, dancing around each other for years as they are teens. yet they still are each other's first kiss (they argued who kissed better), experimented with each other (out of curiosity of how someone else would feel). they had /something/ going on despite never admitting to loving each other more than what was expected of them.

They were still each other most trusted and cherished person.

then wwx was gone for about 13-15 years to keep his family away from the big problems he got himself into.

Maybe he's gone at first to try and repay a debt he owns to the wens, hides and runs from jc for 3 years until he just disappears from the earth surface. he actually ends up in prison for like, 7-9 years for some crime he ended up committing to finish paying his debt, hence completely losing tie with anyone and making him basically disappear.

when he's finally out of prison wwx doesn't know how to contact anyone (after all, it has been 7-9 years), but he's also scared to even /try/ contacting jc. What would he say? Can he show his face after what he did? What if jc wouldn't want a criminal?

too many doubts and too many things he is still processing from the past 10-12 past years. He lives by jumping from odd job to odd job until one day he stumbles onto lwj (he did try running away but he was not fast enough against lwj). This is a bit weird and awkward, especially since the last times they met was in some of his worst time and the very last time had been a huge argument (and three days later he was arrested).

but lwj is understanding and helps him get back on his feet. they grow closer over that and ends up playing family (wwx is surprised when he learns that baby a-yuan has been with lwj all this time, but happy to know he was safe).

He's nearly a "stay at home wife", trying to find a job he can do well and without being kicked out.

As for jc, when wwx suddenly disappear after a fight they had about wwx refusing to tell him what kind of problems he got himself into.

Sure, he did refuse to contact him for a while because he was angry, but then he got anxious when wwx wouldn't reply to him.

only once did wwx replied to his call, sounding so tired, jc had never heard him like this. All he manages to get is that he /cannot/ look for wwx because it's dangerous, but that wwx doesn't hate him. ("I could never hate my chengcheng" he is told, the chuckle sounding genuine and a bit more alive).

but he still tries to chase wwx, sometimes hears snippet and hints, but he seemingly always misses him by little. Lwj that traitor would never tell him, but he /know/ the man has had contact with wwx (it does sour they relationship, how can he refuse to tell him where to find wwx?)

then suddenly nothing, even lwj looks has though he had lost everything and it only made jc gut drop, assuming the worst.

Then his family got into a deadly accident.

lxc was the one to help him all this time, slowly gaining trust from jc, helping him slowly pick up all the broken pieces, helping him with jl.

He never forces his feelings on jc (he can pine until he dies if needed, he just wanna be by jc side). It does take years before jc is steady on his feet again, jl his new reason to actually keep on living without giving up ("I have someone needing me, I cannot let my only family alone"). in these 10-12 years he warms up to lxc, slowly letting him in his heart until he allows himself to actually love again and let lxc take care of him fully.

Stability and a loving family are something he needs and lxc is more than happy to give him this.

Then the big reunion does need to happy, wwx somehow knew it was bound to happen, but he would never have thought it would happen the way it did.

of course, he learned about jc dating lxc (which did hurt his heart a bit, he could never let go of jc fully)., but he decided to stay hidden, still unsure how to meet him (even more now that he had been out of prison for /3/ years and never contacted him).

but it is a bit hard when they move to the same city as xicheng and that the juniors are all good friends.

Of course, lsz friends are over often, which means wwx has to deal with xicheng kids. He sure likes them, but it often makes him nervous. Have they told jc about him? Or is he just lwj's boyfriend and lsz new dad? He assumes not, otherwise, he feels like jc would surely have made a move.

and make a move he does.

when jl is on the phone with jc once at wangxian house, jc hears wwx talking and he also hears oyz calling out to him. He was so shocked that he nearly drop his phone, before asking jl to repeat what oyz just said. but he did hear well, wwx was /back/. He was back, safe and /close/. Why didn't he know?

in no time he rushes to where the juniors are hanging out, forgetting about his manner and he opens the door and enters to see wwx cooking for them. they both freeze when they see each other and wwx looks like a deer caught in headlight. this was jc.

This was jc in his house and look angry and about to cry.

he feels like running away, he is /not/ prepared.

but he doesn't and the atmosphere suddenly gets tense and filled with many emotions. jl and lsz are the first to get it, suddenly suggesting going out to get some snack for their movie night (jl quickly shut down ljy when he tries to point out they already did that).

then it shuangjie time, very emotional, maybe a bit of screaming, blaming and apologies, lot of crying too.

by the time the juniors come back (3 hours later), they are now talking at the table, eyes red a puffy, voices still a bit hoars.

they have /a lot/ to talk about, but right now is not the time. right now was the time for letting out all the negative, letting out all the bad accumulated over the past decade and a half. It was also the time for wwx to apologise for being missing like this, for not telling jc. only a couple of days later do they take a day to go over the past decade and a half, wwx finally telling all that had happened, not wanting to hide from jc anymore (plus, the danger has been taken care of when he was in jail).

of course, jc doesn't like hearing he went to jail, but the relief of knowing that /now/ he is alright and good is stronger.

Then wwx learns about all that has happened when he was gone and he wishes he could have been there. He regrets not finding another way, even though he isn't sure how he would have found a way. He just wishes he could have been by jc side when their family died like this,m leaving him all alone with jl.

it takes some time, but they do sorts out everything together, slowly working on what they missed, working to catch up.

Soon it's pretty evident to them that the love they had for each other and that they thought was gone (after all, they were genuinely happy with lxc and lwj) it's clear that finally being back next to each other is helping greatly for both of them.

the jade twin are pretty happy to see them happy like this again, simply thinking they are happy to finally have their family back again. But then what started as them being back to "just being bros" started being a bit more when old feelings decided to come hitting hard. Old habits were coming back, old desires follows suit.

It started with lingering looks when no one else was looking, lingering and discreet touch, going out (on date) to "catch up" (away from their boyfriend's eyes).

Then at some point, they finally cross the line, unsure who actually initiated the kiss, hands roaming around, trying to find old familiarity.

They both know they should feel guilty for their makeout session in the car and they do a little bit, but the happiness somehow drowns everything. of course, they promise not to do this again.

But now that they finally tasted what they wanted all these years, can they really stop?

and then they broke this promise.

many times.

they would sneak away from other's eyes, using the excuse of hanging out to rediscover each other's body. This is what they could have had if life hadn't been this hard on them, they could have had that all this time without needing to hide like this.

on the other side, lxc and lwj were first happy for them, then suspicion settled in. They both had a vague idea of what kind of feeling chengxian had for each other in the past.

lwj had a funny impression when most of the time he met up with wwx in his difficult time, he would ask about jc, making sure he was doing alright. More than once did he saw him looking longingly at a picture wxx had of jc, sometimes his thumb hovering above the call button.

lxc had obviously known that all these years jc had still tried to keep looking for wwx, his eyes looking suddenly hopeful anytime someone similar to wwx would pass them, the similar figure that could have been wwx if he hadn't been in jail. He felt like jc wouldn't have been /this/ obsessed with finding wwx if his feeling weren't deeper.

yet they both had been dating the young men and hoped that they would forget about it 

(especially since lxc didn't expect wwx to suddenly reappear like this).

So how could they not suspect something when wwx and jc seemed to have grown a bit /too/ close after their reunion. Often going out until late, coming back smelling like each other and trying to hide possible marks and proof of what they did.

Eventually, the brothers stumble onto a kissing chengxian, surprising both men when they finally notice them.

It is pretty awkward afterwards, with everyone sitting in the living room without talking.

[poll to see what the ending should be]

(love how most of y'all decide cuckjade accept easily that they are cuck ijbfijb)

The atmosphere in the room was rather awkward and tense, wwx and jc sitting on the couch, on each end, as the Jade twins were sitting on chairs they brought from the kitchen.

The two who had been caught right-handed were not sure how to start explaining. But what was there to explain? It had been rather clear what they were doing, even wwx wouldn't be able to find excuses for it.

They couldn't say they regretted it, but they did feel bad in a way. Sure, they were still in love with each other, but their affection for each of the Jade brothers was not fake either, they didn't want to hurt them.

"Lan Huan, I'm-" tried to start jc, his voice tight as he didn't dare to look up at the man.

"I know," said lxc with a small smile on his lips.

on the other side of the couch, wwx dared a look at lwj, but it was hard to say what the other man was thinking about. Sure, he had gotten used to reading his rather unexpressive face, but right now it was hard to tell.

"We've actually been suspecting it for a while now" lwj finally says, only making wwx a jc pale a bit.

They knew? And they never said anything? They both thought they had been sneaky, but apparently, they couldn't escape the attentive attention of the Jade brothers. They had noticed and suspected it and now they had their confirmation. But what could they really do about it if they wanted to keep the?

after all, with all their love and passion, neither would want to break up with the cheating duo. It had taken /years/ before they could finally have their little lover, could they really let go like this?

But they couldn't really force the two to break off either. For a starter, if the two really wanted to be together, they would always end up meeting up and the Jade brothers couldn't just lock them up inside (although it did sound like a nice idea...). Plus, if they were to force them to break off when they clearly loved each other, wouldn't they start hating them?

breaking them off could have the same result as breaking up, only this time it would have the laying of wwx and jc just having negative feelings for them. It was not the best option.

With one look to his brother, lxc knew lwj had a similar thought. They only had one option...

wwx seemed to be about to talk this time, but he was cut off by lxc quickly, not allowed to end anything.

"We understand" he smiles, "And we don't... want to see either of you sad".

jc and wwx were a bit surprised, confused that they seemed to be giving up so easily. Were they really breaking up? It felt surreal for it to come from the Jade brothers.

"We grew up being told that sharing is also important" pointed out lwj.

oh.

now they understood.

wwx and jc ended up even more surprised, stunned when they realised lxc and lwj accepted so easily that they were being cheated on, but also accepted to let it happen because they wanted them to be happy together too.

it felt a bit too surreal when wwx remembered how lwj would chase away anyone who simply looked at him wrong. This lwj who was so in love with him was ready to share him with jc because he wanted him to be happy with the both of them?

jc was as surprised. Sure, lxc was not as possessive as his brother, but he had his fair share of scaring anyone who wanted to try anything with him away (as discreet as lxc tried to be, of course, jc noticed it). he was also ready to let jc give his love and attention to both lxc and wwx?

"You really mean it?" jc asked, looking as lxc stood up to instead kneel in front of him. "I know my a-cheng wouldn't have stayed with me if he had not even a little bit of love for me, you are not the kind of person to keep on faking feelings, but I also know you would be really sad without wwx next to you and I can't bear seeing you like this again" he smiled, cupping his cheek as jc's eyes were getting a bit teary.

He really meant it. He was really ready to share his love if it meant jc could still be by his side.

a yelp got their attention when lwj suddenly pulled wwx to him, hugging his smaller frame close to him. "I don't want to lose wei ying again," he said in a low voice, "Of see you longing desperately for jc as you did in the past".

he had seen how low wwx had been in the past, and he was scared to see him like this again. Maybe he wouldn't hit rock bottom again, after all, there was more than just losing jc at the time, but he knew it would be a hard hit after they were finally able to be together again.

"Just promise not to forget I am here too".

wwx gently returned the embrace, hand slowly rubbing his back to reassure. "I won't forget about a-zhan, don't worry" he whispered.

After that, jc and wwx shared a look, smiling at each other.

They were happy to have such accepting, generous and understanding boyfriends.

They wouldn't forget to love them the same way they loved each other.

Original

[the-navistar-carol]

who is an OC that is near and dear to your heart? What is their story?

The obvious answer that everyone would know would be Kelly “Vacay” Savannah, because she’s the main character of “Aftershocks” and there’s a fairly good chance people would know who I’m talking about. However, the obvious answer is wrong.

Long post ahead lmfao, this is your fair warning.

I will elaborate on any of these characters if someone asks.

From an old writing project I scrapped, the dragon princess Birch and her half-demon girlfriend Twilight mean so much to me. They’re the epitome of crossing every border of perception. Erika Heiden, the woman who grew to love a power that was forced upon her, the one became a storm incarnate — Alessia Rybak, the illusionist who turned from Cold War Soviet spy to an underworld-famous one of six, protecting instead of endangering.

Sakura Arai, the writer who gained her confidence, and Daiyu Cheung, the one who was forced to learn power wasn’t everything.

From the Miraculous RP server, Valérie Levi, for who she became. She was me, in the most human and fulfilling sense of the word, and if she could rise to greatness, I could, too. Jamie Lee, my outstretched hand to every fallen friend, was my reassurance that my actions mattered. Eva Sepal, my self-loathing, became a better person, though that rocky road never let up. She had friends, at the end of it all. Friends who would help. Kacie Lee, my naïvete, was my reassurance that just because I didn’t know something — it didn’t mean I was any less off for it.

To Aidan Fierro, who did his best with what he had; to Nagihiko Fujisaki, who was loyalty in a way very few can be; to Colin Strami, whose patience could outlast the world; to Victor Guzman, whose anxiety was never taken as a joke; to Tina Zaipe, whose trauma was taken seriously.

From my own private and unpublished Star Wars writing projects, Jeena Tika, for standing her ground. Jamille Klaskoll, for pursuing what — and who — she wanted, even in the depths of it all. To Shaari Sandspear, whose occupation as a seamstress became a silent cry for rebellion against slave-masters. To Silja Sykemi, the Clawdite spy who, somehow, managed to juggle optimism, too. I have some snippets that I might post on Ao3.

From my Star Wars RP server set in the Clone Wars, I love Nima Choko wholeheartedly. Nima, whose epithet became one of the matched "Twin Suns," who refused to let a war dictate who she was -- Jedi or General. To Nol Solga, the Shadow who did not lose himself to the Dark inherent to his profession. To Indali Solimar, the Jedi Initiate who has not overcome her fear over her own abilities but gets up anyway. To Luviel Homa, the inexperienced Senator who used connections available to her friends as her own. To Karis Stoclo, she who was taken from her family but made herself a new one. Pix Mitraza, the man who believes himself as no better than his profession -- a headhunter -- and does good anyway. To Bracer, Livewire, Lock, and Burner: clone soldiers, copies by nature, but each all irrevocably different. And Jhati Jessot, the woman who never should have had to become who she is, but also the woman who will make the world her own.

For Aftershocks 'verse, I love Kelly "Vacay" Savannah for how she loves -- without question or doubt. I love Marisol "Floodgate" Carter for how I wish I could do what she does in how she refuses to stand for anything less than her own standards. For Ezekiel "Twister" Morris, when he appears, for being more than his past mistakes.

I could go on about more characters than just these.

But they are all me, when it matters.

[notyetbulletproof]

The thing about Anthony’s trauma is that it is relatable. Yes, well he is way more privileged (in terms of status) than most, the pain of losing someone so central to who you are is something many people can relate to. Denying that, denying that hurt and refusing to let himself grieve caused Anthony to really bleed all over people that didn’t cut him. It set him adrift. Running from the life he wasn’t ready to lead yet pushing himself to do it the best he could because it was his responsibility as the oldest. The duality of those choices. He justified his choices and his maintained distance with his family as protecting them, leading them. He removed love because it felt impossible to do both. He didn’t feel he could live up to who his father was so he did this make shift thing of being Viscount without being involved. Being present yet not really there because his family had lost a central member to their salvation and he couldn’t be his father. He could only assume the responsibilities. And you see that in snippets. You see it in his defensive behaviour toward Simon when Simon calls it out in Season 1, to Violet (both seasons), to his siblings (both seasons), to Sienna, to everyone. He expects so much of everyone because he expects so much of himself and then beats himself up for not doing the job better.

And every time he brings up duty and honour, his siblings call him out because there comes a time where you have to acknowledge that you are choosing to do this. You are choosing to put your perceived notions of what we need ahead of what you want and then saying you have to do it. Know that. However, Anthony’s counterpoint about not having the luxury of choice, or feeling as such because of his position and the need to fight for the family that he has instead of what he wants is fair. It’s the expectation of the position as head of his family, a responsibility he does not relish and envies his siblings for not having to have. He wouldn’t wish it on them though. He loves them too much. More than he says. Yet, by the end, he is more comfortable in his role as Viscount because he finally learns and accepts that he didn’t have to choose LOVE or FAMILY. DUTY or LOVE. He didn’t have to be alone to be enough for his family. He didn’t have to do any of this alone.

And that is why Kate’s presence in his life is so jarring. He’s kept everyone at a distance living his double life. A gentleman and a Rake. A father figure and a lost son. A man without feeling and a man desperate to feel again. Kate is the first person outside of his family that calls him out from the jump. She holds him accountable for his words and actions. She shows him the direct impact of them. She also calms the parts of him he’s too scared to talk about. She challenges him and yet makes him feel safe. It’s maddening. And because of Kate, his family start seeing Anthony again. Snippets at first. Then more. He hasn’t spoken about his father in a decade yet he shares openly with Kate. Not excessively but openly because she knows that pain and that role or that thrust of responsibility. She understands him just as he understands her. And what we get is 2 people so use to rail roading a lot of things and people. Dominating every room they enter because they felt they had to to protect their families and themselves literally meet their match. We see them both wise up to what their actions have cost them and the people around them. We see them struggle with the fierce protection of their family and admitting to themselves that in doing that they may have denied their siblings the opportunity to be who they really were. We see them learn to balance by allowing themselves love. By allowing themselves the joy of sharing a life. As the show is centred around each Bridgerton sibling, it makes sense that you see all this more through Anthony’s pov and you see his pain addressed first (I hope next season we get Kate’s history too and Kate stepping into her new role as Viscountess).

Anthony had become a controlling, emotionally unavailable, distressed, incredibly anxious, obsessed with his own mortality, believed himself to be seen as unfeeling and cruel and truly believed his family despised him. Unprocessed emotion sure has a way of fucking us up. He watched his father die in-front of him and was powerless to stop it. He didn’t know how to help. Imagine how that impacted anytime he faced crisis. Alone. The addressing of his trauma and his responses to it in Season 2 do not condone any of the things he might have done over the years in his single minded pursuit of being the Viscount. He’s not suddenly a good guy. It’s that he was a good guy all along and that he’s finally addressing the root of his pain. The emotional context to his actions. It doesn’t ask us to forgive his controlling behaviours or his stubbornness. It asks us and him to see it for what it is and learn to balance. To let love in because no one is just ONE THING. To hold yourself accountable. To fight for love and family and everything else. To be the honourable gentleman he was capable of being. The boy that died the day his father did. To release some control and anxiety. To share the load. To learn to cope with loss and to know it is the unfortunate price we all pay for love but to not have it at all? Wouldn’t that be more tragic? To see his younger siblings be denied that knowledge (of his father) and feeling responsible to fill the gaps now in a way he didn’t think of doing before. To be fair, it wasn’t just HIS responsibility. He is the only father figure they’ve ever known sure but all the older siblings could have spoken about his father and didn’t. And I wonder if that has to do with their own grief or out of respect to Violet and Anthony. And I honestly think it’s both. To go from a loving household to a grieving one and to not talk enough about the parent you lost because by the time your youngest siblings are old enough to have that conversation, he would be a stranger to them. They obviously do talk about Edmund but in the fact that he is their father and he died. Look, I was really moved by Anthony’s improved interactions with Gregory and Hyacinth okay? (Also this is in direct contrast to the Sharmas because Kate told Edwina every story possible about their father).

Anyway, I think a lot about how Kate made Anthony wake up and wise up. How love can do that. How both of them thought themselves unworthy of love for very different reasons but had similar traumatic experiences that shaped that response. Similar enough for them to understand each other but different enough for them to learn from one another too. How book Anthony’s quote about looking into the eyes of your wife and knowing down to your bones that she is the best person you’ve ever known is exhibited through the season in the way that Anthony came alive with Kate. It’s like the realisation that your coping strategies don’t serve you or anyone you love anymore. Realising you showed up for too late for too many things AND ACTUALLY DOING SOMETHING ABOUT IT. Actually doing something different. Actually growing and processing the pain. Making space for other emotions. No longer becoming a manifestation of your pain and sadness but learning to carry it alongside everything else.

Learning and changing. Growing. Processing. Being present for your life.

[vidalinav]

Life’s a Beach (1)

I underestimated how long this fic was, so I smashed them together. I will continue just posting snippets and writing it like that (and then smashing them together), but since most of you will already have read it, I will include a bonus scene at the end. My thank you for putting up with my unconventional writing process. 

Summary: Tarquin comes to town and Cassian is jealous. 

~

Cassian doesn’t like when Tarquin visits.  

Never mind the ban from the Summer Court or that at one point, blood rubies pilfer their court. Never mind that Summer crowns him holier than the seas and the sun. Cassian doesn’t like the ease in which he walks. He may not have his usual royal garb, but he glides along the Sidra. The mighty king out for a stroll.  

Nesta looks like his queen.  

His mate is bright and beaming, huffing laughs and smiling wide as she praises his ideas. Cassian has ideas, too.  

But Nesta isn’t interested in his ideas as he follows them around. Nesta just continues smiling. Her skin glows with the sun, the apples of her cheeks turning a pretty shade of apricot as Tarquin notes the dying rays. Are you a poet Tarquin? Cassian wants to ask, but knowing the High Lord, he just might be and Nesta fucking loves poetry.  

Her cheeks remain pink and Cassian resists grabbing her hand and dragging her back to the house. You’ll die of heatstroke; he might say if she protests. But no.  

He won’t.  

He promises to be on his best behavior.  

Even so, Cassian can’t help eyeing buildings as they pass. Just break one, he urges. One and we can ban you from the Night Court. But that might mean, Nesta spending some time in Summer, with her good friend Tarquin, who makes Nesta beam like that, make her cheeks red like that.  

All Cassian sees is red.

All Nesta looks at is Tarquin.  

“You know, I never thought someone as young as you would be so conniving.”

Conniving? Cassian isn’t paying attention, but at the word, he’s ready to deem it insulting enough to fight Tarquin if Nesta so much as gives him a look. But Nesta only listens as Tarquin speaks. Cassian can’t even read her expression. It’s blank as she stares.  

“I admire that quality,” The little high lord says.  

Admire someone else, buddy.  

Nesta only snorts, the words making her laugh.  

The light plays with her eyes as she smirks. They look bluer today. Less silver. Cassian has to think that it has something to do with Tarquin. Tarquin who brings out the blue in Nesta’s eyes, who brings pink to her cheeks. Never mind that it probably has more to do with how bright it is today.  

“You’re too smart,” he remarks, and Cassian wants to roll his eyes. Nesta is too smart, too smart to be hanging around with some pompous flatterer. “No wonder you’re good at this game.”  

“What game?” She asks, lightly, but even Cassian can hear the caution. Her voice slowing as if coaxing an answer from his lips.  

“The game we all play. These situations that have us playing with life whether we want to or not.” Nesta lilts her head curiously, waiting for further explanation and Cassian waits too, because he’s not sure he understands. Tarquin looks like he’d rather not speak of it, but he continues even so.  

“Fae are good at games–invented them really. Court politics, morality, marriage, and bargains. I have to believe you’re good at them. Not just because I’ve seen you, but because I know what Eris offered as soon as he had you in his arms… It’s always the smart ones who win these games–the most clever.”  

Nesta rolls her eyes as if his words offer no great importance, “It’s never the smart ones who win.” She counters. “Not the ones who are strongest or the most magically gifted or the one who smiles the sweetest while she glides across the floor. There is no game that you can win by being the most beautiful person in the room… No game I’d want to play anyways.”  

“Then who does win?” He urges. Tarquin almost sounds desperate for the answer, and Cassian has to wonder if Nesta has woven a spell around him too just as much as Eris.  

“Whoever’s luckiest,” Nesta shrugs simply, “So there’s no point in trying so hard… We all end up in the exact place we were always supposed to be in.”    

She doesn’t sound happy about that either, and something about the tone makes Cassian want to hold her close. Make her remember that it’s a joy to be here. To be together, even if it is with another male who skin beams with the summer sun.

I’m lucky to have you. 

He hopes she knows.  

“Then you’re lucky,” Tarquin notes, “And blessed. You’re blessed and lucky. Smart and clever.” He laughs as if brushing the seriousness off, “Is that why you’re so good at cards? Azriel was moping last night. I thought that had something to do with you.”  

Nesta lifts a casual shoulder, a soft smile playing on her lips. Cassian thinks even that is a play–some move she knows will help her counter his attack. “Azriel loses because he wants to win and it’s easy to win against someone who’s already shown their cards.”  

“Motivations are everything.”  

“Yes,” Nesta nods frankly, “so why are you here?”  

Cassian wants to know, too.  

Actually, Cassian wants to push him into the Sidra and see if pretty fishman can float, but he’ll take Nesta’s verbal spar in any case. If he runs back to the House with his tail between his legs, Cassian will consider it a win for the both of them. His lovely strategist.

But Tarquin doesn’t run. Cassian doesn’t think Tarquin will ever run from Nesta and that simple fact makes him furious. That there is another male in this world who will see Nesta and not balk, who will know Nesta and not grimace.  

Cassian is not the only male who stays. Not for the power or the beauty or the poise, but because underneath all of that is a female who can conquer as much as she can tame. Whose voice sounds like the sea, whose eyes are crystal clear waters, whose mind rages against the tide.  

Tarquin breathes in ocean air.  

Every morning, he fishes on the coast. Every evening, he sleeps to the humming sea. Who would know Nesta better than someone who dreams of waves?  

So, it doesn’t come as any surprise when Tarquin looks to him, as she asks her question. Why are you here?  

“Because I want to know you.”  

A fool’s choice.  

“I’m not foolish enough to claim you,” He adds, “and I’m not foolish enough to think you’ll ever be claimed, even if you have a mate. No offense, Cassian.”

Offense taken.  

“I’m not even foolish enough to think I can even begin to know who you are or what you’ve been through… But when you looked at me that day in the Summer Court, and asked me to help your family, offered me anything that you could give me alone.”  

What? Cassian looks to Nesta, but she promptly ignores him, staring at Pompous Prince Tarquin.  

“I’d never seen anyone want so badly. I wanted to know what that felt like. Know what stirred so deeply in your heart that you looked at me like you’d give me the entire world for just one yes.”  

Tarquin raises a shoulder and Cassian tries not to swallow so loudly. He thinks he might have to shove a fist down his throat to stop his screaming, “You’re a question I keep mulling over and I’ve yet to figure out what the answer is. I don’t even know if I could know the answer if it stared me in the eyes, but I would like to learn. To feel half of what you feel, to learn how to love so truly.”

~

Cassian replays her answer as he sleeps. He goes over it and over it and over it again. At some point, he wakes her up in the middle of the night, shaking her shoulder.  

“Nesta,” he whispers, “Nesta? What did you mean?”

His mate only groans, her brows furrowing, as she burrows further into blankets. Cassian knows he’s playing in dangerous territory, but he can’t stop thinking about. It’s driving him insane.  

“Nesta, what did you mean?”  

He says it once louder, shaking her again. Nesta only juts out her elbow, hitting him in the rib. Cassian holds in the heavy moan as he clutches his chest, and Nesta settles in her sleep.  

Still, Cassian can’t give up now. “When you told Tarquin you’d think about it, what did you mean? Nesta?”  

Cassian grasps her shoulder, shaking her lightly, “Nesta!”  

“What?” Nesta yells, leaning up so fast, she almost hits her head on his chin. “What do you keep yelling about? I’m trying to sleep!”  

Even furious and half-asleep, she looks beautiful. The strap of her nightgown slips down one shoulder, and he trails the movement as if his own fingers push it down. Nesta crosses her arms, and he swallows down the want. Not an appropriate time, Cassian.  

She raises a brow, “Well?”  

“I wanted to talk,” he says simply.  

Nesta looks to the clock on the wall, glaring at him exasperated. “At two in the morning?”  

“Good a time as any.”  

She looks mad that much is true, and Cassian wishes to appease.  

His mate is tired, so he’ll fluff her pillows, rub her shoulders while she relaxes enough to tell him exactly what she means when she tells Tarquin she’ll think about it. As if his I want to get to know you is an offer she can’t refuse.  

But as he fluffs her pillows, Cassian can only think of Tarquin.  

He would have waited to speak to her, prioritizing Nesta’s health over his wants. Just this morning… or yesterday morning, the High Lord of Summer makes sure to ask Nesta if she’s eaten as she reads her book on the couch–a fact he finds rude to say the least–and when she says no, he offers to make breakfast for her. Oh, so generous of him. Never mind that they have a House who cooks their meals.  

Cassian scoffs as he thinks about it. What High Lord plays chef? And who is he to ask if Nesta’s eaten as if his mate isn’t being taken care of?  

He yanks at the pillow, beats at it, punches it. He can’t help but imagine Tarquin’s face. He can see feathers jutting from the cushion, and still he hits. The cloth lays in the cinders on the bed before he stops.  

Nesta sighs at the mess, grabbing one of the pillows from his side, clasping it to her head.  

“What are you doing?” Cassian asks.  

“Hoping I suffocate enough to pass out.”

Her voice is muffled, and he grasps at the pillow. Her hair is a ruffled mess. It splays out on the pillow in waves. Cassian can’t help but breathe at the sight of her and the sound is a sigh of relief.  

She’s his… Or as much as Nesta can be his.  

She chose him.  

Nesta with her matted hair, the side of her cheek pink from where she pushes up against the pillow, her silver nightgown making her skin glow in the light of the moon, chooses him.  

Shouldn’t that be enough?  

Cassian rubs at his face, feeling all too shameful. “I’m sorry. I just–” He takes in their bed, feathers littering the duvet. Suddenly, he feels like a little kid. What was he doing beating a pillow like that? Waking Nesta in the middle of the night? 

“You’re jealous,” Nesta says.  

Her voice echoes in the room, and Cassian frowns at the words. Of course, he’s jealous. That much is obvious. He’s always jealous.  

Nesta is beautiful and powerful and smiles like she grants the sun its light, and males flock to her like moths. Not just any males either but stupid princes and arrogant High Lords and stupid, arrogant Tarquin!

Nesta only grabs at the pillow in his hands, setting it under her head as she closes her eyes. He waits for her to speak, but he can only hear the ticking of the clock, on and on as time passes.  

Nesta doesn’t say a thing.  

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say. You’re jealous and you go back to sleep.”  

The pretty pink of her lips purse, but she doesn’t even open her eyes as she says, “If you were looking for comfort, you shouldn’t have woken me up at two in the morning.”  

Well… damn.  

Cassian settles back at his side, crossing his arms as he stares at the ceiling. He’s one less pillow down, but that doesn’t bother him much. It’s the thoughts that don’t quiet even for a second. Stupid mating bond.  

That thought though has him looking to Nesta. No, he loves that mating bond. He loves her. And even if Tarquin wants to impede himself like a wall between them, Cassian will still love Nesta Archeron.  

He closes his eyes repeating those words as if they’re a lullaby that will let him drift off to sleep. I love Nesta Archeron. I love Nesta Archeron. I love Nesta Archeron.  

The words don’t comfort him even a little.  

But Nesta sets her head on his chest. She tucks herself in to the crook of his arm and Cassian squeezes gently–he tries not to hold on too tight.  

She must sense his surprise. Whether that be from the bond or because Nesta knows him like that back of her hand, he doesn’t know. But she blinks one eye open, looking at him with bright grey and all his fears are assuaged.

“You should hold me since you woke me up.”

Cassian can only blink, nodding his head as she wraps his arms around her, and he settles in. He can hear her heart beating and he can hear her soft breathing and Cassian can go to sleep to this. He can.  

Cassian will hold her until she tells him let go. Cassian will not let go.  

Still… he can’t help it.  

“I bet Tarquin can’t hold you like this.”  

Cassian only gets mouth full of feathers.

~

Tarquin tells Rhys that he’s going to stay for two weeks. During this time, they’ll talk of treaties, draw up some plan of trade, some easy comings and goings of Night Court and Summer Court residences. Cassian tells Rhys that they don’t need a treaty. Throw him out now, he thinks.  

“Is something going on with you?” Rhys asks, leaning back in his chair, ever the High Lord. Cassian is starting to hate High Lords.  

Cassian crosses his arms, grinding his teeth. He’s in the sitting room in the estate. Amren solves a puzzle as if nothing about this meeting is important at all. Mor talks to Feyre by the dining room, gossiping rather than listening to Rhys moan about Tarquin and peace treaties. Nesta, not that she goes to these meetings, is out doing gods know what with Tarquin who wants to view the city.  

Take me to all your favorite places, he says. Cassian rolls his eyes just thinking about the way Nesta’s light up. Bookstores and restaurants and museums. She knows them all. Nesta goes with him, first. Why does Tarquin care? Is he planning on buying a winter house in Velaris?  

Cassian’s blood runs cold at the thought.  

“He’s jealous,” Azriel says, throwing a scroll at Rhys which he easily catches.  

Mor’s head jerks up at the word, even Feyre smirks with interest.  

“No,” Cassian dismisses, but he’s never been a good liar. His voice pitches high and Rhys eyes him with humor, “I… just think that we don’t need Summer Court resources, when we have an abundance of them already.”  

“You’re also banned,” Amren comments helpfully, “I would say that makes you the most biased towards these dealings.”  

“Your boyfriend is from the Summer Court; wouldn’t that make you the most biased?” Mor asks. Amren simply shrugs.  

“I mean have we considered that. That male banned me and now we’re opening our borders?”  

“Our borders have always been open,” Feyre says, not so helpfully. The look she gives him has him sinking in his seat. “Also, you wrecked the central magistrate.” 

“They’ve rebuilt it,” Cassian argues.  

“You mates are all the same,” Amren groans loudly, “She’s not going to fuck Tarquin.”  

“Shut up Amren!”

“That’s the best you can do? I’m sure Tarquin’s more eloquent.”

“Amren,” Feyre says, giving her that motherly reprimanding look. An expression that Cassian supposes comes with the motherhood package.  

It does the trick.

Amren sneers, but she settles back where she sits on the floor, picking at her puzzle. Cassian has the sudden urge to knock the pieces off the table, just for the comment alone.

“Nesta loves you, Cassian,” Feyre says, her voice light and calming. Too bad it doesn’t calm him, and he doesn’t want to talk about this now even if she goads. “What’s there to be jealous of?”  

Cassian already knows this answer. He knows this answer this morning, the other night, the minute summer enters Velaris spring. It’s not that Nesta loves him. Cassian knows Nesta loves him. It’s that he lets his guard down. He forgets the most crucial information of all–

Nesta is easily lovable.  

Sure, she might give a sneer or two at someone who annoys her well enough or beat the living daylights out of someone who threatens those she loves, but Nesta is an easily lovable dork.

She laughs at stupid things and it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. She’s a goofball! He swears she knows every book in that library. She absorbs information like a sponge, will rant for hours about everything she learns. Her thoughtfulness knows no bounds. They’ll be off at the market and if she sees something that looks like Gwyn or Emerie or himself or whoever, she has to have it. She has to give it to them. They go to get cinnamon buns and she orders enough for the priestesses. She remembers everyone’s birthday. She learns the name of every patron and their families and their language and their holidays. It’s not hard to love Nesta.  

Who would not love Nesta?  

So yes, he has something to be jealous of.  

“You look stressed,” Mor notes, her eyebrows raising.  

Amren nods, “You look like you’re going to fight someone.”  

“Or puke,” Azriel adds.  

“Just don’t fight Tarquin,” Rhys concludes, “I can’t ban you from the court, but I can certainly make sure you’re away in Illyria while he’s here.”  

“You guys are really supportive, you know that?”

“Well at least we’re not trying to steal you’re girl,” Mor teases.  

“Yet.”  

Cassian gives her a glare, but she only laughs a bright sound.  

“I’ve never seen you jealous,” she says.

“I’m not jealous.”  

Azriel raises a pointed finger, “what about that one time you threw that rock at that window?”  

“Or when you broke that male’s nose,” Rhys suggests.  

Amren rolls her eyes, setting down a piece of her puzzle, “How about the last time we all went to a bar.”  

Mor, Azriel, and Rhys look to each other, contemplating the words. Cassian watches as they nod their heads slowly.  

“Oh yeah.”

“You’re right.”  

“You were jealous then, too.”  

“I was not jealous,” Cassian insists.  

Thankfully, Feyre–sweet Feyre offers him relief. She raises her hands, and Cassian thinks he’s glad to have such a loyal sister-in-law. “Guys, he was not jealous.”  

Thank you, Feyre.  

“He was territorial.”  

The others voice their agreement before Cassian has a chance to speak–to defend himself from this defamation of character.

Not that he can defend himself.  

He remembers that day all too well…

It’s the first Nesta goes to a bar with them. The first time she goes to a bar in a while, and she’s nervous. But she looks beautiful. So damn beautiful that he thinks he might suggest staying in. She has on a black dress with these tiny straps and a necklace that makes him want to trace her neck with his tongue until she’s mewling and soft and pliant. But she’s nervous, so he only kisses her forehead.  

We don’t have to drink he says. I won’t drink either, he promises.  

Cassian turns out to be a bold-faced liar.  

He’s drunk by the time the first band plays. He keeps gobbling down the drinks. Nesta gets them for free. Martinis, vodka sodas, gin, and whiskey. All manners of shots. Every alcohol keeps floating her way. The males seem to think they only need to find the right one. The one Nesta prefers and they take it as a challenge. He remembers asking if she even needed their money all those months ago, and she only shrugs a shoulder. Haughty and much, much too beautiful.  

Nesta offers to send them back, but Cassian gulps them down one by one before she can even call over the waitress. I can take it, he says.  

Once again, Cassian is made a liar.  

They have to carry him out of that bar. At some point, he remembers flying over the city as Rhys and Azriel chase him through the streets.  

The only way they get him down is by Nesta calling for him. An easy trick, he thinks. If they asked him, they should have tried that first. Of course, he answers his mate when she calls.  

When he meets her, crawling back with his wings drooping to the concrete, Nesta only opens her arms as if she wants him to hug her. Cassian hugs her. He… climbs on top of her, really.  

But she combs her fingers through his hair and Cassian hunches over to lay his head on her shoulder and the next thing he knows… he’s lying in bed, a glass of water and some headache powder on the side table.  

She’d hit that nerve in his neck.  

Cassian wants to scoff just thinking about it.  

“Where is Nesta anyway?”  

The question has Cassian grinding his teeth, he can hear the noise in his ears. With fucking Tarquin.  

“She’s out,” he says instead.  

“Out where?”  

“Out to museums,” He lists thinking of all the places Nesta enjoys. “Or picnics.” All the places that Nesta will smile at. “Or restaurants.” All places Nesta will bubble up with laughter, that she’ll blush with glee, that she’ll gaze at wistfully with that bastard Tarquin. “Or maybe romantic boat rides. The one in that fucking swan.”  

Cassian doesn’t even know he grabs on to the throw pillow, but the next thing he knows the cushion is torn in half and the stuffing falls out like billowing snow.  

The others look at him strangely, but it’s Feyre who takes a cautious step towards him, taking the pillow from his hands.  

“And when will they be done?”  

Cassian rolls his eyes, looking to the clock. “I meet them in a half an hour. We’re getting lunch,” he mocks in a voice that doesn’t sound anything like the High Lord of Summer.  

Feyre hums in answer, her eyes widening innocently. Cassian stares in suspicion.  

He watches as the others look to each other, too. Azriel to Mor. Mor to Rhys. Rhys to Feyre. Feyre to Amren. And then all of them look back to him.  

It’s Mor who bounces brightly, “I want to go!”  

“I’m going, too,” Rhys announces.  

Feyre crosses her arms, “You can’t go. I’m going! Someone has to watch the baby.”  

“Let Nuala and Cerridwen watch the baby! I’m supporting my brother.”  

“I’m supporting my sister!”  

“Oh, for cauldron’s sake,” Amren groans, “just bring the boy!”  

Cassian frowns as they start packing up around him, yelling at each other for their coats and… baby carriers.  

Amren only pauses to laugh at the look on his face.  

“It could be worse, you know,” She says, her voice something she probably thinks sounds soft and comforting, “Tarquin could have already made some move. What do males say these days? Oh right, I want to get to know you or something equally as vomit inducing.”  

Cassian simply picks up the throw pillow to his left and screams.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BONUS SCENE 1: 

The evening of their first outing, Cassian can’t button his shirt. He should've taken that as his first sign that things would inevitably go wrong. 

“Are the buttons winning?” Nesta asks lightly. Cassian huffs a curse, hiking the shirt over his head. It gets stuck around his neck and he groans out a response.

Fine, he thinks. I give up. 

Nesta laughs at his slumping shoulders. 

“It’s the wings,” He says, muffled through the cloth. His wings drift up and down as if huffing themselves, showing her that they too are thoroughly annoyed. “This shirt isn’t made for Illyrians.” 

That’s a lie, but Nesta only hums. 

“Well... as much as I like you topless and I do like you topless.” Cassian can feel her hands trailing up his ribs and he squirms at the ticklish touch. “I don’t think it would be appropriate for public outings.” 

“You mean you’d be jealous,” He breaths. Nesta pulls the shirt down, unbuttoning and buttoning it again. His mate makes it seem far too easy, and she smirks up at him when the shirt is fully on. Her lips painted in red. 

The fresh air is cool in his lungs without the noose of dress ware, and he winds his arms around her, breathing in her scent. “All those females looking. Males too. What would you do if they propositioned me?” He urges, holding her closer, bringing her hips to his. “Cassian, Cassian, take me in your arms.”

He dips her low as if they’ve finished some waltz, and lifts her high until her leg is around his waist. That’s when he notices the slit in her gown, running all the way up her thigh. 

“They’ll chase me through the streets, you know. I’m a very hot commodity.” 

Nesta doesn’t even laugh. In fact, she merely lifts her eyes, her expression blank in that very Nesta way of hers.  

She fingers the collar of his shirt and Cassian can’t help but follow her hands. He thinks of every place those fingers can touch. “You wouldn’t be so difficult to catch. All it’d take is some buttons.” 

Cassian roars with laughter and Nesta smiles at that. A small turn of her lips. 

She turns back to the vanity, though he can’t say she’s not already perfect. He’s about to say so too, but that’s when he notices the dress. 

It’s hugs her every curve... the way Cassian only wishes to hug her. The black brings out the gold in her hair, in her sun-kissed skin. There’s a slit, Cassian knows, and tiny, tiny straps. 

Cassian moves towards her without a second thought. How anyone can think when they look at Nesta Archeron, he doesn’t know. He grasps her arms, dipping his head low. He places a reverent kiss on her shoulder and Nesta looks at him through the mirror, blinking up at him with those big, magnificent eyes. 

They’ve never fucked in front of mirror before.  

Cassian makes a note. 

“You know, we can always skip this... thing. Who would even notice if we're gone?” 

“Considering it’s for us, I’d say plenty.” 

She says the words with enough disdain that Cassian frowns at the tone. She  looks away as he catches her eyes.

“Do you not want to go?” He asks, dropping his hands. 

“I want to get this night over with,” she says, with a certain bite that has him backtracking. He runs over the day and all things she can be mad at him for, but he finds nothing, so he doesn’t understand.  

The night is for them. 

To celebrate her more than anyone. There’s been so many celebrations for her these past months as if they’re making up for lost time. Cassian doesn’t mind. Nesta should be celebrated. And Nesta doesn’t seem to mind, though she’s rather quiet during those outings. 

That’s not unusual. 

He used to think Azriel was the most introverted of them all. But Nesta beats him by miles. 

“Why--”

“I just don’t like that we always have these. Why can’t everyone just leave us alone?” 

Cassian stares at her reddening skin. The way her eyes dart back and forth, trying not to look to him. His frown deepens at the way she hides. 

He thought they were past this. 

Cassian is the first person to admit that he doesn’t know Nesta. Not in the way he wants to and Nesta seldom tells him much. But he at least knows her well enough to know that when she gets upset, it’s rarely what she says it is.

So Cassian takes inventory. 

They’re going to a get-together. They’ve done that before. They’re wearing formal clothes. They’ve done that before. They’re meeting the same people. Yes, that’s correct. The only thing that’s different is... the location? 

“You have a problem with the restaurant,” he guesses. 

Nesta merely lies her chin on her palm. 

“It’s new... they have good food... so I hear. It’s got great music, which you like. It’s got a bar,” Cassian’s gaze whips to her, “Is it the bar?” 

Nesta rolls her eyes, but he can see the way her cheeks flush a bright pink. The color softens something inside of him, makes him want to hug her and hold her and get rid of every bad thought in her head. 

The bar. Of course. He sees the way she cringes at alcohol, the way she shifts in her seat when a dinner turns into an after party. She doesn’t even like most of their holidays for that reason, because they all get drunk and she sits in the corner not knowing what to do. Nesta hates being embarrassed.

She can drink if she wants, he tells her, it’s her choice. They won’t judge her for it, he affirms, but... Cassian can’t guarantee that and Nesta knows that’s a lie. Nesta doesn’t even touch liquor. 

Cassian feels his chest start to sink and he must show it on his face, because she scoffs. 

It’s bad enough she doesn’t want to go to the city most days. She’s told him it’s because she’s scared to face who she was, afraid that she’ll be back there soon enough. Cassian can’t reassure her well enough. We can face it together, he says. We can face it all. But it’s been baby steps and these outings are the only times she pushes her limits. 

Cassian shifts her around, laying his hands on her cheeks, rubbing at the heated skin. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want.” 

“I don’t want to be a coward.” 

Cassian shakes his head, “you’re not going to be one if you go and you’re not going to be one if you stay.” 

Nesta sighs, and Cassian kisses her forehead because he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t know how to instill in Nesta that she’s the strongest, bravest person he knows. How does he convince her of a truth that’s so obvious?  

She isn’t going to change her mind that much he knows, but damn him if he let’s her wallow alone.  

“I won’t drink,” He offers, “We can play cards, dance a little... I promise I’ll try not to step on your toes again.” 

“I want you to enjoy yourself,” She says, her lips pouting in that way that makes him want to kiss her nose and her cheek and every place that he can touch. “To have fun.” 

“You are fun and I enjoy myself plenty with you.” 

Little does Cassian know that the enjoyment of the night is him knocking back barrels of drinks, stripping to his underwear, and running head first through the streets. 

To be continued... 

~

LOL. This fic is insane. Because not only do you get snippets before you get the final chapter, you get snippets in the final chapters. Snip-ception. 

~

Tagged:  @my-fan-side, @sophilightwood, @nestaarcher0n, @duskandstarlight, @soitsgorgeous, @ekaterinakostrova @swankii-art-teacher, @lordof-bloodshed, @arinbelle, @thewhelk, @daisy-in-danger, @highqueenevankhell, @lovelynesta, @sirendeepity, @champanheandluxxury, @ladynestaarcheron, @moodymelanist, @teagoddess99, @spoilersteph, @angelicvoice19, @bo0kmaster69, @drielecarla, @generalnesta

I think that’s it. Also know that if you asked to be tagged on snippets, I am going to tag you MANY TIME throughout the day... so be cautious about that. 

[the-modern-typewriter]

Can you write a snippet about a hero who is being made to watch as the villain is dismantling their wheelchair, their only means of escape. I see very little wheelchair users in stories but this dynamic always intrigues me.

"Hey - do you have any idea how much that cost?!” The hero had to sound indignant, otherwise they might have cried. “What the hell?” 

The villain tossed the first wheel aside as if it was worth nothing. Then, slowly, so agonisingly slowly, they ignored the hero’s words and removed the second with a nauseating air of intimacy. As if, each part of the chair they stripped away, was an item of clothing to leave the hero bare. 

“You’ve already got me tied to a post,” the hero’s voice grew louder. “This is totally unnecessary. I’m sure you have better things to be doing!”

The villain continued without reply. The lack of comeback, mocking or otherwise, felt worse than any taunt. It was as if the hero wasn’t even there, as if their words meant nothing, as this - this, was inevitable, unstoppable, regardless of anything the hero did or said. 

The hero gulped. The lump in their throat wouldn’t go away. The fear it held felt like it was, actually, only growing. Choking them. Making it impossible to breathe. 

It was true that it hadn’t been perfect for everything, and half the time people couldn’t be bothered to put ramps into their building, but...

But it had been theirs. 

And it was being taken. 

Destroyed.

“What,” the hero’s lip curled. “Are you so weak that you have to take what I have to feel strong? Is that it? Is that how pathetic and scared you are?”

The villain didn’t even look up, too busy snapping the brake in two with impossible strength. 

The hero felt a wave of nausea.

Without it - well. Prosthetics cost a fortune, the fancy ones were increasingly prone to being hacked because of course people who needed them were just a resource to be used in return for the privilege of getting help!

Swearing didn’t work, threatening didn’t work, yelling at them didn’t work as the minutes ticked on.

“Don’t,” the protagonist said, then, barely above a whisper. “Don’t, please.”

But, soon enough, the chair looked less like freedom and more like garbage scrap.

The antagonist only looked up when they were finally done, with a horrible little smile like they were being benevolent, like the begging meant nothing either. 

“Maybe, now,” the villain said softly, “you’ll let yourself realise how much you need me.” They moved closer, and the hero couldn’t even punch the villain when their hands were caught behind their back. The villain crouched down in front of them, fingers rising to trace away the tears that brimmed furiously in the corners of the hero’s eyes, stubbornly refusing to spill. 

The hero’s jaw clenched and they jerked their head away, heart beating rabbit fast. They hated the wash of vulnerability, of being trapped, of being stuck. 

“It’s not need,” the hero snarled, “when you take away all my other options.” 

“Maybe now,” the villain said, even softer still, “you’ll learn you can’t run away. Not forever. Not from me. How can you possibly keep yourself? Go on. Kick me. I’ll give it back if you kick me. Just - you know -” 

“I hate you.” The hero wished they could explain, somehow, that when the tears welled over it was rage. They hated the villain so much that it felt like leaking toxic radiation. Screw redemption, screw forgiveness and understanding - the hero hated them. “And when I get my hands on you, I’m going to rip you apart. Piece. By. Piece. You don’t need a heart, you don’t use it anyway!”

The villain laughed. They hadn’t laughed, when the hero could leave, when they had the chair, when the villain still considered them a threat. 

They caught the hero’s chin, yanking their head around again, and despite the laugh the villain was not smiling now. 

Their eyes were a wasteland, the rotting unwanted things of the world. 

“Hero,” they said, in a pitying tone. “You’d have to stand up to reach me first.” 

Then, just for good bloody measure, the villain stood up, poured gasoline among the wreckage of spokes and fabric, and left it to burn.