#Much to my horror I ended up making Pebbles really fun to draw so I sketch me a lot hehe

[reksink]

Some Pebbles

[interact-if]

Umm hi 👉👈 I realized that most of the asks you guys get are about games and rec lists. You guys deserve so much recognition for the work you put in this blog, so I wanted to ask if I can do a little get-to-know-the-mods thing? If that's okay!

1. Besides writing, what are your hobbies?

2. Do you have a niche interest right now?

3. Any fave songs/artists/bands?

4. Any fave movies/tv shows?

5. On a scale of 1-10, how likely would you survive in your wip's world?

You can totally ignore this if you guys want, no pressure. Anyway, much love to all the interact-if mods! You guys are incredible! ❤

We saw this ask and we went 👀 👀 👀 so we’re happy to answer! Thank you so much for the fun ask!

 We also rated our survivability in all of our collective games, since Mars isn't an author! Fun stuff! Spoilers, though: it’s really not looking so great for me (Dani) but that’s fine!!!  😌

1. I’m a photographer as well as a graphic artist (but not like. A painter/drawer kind of artist!) and, on a general level, a maker and a tinkerer!

2. Fountain pens! I only write with ink, and only with fountain pens, and I use bottled inks/converters!

3. I’m pretty eclectic with music, but my top genres are alt rock, indie, indie pop, etc, as well as top 40s and some rap.

4. I feel like this is the hardest one for me to answer? Favorite movies/shows? Avatar: the Last Airbender has been a favorite show of mine since I was a little kid, but I have a harder time thinking of shows I would call a favorite in recent years. There are shows I’ve liked, and a lot of shows I’ve watched. But I’m picky! And demanding! It takes a lot to earn a place in Dani’s Trophy Case of Favorites. 😌 I would say I quite liked A Quite Place (movie), and I liked Us (movie). When it comes to TV shows, I have a hard time being pleased with them if they don’t end well. As a result, I have a penchant for a good limited series/miniseries (because they’re stories that have an end in mind and the plot reflects that, dagnabbit).

5. Heh. Okay.

In The Goodfellows? I think I stand I chance. I can exercise my sparkling wit and lovable personality to the best effect. I’m gonna give myself an 8/10 survivability rating. Even if I don’t have the right skills, I can go crying to the person who does and they’ll save me. Maybe.

In Creatures’ Cradle? I’m super $**!%d. 😌 1/10 survivability rating. And that 1 is me being nice to myself. The day the apocalypse breaks out I would probably be patient 0. I am self-aware. I would not do well in an apocalypse. Zombies care not for aforementioned sparkling wit and lovable personality, and I have all the muscle of a boiled spaghetti noodle. So it’s a no go.

Greater Than Gods (Cruz): Well. I’m going to be optimistic. And say that I have the wisdom not to do things I shouldn’t do and not to rock boats I shouldn’t rock. I’m going to give myself a 7/10 based on insider information, but also based on reckless optimism!

Vardir (Cruz): Cruz says this is a lighthearted game, so 10/10 LOL.

When it Hungers (Roast): I’m giving myself a nice, mediocre 5/10. I think I could put my mind to work here; I joke that I’m the village idiot, but I’m actually pretty smart! Unfortunately, I’m also curious, and maybe a little bad with authorities who won’t answer my questions. So I knocked off a lot of points due to the fact that I’d probably poke the metaphorical bear. So it’s a real coin flip as to whether I’d really make it or not.

Orthall Bay (Nines): Considering the genre is “horror” and the game intro includes the words “monster” and “maim,” I’m giving myself a whooping, enthusiastic 3/10. Yes, folks, I am that confident in myself! Once again, I can’t charm the socks off a monster (or can I?), so one of my greatest weapons is snatched from beneath my feet. Alas!

1. Beloved I’m a college student in the middle of a pandemic... i can hardly even write LOL i do draw at times which u can see in my personal blog (nothing too good really) and i used to do karate before things went to shit <3

2. Nothing niche I believe? All I do is leave Netflix as bg noise every day n play popular videgames (genshin)

3. Porter Robinson <3 I love Bea Miller a lot as well but lately I’ve been feeling Porter a lot

4. The Good Place <3

5. My WIPs:

Greater than Gods: Highly situational, the world GtG is set in is as broad as the real world LOL so I don’t have an universal answer. But keeping it vague, and knowing my own personality, I feel like 5/10. depends on my luck.

Vardir: 10/10 no one dies in Vikgade, unless you’re a hunter but I wouldn’t be a hunter <3

Others’ WIPs

I'm gonna give myself a solid 5/10 in all other WIPs because y'all aren't writing lighthearted stories either. I feel like as long as I avoid the role of the MC I will be mostly fine. I hope. But as Dani said I'm also prone to fight the wrong person and dig my own grave so 😌

1. Well, writing is a very, very, very, distant hobby since Words Hard, but I like to crochet and sculpt a little! Anything to do with fiddling with my hands and I’m good to go. And like, debatable but graphic design is my passion [insert clown emoji here since Tumblr said No]

2. Oh yeah a bunch! DnD yelling at people, thinking of arson, crocheting, rock climbing and simply vibing. I got into podcasts a few years ago and I’m always looking for more recs, so if you have some, hmu 😤

3. Pls,,,,my music taste is,,,so weird do not let me expose myself with lack of consistency but uhh. Current songs that are stuck in my head include; Cult of Dionysus , Achilles Come Down and The Last Shanty  

4. If you’ve ever spoken to me before, I probably yelled about Pacific Rim to you or at you. Plus I love all The Mummy films and really enjoyed Castlevania (s3 excluded, we do not perceive that) as well! 

5. Ah, mod survival simulator pt. 3

Alright, let’s go!  I don’t have a WIP because again, words hard, but like, considering how feral I am when not tryna seem professional hm... 

The Goodfellows: I wanna say a solid 7/10 because I’d hardcore vibe with the Traveler and probably instigate so much nonsense. I can also bribe with blueberry cake so maybe. 

Creature’s Cradle: maybe a 4/10 and only because of pure spite keeping me alive long enough to smack someone. I’ve prepared for hypothetical  zombie apolcapyses and I won’t hesitate to bap, but will be bapped back because I’m weak as hell. 

Greater Than Gods: a toss up between 2/10 and 7/10! I can vibe and be chill but I also have terrible impulse control so... 

Vardir: hm....I think pretty good survival rates all around? If you ask me to fight then like, okay sure, your knees are mine. So maybe a 8/10? 

When it Hungers: .......8/10 just because I’d refuse to die if I can be a cool creature. Living for the aesthetic can and will drag me outta hell. But I’m also clumsy as hell so I’d probably crash as a porcelain or hold a rooster and perish (aka, real rating is a good 3/10) 

Orthall Bay: 2/10, nope. Nope I’d be taken out in a heartbeat. Monsters can go pspsps and I’d head straight into the dark creepy forest like a fool if someone comes @ me. Half the time I’ll just assume it’s sfx makeup and vibe until it’s too late. 

god, never put me in a universe where I cannot squawk like a bird and throw pebbles from a window. Oof

Anon, you're so sweet! I give you a forehead smoomch <333 As for your questions...

1. If I'm not writing, I'm usually watching video essays on Youtube. My go-to channels as of right now is Disrupt and Aperture! I just really like their videos. Aside from that, I recently got into podcasts. Currently going through Hello From The Hallowoods and Shelter and Warning, which are made by queer creators!

2. Oh oof, there's quite a bit so I'm just gonna put down one thing. For some reason, I really got into collecting tiny astronaut things? I recently bought this astronaut desk light, and I've got a package coming in for the miniatures I ordered. No purpose for them other than I think they're neat <3

3. I'm a bit private with my music taste (even tho I have Spotify connected on Discord lmao), but there's 5 songs that I'm currently obsessed with. I keep replaying them over and over again. Just squeezing all the serotonin I could get outta them.

4. I can't really say I have a fave TV show or movie because I can't really just pick one, but my current fave is 9-1-1 and Resident Alien. 9-1-1 because I just really love the found-family dynamics and how the show tackles sensitive topics, and Resident Alien because it's lighthearted comedy. My all-time fave movie is Flipped! I have the book too and I like rereading from time to time <3

5. You're in for a doozy, anon, because we're rating each other's games <333

The Goodfellows: 7/10

Listen. Shenanigans with the Traveler. I would get up to so many of them and that is what'll get me possibly bodied, not the actual environment itself <3

Greater than Gods: 7/10

I like to think I have enough common sense to uhhh not recklessly flip stones that should not be flipped <3 I'm a cautious and skeptic person irl so I think I'll hold up well? Then again, it's a vast environment change and while I can adapt pretty quick, I wouldn't like the lack of control in the unknown.

Vardir: 10/10

Going off what Cruz said, Vardir is lighthearted and focused on personal growth so I think I'll be okay! Self-growth here I come, babey!

Creatures' Cradle: 8/10

Maybe I'm overestimating myself, but I think I'll be able to survive in a supernatural post-apocalyptic world! Ah, but it depends on the motivation though. I like the idea of rebuilding communities and eventually societies, but the survival turmoil would be a constant battle I'd have to overcome. If we're talking survival itself though, I think I'll do well.

When it Hungers: 8/10

That's probably my wishful thinking but I think I'll be fine. Maybe. Possibly. Don't like the idea of being regulated by an organization so if I was a non-human creature that could pose a problem but I can roll with it <3

Orthall Bay: 6/10

Assuming I'm not playing as MC, my chances of survival uhhh changes quite drastically. Not enough to guarantee an untimely demise, but certainly enough that it would constantly keep me on my toes. I think that's the safest answer I can get without spoiling anything lmao

Thank you so much for asking! It's super sweet of you <3

1. Too many :'D I knit, I sew, I do carpentry (well, learning), I bake, I'm hammering away at HTML and CSS, my job kind of encourages learning new things and I take that to picking up new hobbies!

2. My time is kind of consumed with school work and work work and WIP work so not a lot of time to pursue niche interests right now. I've been watching a lot of horror game playthroughs, true crime youtubers, and an adorable show on Netflix called the Repair Shop <3

3. My taste in music is "what am I vibing with atm?" I've been listening to a lot of 80's music atm (don't @ me), but also Lo Fang and Kaleo, and whatever spotify recommends me on my discover weekly which is usually complete chaos.

4. I love the Mummy even though it hasn't aged 100% well (I'm a librarian, of course it's one of my gotos LOL), Legally Blonde, Leverage, Jumanji (the original), I'm....very bad at having recent tastes... and very bad at remembering my favorites when asked.

5.

The Goodfellows: I'm a creature of comfort, 5/10 if I can just luxuriate in town and not actually interact with the story sfjkdbsdkf

Creature’s Cradle: I'd like to think I have a 50/50 shot XD 5/10, I want to think I'd be decent at a zombie apocalypse but ultimately would suffer an early fate.

Greater Than Gods: 10/10 if I'm just vibing, less so if I'm involved in the actual story XD

Vardir: I'd still suffer without technology but I can also knit for a living in this world so I'm down 8/10

When it Hungers: I feel like I could vibe here, there's tech if dated, hot showers, telephones are around by now... might still get bored. 7/10 though it'd be cool to be another creature....I should make a 'what creature of snv are you' quiz!

Orthall Bay: 7/10 idk I feel like after the first monster of the week I'd just skip town XDDDD I'm the worst protagonist, I see danger I just leave.

[itskatastrophe-x]

Unhealthy Competition (CH1) c!Punz x Reader

The enemies to lovers fic has turned into more than one chapter so fuck it more than one chapter!!! Here’s the first one :3

TRIGGER WARNINGS!!! : Blood, death, suicide, swearing

Word count : 1,540

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Competition was always your favorite thing about your job. There were two other people you had to fight with for power in the SMP constantly, and somehow you always came out on top. There were few occasions where one of the others would beat you to a kill, and you took pride in that. You had travelled to the SMP a handful of months back on a mission, and decided to stay since a lot of these people seemed wealthy, and you were right. The payout for jobs was astronomical compared to your homeland, so you stayed. You honed your skills and became the best damn mercenary they had ever had here. You had jobs to kill kings in far off kingdoms, regular townsfolk, and even take out towns. You had quickly climbed the ranks and hoarded your wealth, making a base deep in the woods away from everyone else to keep the illusion of being bottom rung. There were moments where you would come in contact with the other two mercs, sparring on those rare meetings. Other times, you would meet at a kill and have to fight for the right to take the kill. Those moments were terrifying, but almost every time you won. Most of the time it would be against the kid that went by the name Purpled. He was agile and quiet, good in the shadows and dark areas. He was a silent killer, made perfect to be an assassin. 

Even more rarely, you would have to fight the other man, Punz. He was just below you in rank, and he was more likely to steal kills. He flaunted his wealth and power and had a large plot of land in the main lands of the SMP, surrounded by tall, dark walls. He was arrogant and selfish and all he cared about was money and bragging. He loved the praise that came with the power, and that annoyed the hell out of you, so each time you beat him, you couldn’t help but to be as cocky as him, wearing a smug smirk with your axe pressed against his throat. There was one day where you were sparring with him, both covered in blood and bruises, swearing back and forth at each other, and you ended up pushing him against a tree. His head flew back against the sturdy bark, making him see stars as he went down. You took that opportunity to snatch the dumb gold chain he always wore, and before he had the chance to even stand up, you stashed it away in an ender chest and took off. You felt like that knocked him down a few pegs, but now you couldn’t sleep.

So here you are, sitting at the edge of your bed, eyes wide open in the dead of night listening to the sounds of crackling and the smell of smoke. The forest around you had been set on fire while you were asleep, and you knew it had to be Punz. Who else knew where you lived? Him, and only because he stumbled across your little lodge once trying to escape a really bad storm. It was awkward and he was angry the whole time that you had been so hospitable. And now your lodge was in danger. You packed as much as you could before the fire reached you, opened a hatch under your small house, and jumped in. You had hoped you wouldn’t have to use your escape, seeing as it went all the way to bedrock and was a dangerous route, but it had to be done. You were surrounded by fire and you knew there was no way through it. The fall lasted about ten seconds before you hit a pool of water and swam back up. The area around you was small and cramped. There were a couple chests lining the walls, brewing stands, a small emergency farm, and tunnels leading in every direction. You had spent almost every waking second to dig under everything possible. A tunnel leading to every major destination in the SMP possible. What you didn’t expect to see, though, was Punz sprinting full speed at you from the direction of L’Manburg. It took you a second to gather what was happening, but when it hit you, you climbed out of the pool and ran to a chest, pulling out a potion of invisibility, and chugging the bitter liquid. Seconds later, you were completely invisible, eliciting swearing from the man halfway to you now. 

“You pussy, get out here and fight me,” he yelled, still sprinting towards you. You snuck to the tunnel heading west, making sure to press yourself as far against the wall as you could, hoping you could just melt with the cool deepslate behind you. “I did my research, bitch,” he spat as he made it to the main room. “While you were hiding away, I was learning everything about you. You really shouldn’t have pissed me off. Do you not know how I was the top dog before you even got here? I helped put that powerful, green bastard in prison. I killed some of the most wealthy, powerful people you couldn’t even touch.” He stood there, listening, so you stopped your movement, hoping he wouldn’t hear your shallow breaths. To your surprise, he started off in the opposite direction, still yelling. “Two can play at that game,” he yelled, pulling out a potion of his own. Fear finally sank in as he disappeared. The last thing to fade was his face as he turned around and smirked. He knew. And now you were fucked. 

You took off running, weaving through the hundreds of tunnels you had dug. You had every path memorized down to the pebble just in case something like this happened, but he said about research so he must know too. You stopped at another small room and stood there for a second. “I know every movement,” his voice echoed to you. You were surrounded by his voice and it sent chills down your spine. “I told you I did research,” he said. “You fucked with the wrong merc,” his voice came from behind you. You could feel his breath against your neck and slowly, the freezing metal of a weapon came to your throat. He had you pinned and there was nothing you could do about it. You shivered at the touch of netherite and the warmth of another person behind you, unable to see anything. 

“Yknow, at first I thought it would be fun to let you keep running, but killing you right now would be a lot more fun. Sending you back to spawn while you lose everything you own. Now, give it back.” His voice was laced with anger, but somehow it was playful. You couldn’t lie to yourself, the man was hot. But you were competitors and merc life wasn’t easy. But the thought crossed your mind relentlessly about a life you could have with him. You wouldn’t dare admit it out loud. “What if I didn’t,” you retorted, keeping up the playful atmosphere. The blade dug farther into your throat, now drawing blood and bringing tears to your eyes. “Oh sweetheart, you really aren’t in the position to deny me what you stole.” Slowly, your body came back into view, the potion finally wearing off. You smirked and scoffed at him, relaxing against the blade. “Now, what kind of mercenary would I be if I admit that I lost? Why would I give up right here?” You slipped your hand into your pocket carefully, the smooth surface of gold hitting your fingers. He slowly came to your vision. His potion wearing off as well. The large netherite axe in front of you held to your throat was intimidating. The surface was scratched and chipped from years of use. It dug farther, making it hard to breathe. 

In one swift move, you wrapped your hand around the totem in your pocket and pushed against the sharp blade, effectively killing yourself. The shock on his face was the last thing you saw before things went black. Seconds later, on the floor, light rushed back and you saw the man standing over you in complete horror. You had taken him off guard and that gave you enough time to get up, set tnt down, and run off. The explosion was deafening but you kept running, zigzagging. You pulled out a lever and placed it against the wall, flipping it to reveal a secret door that blended in perfectly with the rest of the stone. You took the lever, entered the door, placed it on the other side, and closed it all in ten seconds. You ran down the hall. Up some stairs, and to a small pool of water. You pulled out your trident from your inventory and positioned yourself to fly up the small tunnel up. It took you multiple times and multiple stops to get to the surface, and the full moon greeted you happily. The woods in the distance gave off an eerie glow as they burned. You smiled, pleased with yourself, and ran off in the direction of your secret hideaway through the nether.

[ms-maj]

Jug’s Last Day

I know you guys were really jonesing for another songfic ;)

All of the gratitude to @bettycooper for her amaze beta and graphics skills. Cat, as always, thank you for turning my alphabet soup into a lovely word salad. You the best!

And to Sarah, @theheavycrown​, thank you for your support and friendship and believing in my words even when I don’t <3

Oh when you left home and moved to Ohio

The summer had come to an end

My best friend goes I try to follow

Running as you disappear

Stay, you know how bad this hurts

It’s been three weeks and just gets worse

Come back to PA

Forever this time

Greg’s Last Day- The Starting Line

May 24

“So do you know when you’re leaving yet?” Archie asked quietly, trying not to draw the eye of their friends wading down the bank of the river.

Jughead shrugged, eyes cast down, kicking at the pebbled ground with the worn toe of his boot. “Not until August, I don’t think. Before school starts for sure. I think I get the summer at least.”

“Did you tell her?”

He stopped and sighed, head shaking no.

“Neither part I take?”

Jughead finally met his best friend’s eyes. What was sadness a moment ago is now abject horror. “Why would I do that to her? To me? I’m only going to be around for another two months, max—”

“Okay, okay!” Archie held up his hands defensively, dropping them when he noticed his friend’s attention had once again been captured by the meandering bank of Sweetwater River and the blonde ponytail that traced its path. He stepped forward to nudge Jughead’s shoulder with his own. “Then don’t tell her that thing, but you have to tell her that you’re leaving, Jug.”

“I know, Arch, I know.”

June 10

“How are we already seniors in high school, Jug?” Betty sat cross-legged on the cot in the back of the projection booth.

Jughead grunted in response, the bulk of his attention on the finicky machine in front of him.

“Maybe I’ll finally get a real date to homecoming this year, since Kevn has a boyfriend and all.”

His hands stilled on the projector. At thoughts of Betty in dresses of satin and lace, across every color of the spectrum, hair curled in soft waves over her shoulders, spinning out of his arms and onto the dance floor a smile crept to his lips. He could almost feel the warmth of her hand in his, hear the soft lilt of her voice when she says—  

“Juggie?” He’s snapped back to reality, the dream sequence bursting appropriately above her head as he turned to meet her questioning gaze, the dawning realization that all of those things will come to pass whether he’s in the picture or not sinks like hot lead in his stomach.

“Sorry, this thing’s a piece of shit. Always takes a while to get going. If you want, you can go find Kevin and Archie. I know a bunch of other kids from school are here, too, so you don’t have to sit here and watch me fight the projector,” he swallowed the bile down with the lie. The projector was old but well-cared for, and in all the years of the Twilight’s operation it had never failed.

“Oh,” her voice was hushed, almost disappointed. “I thought we…”

The pounding of his heart echoed in his ears as their eyes held over the projector. “It’s just not going to be much fun watching me try to keep this thing running.”

It was dark in the booth save for the light emanating from the machine which gave off just enough to see the tears welling in her eyes. “Sure, whatever you say Jug.”

She was gone before the last of the breath he was holding escaped.

(read below or check it out here)

July 7

The lights were hung from the trees in her backyard, encircling them and twinkling in the humid July night. It was Betty’s seventeenth birthday and yellow frosted cake sat too brightly between the various healthy snacks that seemed terribly out of place at a teenager’s party.

“You look really pretty,” he managed as his hands sat awkwardly on her waist. The pink fabric of her dress was slick yet stuck under the dampness of his fingers.

She smiled. “Thanks, Juggie. I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He felt the furrow of his brow, his fingers tightening against satin.

“Oh,” she flicked the hair off her shoulder, eyes cautiously glancing back to meet his. “It’s just that you’ve been really busy. I haven’t seen you much.”

Her voice was soft. Even through the music and raucous laughter of their peers, it was lyrical and light and maybe just a little bit sad. Jughead tightened his grip on her sides in a poor attempt to tamp down the ever growing desire to run his hands across the entirety of her body.

“Work,” he said, probably more terse than he meant, but it was a lie he was trying to sell. “Between the Twilight and taking shifts at Pop’s...it’s been a busy summer.”

Betty nodded. “No, I know that. It’s just…” Her head shook softly as her most tried and true generic Cooper smile faltered. “I was hoping to see more of you before we got bogged down by school.”

Jughead could swear he smiled, but the look reflected back at him conveyed he did not. He could feel the sweat forming under the betraying rim of his beanie, a lock of escaped hair sticking to his brow. Her arm rose from his shoulder, and while he missed the sensation, the one that replaced it made him shiver. Her soft, slender fingers found their way to the unruly curl, sliding under it and wrapping it around them before gently brushing it from his forehead and back under his beanie.

“Betts,” he swallowed thickly, her hand still lingering on the side of his head.

“Hey, Mr. Jones!”

Jughead felt the air leave his body as he turned toward the gate to see Mr. Andrews and his father talking.

“Are you here for Jug? I can’t believe you guys are leaving already!” Archie called out from behind them.

“Leaving? Where are you going, Jug?” Her hand fell from his face and landed awkwardly on his shoulder.

There was no way around it now. Not when she should have known since the beginning. Not when she was looking up at him more confused than he’d ever seen her. “Um, do you think we could go somewhere and talk?”

He was so fixated on the wrinkle between Betty’s eyebrows, the way her face scrunched up when she was deep in thought, that he didn’t see the movement to his left. Didn’t know his father had made his way through the crowd to clap him on the back and proclaim to the entirety of their classmates: “Truck’s all packed. Just a good night’s sleep is all that’s separating us Jones men from the Buckeye State.”

“Buckeye?” Betty echoed absently, her arms dropping from around his neck. “Jughead?”

He swallowed, opening his mouth to speak and promptly shut it when no words came out. The dawning realization stole over her face, confusion melting away to hurt. Shaking her head, she turned out of his arms, her hands in fists at her sides, before she ran from the yard altogether.

“Fuck!” Fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose while the other hand balled up at his side.

“I’ll let that one go, boy. Looks like you have bigger fish to fry,” FP squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, gaze softening as he walked back toward Fred.

“Bro, how did you not tell her?” Archie’s voice sounded distant in his ears even though he was standing right next to him.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot, Arch,” he slipped the beanie off his head and grabbed a fistful of hair.

“You know what you have to do, right?”

He looked up at his best friend, who looked far more sympathetic than Jughead deserved. “I know, I know. But where do I even start?”

Archie clapped him on the shoulder and nodded encouragingly. “You know exactly what you have to do, man. And now you have to tell her the other thing too. Good luck. She’s got a mean left hook.”

There was another reassuring squeeze of his shoulder before Archie ran back into the crowd. Jughead sighed, replaced the worn beanie on his head, and took off for the one place he was sure Betty would be.

Except she wasn’t.

Not at the river. Not at Pop’s. Not in Archie’s old, dilapidated tree house nor at Picken’s Park. He stalked through the streets berating himself, kicking at the pavement and scuffing the dangerously thin soles of his shoes.

Archie said she hadn’t made it back to the house yet, which meant his search wasn’t completely wasted, but the longer he walked with no sightings, the harder it was to accept she wanted to be found. Not that he’d stop looking. There were too many things left unsaid and too much history between them to let it all fall to the wayside, because he’d been an idiot.

He wished it was cooler. Sweat beaded on his brow, so much so he resorted to using his beanie as a rag, shoving the damp wool into his back pocket instead of back on his head. Between the stagnant midsummer night air and the way his anxiety seemed to simmer just under his skin, he felt fully aflame.

If only he had…

There were so many things he could have done, or said, so many missed opportunities and moments left to chance. He played every interaction he and Betty had since school let out, since he knew he was leaving and understands—knows implicitly—he is the only one at fault for his current predicament.

And yet he wants to lash out at everyone. At Archie for spilling his admittedly stupid secret, at his dad for insisting they leave right after Betty’s party, at Betty for looking so sad and hurt when he knew that she’d miss him for maybe a minute. Tops.

“That’s not true, and you know it,” her voice came from behind him, louder and sharper than usual. He slowly turned to find her sitting on a bench, the harsh light from the streetlamp cascading down on her.

“I didn’t think I said that out loud,” he started toward her, halting when she held up her hand. It dropped to her lap after a moment, joining the fingers of her other hand clutching at the fabric of her dress. “Betts…”

“Do you really believe that, Jug? Has our friendship meant that little to you, or are you just trying to make yourself feel better for being a dick?” He saw the tear roll down her cheek, the attempt to leave it unacknowledged, and then, the hasty removal of it from her face. “You know, honestly, at this point I don’t know if I care,” her sniffle carried across the space, somehow not drowned out by the restless cicadas or the pounding of his heart.

“No! No,of course not, Betty. I know you would miss me for at least five whole minutes,” he deadpanned. However, it seemed Betty was not in the mood for his misguided attempt to deflect. The roll of her eyes and the sharp set of her jaw had him reaching for his sweat-soaked beanie, retrieving it from his back pocket and pulling at it aggressively as he tried to cover his hair. “Can I try this again?”

He was answered by a curt nod as Betty looked away from him once again.

“My dad is about a hairsbreadth away from both falling off the wagon and back into the inglorious cesspool of gang life. As a last ditch attempt in not destroying everything, he and my mother came to some sort of arrangement if we moved to Toledo.”

Betty’s mouth opened slightly before snapping back shut, the juncture of her jaw throbbing against the soft curve of her cheek. Her eyes closed for a moment before she spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not a conversation that I wanted to have with anyone, Betty. Least of all you,” his hand scratched at the back of his neck, eyes not daring to look up from the pavement.

“But you obviously told Archie, right? So why not me? Are we not…” she stopped and pressed the tips of her fingers against her lips. “I guess we’re just not as close as I thought.”

The hand dropped from Jughead’s neck as he stepped toward her. “You know that’s not true either.”

“So what was it then, Jughead! Tell me why you could confide in Archie but not me? Tell me why you pulled away when you already knew you’d be leaving?”

“Because I refused to have you look at me like that! Like some sad, lost cause with one foot in the grave and the other following exactly in dear ol’ dad’s footsteps.”

“What? Jughead,” she stood, quickly wrapping her arms around her torso, seemingly to stop herself from reaching for him, tears freely flowing down her cheeks. “You know, I don’t know what hurts worse. The knowledge that my best friend is moving. Tomorrow. Or that he thinks I think so little of him and our friendship I would (A) judge him for things completely out of his control, (B) not understand what it was like to deal with fucked up parents, or (C) think I wouldn’t be there for him.”

His arms stretched before him of their own volition, long fingers wrapping around her upper arms. “Betty,” he breathed, willing her eyes to meet his. “I know you wouldn’t have done any of those things. It wasn’t because of you that I didn’t tell you. I was embarrassed and ashamed and million other things that I have no explanation for at the moment.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t step out of his grasp. “I just don’t understand, Jug. What changed?”

“Nothing! And everything, I guess. It was supposed to be different. It was all supposed to be different this year. We were gonna get control of the Blue and Gold and fill out college applications at Pop’s over milkshakes and burgers and…”

Betty looked up at him, tears clinging to her lashes, vestiges of her party makeup smeared around her eyes. “And what, Jug?”

“And,” he swallowed, unable to help the thumb that had crept up to wipe the mascara away. “And I was finally going to work up the nerve to tell you how I feel.”

He could feel the laser focus of her eyes, the tension in her jaw, the thudding of her heart under his fingertips. “What?” Her voice came just above a whisper.

“To ask you to be my date to homecoming and winter formal and prom; to ask you to be mine.” Jughead’s hand slid from her arm to her waist, pulling her closer to him in the process.

“That’s not fair,” she trembled beneath his fingers, chin wobbling and shiny eyed.

“Betts,” his thumb dipped to her chin, angling her face up to his, “this wasn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

“Which part? The part where you have feelings for me or the part where you’re leaving tomorrow? Because right now, both of those things hurt the same.”

“I know. I know, and there’s nothing I can do to change how it came out but,” he could feel the air sucking into her lungs they were that close. “I can only say I’m sorry for one of those things, Betty, because as awkward or poorly timed as this is, it’s led to this. You and me. In this moment.”

Her eyes were wide “You have no idea, do you? How long I waited for this, how badly I wanted this.”

“I’m still right here, Betty.”

“Yeah, but for what? A few more hours?” Her hands grasped at the fabric of his shirt. Stretched out on tip-toe, her lips landed gently on his cheek.  “All I wanted tonight was to finally be brave enough to kiss you. I never imagined our first kiss could be a goodbye, and honestly, I just don’t think I can do that to myself.”

She slid out of his arms, his fingers flexing on her skin. Words to keep her there flew through his brain—screamed through his veins—and yet he simply let her fall away. His fingers traced where her lips burned his cheek and wondered if he would have survived the phantom feeling if she’d kissed his lips. The sight before him nearly choked him. His mind latched on to the creases in her dress, the patterns of mascara on her tear-stained cheeks, her jasmine perfume that hovered around them and stuck to him long after he finally moved from the spot.

July 8

Jughead woke before the dawn. Never much of a sleeper, he found it exceedingly difficult when the image of her turning away from him played over and over in his mind. The ancient hot water tank couldn’t produce a stream scalding enough to burn it from his mind either. He stewed in his own thoughts, typing out and subsequently deleting about a hundred different messages to his blonde haired best friend, but couldn’t find it in him to send a single one.

No platitudes seemed enough, and what good would it serve? Maybe it would be easier to be in Toledo if she hated him or if he thought she did. He threw his head back on the couch (the one they wouldn’t need in Toledo, where he’d have a real bed, in a room all his own) and tried to remember what the world was like before Betty Cooper looked at him like he was a leper.

His downward spiral didn’t get to progress too far before the sound of an approaching car snapped him back to reality. He peeked out the bare window, the sight before him bringing a smile to his face.

“So this is really it,” Archie sniffed, standing beside him, a cup of half drank Pop’s coffee between his palms.

Jughead nodded, taking a slow sip of his own coffee, trying not to choke on the words and feelings that seemed to lodge in his throat. “Thanks for the pick me up and the donuts. Those might make it to the state line.”

Laughing, Archie knocked his shoulder into Jughead’s. “I’m gonna miss you, man.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, Arch.” The cup stilled at his lips again. “Have you, um, talked to Betty at all?”

“Oh, I almost forgot!” He ran over to his dad’s truck and reached through the open window, producing a large tupperware from inside. “She didn’t say much; she didn’t have to. She looks about as good as you do.”

Jughead chuckled morosely as he took the proffered container. Perched on top, folded as neatly as could be and inscribed with her exacting script was a note addressed to him. He sucked in a breath, shakily peeling it off and tucking it into his pocket before prying open a corner and seeing a rather large chunk of her birthday cake inside.

“She knows me too well,” he set it down on the hood of his dad’s truck, shaking his head. “I really fucked up this time.”

Archie grinned.

“What? That makes you happy?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, it does not make me happy. None of this is exactly happy, Jug. But the fact that for once in our lives the ire of Betty Cooper is directed, in its entirety, at you is not something that is lost on me. Now, let me bask in this short-lived glory, because I’m going to be the shoulder she cries on when all of this sinks in.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he swallowed down the last sip of bitter coffee with the bile that started to rise. “Just tell her…”

“She knows.”

He nods, somber, letting the words and feeling sink in. Coffee finished and goodbyes thoroughly dispensed, the Andrews men departed Sunnyside and left the Joneses to start their new lives.

“You ready for this, son?” His father asked as they slid into the truck. Even though the sun was barely up, FP seemed energized; happy. He smiled despite himself.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“A new chapter for us, boy. Hell, a new story all together! I know it doesn’t seem like it right now but, it’ll get better, I promise.”

His father’s hand rested on his shoulder for a moment before making its way back to the wheel. Jughead sighed, head hitting the window with a dull thud. “Yeah, well, it can’t get any worse.”

As the truck pulled away from the trailer park, and he watched as Riverdale shrank behind them in the mirror, he wondered if the note in his pocket would ever stop burning or if the ache in his chest would ever cease.

[midnightdragons]

Loki x fem! reader Soulmate Au

Part (1/?)

(By the way, this is the first time I've ever posted anything as in a story on here. Tell me if you like it and also if there's any mispelling or things like that. Hope you enjoy! ❤)

Warnings: Mention of death, murder, blood and some strong language

In a world filled with both, incredible science and magic, soulmates were the center of most everyone's desire. Each worldy and otherwordly being, midgardians, asgardians, vanaheimans and much more had a soulmate to call their own. Wether one's soulmate would be of similar age or even born within the same world, was unknown. The only clue to when one found their soulmate was that a mark appeared once one locked eyes with them. Wether tiny and barely visible or humongous it almost covers one's whole body, both soulmates would always have the very same mark in the very same spot

♧◇♤♡♤◇♧

"Auntie, auntie! Look what I did in class today!", cheeks flushed with excitement the young boy ran up to you, proudly presenting his masterpiece. Said masterpiece being some odd shapes, snippets of colorful paper and a big misshapen heart in the center of it all. Artists would gouge their eyes out at the sight of it but you loved it nonetheless. How could you not? It was your nephew's drawing after all

"I made it for you. The bestest auntie in the world!", he beamed up at you

You mustered up a tired smile and ran a hand over his head. "It's beautiful sweetie. I love it so much that I think... we should go and get some ice cream!"

Initially you had planned on simply going home and taking a nap on the couch. But seeing your nephew's sparkling eyes at the mention of ice cream... you couldn't change your mind now

Yes... he did have you wrapped around his little finger

♧◇♤♡♤◇♧

"Austin? Where aaare you?", muffling his giggles with his hands, your nephew slid further into the shadows of the small cabinet, not realizing, he was not being quiet at all. You've long since heard him giggling and moving around. However, you didn't want to ruin the fun and pretended that it wasn't obvious he was hiding in the kitchen cabinet to your left. So you continued, looking under the table, behind the curtains, lifting vases and even going as far as to open the fridge!

You fake sighed. "I guess my darling nephew disappeared. I can't find him anywhere", you dramatically covered your eyes, "Hmmmm. I guess I'll have to go get a new one"

You smirked when you heard the panicked

"No!", come from your cabinet and opened your eyes just in time to see him tumble out and storm towards you. "You can't leave me! I won't let you!"

You laughed and picked him up. "I'd never leave you pumpkin", he only tightened his hold on you in response, nuzzling his face further into the crook ok your neck

Perhaps this wasn't the beast choice to get him out of his hiding spot because he surely-

"Mama and Papa left me"

Just as you feared. You really shouldn't have said that. Ever since he could understand you weren't his mother he believed his parents left him

"They never wanted to leave you sweetie. But they had to go"

Had to go your ass

"Why?", he looked up at you with his now glossy eyes

"They weren't allowed to tell me. So they only asked me to take care of you and I promised"

Lies but whatever

"Do you know where they are?"

You gulped and rubbed soothing circles over Austin's back. "No"

His voice was meek now. "Will they ever come back?"

It broke your heart to see him like that

No, they wouldn't ever return

"I don't know sweetie"

"Do you miss them?", tears glistened in his eyes

You kissed his forehead

"Always"

♧◇♤♡♤◇♧

From the corner of your eye, you watched Austin play with action figures and Lego. He seemed so content, smiling. You wished you could forget your troubles like him

You really felt guilty for not telling him but how could you. How could you convey to a child that his parents didn't leave but died? Murdered by an army of aliens he didn't know existed?

Almost seven years ago, when you still worked for *the* Tony Stark and were actually really close friends with him, shit hit the fan

Almost seven years ago, all hell broke loose when Loki, known as the God of Lies and Mischief, opened a huge portal, leading the Chitauri to attack and overthrow humanity.

Tony had told you to make sure the civilians were as safe as possible and to lessen some of their fear. That was when it all went down the drain

♧◇♤♡♤◇♧ ~flashback~

"(y/n)! (y/n)!"

You froze. Shit. This couldn't be. You were imagining things right?

You turned around and to your horror, your sister and her husband were ducking behind some cars. Of course you ran over to them. They were your family

"What are you doing here?", you hissed, "You weren't supposed to be here until tomorrow!"

Before they could answer, a huge explosion made your ears ring. It was close. Too damn close

You ushered them away from the main street and into an alleyway. Left. Right. Running. Ducking. Hiding. Listening

Finally you could deem the sounds of danger far enough away to allow a break

Your brother-in-law was huffing and puffing, having helped your sister stay upright and holding his only few months old son

You quickly checked him and your nephew for any injuries and then tended to your sister. Smart you always carried a thin scarf on your person and that was why

Your sister had little cuts, bruises and scrapes all over. What you used the scarf for though, was the scraggly looking wound on her calf. That was why she couldn't walk properly and you knew only the adrenaline made her able to even move

You then took Austin from your brother-in-law and hushed him when the baby began to cry. God, your brother-in-law looked like he was going to faint

"We wanted to suprise you", your sister gasped, struggling to breathe, "You have so little time and we knew you have a day off today, so we though we could go out for dinner"

"Charming but right now, we can't stay here. It's to dangerous. Get up"

With her husbands help, she did

With the baby now in your arms, they were a lot faster too. You managed to sneak around like that, checking if the coast was clear ever so often

Suddenly you heard something which cause you to pause. You motioned for the adults behind you to not move either. They were a small distance behind you

Beeping... to the left, no behind you. Around where... they are...

The beeping sped up and it took you mere seconds to recognize the sound

You swivelled around to yell- but you were too late. Those seconds were mere seconds too many

The explotion burst forth right behind your sister and her husband

You were thrown back and slammed on your back. The force of the fall pressed all air out of your lungs

You didn't remember for how long you laid there, probably only a few seconds, but you knew you were tightly cradling your nephew

Against the protest of your screaming muscles you got up and looked around*

"Anna?", you called out. You didn't dare scream. Any of the Chitauri could be nearby

"Anna? Mick?", you took tentaive steps toward the huge pile of stones. The explosion had ripped apart the two inner walls of the buildings on either side of the alleyway

The ground was covered in stone as small as a pebble to bigger than your torso. Glass splinters creaked beneath your feet

You came to a halt in front of the piled rubble

"No, no, no... please no, please...", you whimpered. All begging could not change facts.

You saw the blood leaking from the bricks.

You knew that it was where they stood. And you knew that they couldn't have possibly survived

Tears welled up in your eyes but you had no time to cry

Grunts and roars far too close for comfort could be heard. They were there to check for any survivors.

You could consoder yourself lucky that your nephew was knocked out cold from the shock of the explosion. Had that not happened and Austin started to cry instead, the Chitauri would have surely found you

You had to get out of there. With one last mournful glance at the mass of stone, you sprinted away

♧◇♤♡♤◇♧ ~flashback end~

You blinked

Oh god you hadn't planned on sinking into your memories

You hastly wiped away any of your fallen tears and concentrated on cooking again. Luckily nothing burned while you zoned out and Austin didn't notice you standing there like a zombie

You were glad he was here with you. Without him you would've continued to work at the Stark tower, most likely becoming a shell of the woman you once were

With Austin here, you could focus on him, focus on something living. The precious and living memento of your sister

Not like he could go anywhere else

Your father had died only a few weeks before you were born and your mother had passed only a few years before Austin was born.

And Mick was an only child from Denmark. His parents had shunned him for moving to America, they wouldn't even let you speak to them, only stating that "It is your fault our Micky died", and hanging up

You didn't know anyone else of your or his family. That left Austin in your arms

You had left your job at the stark tower, got an apartment in New Jersey and started to work two different jobs to help with the finances. You couldn't depend on Tony to pay everything for you but he had insisted he buy the slightly too big apartment for you since you'd decided not to live in the Stark tower

Though it was a safe building, Tony's enemies often turned their eyes to the occupants and workers in the tower to use as baits or hostages. You didn't want Austin in the picture of said possibility

Though that wasn't the only reason

So you left and cut ties with most of your coworkers and friends from there. Only Tony visited you from time to time. Both of you made sure no one knew that Tony Stark visited (l/n) and her nephew. Austin only knew him as the Tony who always brought gifts

Which were way too expensive, not that Austin knew...

Throughout the day you worked as a 'barista' in a café near Austin's school and at night you worked as a waitress in the restaurant on the lowest floor of the building you lived in

Your new coworkers loved Austin and had bought you some cameras to set up in your apartment. You always turned them on before going downstairs to work. Every fifteen minutes one of the waiters or waitresses would take a peek at the monitor to make sure everything was safe. Now that Austin was older, he sometimes joined you and was allowed to watch how work was done

You were lucky and relieved to have found such good people

[weeping-petals]

Little Thief

Word Count - 2,194

The gems grieve in their own ways for the loss of Rose Quartz. 

It had been different since… Rose.

 Not like the times that one of them had taken off on some mission and lost track of time, reappearing months, possibly years later. The passage of time for gems was different, time existed beyond them, detached. Somehow now, it felt… different. As if in some way time creeped into one of them and the clock ran out all at once, and suddenly they were all grounded to this specific place. Anchored to a now, where once time extended and branched outward around them.

 “I still don’t get it,” Amethyst huffed. She walked a distance back from the other two, arms crossed behind her head. The light snowfall ended hours ago, leaving a fluffy layer across the sidewalks and soil made harder than Apatite. “You keep sayin’ Rose is gone, but we have Steven. And Steven isn’t Rose, but she has Rose’s gem. How come they aren’t the same person?”

 Pearl rubbed at her eyes and looked off. The icy wind didn’t bother them, yet she still looped her arms around her shoulders. It made her look chilled, with her lack of sleeves.

 Ever patient Garnet came to the rescue. Always easygoing, calm, and collected. “Rose and her child can’t exist together, because Steven has her gem.” She thought it over a bit, searching the night sky for answers and strength.

 The three gems were out at this hour on a patrol, assuring that Beach City had no secrets or dangers present before they turned focus to missions. Someone would always stay behind while they ran to distant destinations, but Amethyst was less experienced with fighting and tact, and Pearl was… preoccupied. The general atmosphere of Beach City was still, the snowfall forcing inhabitants behind walls and into blankets on this inhospitable night. Some wispy clouds remained stubborn across the cobalt sky, tinged a varied of shades of royal and yale.

 “It’s like Ruby and Saphire,” she began. Garnet walked over to the Amethyst and knelt, showing her hands. “Garnet is her own person, but not alone. She – I – am both a part of Ruby and Saphire. But they have their gems, they have their own persons. I am neither one or the other, I am my own person. I recognize that now.”

 Amethyst set a hand over her chin, and the other touched one of Garnet’s palms. Intense thought was going into this deduction. “So, she’s like a fusion. Yeh, I get that.” Garnet winced when Pearl groaned.

 “Sort of…” Garnet frowned, searching pathways for the right words. “But baby humans are not like fusions. They are individuals, detached from their fusors. I can’t go anywhere without Ruby, or Saphire. It’s physically impossible. Steven… has a freedom we will never totally understand.”

 “Okay. But it’s not like they don’t stop existing when they make you.” Amethyst pointed out the two gems on Garnet’s palms. “That’s Saphy, and there’s Ruby. I recognize their cuts. Steven has Rose Quartz gem, so why isn’t she Rose Quartz still?”

 “Amethyst!” Pearl barked. Garnet stood and held up her hands, stoic but trying to ease the boiling point that hit the Pearl. “The concept isn’t that difficult to grasp! Even for you!”

 “Try me!”

 “The two of you—” Garnet stopped, head snapping towards the serene city limits, interrupted briefly by the chug of a primitive engine. From the roads careened a vehicle, plowing through drifts of powdery snow and bucking over hidden obstacles with reckless abandonment. The head lights flashed across the three figures in the night, and abruptly swerved to avoid impact. It barely came to a full halt, when one of the doors cracked open and a figure tumbled out. Thankfully, the van lost momentum and stayed put, engine still rattling.

 A panty, lumpy figure trudged through the snow layer. “Guys! Guys!” Patiently, the three waited for Greg to catch his breath or catch up with them. He was doing more crashing and shivering than covering ground. Was he in his flipflops? “I— Help! It’s— I was!” He gaged on a mouth full of snow and crashed sideways. “STEVEN!”

 “What happened? What’s wrong!” Pearl was the first to reach Greg. She hesitated at his side refusing to touch the sputtering human, and only knelt as Greg struggled to surface from another mound of frost. “What have you done now? We can’t trust you with anything!”

 Those words made him wince. “I didn’t— an angry twizzler stole him!”

 Befuddled and shook, the three gems stood in varied expressions of painfully slow buffering. Pearl wilted and looked to Garnet, who held the stoniest expression of them all. To a stranger, this may have appeared indifferent to the presented situation of panic and unknowns, to the gems that knew her relatively well…. Amethyst was backing away, dawning horror on her face.

 There was high likelihood someone was going to shatter this night.

 __

 In a deep shadow, above where the waves crashed and bubbled, the sea froths and scrubbed away at frozen rocks:

 “So. You’re the Gem that stole her away. Robbed me of my Happily. ℰ𝓋ℯ𝓇.

̗̬̳̥̠͚̟̻͇̅ͧ̑̂͗ͮͪ̌ͥ͝.̢͔̰̩ͬ͋ͣ̿͑̄ͩ͠

̻̲͙̲͗ͪͦ̀̓Ḁ̞̯̀ͮͭ̅͊̀̋f̵̝̪̦̹̪͔̝̖͖͂̎̂ͥ͘͘t̤͆̚e̤͇̫̻̹͉ͮͪͫ͢ͅr̸̲̰̹͚̗ͫͦ̂̑ͩ͢ .”

 The baby nibbled on her – his. His fingers, and sniffled. He had not woken at all throughout her reckless and wild movement through the town. Though that was a goal, it was entirely too easy to jostle a tiny and sensitive baby, and she didn’t need to upset the pebble and have him wailing across the night. She really didn’t want to hear him cry.

 “Hmm. But you’re… kinda cute. I guess.” She touched the little puff of curls poking out from the blanket bundled around his body. “A cute lil thief.” A tear plipped on the baby’s nose, and the eyes opened, staring up at the looming being. “Thieved me of my entire world. My purpose. Everything I ever thought was precious to me. Everything I fought for, would’ve splint in two for. You don’t know what that’s like, do you? Hmm? You have no idea yet. Huh?”

 The baby blinked, vacant of comprehension. He knew his father, and to an extent, foggily recalled Others. But this one. This one was stark and different, in shape and color. Light from the moon hit the ocean, and its brilliant radiance slanted through the alcove catching on the sculpted stone set in her chest. Every buckling quake of her body caused the light to jitter, and her eyes, dulled by sorrow, glimmered in the sullen light. Nothing else was visible, aside from magenta streaks drooping.

 “Will you ever be capable of understanding? How much you hurt us. Hurt me. Rose. Wasn’t I enough? Why? Why wasn’t I enough?” Spinel choked and bent forward, unable to regain control of the intense wave vibrating through her Gem. She was never good enough. Nothing was ever good enough for Rose – Pink Diamond. Having a colony didn’t satisfy her, having a whole world to herself, not good enough. She couldn’t be happy with her friends, the only survivors of the War. It was never enough. Spinel failed. Failed her Diamond. There was no greater shame, than failing the one you were created for. She had one purpose in all of her existence, and it was gone.

 “Why? Why wasn’t I good enough? What did I do wrong! Why couldn’t she just be happy, with me? What should I have done?”

 The baby coughed and began an insignificant gurgle, reeling that into a rolling yowl. Spinel jolted, body coiling a little tighter around the bundle.

 “No-no-no,” she cooed. “Oh no-no, please don’t cry. Shh-shh….” She tugged the blanket corners around his neck and made certain none of the damp air got through. She wasn’t exactly feeling like a furnace right now, but she could generate heat. It used energy, but she could do that. None of it was soothing the baby, his cracked hiccups and pitiful whimpers edged on Spinel’s natural instincts to comfort. Again, she was failing. Pathetic.

 “Please, I don’t know… I don’t know how…Rose.” She felt so lost, severed from abilities she had purposefully learned and were not inherit to Gems. How did it go? What did humans do? What did pebble humans like? She could just bubble him, that was what they did with unruly corrupted Gems. “Please stop. Shhh-shhh…. Um.” She hummed, choosing a tune and warble lost from ages ago. It was soft and bittersweet, a melody that once upon a time moved through the Garden, before the Great War. Before she abandoned innocence, for a new purpose. A new Game.

 The baby hiccupped and spluttered, eyes blinking at the strange being. He looked on the verge of regressing, spurring Spinel to draw her arms up from her lap and hold the child to her gem.

 “Oh my stars, Oh distant galaxies, watching and turning, tirelessly pining. I stand still and proud in my Garden all alone, waiting out the eons as they slip away. I wonder, will today be the day my light returns? My radiance and eminence given form, to take and hold me, praise me. My purpose, my star gifted aspiration. Will this be the day I win the game? What fun we’ll have, if we keep each other. Cherish one another. For eternity boundless.’

 “Endless and timeless, we are forever. What always was, shall then continue. From my Garden I watch as the ones once cherished, grow distant and dim. But not us. Not us. A star becomes a nova, but a Gem is set and steadfast. Farewell to the stars, the galaxies, vacant of passion, bereft of sorrow. Void of precious longing. We burn bright, but stars snuff out. When they dim, erupt, dazzle like Gem Glows, I say farewell. I will miss your light, I will grieve for your guidance and comfort this night. Stars flicker and fall, but not us. Not us. We are… we are forever.”

 This was not how it was supposed to be. This was not how the game should have ended. Spinel buckled, struggling and failing to shove off the memories. The longing and irreversible nature of permanence.

The baby burbled and snuggled into her chest. He breathed calmly, absorbed in the lullaby and quieted into soundless sleep. Her tears soaked into the thick fiber of the blanket.

 This. This was all she had now. No more Rose, no more—

 “SPINEL!”

 Her eyes snapped open, rimmed and spiraled. Below on the ledge of the sea cliff stood the remnants of the Crystal Gems, minus Pearl. Where could Pearl be?

 “You need to give little Rose back!” Amethyst’s Gem gleamed as she reached for her weapon, but an arm set out by Garnet stalled this movement. Spinel narrowed her eyes.

 “You need to return him,” Garnet boomed. “It is too cold for a child to be out unprotected, you’re putting his life at risk. He’s not like us, he’s human!”

 “What’s his name,” Spinel murmured. “What did they… decide to name him? He’s a… uhh, a Rose Quartz.”

 “Steven,” Garnet supplied, gently. “Rose wanted him to have a human name. He might have a gem, but he may turn out to be more human than Gem. We don’t know.”

 “Hah. Hah-ha.” She tugged her knees up around her arms and checked the entrance of the alcove. Pearl’s absence made her nervous, but it was possible she wanted nothing to do with this confrontation. Either way, the baby – Steven’s – safety, was the forefront of their focus. “This was what she wanted.” She often said that in the few months following the news. “She wanted. This.”

 “It was her decision., and we will preserve those wishes!” Garnet edge her body down, moving her arm away from Amethyst. The stout Gem reached for her weapon, scowling. “For his safety, we will take chances. Don’t make us take that course. Please, Spinel. I have seen the choices you make, and they all end badly.”

 “You can’t bluff me.” Spinel blew a raspberry. “I know better.”

 “Then consider I don’t care what I see. It’s irrelevant. What I do know, is that under no circumstance will we fail. We will take Steven back, and deal with you accordingly.”

 Spinel sighed and drew her face back from Steven’s forehead. “You really can’t take the chance, can you? Pff.” Like a thread unraveling from a sweater, Spinel uncoiled her body and stood. Garnet and Amethyst flinched, geared for the next act. Spinel picked her way gracefully down the jagged rocks, a complete contradiction to her sporadic and craggy movements. Gradually, Garnet unwound her own body and stood at her full height. When Spinel hit the moonlight fully, Amethyst’s jaw dropped.

 She was on high ground and didn’t need to stretch herself, to pass the baby from her arms. “Despite you yelling, he stayed asleep.” She backed away, cloaking herself in the shadows once more until only her eyes and gem were visible.

 “Spinel—”

 “What happened?” Amethyst blurted.

 Spinel didn’t answer, instead, she shut her eyes and doused the light burning in her Gem.

 “What HAPPENED to her!” Amethyst spat, once more. Garnet was about to respond, but jarred and stooped low.

 “Duck!”

 Honestly, Amethyst didn’t need to. Pearl cleared her head with enough space and went sailing outward, with a wail, spear in hand. The two watched her descent and inevitable splash in the ice capped waves below.

 “Nice try, Pearl.”

 Amethyst cupped her hands around her mouth. “You had ONE JOB!”

[the100obsessions]

Up In Flames

Summary: Set sometime after S4 EP5 "The Tinder Box", after Ilian sets fire to the Ark. Bellamy catches Clarke in an intimate moment, but when they find themselves locked in the room together, things take a turn. Chapter: 1/1 Rating: Explicit Relationship: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin Please consider reading on AO3 and leaving kudos or comments if you liked it!)

It had been a week since the Ark had been set aflame and she had been forced to stand and watch in horror as her people’s only chance at survival burned to the ground. The days since then had been long ad painful, spent cleaning up the wreckage and saving what was salvageable. Clarke’s was grateful that her room hadn’t taken too much damage during the fire, so she still had a place of solitude when the stress overtook her. Unfortunately, solitude only goes so far when the stress keeps you from sleeping, eating, and all but functioning. The light of dawn crept in through the slats in the metal wall and illuminated her room, marking the end of another sleepless night. She groaned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, slowly rustling in her bed and reaching over to her nightstand, feeling around for the small metal object Raven had crafted for her. “A stress reliever.” Raven had smirked, tucking the object into Clarke’s hand when no one was looking. It had taken Clarke all of 10 minutes to discover the power of it the first night, now it had become standard in her daily routine. What better to battle the weight of the world on your shoulders than daily orgasms? Clarke turned the device on and felt her muscles relaxing at the familiar buzz, anticipation igniting her sleep deprived body. She kicked her sheets to the side and wriggled out of her shirt in two swift movements, leaving her barren to the cold of the Ark’s air. Her nipples pebbled up as she ran her hands down her body, slowly, tenderly, trying to channel the last time she felt warm in someone else’s arms. She let herself melt into the bed under her own touch, teasing her fingers lightly over her arms, her breasts, her stomach, and finally grazing the moist fabric between her thighs. Usually, she liked to draw out her personal time, since she didn’t get much of it these days. But all she wanted right now was to feel release. To be blissful and euphoric for those few moments where she gets to forget about reality. So she rushed to pull her underwear down her legs and kicked them across the room, eagerly reaching for her vibrator that’s been tickling the side of her stomach for minutes now. She traced circles around her vulva, starting at the outer lips and slowly honing in on the bundle of nerves that ached for her attention. In a moment of inspiration she reached over to the nightstand again and pulled her hairbrush out of the drawer. With minimal hesitation she slowly pushed it into herself, a moan escaping as she felt herself clench against the unfamiliar stretch. It had been months since she’d felt anyone fill her, caress her walls in ways that her fingers couldn’t do. She closed her eyes and imagined a warm body attached to the phallic object thrusting into her. The vibrations echoed from her core through her whole body, lighting every bit of her on fire. Her thrusting became more erratic as she felt herself getting close, holding back her noises became a feat she wasn’t willing to fight. She was getting closer, louder, tenser… “Clarke are you okay!?” a voice startled her as she barely registered a body barrelling through her door. She found herself staring face to face with Bellamy, both frozen in surprise, afraid to speak before the other. Once enough time had passed that she shook herself out of her sudden death via mortification, she finally brought herself to string together a sentence. “BELLAMY GET THE FUCK OUT!” she yelled hysterically as she grasped for the blanket bunched on the opposite side of the bed, trying to cover any inch of herself he hadn’t already seen. “I-I’m sorry” he stuttered “shit, SHIT I’M SO SORRY.” He sprung towards the door and grabbed at the handle, all but ready to pull the door off it’s hinges if it meant getting out of there quickly enough. But with his white knuckles grasping the handle and all the muscles in his arm working overtime, he realized that the door was jammed shut. In an attempt to remedy the situation, he slapped one hand over his eyes, reaching the other out in mercy towards the bed. “I’m sorry, the door won’t open. The fire must have melted the door hinges or something... Fuck, I’ll just… uh I’ll hang in the bathroom until someone can get the door open!” He mumbled the last part as he swiveled on his feet and headed in the direction of the bathroom, blindly feeling around with his free hand while the other dared not move from their safe perch over his eyes. Clarke sighed defeatedly, having not been able to say much in the shock of the last two minutes. She watched as Bellamy tripped over her backpack and attempted to regain his composure before continuing his blind adventure towards the corner of the room. “You don’t have to do that” she said hesitantly, “hide in the bathroom, I mean.” Bellamy slowly lowered his hand from his eyes but kept his body turned away. He seemed to be waiting for further instructions, so Clarke continued. “Look if we really do only have a few weeks left, I’m not going to make you spend them in a closet sized bathroom waiting for repair to come save us. I was making the best of my time before you showed up, you should do the same.” He weighed her words carefully, unsure of her intentions. “You want me to… masterba-“ “No!” Clarke cut him off, anxiety and laughter combining in her throat. “No, I just mean, don’t let me stop you from doing whatever you want to do. I’m not going to let you stop me. If we don’t survive, I want to know I at least enjoyed my last while on earth.” And with that, the buzzing whirred up again, muffled by the blanket and the sound of Bellamy clearing his throat. He was still facing away from her, considering how to proceed, when a tiny moan escaped from the bed behind him, making the decision for him. He turned around cautiously, preparing himself for another berating or possibly objects flying at his head, but what he found instead was a tiny Clarke writhing under her white sheet, eyes closed tightly, and mouth parted in a gleeful pant. It was odd seeing his closest friend in such a compromising and vulnerable position. It wasn’t like he had never had sex with friends before, him and Raven had fooled around and it hadn’t changed their dynamic. But there was something about watching Clarke touch herself that felt far more intimate. Before he knew it, he found his pants growing tighter at the thought. He spotted a chair near the bed and quickly opted to sit, hoping he could disguise his growing member by crossing his legs or folding his hands in his lap, but just as he was adjusting Clarke piped up. “That looks awfully uncomfortable.” His eyes darted up and caught her amused look. “And who’s fault would that be.” He played along, mirroring her smirk to mask his tension. This was uncharted territory for them. Each word felt dangerous, but he pushed those thoughts under, continuing to feed off her responses. “I’m not the one who walked in without knocking.” She bit back playfully. “You’re right, I’m sorry I interrupted your fun time.” He shifted in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. “It’s fine, you’re not standing in my way.” She winked. “Ohhh do I sense a little voyeurism, princess?” A strangled moan escaped her mouth, surprising them both. Clarke’s face flushed pink and she turned her head away, trying to hide it. “What was that?” Bellamy chuckled, slowly catching on. “Do you like it when I call you that… Princess?” Clarke shifted in her spot, biting her lip and keeping her face turned away. Bellamy’s eyes grew dark as he realized his sudden power in the situation. He felt his heartbeat throbbing in his pants, begging for release, and decided to give in. He slowly started palming himself over the taught fabric, searching for more ways to make Clarke squirm under his gaze. “So does the Princess want to show me how she makes herself feel good?” Clarke’s body was still as she digested everything that was happening. After a few moments, she made the decision to act now and think later, and with that she turned back to face him. At some point when she was looking away, he had rid himself of his shirt and unbuttoned his fly, and was now slowly stroking himself over his boxers. The sight was enough to make her clench around her hairbrush, which sent shivers through her whole body. She decided to give him a view for himself and slowly peeled her sheet off, watching his eyes widen as every inch of her became visible. “Wow…” Bellamy began, raking his eyes up and down her body. “A hairbrush.” He noted with a slight nod. “Someone was a little desperate to be fucked.” Clarke moaned a tiny “mhm”, keeping her eyes fixed on his face as she thrusted the hair brush into herself. He made her feel dirty and exposed, feelings she never thought would turn her on. She found herself staring at his clothed erection, her tongue peeking out to wet her lips as her mouth grew dryer. “See something you like?” Bellamy catches on. “Not much to see…” Clarke whispers, keeping her eyes fixed to the steady movements of his hand. He slowly moved to the elastic of his boxers, dipping his thumb underneath them teasingly. Clarke bit her lip, finding herself holding on to his every move. With painfully slow movements, he pulled the boxers down, exposing himself inch by inch until he’s finally completely free. His cock springs up against his stomach to stand to attention. He wrapped his hand around it and began rubbing himself slowly, gliding his thumb over his slit every time he reached the top. The reddened head of his cock against his tanned skin is the most erotic sight Clarke thinks she’s ever seen. “What about now?” He rasps. She chances a glance up at his face and is met with darkness she hasn’t ever seen in him. His eyes capture hers and keep them glued there, telling her silent stories of what he wants to do to her. The lust in his gaze spurs her on and her hands start moving faster, too eager to go slow. Her thrusts become erratic and she feels a sting as she shoved her hairbrush as deep into herself as she can manage. Her other hand is making steady work of her clit, rubbing the vibrator as hard against herself as she can. Her climax suddenly erupts, taking her by surprise. Her movements still completely as she throws one of her arms across her face, biting down on her forearm to muffle her screams. Her cunt convulses around her hairbrush as she comes down from her high. Once she regains enough composure to open her eyes, she sees Bellamy watching her intently, steady at work on himself. He’s slouched back in his chair, his composure lazy and relaxed, his strokes languid but calculated. “That was some show, Princess.” Clarke finds herself at a loss for words. The after wave of her orgasm still washing over her body. Instead she just scoots over, making room for him in her bed, hoping the invitation is obvious enough. He eyes the spot on the bed and then raises his eyebrows at her, seeking confirmation that she wants this to move forward. With a small nod of her head, he takes a deep breath before toeing off his boots and shucking his pants and boxers. He crawls onto her bed cautiously, laying down to face her. Their bodies are inches apart, their eyes locked together, and suddenly the air is harder to breathe. “Bellamy…” Clarke begged, those breathless words igniting something within him. Suddenly his hands were everywhere as his lips crashed into hers. There was no tenderness in the kiss, it was needy and messy, full of want. He rolled them over so his body hovered above hers, one hand caressing her face while the other left goosebumps down her stomach. Clarke tangled her hands in his hair, wrapping her fingers around each soft curl, and tugged experimentally. He chuckled lowly and looked up through hooded eyes from where he was sucking bruising kisses onto her chest. “Patience, Princess. I’m going to take care of you.” He assured her. The promise sent chills down her spine, but she quickly warmed back up when he started tracing her slit with his fingers. He bumped her clit with his thumb and Clarke’s entire body twitched, still sensitive from her orgasm. Her movement earned her a warm smile as Bellamy eased up on the area, moving instead to her entrance. He pushed one of his digits inside her experimentally, watching her face to gauge her reaction. Any last hint of unease melted from her features as she gave in to the pleasure coiling in her abdomen. It wasn’t long until Bellamy added a second finger, and then a third, gently coaxing her towards her release. She glanced down at him where his head was resting on her stomach, looking up at her with such determination. She watched as he thrusted into the bed, desperate to get himself some friction, yet still remained focused on her and her alone. “C’mere.” Clarke panted, tugging on his hair again to guide him closer towards her. He readjusted himself, so he was laying perpendicular to her body, their faces now at eye level once again. She kept his gaze locked in her own like he had with her earlier, and traced her hand down his abs until she found the little tuft of hair leading towards his groin. His breath caught when she ventured further down and wrapped her shaking hand around the base of his cock. As she started stroking, a strangled moan came from somewhere deep within Bellamy’s chest. She merely saw his eyes fluttered shut and his mouth part slightly before he tucked his face into the crook of her neck and continued his own steady work on her mound. They fell into a rhythm, feeding off each other’s thrusts and listening intently for every noise. Bellamy had scooted closer up against Clarke’s side, so she was cupping his cock between her hand and her stomach, letting him thrust into her soft skin at his own pace. Bellamy’s hand was thrusting 3 fingers in and out of her slowly, curling them up against the spot that makes her keen every time he found it.  His thumb was tapping a steady beat onto her clit, breaking tempo every few moments to rub it in small circles. Clarke could feel herself getting closer as her cunt clenched around Bellamy’s fingers and she felt fire crawl up her lower back. “Bell, I’m gonna come.” She whispers into his nest of hair. “Me too.” Bellamy responds in a broken voice. He sounds so far gone, Clarke’s never seen him this out of control, and it does something to her. The fact that she’s the person he trusts enough to let himself go with is enough to push her over the edge. Her climax this time is much more powerful than the last, wracking her entire body with shivers as she convulses under Bellamy’s touch. He doesn’t let up on her clit, instead guiding her through her orgasm. She faintly registers the sound of him groaning in her ear and a wetness spreading out across her belly, but she doesn’t pay it any attention. She feels like she’s floating, her mind and body escaping into another universe. When she finally comes back down to earth, Bellamy is walking across the room towards her bathroom. Despite everything that just happened, this was the first time she got a good look at his toned form. His skin glistened under the natural light filling her room, his smattering of freckles meeting up like constellations across his body. His hair was matted down a little with sweat, but she still wanted to wrap her hands in it, tuck that one stray hair falling down his forehead behind his ear. She realized she had been staring when he walked back into the room holding a damp cloth. The bed dipped under his knee as he leaned onto the mattress and began cleaning her up. The act was so intimate and gentle, she felt her face flushing pink again under his touch. When he was done he threw the cloth into the sink in her bathroom and joined her back in bed. They hadn’t said a word to each other yet, but it didn’t feel like they needed to. Clarke reached out for his hand tentatively, giving him time to pull away if he wanted to, but Bellamy just interlocked their fingers and shifted onto his back, pulling Clarke up against his side and throwing his other arm around her waist. The warmth of his body and the rise and fall of his chest lulled Clarke to sleep, but just before she drifted off she felt Bellamy press a soft kiss to her forehead.

[gostaks]

yuletide 2019 letter is done!

(I might end up editing before assignments go out, but once they do this letter will be static)

Hello creator! Thank you for writing/creating for me this yuletide :D

My AO3 is gostaks

Brief TOC (Not linky b/c tumblr sucks)

General info

The Arcadia Project

Damar

Earthsea

Emelan

General stuff

DNW:

body horror

porn without plot—porn *with* plot is fine

mind control

canon-atypical child abuse

I'm not up to date in Earthsea! I’m cool with spoilers but I would prefer fic that doesn't require any canon knowledge beyond Tehanu (by publication order). Thanks!

If you’re not sure whether something is a dnw/it’s borderline, you can assume it’s okay. Feel free to contact me via mod but really I’m only concerned about obvious examples.

Likes:

Tone-wise, anything from fluff to darkfic is welcome. I have a soft spot for stories that juxtapose content and tone, or that are very different in tone to their source material!

Backstory or worldbuilding: I love stories about how familiar people or places came to be that way. Anything from distant past to five minutes before the story starts is absolutely welcome

Far future: I also love stories about characters many years later, or about the ways they’ve changed their world. I particularly enjoy stories about characters stepping into the roles of their mentors or being deeply changed by the power they wield.

Little details: What do characters lives look like on a micro scale? Show me powerful characters doing mundane things or the things that feel mundane to them.

alternate universes and timelines, the more out there the better!

Unconventional fanworks and interactive fiction: I love unconventional formats and IF! I would be super happy to receive either. My one caveat is that some days I’m limited in the amount of clicking and typing I can do, so it may take me a little while to actually work through your story if you don’t give me a transcript :D

How to stalk me: this is my tumblr; my ao3 is also gostaks. ‘nuff said.

Specific fandom likes + prompts

If you already have an idea you’re psyched about please write that for me! I wanna see what you think is fun to write :D  

The wordcount of each of these sections isn’t balanced, but please don’t take that as an indication that a canon isn’t wanted! I’m super psyched to read fic from any of these fandoms.

The Arcadia Project, Mishell Baker

Where to find it: The Arcadia Project is a three-book series of new adult-ish urban fantasy novels (Borderline, Phantom Pains, and Imposter Syndrome). 

If you’re looking for a fifteen-minute fandom, I’d like to formally invite you to read the preview available on goodreads, then write me a fic based on whatever you think the rest of the book might shake out to be. I suspect whatever you come up with will be interesting and possibly hilarious and it would definitely be an awesome gift to receive (tw for preview: suicidal ideation and discussion of suicide, psychiatric institutionalization, sexual assault mentioned briefly)

Likes: I initially came to the Arcadia Project for its depiction of mental illness. I fell in love with the characters, but I would very much be open to an OC-heavy story set in the same universe. I love how willing Baker is to make all of her characters abrasive, and how characters struggle on-screen with being better and kinder and healthier people and don’t always succeed. 

Prompts: 

People interacting with their echoes! Millie (& or /) Claybriar, Brand and Parisa Naderi, or any of the other echo pairs we’ve seen!

Millie and Claybriar just hanging out? Like going to see a movie or cooking or drawing together or just anything cute and mundane.

Millie trying to do something creative or trying to deal with the fact that she can’t interact with Claybriar the way normal echoes interact.

Related, normal interactions between echoes! What’s it like to go through the process of getting your Echo? What does the paperwork look like? What’s it like to be an up-and-coming film professional and then have someone drop out of the sky and tell you that not only are fairies real but you’ve got one, they’re your soulmate, and it’s very important that you Come Meet Them Right Now?

Caryl! Literally. Anything. Caryl. (And Elliot, who was originally Caryl and is thus lumped in for the sake of I Love Caryl) 

Caryl being a kid with the Project, the early years of her learning how to interact with Earth again

Early days Elliot—what was the process of creating his spell like? Is the way he existed at the beginning of the series the way he’s always looked and worked? Or was his current form and behavior the result of a lot of tweaking and experimentation?

Daemon au. Oh, come on, you know I had to ask. 

Caryl (& or /) Millie and their dysfunctional relationship, or the ways in which they can grow and change and become better for each other

Caryl’s first meetings or regular interaction with other project members, dinners at Residence 4, recruitment, anything like that

Elliot POV like… at any point. Show me what he’s thinking or feeling, or his mostly-off-screen character development as the rest of the series progresses.

Normal life on the Project. What do agents normally do when things aren’t going to shit?

Blatantly fishing for rep here but I’d love to see a character with tourettes in the Arcadia Project universe, whether that means headcanoning one of our old characters as having TS or introducing an OC. Super duper not required but it would totally make my day :D

Damar, Robin McKinley

Likes: Damar is a super nostalgic canon for me—I read the books for the first time in middle school and a lot of the way I come to these books is like super informed by that. If you give me the tropeyest trope that ever trooped I will love it :D I love the richness of detail in these books, and the way the world feels lived in—there are lots of details that allude to history we don’t see on screen. I’d love to see your take on that backstory and worldbuilding, if that’s something you’re interested in!

Prompts:

There is a vanishingly small possibility that you, writer, are interested in writing a story about orange merchants in Daria. If so, yes? Very yes?

Harry and Aerin interaction, on as epic or not-epic scale as you want. Like, visions? Both summoned through time to fight a massive threat? Going out for coffee together? 

Harry/Aerin! I have no idea how you’d make it work but yay fantasy femslash. This is probably a good candidate for an out-there au if you’re feeling that :D

stories about other people who have wielded Gonturan! 

Or show events in the books from Gonturan’s perspective. What’s it like to be a sword?

Aerin & Talat!! I love their relationship so much. They’re both so good for each other :D

Talat POV! What does he think of Aerin? How does he feel about fighting dragons and generally being heroic?

Any of Harry or Aerin’s adventures after their books end! They both wield Gonturan and protect their kingdom against magical threats, of course. I’d also love to see Harry as a diplomat, and the work that goes into creating a better relationship with the Homeland through diplomatic channels

Earthsea, Ursula K. LeGuin

Requested Character: Tenar!

Likes: I love how grounded Earthsea is. It tells stories about people, first and foremost. The magic system is epic, and there are so many stories that could be told in this world! As stated above, I’m only up to date as far as Tehanu. I’m fine with spoilers, but I might be totally lost if what you want to write relies on further books.

Prompts:

Tenar (& or /) Ged being domestic!

Ged having to learn how to do farm things over again without magic, and Tenar teaching him

Just… spending time together. Cooking or working or talking or just sharing each other’s warmth.

The aftermath of the end of Tehanu—being controlled like that must be horrible and I doubt they left unscarred. How does that affect them and Tehanu down the line?

AU where Tenar stays as Arha in Atuan. How this works out is up to you :D

Tehanu being a kid or Tehanu being a dragon or, of course, Tehanu being both a kid and a dragon. Cue hijinks.

younger!Tenar in her first few years in Earthsea! What was it like, adjusting? Living in the city? 

are there any habits she picked up in the Tombs that are hard to break, or that she’s kept for her entire life?

What’s her reaction to big crowds? Attention? Not having the time and space alone that she’s used to?

Where does Tenar have unexpected gaps in her knowledge? Like, does she know how to cook for one, or only for a whole temple? does learning how to navigate new places while seeing them make it harder?

Tell me more about women’s magic. Could a woman, given motivation, become a wizard? How does this dichotomy interact with a more complex or modern understanding of gender identity? 

Emelan, Tamora Pierce

Likes: Wow, real elementary school hours here. I first read the Circle of Magic books when 10 felt really old. The concept of ambient magic is awesome and I love how big and intricate the world always feels. I’d love to see our characters continue to grow and teach, or to see more of the world around the Pebbled Sea or beyond!

Prompts:

Main four

Future fic! What are they doing five years post-Will of the Empress. 10? 50? How have their powers developed? 

On the dark side, I’d love to see someone seriously try to get Tris and/or Briar to do war magic for them. Is it possible, with any amount of force or magic, to trap one of the discipline crew at this point? How else might they be compelled or encouraged to do what someone else wants?

Life at Discipline sometime during those four years. Lessons? Adventures? “Ugh Little Bear peed on the floor again, Briar it’s your turn to clean it up!”? I want to see what takes up their time when no one’s life is threatened.

Letters! Epistolary fic! Show me what they thought was important to share with each other while they were out in the world, and what they decided not to tell. 

Teachers

Backstory! We know a little bit about what each of their teachers’ lives were like before, but I want to see more. Show me what a day in the life of dancer!Lark or farm girl!Rosethorn was like.

What’s it like to learn magic as an adult? Is it easier or harder to learn how when you already have practical skills and a baseline of control? What’s frustrating? What’s trivial?

How do the teachers interact when the kids aren’t around? I love love love Lark/Rosethorn, but I’d also love to see more interaction between them, Niko, and Frostpine. 

Second generation students

any of the students going about their training as young mages—what’s Pasco’s life like now that he’s a Provost mage? Did Niko teach Glaki learned any interesting spells while they were on their way back to Emelan? How’s Keth’s glasswork going?

Students interacting with each other! What does Evvy think of Pasco? What would either of them think of Nia and Jory? 

Evvy as a novice! How does that work? How is the way she interacts with Winding Circle and her teachers different from before she decided to become a novice? What about from the way the discipline crew interacted with Winding Circle?

Evvy gets a cat—either pre-Street Magic (I’d love to see more of her life before she met Briar and Rosethorn) or post-Melting Stones with all the complexity there.

You know that scene that was mentioned in Will of the Empress where some subset of {Briar, Evvy, Rosethorn} met with silk weavers and learned about how codes and messages were sent through slubs in the fibers, but then we didn’t see it on screen during Battle Magic? That would be awesome to read.