#aetherwrites

[aetherdoesthings]

would you like some cake? (pt 2)

forethoughts: if you want to read part one it's would you like some new toys :D. i'm literally going to go home in a few hours and pull for arlecchino i'm so excited so happy so on adrenaline i can't ahhhh

notes: gn!child!reader, but fem!reader in mind. NOT AN X READER, READER IS A CHILD!!!

You don’t remember when was the last time you stepped foot in the playroom again. Father said she would take you to a different playroom, away from the others. You spent every day in that new playroom with Father. Father always gave you an option to go back. The door was always wide open. Distant sounds of the other children laughing and cheering rang in your ears. 

Father said you were getting better day by day. Much more used to your new toys. Father even allowed you to bring your toys with you everywhere. One inside your boots, one strapped to your belt. Father even allowed you to bring one to your room. 

Your room. Instead of the room you shared with the others, Father had moved you. Closer to her office. You have your own room now. Father had decorated it herself, she said. The mattress felt like three of the mattresses in your old room stacked upon each other. The room made you feel tiny. Alone. But Father was always there. Father was always with you.

Father said you were almost as skilled as the guards that stood outside the orphanage. 

Father was proud.

Father was proud of you.

Father always read you bedtime stories. Tucked you in, planting a soft kiss on your forehead before turning off the lights. Father always taught you to not listen to what the other children said. That the only person you should be listening to is her and yourself. 

You don’t remember when was the last time you felt eyes casted on you and words piercing your heart when you ate your meals. You still ate your meals in the hall with the other children; Father was adamant that you would still have some interaction with the others. But you didn’t care. 

Father made sure you knew your worth. 

~

Using your chopsticks, you fished up a bundle of noodles, putting it in your spoon and then in your mouth. You chewed, and then fished up another bundle of noodles. The children behind your back were loud and rowdy as usual. Father said to pay no mind to them. This time was different.

They were talking about Father.

It was Father’s birthday tomorrow. 

Father was always secretive and didn’t reveal much about herself. They were planning on surprising her with a big party in the playroom. Of course, you weren’t part of it.

Father was always there for you, you thought. Never shy from giving you gifts and words of advice on the days you needed them. 

You stood up from your seat, carrying your empty udon bowl to the sinks, giving it a quick rinse before putting it on the racks. You walked out of the hall, letting your feet take you where your mind wanted to go.

You closed the door to your new room, taking a seat behind your desk as you took out two sheets of paper, and some crayons Father had gifted you. While the rest played and had fun, you were in your room, scribbling away as best as you could with your black crayon. With your second piece of paper, you took out more colors from the box.

Father was always there for you.

You’d be a bad kid if you didn’t do the same, right?

The other’s idea of a celebration was tricking Father to go to the playroom, then cheering and singing happy birthday to Father while they played with Father. That meant that Father was unavailable to give you your daily lessons on how to properly play with your new toys. Fortunately you were busy too.

You entered the kitchen the moment you heard everyone else chant happy birthday in all different keys, the wide empty space with high workstations and cabinets sending doubt into your head. You shook it away, closing the door behind you with two hands, before taking a small tour around the space you would work with. Seeing that dinner was just served, all the cooks were done, leaving you a window of time to carry out your plan. Using a nearby stepping stool, you climbed onto the counters, reaching the high cabinets that were attached to the roof. Just as fate intended it to be a cooking book fell onto your lap, flipped to the page you wanted to go on. You closed the cabinet door, placing the cooking book by your side as you placed your boots on the stepping stool. 

Father said you were good at looking for what you needed.

Father said you were good at doing what you wanted to do.

You prayed Father was right.

With the big book set on one counter, you scurried around the kitchen, gathering all the required ingredients and items you needed next to the book. You found two more stepping stools, allowing you to move around on each stool like different stations. 

Father said your academic level was higher than the rest; you were doing exams meant for ten year olds.

“Pour… flour… in a bowl…” You muttered, finger on each word. You did as the instructions said, scooping out some flour and dumping it into a bowl.

“Egg…Sugar…Mix… Bake…”

For the rest of the day, you buried yourself in work, making what they called a ‘batter’. You had nearly dropped your hard made batter when you had to place the mold inside the oven, a new lesson learnt the hard way. After as much time as the book said, you took the mold out, this time wearing the funny shaped gloves on top of the counter next to the oven. With all your strength, you lifted the baked circular batter into a cart, before wheeling the cart back to your workstation. As the batter was baking, you had prepared a frosting, as they called it. Using a flat rectangle shaped object that had its corners rounded out, you spread the frosting over the top of the cake, before adding a fresh cherry to the top. 

The celebration had stopped. 

You heard Father’s voice tell the children it was time for bed. You gripped onto the counter, trying not to get shaken by the earthquake created by the hoard of orphans storming up to their room. Holding your breath, you waited until you couldn’t hear Father’s footsteps anymore, before letting out a sigh. You placed your finished cake on a pretty plate, using two hands to hold each side before exiting the kitchen.

~

You let out a deep breath, looking at the gold and crimson ornate double door in front of you. With the papers in your pocket, cake in hand, you used your shoulder to turn the doorknob, stumbling into Father’s office. 

“Y/N?” Father. You turned around, facing Father. Father was behind her desk, hand moving from her forehead to her chin as she looked at you with a playful grin. Since your back was still turned to her, she couldn’t see the cake you made.

“I was worried sick about you, my dear. I didn’t see you at the celebration the others held for me.” Father chuckled. “Where were you? Not even the caretakers or workers could find you.”

You opted to not answer her question, rather hobble your way over to Father’s desk with your little legs. You placed your creation on the same place Father had set you when you got injured. Father looked at the cake, her eyebrows raised as she tried to conceal the grin that was spreading on her face. She pointed at the candle that was stabbed into the cake next to the cherry with her index finger, and the wick was instantly lit on fire. 

“U-Umm…. I overheard it was Father’s birthday… so I wanted to do something special for Father…” You mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve as you tried to maintain eye contact with her. “I-I made you a cake. I t-tried my best. Would Father care to try my cake?”

Father let out a chuckle, looking at you with a soft and warm gaze. “You made a cake? All for me?”

“I-I wrote a c-card too…” You pulled the card and the second piece of paper out of your pocket, placing it next to the cake.

“Y/N… I…” Father chuckled, the corners of her mouth reaching her eyes. You’d never seen her look at you like this. Yes, she was always happy and cheerful. But never this much. Even as she tried to conceal it, you had spent enough time with her to know that she was feeling much more than a simple grin. 

“Of course I would love to try your cake.” Father took the fork that was placed next to the cake, digging out a portion of your creation before putting it in her mouth. You could’ve sworn you saw a glimmer in her eyes. She took another bite, nodding her head and smiling at you.

“D-Does Father like it?” You asked with a worried tone. 

“I love it, my dear.” Father hummed, forking out another chunk of your cake, putting the fork in front of your mouth. “Why don’t you try your own creation?”

“But it’s Father’s cake.”

“I insist.”

“O-Okay.” You wrapped your mouth around the fork, chewing on the cake you made. A smile crept on your face as you swallowed the bite. Thank the gods you had actually made food and not poison.

“Come here, my child.” Father patted on her laps. You walked around her desk, climbing on her laps as you looked up at her. She continued to spoon feed herself and you, wiping away any crumbs on your lips with her finger.

“H-Happy Birthday, Father.” You exclaimed.

“Thank you, my dear Y/N.” Father smiled at you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “I loved it, my little cook. This was the best birthday present ever.”

You could feel serotonin rush through your body. “R-Really?”

“Yes! Why would I ever lie to you, my dear?” Father hummed. “Thank you for such a wonderful birthday gift, my dear.”

~

Arlecchino sat on her chair, a sigh exiting her mouth as she looked at the card you had written, as well as the piece of paper. She had read a quick bedtime story to you, tucking you into bed before going back to her office. Arlecchino opened the letter, as the words entered her heart, fueling that flame of hers she carried and protected.

“Father,

haqqy dirthbay. I hoqe you hab a goob bay anb are haqqy. thank you for everything you bo for me. i really like my new toys.

Y/N.”

[bunnys-writing]

Hi aether!!

Would it be okay to ask for a Lyney x reader whos insecure about their face because they think that lyney is WAYYYY prettier than them and is overall just insecure abt their looks ever since before they met? Thank you !!

"My Shining Star"

...in which you, a self conscious Fontainian, feel as though your lovely boyfriend is too lovely for someone like you, and he just can't have you thinking like that on his watch.

(a/n at the bottom!)

Lyney is a man easily described as charismatic and charming. He encapsulates what it means to be confident, and his every move is flawless by design. His show run with his siblings has been deemed dozens of times over the best show in the Court of Fontaine, and what's more, he has clear set goals, ambitions, bonds, and ideals.

And then there's you. You're quiet, more reserved than he appears to his crowd. In a world of dazzling gems, you feel like you're more akin to a jagged rock, and yet, he pursued you.

For months, really, you thought he was joking. A trick to lure you into his mind games, a ploy to make fun of you, but there was a quiet sincerity in his eyes that made you wonder if maybe it wasn't as fake as you believed.

And it wasn't. Months of courting you eventually had you lower your guard and take him up on his invitation. A date.

Well, the date went far better than either of you could've hoped, and it was shortly after that you became partners. He was your loyal, joyful boyfriend, and you were his favourite thing in the world.

For a while, it was great. You attended his shows, and he dedicated every single one to you and his family. He always made sure he knew where you were sitting in the crowd so he could blow you a kiss, even if the people near you swooned on your behalf to insist it was for them.

Was it for them?

That thought planted the seed.

It took days for Lyney to notice your withdrawals; the way you avoided his eyes, didn't linger on his kisses or cuddles. It was about as subtle as a house on fire, in his defense.

Then you stopped attending as many shows, stopped spending nights at his house, started looking in mirrors and numbers on scales and spots on your face, and by the end of two months of Lyney hoping for you to tell him, he decided he couldn't stand watching his partner tear themself apart like this.

"Knock knock," Came a singsong voice at your door. He didn't want to scare you, so he kept his tone jovial. "Hope you don't mind me letting myself in, my dear."

You looked at the magician in slight surprise, then at your mess of an appearance with embarrassment. "Lyney! I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were coming over, I would've tidied up a little more if I did..."

"Nonsense, dove! We've been dating for months now, you don't owe me a saving face." Lyney walked over to you, closing the door behind him and sitting on your bed next to you.

The second the door was closed, your boyfriend shed the persona he held. His eyes softened, his stature relaxed, and he lost the formalities. He brushed a hand to your cheek lovingly, and when you shifted to move your face away, he immediately retracted to his own disappointment.

"(Y/N)...I need to talk to you about something."

You felt fear and guilt crawl up your stomach to infect your lungs. Tangled in this dread, you said nothing. Lyney took it as an open invitation.

"You've been acting strange lately...You weigh yourself, you're less inclined to eat or to leave the house, you seem...you seem low."

Lyney didn't touch you. He put a hand next to yours as an offer and left it there. He could tell something was wrong, even in the darkness of the room. You looked so...sad. It ached for him to see you like this.

"Did someone say something to you? Do something?"

No. And that was the stupid part. This was entirely self afflicted. You drove yourself down this spiral.

"...no." You despised the way your voice sounded so gravelly. "I'm just...not feeling great."

"What happened, (Y/N)? Please, talk to me."

You unfurled yourself, your knees left your chest to splay onto the mattress, and your hands travelled to fridget in your lap. Lyney moved to face you a little bit more.

"It's just...I don't know. You're really pretty, and I see how people look at you, especially when you're with me. The people at your shows, at the markets...they know I don't deserve you, Lyn."

There was a long silence. Then, a cautious hand on yours.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

You looked at your boyfriend, who seemed to be saddened a great deal from your words, but still smiling stubbornly despite.

"...Anything."

"I'm quite self conscious myself."

Now you were sure he was lying. You watched him carefully for any hint of a lie, but you couldn't discern it. With widening eyes, you realised he was telling the truth.

"Wha-...How? You're so beautiful and charming, and your smile is so bright it warms anyone who sees it!"

"Funny, that's exactly what I think of you."

A deep red burns your cheeks as you realise you've been caught, and your boyfriend laughs, bringing you closer in his arms.

"I know how it feels to feel like you're lesser than the people you love. To feel like the world would continue without a change if you were to fade away. But you're my shining star, and I love you so much. All of you."

Lyney plants gentle kisses on your palm, to your wrist, then to your cheek, catching you off-guard and flustered. He gives a sort of half chuckle at your expression. You see love fill every bit of his eyes as he gazes at you.

"I love you so much, (Y/N). Don't ever think any less, 'kay?"

"Yeah...I love you too, Lyney."

Man oh man I apologise for how long this took! Writing for Lyney was super fun, so I hope you enjoy reading it just as much as I did writing it.

A gentle reminder that you are never not enough, and you're perfect just the way you are no matter what anyone (including you yourself) has to say about it! ♡

Thanks for reading! 🫶

REQUESTS OPEN, check pinned for more info!

[morte-darthur]

BETA READERS CALL !

do you like horror, polyamory and the tense of atmosphere of small towns? then i have good news for you: i'm looking for an unlimited number of beta readers for my 98k words novel, a strange kind of hunger.

SYNOPSIS —

1853. sweetwater, massachusetts, swallows people whole. dr. jonathan fallow thought he escaped its grip four years ago, but he finds himself back in its clutches, as winter creeps in.

sweetwater swallows people whole, but it seems to be in the maw of something else. tracks in the forest; mutilated cattle; a howling chorus. the townsfolk are quick to cry devil, encouraged by their firebrand pastor, gabriel goodwin. jonathan is determined to prove that the creatures lurking in the woods are wolves, nothing more — but a night vigil and a glimpse of something horrifying force him to reconsider.

to expose the rotting heart of the village, he’ll have to form an alliance with a faceless traveller, a disgraced former surgeon — and the pastor’s beautiful younger brother.

( trigger/content warnings: gore, body horror, familial abuse (largely off-page), religious abuse/trauma. a more in-depth list of warnings for each chapter will be available on request )

HOW THIS WILL WORK —

if you're interested in beta reading, DM me here (@wifewulf) or on discord (@/hotspurpercy) to let me know.

beta readers will have until the 30th of september to finish ASKOH. unless you're a mutual, please don't sign up unless you know you can finish it by then

beta readers will get access to a private discord server where you can read ASKOH and give feedback, as well as get some bonus short stories and art pieces from me!

there's currently no limit on the number of beta readers i'm looking for. however, if a lot of people sign up, i may prioritise mutuals and readers of colour

( + TAGLIST UNDER THE CUT ! )

@villaneve / @vandorens-archive / @nallthatjazz / @starshots-blog1 / @cannivalisms / @perditism / @spillme / @upoffringar / @thelittlestspider / @wildswrites / @brownpaperhag / @akoumi / @quilloftheclouds / @absolute-nonsense-scribblings / @birdywrote / @tiredlittleoldme / @strangerays / @ninazeniks / @authortango / @aetherwrites / @caravagest / @chazzawrites / @anavkour / @videsnoir / @karamel-pop / @philocalizt / @cryptidsandqueers / @stephwriteswords / @muddshadow

[dreams-and-honor]

@dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus @aetherwrite

[druidx]

Heads Up, Seven Up (7 lines), Nine Lines, & Last Line tag games

As might be obvious, I’m really bad at getting around to doing things. I’ve been saving up all my Seven Lines, Nine lines and Last Line tag games because “I’ll get to it someday. Honest!”

I’ve now got so many, I figured out I could just mash them together to help me finish editing Alexis Dalliance vs the Evil of Titan, and call it good.

I took 5 random pages from the work and used a nice online tool to work out that I write an average of 9.8 words per line, which means I need to complete 2,166 words of editing.

Thank you to everyone who’s tagged me in one of these games (it's been so long, probably some of you don't even remember, and some of you no longer seem to exist any more):

@aetherwrites, @alexsidereus x2, @alias-levi, @aquadestinyswriting x4, @artdecosupernova-writing x2, @autumnalwalker x3, @blind-the-winds X3, @chauceryfairytales, @corkythewriteblr, @eli-writes-sometimes x3, @faelanvance x2, @lake-arrius-caverns, @laurabwrites, @mariahwritesstuff, @odysseywritings x2, @oh-no-another-idea x2, @rewrit, @ryns-rambling, @shadowlight-inkedthoughts, @sleepyowlwrites, @spacetimewraithwrites-archive, @strosmkai-rum, @toribookworm22, @tracle0 x2, @viawrites-andacts x2, @whimsyqueen, @winglesswriter, @writingamongther0ses x6, @writingmaidenwarrior, @writingonesdreams, @zmwrites x2, @iparisaltanwing

I ended up writing a little over the target; this is 2500 words.

CW war crimes, slaughter of innocents, a falling Paladin, unusual dialogue marks, swearing

"What do you mean?" Alexis asked after she’d overcome her surprise at seeing the gnome, "How is it sick?" "It’s the lizardfolk who live in the center of the swamp," the gnome said. "They used to live in harmony with the swamp, but recently…" He sighed. "I don’t know what’s wrong. Something’s gotten into them, something evil. They’re destroying vast swathes of the swamp, cutting down trees, burning the brush, befowling the waters." Alexis glanced over at the others. "We might know the reason for this change. The lizardfolk have been drawn into a cult which worships a Demon Prince from the Pit. They must be working on the Demon’s orders." The gnome paled. "Yes. I understand now. I have seen great holes carved in the ground, blocks of stone being dragged to a central site." "They must be constructing a new temple to base their portal on," Richard said. "My friend, we aim to stop these bloodthirsty monsters from bringing the Demon Prince through to this world and destroy the cult." "Stopping the cult will mean the swamp is safe again," Alexis added. The gnome lit up. "Then you have my thanks, Paladin!" "Call me Richard," he said. The gnome shook his hand. "And I am Wurzle Moslicker." "We aim to stop the lizardfolk," Alexis continued after introductions had been made, "but we’ve run into a small snag. The boat we were told was here isn’t, and we cannot cross into the swamp." "Oh!" Wurzle said. "Dear tree-child, you should know there are other ways to cross a watery path." Alexis frowned as Wurzle gave a peculiar call. A cluster of cypress nearby began to shake and shift. Bastet and Richard both reached for their weapons. Alexis gasped as she realised what was happening. "It’s alright!" she cried. "Don’t hurt it!" From the thicket, strode a tree. «You called, Wurzle?» it said, its voice a long and creaking thing. Richard leaned down to Alexis, hissing, "What is that?" "It’s a treent!" she squealed, face filled with wonder. "I’ve heard about them, but never met one before! Galana’s blessed hair, this is amazing!" "Mudwood," Wurzle was saying, "These fine folks need to get across the swamp to the lizardfolk settlement. They’re going to stop them from destroying the swamp." The treent grumbled and harrumphed as it gazed over the group, lingering on Alexis. «This I will do,» it said eventually, «For the presence of the tree-child tells me their intent is true.» "What did it say?" Richard asked. Alexis cocked her head. "You don’t speak sylvan?" "I barely speak elvish," he retorted. "It said it’d take us, but only cuz I’m here." Bastet rolled her eyes. "Of course it did." Alexis bounced on the balls of her feet, wide, pleading eyes focused on Richard. Richard sighed fondly. "Go on, then." Alexis gave a squeal of excitement, racing away. Richard watched her scamper off, springing into the branches of the treent, and scurry up the trunk like a squirrel. "My good sir, is there an easy way up for those of us not inclined to tree-climbing?" Victor asked. Wurzle chuckled. "Yes, of course." He gave another of those strange cries, and Mudwood stooped, holding out a limb for the others to climb on.

For the others, the treent crossing was dull or sickness-inducing, but for Alexis it was heaven. In between scurrying through the branches, relishing the feel of the breeze through her hair and bark under her hands, she pestered Wurzle and Mudwood with questions, some asked by Richard, pressing for more details about the lizardfolk, their numbers and armaments. The morning was wearing on by the time Mudwood dropped them off as close to the lizardfolk settlement as Wurzle would let him. Alexis was the last to dismount, dropping from the lowest branches with a happy sigh. «For you, little one,» Mudwood said, handing Alexis a small wooden pipe, a notch taken from just below a craved mouthpiece. «Blow this when your work is done, I shall return for you. The trees name you ‘friend’. We will pass this by root and leaf. Wherever you are, this whistle will call the nearest treent to your aid.» Alexis stared at the whistle, then hugged the treent. «Thank you for this gift.» "Lex, c’mon." With a final bow to the treent, Alexis took off after her friends.

They trekked through the dense undergrowth of the swamp, hacking at long vines and lush brush, the humidity mingling with sweat making everything uncomfortably damp. As the sun reached its zenith, the lizardfolk’s newly built ziggurat came into view over the tops of the trees. "We’re nearly there," Bastet said, relieved.

They pushed on and soon found their way blocked by a great wall. "Piss and blood," Bastet cursed. Alexis tilted her head back. "I don’t think even I can climb that." "Maybe we can tunnel under it?" Gorgut said, stepping over and using a dagger to dig at the dirt. "We don’t have the equipment," Richard said. "Victor, what about that muddy spell?" "Rock to Mud?" Victor scratched at his chin. "Could work. It depends on how they’ve structured the wall, and if I can get deep enough to find the unworked foundations." "Right. Alexis, you scale that tree to scout the lay of the land. The rest of us will investigate the foundations of the wall. Then we can make a plan of attack for once we’re inside."

Once at the top of the tree, Alexis surveyed the area. Some ways from the base of the ziggurat was the lizardfolk settlement. It looked like a normal village from this high up – low cottages of local foliage gathered around a central open space, one grander than the rest. Drying linens hung from lines on tall poles. Pens of animals and crops surrounded the village. People came and went, carrying pots or pushing hand carts. It could have been any village on the Pagan Plains. It could have been Toreguard. In the time it had taken them to travel down here, the ziggurat had been completed. Despite its apparent completion, people still worked on it, looking like ants scurrying over stone steps, adding carvings and other refinements to the bare faces of the stone. Under an open-sided pagoda at the top, Alexis could just about make out the workings of magic. A structure of bones stood over arcane markings, fires set at junctures of the markings. A priest, delineated by his golden, feathered headband, threw something into the fires occasionally, making them spark and flare unusual colours.

She slid down, relaying this reconnaissance to the others and Richard laid out the plan.

As Victor chanted out his spell, Richard and the others stood back, readying the weapons. Benevelor was summoned from the celestial realm. As the spell took effect, the wall wobbled and crumbled, the mortar loosening. "It’s now or never!" Victor cried, hurrying back to join the others. "Benevelor," Richard commanded, "kick it down." The holy oxen took up position and lashed out with its hind legs. The crumbling blocks shook and with a thundering crash toppled inwards, landing into the mire below. Richard raced forward, leaping onto his mount’s back. "Charge!" he yelled, as the pair of them vanished over the rubble, Gorgut and Victor following close behind. Alexis looked at Bastet. "Ready?" "Give them a few moments more to really grab the attention," Bastet replied. Alexis grunted in reply, finding the bush at her feet of vast interest. Bastet sniffed, looking up at the broken corner of the wall. After a moment, she said, "We’re both professionals." "That we are." "So are we-?" "Absolutely fucking not." "Right." Distantly the sounds of battle reached them. "Sounds like our cue." "Yep." With that, Alexis led the way over the rubble and toward their objective: the temple.

While the menfolk battled with the temple masons and the warriors who protected them, Alexis and Bastet crept behind enemy lines and up the ziggurat. As they approached, the scent of burning spices grew thicker as perfumed smoke wafted out of the pagoda, followed by an undulating chant. As Alexis and Bastet peeked into the pagoda, they saw the head priest, his headband glinting in the firelight, had been joined by two lesser priests wearing wide golden neckbands embossed with the Eye of Muyrr symbol.

With a signal to Bastet, Alexis fired through the smoke and the portal ring, her bolt driving through the head priest's neck. Bastet leapt from cover, her daggers flashing as she took out one of the lesser priests. As Alexis reloaded, Bastet turned towards the last priest, only to find he had armed himself. He slashed out at Bastet, catching her arm. She cried out, falling back against a pillar. The bolt from Alexis' bow took him between the shoulder blades, and he fell, hitting the steps with a wet crunch. "Thanks," Bastet said as Alexis moved up into the pagoda. "Don't mention it." Alexis glanced around. "You wanna deal with the fires while I deal with the lines? Then we can deal with that," her face scrunched as she waved at the bone structure, "together." With an affirmative grunt, Bastet turned her attention to extinguishing the fires, while Alexis scattered the red and grey powders forming the lines of the summoning circle. On a ceremonial table to one side, she found more of the dust and blocks of perfume on tarnished golden dishes. Collecting the plates together, she took them to the edge of the pagoda. The cloud of powder spread like blood in the air as she tossed the dishes away, down the ziggurat. "Lex," Bastet called, urgency in her voice. Alexis turned back to see Bastet was next to the table she’d found the powders on. "Yes?" Bastet held up parchment scrolls. "Can you read these?" Alexis took one, scanning the strange writing. She shook her head. "This is like no script I’ve ever seen. But these diagrams… they’re the same as the floor markings I destroyed. And this looks like the portal edifice." She held them up for comparison. "This one looks like a map," Bast said, spreading it on the table. It was indeed a map of Titan. Parts of the continents were crosshatched with different patterns, and arrows moved from the south of Allansia up and outward. "I might not know what it says, but this looks alarmingly like troop movements, like the ones Captain Hengar has in his office." She glanced at Bastet. "Whatever it is, it can’t be anything good." "Maybe Vic can read them," Bastet said. She tucked the scrolls away and looked at the mound of bound bones. "Let’s destroy this thing so we can get out of this place." Together they turned to the portal ring, a series of long bones lashed together with twine which stood on a small dais of skulls and pelvises, and began to hack at the binding ropes. When the ring was nothing but a pile, they used the table as a shunt, shoving the bones away to clatter down the sides of the ziggurat. Bastet raised a hand, shielding her eyes. "It looks like the fighting's stopped. They're all clustered near the houses." Alexis listened. A few screams and raised voices carried on the wind, echoing the calling of birds and rush of wind in the trees. "I don't hear any fighting. We should get down there and find out what's happening."

The sun was dipping lower in the sky, the tall trees casting shadows as they drew lower. There was indeed a group of people gathered close to the village. Alexis frowned. No, there were no sounds of fighting. But there was wailing. Sobbing. The high cry of a child. The sounds of terror. Fear gripped Alexis’ heart. She picked up the pace. The people were kneeling. Their hands raised, supplicant. Richard stood before them, sword unsheathed. Victor stood at his side, leaning close. Her feet pounded at the leaf-strewn path. Metal glinted. Pleas became screams. Alexis’ voice joined them. "No!"

By the time she arrived, there was nothing but corpses and blood.

Alexis dropped to her knees, voice rasping. "Richard… What did you do?" His eyes were hard as he turned to her. "What I had to." "But they- They were harmless. " The scene wavered in her gaze. "They were innocents!" "Ah, but there’s no such thing as an innocent lizardman, is there?" Victor said, grinning wickedly. "No. Alexis, you’ve seen for yourself what they’re capable of," Richard said. "They had to die." "There were children!" "Better to stop them now then," Victor said. "Richard… This is wrong. You must see that?" "All I see," Bastet said, coming to a panting halt, "is a hero doing what’s needed to keep our world safe." She waved the scrolls found in the temple. "We found evidence they were going to bring the whole world under their heel." Alexis gaped. "That’s not- We don’t know-!" Richard spat on the corpses. "That sounds like something these filthy rotten snake cultists would do." "Where’s Goregut? He’ll make you see-" "Goregut’s dead." Richard’s voice was hard with the faintest of tremors, his face turned to the jungle. "Stabbed through the back by one of these putrid cunts." He turned to Alexis and swallowed. "I’m sorry. I know you liked him. But now, do you see? They had to pay. They all have to pay!" Alexis’s mouth moved. She clutched a fist over her heart. Bastet crowded in onto Richard’s other side, her eyes alight. "Yes! Yes, you are so brave taking on this burden." "Such a true paladin!" "What can we do to help?" Richard kicked at one of the bodies. "We should move deeper. Take them all out. Stop them for good! Yes," he looked back at the others, "we must keep our people safe. We’ll keep all of Allansia safe forever from this evil!" Alexis pulled herself to her feet. "We can’t!" Richard turned back. The hate in his gaze took her breath away. She swallowed. "We, um, we need more provisions. We don’t have enough. To carry on. We should go back to Toreguard-" "To Port Blacksands!" Bastet crowed. "An excellent idea! We can find men and supplies!" "No… That’s not-" But Bastet and Victor were already guiding Richard back the way they’d come, already discussing what they’d need for such an excursion. Alexis watched them stride past, mouth agape, hands clenched and tears in her eyes. "Alexis. Come on," Richard called back over his shoulder. Mute and staggering, Alexis followed behind.

[writeouswriter]

Welcome to Zhang's Video, can I recommend you anything to rent?

Jack Lanelle in Zhang's Video from my WIP: Static House

Photo ID and Taglist Under Cut.

[ID: Digital drawing of my OC Jack Lanelle, a young, somewhat tanned skinned man with dark curly hair and heavy eyelids, wearing a long sleeved, wrinkled red button up shirt over a dark tee and jeans, standing behind a counter with a small TV set sitting on it with a multi-coloured, static-ridden no signal screen. On the wall behind him is a shelf stacked with VHS tapes and a large VHS tape shaped sign that reads "Zhang's Video Rental," as well as a few smaller signs that read: "New Horror! Rent Now!," "Support Your Local Businesses," and a circular smiley face, "Be Kind, Rewind!" End ID]

My taglist for this WIP is old because I've been kind of stagnant with it, but tagging it anyway: @after-nine-at-the-oasis, @quadraphonictypewriter, @mary-is-writing, @avian-writes, @writting-in-blood, @carminasolis, @odysseywritings, @aetherwrites, @muchtowriteabout-nuthin, @the-lighthouse-lit

[pens-swords-stuff]

Happy birthday, Undine! I hope you have a wonderful day! @/aetherwrites

@aetherwrites

Thank you so much Rose! I hope you have a wonderful day too 💙

[sasukeisawake]

Can you put me on the camp Nano update taglist, legend? 🤩 @/aetherwrites

@aetherwrites you’ve been added!! tysm for your interest queen 💖

[bijouxs]

🍓? <3 <3 /@aetherwrites

rose you are so FUN!!!!! like omg you are so easy to gel with + even just talk with. i’m super glad we met each other + became friends because you’re clearly such a lovely person T_T thank you for treating me so nicely!! 

send a 🍓 for a compliment!

[aetherdoesthings]

priorities

forethoughts: ✨guess who's sick again✨ i'm kidding i'm not sick. i have a few ideas i want to write out (all including arlecchino because she has my heart rn) so expect to see more aether original fics! i'm still writing requests rn; so if you want something to be written, send an ask!

notes: fem!reader, domestic life, protective!arlecchino, arlecchino trying to be a good wife

Being the Fourth Fatui Harbinger’s wife was probably the best thing in the world. For one, you didn’t need to be worried about being attacked out of the blue when you had a squadron of Fatui agents always watching you while you were out. Arlecchino always showed love and kindness to you, despite her cold and indifferent look. Even though her workload and job filled up most of her time, she always found time to talk to you and bond with you whenever she had even the sliver of free time. Arlecchino always sought to communicate and ensure everything was clear between the two of you to avoid as much worries as possible. Sometimes she would take you to the House of the Hearth to play with the children and join in on the family barbecues. In every essence, she was the perfect partner.

Your job was to watch over the mansion the two of you resided in while Arlecchino worked in the House of the Hearth, and make sure everything was in order. Nothing ever went wrong or put a stop to your task; you were an unstoppable force that would always complete your tasks everyday. 

Well, until you weren’t.

“Darling, I’m back.” You heard Arlecchino’s voice echo off the walls of the mansion. You stumbled off the couch in the living room, your brain taking an awful long time to readjust to its new state as stars filled your sight. You hobbled over to the door, one hand pressed against the wall and another on your temple. Your head was pounding, threatening to explode and kill you in an instant, while your muscles were numb and jelly-like. A cough was forced out of your mouth, causing your body to convulse and spasm. 

“I-I’m here…” You croaked, hobbling towards your wife. 

“There you are, darling. How are-” The sound of her heels clicking against the ground came to an immediate halt, before dashing towards you. You felt hands clutch onto your arms, one of them shooting up to your forehead. “Y/N, are you alright? What’s wrong? Your forehead is burning.” You swore you saw a flicker of worry and fear in those pools of darkness. Or maybe you were hallucinating. 

“I-I’m fine.” You coughed, causing another strike of pain in your head. You lugged one of your feet forward, then the other, hobbling to the kitchen like a drunkard. Arlecchino immediately blocked your path, her arms wrapped around your frail and weak body to stop you from moving or fall unconscious and hit your head. 

“You are the opposite of fine, my love.” Arlecchino stated matter-of-factly.

“I need to get s-started on dinner… need to…”

“Sshhh… sshh…” Arlecchino swooped you into her arms, carrying you bridal style as she marched towards your bedroom. “None of that. You are clearly sick. Your lips are ghostly pale, you’re coughing up a storm and sniffling, your forehead is burning hot, and you can’t even walk two steps before stumbling and falling.”

“I’m perfectly fine-” Of course a coughing fit struck you the moment you said that. Arlecchino stayed put, rubbing her hand up and down your back in an effort to soothe you.

“Deep breaths, darling. Deep breaths. It’s alright. You’re alright. You’re okay. You’re okay, darling.” Arlecchino whispered into your ear, pecking soft kisses on wherever was available, trying to calm you down. Once your cough had retreated momentarily, Arlecchino took the opportunity to carry you all the way back up to your shared bedroom, helping you change your clothes into your pajamas as she placed you down underneath the bed sheets like you were made of glass. She tucked you into bed, before scurrying over to the table where all your makeup was stationed, grabbing your makeup remover. She dabbed some of the liquid on some cotton pads before going back over to your frail body. Her fingers traced the contour of your face, removing all your makeup for you without you even knowing or feeling the pressure. Arlecchino rolled up her sleeves, worry and panic starting to plague her mind as she tried to stay calm and be rational for you. “Okay, I will be right back. I am just going to get some things for you.”

She was already out of the room before you could register and reply to her, and back before you could say a word. Arlecchino set down the tray of items she had retrieved on your nightstand, eyes always flickering towards you to monitor your state. 

“Arle… I swear.. I-I’m okay, I really need to-”

“You really need to shut up and let me take care of you, sweetheart. Open.” Arle held up the thermometer. You reluctantly opened your mouth, as she placed the thermometer under your tongue. 

“Close.” She ordered, while drenching a towel with cold water. You obliged to her commands, too weak to protest and do anything. Arlecchino laid the towel on your forehead, the heat radiating from your body overpowering the coldness of the towel. While it managed to bring some reprieve, it only lasted for a few minutes. 

“Can you sit up for me, darling? I just need you to take these meds and you can go back to lying down.” Arlecchino asked, a couple pills in her hand. With her help, you put yourself flat against the wall, your mind protesting about the change in altitude again. With the cup of water Arlecchino provided, you downed all the pills, and immediately slipped under the safety of the blankets.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick, darling?” Arlecchino sighed, her hand on yours as she rubbed small circles on your thumb. 

“I… didn’t want to worry you. C-Cause y-you’d have to come back home a-and take care of the work here.”

“Y/N, my dear, I’m your wife. I will always worry about you no matter what; your health and wellbeing is always my first priority. Please, do not ever hide from me if you are unwell or in need of something. I wish to be able to provide for you and treat you like you are a princess. Do not ever think you are an inconvenience to me nor a burden, that cannot be farther than the truth. I will handle the chores around the house and manage my work simultaneously. All I want you to do is sleep and rest, understood? Can you please do that for me, darling?” Arlecchino moved her hand to your face, cupping your cheek.

A small, weak smile crept onto your face, your eyelids growing heavy by the minute. You pressed your face into your wife’s palm, letting yourself bask in the warmth you loved to feel, instead of the burning and drowning heat of the fever you were experiencing. “So…Arle’s cooking tonight?”

Arlecchino chuckled softly, as she leaned down to plant a kiss on your cheek. “Arle’s cooking tonight. Don’t worry, dear, I’ll make your favorite. If you ever need me just call my name and I will come, no matter how quiet or loud you say it. Go get some sleep, okay? I’ll bring dinner shortly.”

“No you won’t.” You giggled to yourself, closing your eyes before Arlecchino could confront you and rebut that.

[bunnys-writing]

Hi there!! Its been a while since i sent a request so i hope im doing this alright qwq

Can i request for Lyney x fem!reader who is an artist (a painter specifically) who is insecure about her art and what people think of her in general? And Lyney perhaps comfort her with reassuring words a lil flower :) tysm in advanced!

"HIS FAVOURITE ARTIST"

...in which Lyney finds out you're going through a bout of art block thanks to your mental health, and has to make sure his favourite artist knows how much he adores her!

(author's note at the bottom!)

"Hello (Y/N)!"

The singsong voice of your favourite man at the door pulled you from your thoughtful haze. You looked back in your stool at him and he beamed.

"Ah, Lyney! It's not already that late, is it?"

You looked around the art room, lamenting the lack of clocks, before looking out the window to see it was still twilight.

"Ah- no no, tonight's show was cancelled. Some ruckus in the crowd drew us to a faster end than planned."

"Oh, I see. Are you and your siblings okay?"

"Yes of course, not to worry, none of us were anywhere near it."

Lyney had travelled the large room to you at your canvas, hands wrapping around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

"Hmh, not feeling much motivation today either?"

You looked at the canvas; a few light, aimless strokes of lead were the only proof you'd even touched it. You frowned a bit, fidgeting with the pencil still in your hand. "...No."

This had been a recurring issue for a few weeks now. You had always painted such beautiful works, but larely, you'd been in a rut of sorts. You'd try to get started on a piece only to fall short a few minutes in.

That's what your boyfriend knew.

What he didn't know was that the reason you continuously failed to inspire yourself to draw was because of all the raging feelings inside of you. You were a nobody in the art industry, and what was worse, you were a nobody to yourself just as much. You didn't have any real talent in your own perspective.

So you'd sit and mull over every thought, every comment, every wrong look you or your art had ever endured, and you'd only really zone back in if someone or something came up. It was a viscious loop.

".../N)? (Y/N), you're spacing out again..."

Right. Your boyfriend.

"Sorry, Lyn, I'm just a little tired I think..."

Lyney looked at you with concern. He knew you were hiding something. He knew this had started after the most recent art expedition you'd been to. You'd refused to talk about it, but Lyney was beginning to think the only way to help was to pry a little.

"(Y/N), at the gallery, a few weeks ago," You didn't catch yourself flinching until it was too late. Lyney noticed. "You came home tired and never told me what happened. Then you started losing your motivation, and now...you're barely engaging with your art anymore...What happened?"

You looked into his eyes. He looked so concerned. You looked away to mute the guilt.

"Just some critics. People were...very honest. It was a bad day, that's all..."

Lyney gently guided your chin with his hand, getting you to look at him again. His heart broke at the exhausted look on your face. Your heart broke in tandem.

"(Y/N)...You are the brightest soul I know. Your art is inspirational and moving, and...it's always such a blessing to see the world through your eyes in your paintings.

People won't always agree with me, or see your vision, but the point is that it's not their vision to understand. It's wholly and truly yours."

His other hand gently placed itself on your chest. He felt your heart skip a beat. The hand under your chin travelled up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

"I love your works. I love to see the fine details. I love when you explain your perspectives and your creative choices, because it's your heart on a canvas, and I get the first look. It's really one of my favourite parts about your art. They don't get that privilege, you know?"

You smiled, relaxing in his hold as he smiled in turn. He brought you in closer for a hug, and you found yourself squeezing him just a little tighter.

"Thanks Lyney."

"What can I say? You're my favourite artist in the whole of Teyvat."

Your next piece was showcased at Fontaine's next expedition. It featured spirals of purple, red, yellows and browns, highlighting a beautiful rose in the middle that was speckled with gold.

Coming up with the title was simple. It was based off of your lover, after all. Your magician, your light, your forever...

Your 'Muse'.

Thanks for requesting!!

As an artist, I totally get the feeling of insecurity that comes with publishing any works, and sometimes it really does feel like the hours and days you pour into your craft don't end up meaning much, but as Lyney said, as long as it's your vision, that's already perfect.

Thanks for reading! 🫶

(Requests are open! Check out my pinned for more info!)

[morte-darthur]

A STRANGE KIND OF HUNGER — COMPLETE !

this is an extremely belated post, but i finally finished the third draft of a strange kind of hunger! it's been about a week, and i still don't really know what to do with myself. i started working on it at the start of the year, and it's been my mainstay for eight months — through the end of my first year of university, teaching strikes, the death of my granddad and a 10-day sailing expedition... and it's done. wow! it capped out at 98k (19k extra words), 45 chapters and even more tangled, complicated relationships than the last draft.

what comes next?

i've been having a writing break, not only to replenish my writing juices but also because i gave myself slight carpal tunnel in the mad final two days of drafting. when i'm replenished, i plan on:

writing some short stories to submit to student magazines at cambridge

editing my hotspur poem for a mini zine i'm making with a friend

picking a new long-form project to be my mainstay

and querying askoh!!

where can i read askoh?

as always, the very first draft is still available on wattpad, but i would caution against it. i won't be generally releasing this draft, but i will be looking for beta readers, so if you'd like a copy of the improvised ebook you can dm me on tumblr or discord (@/hotspurpercy)

( + TAGLIST UNDER THE CUT ! )

@villaneve / @vandorens-archive / @nallthatjazz / @starshots-blog1 / @cannivalisms / @perditism / @spillme / @upoffringar / @thelittlestspider / @wildswrites / @brownpaperhag / @akoumi / @quilloftheclouds / @absolute-nonsense-scribblings / @birdywrote / @tiredlittleoldme / @strangerays / @ninazeniks / @authortango / @aetherwrites / @caravagest / @chazzawrites / @anavkour / @videsnoir / @karamel-pop / @philocalizt / @cryptidsandqueers / @kingsinking / @muddshadow / @stephwriteswords

[livvywrites]

🖊 for whoever you are feeling most at the moment! @/aetherwrites

thank you, @aetherwrites!!

hmm!

i think, since i just did lyr, that i should do ava next :D also, she’s another underrated fave, imo, so that fits the theme i’m kinda going with rn

ava didn’t really like... grow up Knowing she liked girls. she didn’t feel like she liked boys, either---really she was just kind of neutral on the subject? and then. okay. and then. there was this girl, who was a little older than ava and lyr were. ava was probably like... 11 or 12 at the time, i wanna say? so this girl was maybe 14 or 15. anyway, the girl was pretty muscular for a 15 year old & ava saw her carrying these really heavy sacks just. without breaking a sweat and that was it.

along the same vein, ava’s first kiss was when she was about 14 or 15 herself? & she kissed a girl her age after her brother bet that she wouldn’t do it. (t’was all fun and games; something like truth or dare, tbh.)

she’s never actually had like. a girlfriend. she did have this girl she kind of made out with at 17 or so? but nothing really... relationship wise, which has suited her just fine.

her ultimate ambition when this is all over is to live in a little house with a garden and a girlfriend/wife and maybe a kid or two.

[ send 🖊  for character headcanons! ]

[quilloftheclouds]

just wanted to say your reblog of Cody's intro made my day <3 thank you so much! your kind words gave me such a boost @/aetherwrites

@aetherwrites It’s absolutely wonderful knowing you folks are made happy by my comments. <3 I leave them because not only are they true, I really think writers need reminders of just how good their work is! You’re absolutely welcome, ya lovely~

[crtalley]

🖊Irina @/aetherwrites

For Irina –

• first off, she’s literally the shortest person in her entire family (5′3 vs. 5′8, 6′2, 7′4 because i think if you become the champion of a goddess you deserve to gain a foot in height)

• second off, she can 100% pick up her baby brother and carry him over her shoulders despite the fact that he’s 6′2 and twice her size (it’s the stubbornness)

🖊 oc ask game thanks for the ask @aetherwrites!!

[spillme]

for the OC ask - Skeeter w/ 2, 13, & 14! /@aetherwrites

tough oc asks — feel free to send! �� my ocs: skeeter, alice, brody, clement, delilah, lucy, yua

2. What’s their relationship like with Death? Are they scared of it?

When Skeeter was alive, he thought he was invincible. With all he had been through, od-ed so many times, awakened in so many random places, balanced on so many building ledges, there was no way he wasn’t invincible.

13. How would they react to one of their loved ones getting hurt?

He would sacrifice himself, no question. It’s not that he doesn’t value himself, he just typically puts others ahead of himself. One time his friend overdosed and even though Skeeter is terrified of cops and hospitals, Skeet, with his bag of needles and dimebags, rode with his friend in the ambulance, squeezing his friend’s hand to keep him conscious.

14. What’s their favorite childhood memory? What about their least favorite?

Skeet’s parents and his older brother Santi used to go to Venice Beach on the weekends. He and Santi would play catch, then volleyball and football when they got older. He really enjoyed all the time they spent together as a happy family.

Least favorite? Getting really sick in fourth grade. He had the flu and after a few weeks he developed Guillan-Barré syndrome. His legs were paralyzed for a month and he had to learn to walk again. At the first signs of his legs giving out, Skeet was terrified he would never be able to walk, or worse, play soccer ever again. He did get better with time, hard work, and physical therapy.

thank you my dear @aetherwrites for sending!