#also perish 💕

[ticklygiggles]

Definitely not ticklish | Wanderer x Lumine x Lyney

A/N: Merry Christmas in advance, @kusuguricafe ! I am your @squealing-santa this year! ❤️ Whoa it had been a hot minute since I participated hehe.

Anyways, I wish you a looovely Christmas, if you celebrate it! I hope you like your little gift ^^ and have a month full of warmth and a good start of the year! Wishing you the best mwah 💕

Summary: Wanderer's face is really pretty.

Words: 2.7k

He never thought his face was particularly extraordinary. He always avoided looking at his own reflection on any surface; his face was just a reminder of his imperfections and he hated it deeply. 

He never paid much attention to it... until recently when he started being hyper aware of it. All because of a certain magician who deliberately enjoyed looking at him. 

Wanderer had never met anyone like Lyney. At first, he seemed like just a goofy boy, outgoing and too smiley for Wanderer's taste, but as time went by, Lyney let his true feelings show and he did not always show that bright smile and flirtatious attitude in front of Wanderer.

It was strange to see him like this. His duality worried and even made Wanderer stay alert all the time around him, but routine made everything change and he soon got used to the magician and all his little traits and stupid jokes and magic tricks that didn't surprise Wanderer at all. 

However, there was one thing Wanderer just couldn't get used to…

“G-Give me some space!” He growled, trying to get away from Lyney. 

“Hehe, sorry sorry,” The wizard apologized, but the huge smile on his face and his flushed cheeks let Wanderer know that he was not sorry at all. 

Lyney was simply obsessed with Wanderer's face. There wasn't a day that went by when Lyney didn't mention how beautiful Wanderer was. It was an everyday occurrence, at any hour. And if his face wasn't being appreciated by Lyney's words, then it was appreciated by his violet eyes fixed on him as he smiled fondly. 

Wanderer never knew what to do when that happened; he felt uncomfortable, embarrassed even, if he needed to name that feeling properly. He wanted to hide from Lyney stares, but also try to act as if it didn't affect him as much as it did.

“I told you to stop!” 

“I can't help it! You're just so beautiful!” 

Wanderer groaned. This was such a terrible feeling. He wished he never agreed to being in a stupid relationship with Lyney and have a date in this stupid Serenitea Pot while he was being stared at!

By the corner of his eye, he could see Lyney was staring at him again and Wanderer rolled his eyes and turned his head away from the magician, who was almost glued to his side to look at him properly. Lyney chuckled and Wanderer jolted a little when he felt him rest his chin against his shoulder.

“Ow, c'mon, Wanderer!” Lyney begged against his ear, his breathing caressing his soft skin, causing him to shiver. “Let me see your pretty face, yes?” 

Wanderer shook his shoulder, but Lyney didn't move away. “You're so annoying! You do this every day! You literally look at my face all the time, you can be without it for a while.” 

“No, I can't!” Lyney pouted, making his voice sound teary and sad. “I will die a very painful death if you don't let me look at your face right now!” 

“Then perish,” Wanderer said, closing his eyes and fighting the urge to rub at his ear as Lyney's breath fanned across the skin. 

Lyney whined, but ultimately stopped talking, although he stayed right where he was, glued to Wanderer's side.

Silence filled the room once more. Wanderer could only hear Lyney's soft breathing in his ear, the sound of running water outside, and the chirping of birds. As much as he said he hated the Serenitea Pot, he actually felt relaxed in it. 

Also, Lyney's body pressed against his was so warm, like a soft blanket. Wanderer felt himself beginning to lose consciousness. Lyney's hands gently touched his waist, startling him slightly before he relaxed under the soft touch. He was definitely going to fall asleep on that small table in the middle of the room. 

But when Lyney's fingers moved too close to his back, Wanderer jumped, his eyes wide as he gasped and stiffened.

“What's the matter?” Lyney asked worriedly, his head tilting slightly to see Wanderer's face, but he quickly turned away. 

“Nothing,” he said hurriedly, his hands quickly finding Lyney's. “Now, move away or I'm gonna– ack!”

A single poke to his waist. That was all it took for Lyney to know what was going on and Wanderer wanted to whine. Why was he so ticklish if he wasn't even human?! 

“Oh?” The teasing in Lyney's tone of voice sent shivers down Wanderer's spine. He could see Lyney's mischievous grin without even looking at his face! 

“Don't you fucking dare,” he warned, pushing at Lyney's hands. “I don't– ungh!” 

“Why didn't anyone tell me you're ticklish?!”

Wanderer gritted his teeth, refusing to let any stupid and embarrassing sound escape his lips. Evil fingers started to squeeze the curve of his waist, making him want to crawl out of his skin. 

He could never get used to this terrible sensation. It made his brain feel like mush and he hated that it made him want to laugh so much. But above all, he hated that Lyney had found out about this! He had tried so hard to hide his stupid sensitivity from Lyney's prying fingers, but he had let his guard down.

“Ow, c'mon! Won't you laugh a bit for me?” Lyney teased with a little giggle, his lips brushing against Wanderer's ear.

Wanderer shook his head, desperately trying to keep his back to Lyney so he couldn't see how his trembling lips started to curve into a silly smile as the tickling continued, his eyes tightly shut.

“Oh? What's going on here?” Wanderer groaned as that sweet voice reached his ears. He straightened his back with a deep gasp when Lyney's fingers moved up towards his ribs.

Great, now the traveler was seeing this mess. 

“Lumine! Why didn't you tell me Wanderer is ticklish?!” Lyney reproached her and Wanderer could hear the pout on his lips. 

Lumine chuckled softly as she approached them, closing the door of her room behind her with one foot as she gracefully held a tray with cups of tea in one of her hands. 

“I didn't? Well, it seems that you know it now. You're doing it all wrong, though.” She said and Wanderer widened his eyes. No, she wouldn't dare! 

“What do you mean I'm doing it wrong?!” Lyney asked, offended. His hands moved away from Wanderer's body, and in a beat, he tried to get up, but was pushed back by Lumine. 

“Going somewhere?” That horrible smirk sent shivers down Wanderer's spine and he tried to scurry back but was met by Lyney's body and the magician giggled happily, hugging his waist from behind as if he was a stuffed animal. 

Wanderer whined, “stay away from me! No! Don't touch me th-thehehere! Ahahahack! I hahahahate you!” 

His body went crazy as he felt Lumine's warm hand gripping that terribly ticklish nerve above his hip. As soon as she began to squeeze that nerve, Wanderers' laughter shot hastily from his lips. He thrashed around, trying to push Lumine's hand away as he laughed uproariously. 

“Oh.” He heard Lyney say and Wanderer shrieked, feeling his other side being under attack too. He threw his head back against Lyney's shoulder, his body going a limp under their maddening touch. 

Wanderer had his eyes tightly shut, but he could hear Lyney and Lumine giggle above him as their fingers mercilessly chased those spots and his hips shook in desperation. 

“You see? He's very ticklish here,” Lumine said, using her free hand to grab one of Wanderer's so he would stop pushing hers.

“I'm n-nohohot!” His laughter was turning a bit frantic as their fingers kept rubbing and massaging those spots as if it was engraved in their minds how to make Wanderer laugh like a mad man.

But even as he laughed like that, he was never going to admit that he was ticklish. Even if Lumine's fingers began to claw up towards his ribs and he felt the desperation growing. His laughter turned more panicky and his flailing intensified, but he couldn't escape Lyney's embrace. 

“Did he just say he isn't ticklish?” Lyney asked and Wanderer wanted to hide when he heard them both laughing at him, still, he laughed the loudest. 

“Then, if he's not ticklish,” Lumine said, her fingers dangerously close to his highest ribs. “I'm sure he doesn't mind us doing this, right? Pin him!” 

“Aaahahack!” 

Their positions changed too quickly, but the tickling didn't stop for even a second. Somehow Lyney was able to push Wanderer onto his back and trap his hands under his knees, tickling him still just above his hip.

Lumine straddled his hips, but ultimately kept her fingers glued to Wanderer's highest ribs, making him nearly choke on his laughter. 

“STAHAHAP! Lehehet me gohoho, dahahammit!” 

“But why?” Lyney sang, moving his hands up to Wanderer's tummy, clawing at the very middle and rubbing his thumbs against the sides of his stomach. “You said you're not even ticklish, didn't he say that, Lumine?” 

Lumine nodded, “yes! I clearly heard him saying so!” 

Wanderer let out a stream of ridiculous giggles and he jerked like a worm, making his lovers giggle, so in love with all his struggling. Those sadists bastar- 

“NAHAHAT THEHERE!” He cackled, shaking his head as if trying to distract himself from the tickles to his armpits. He desperately tried to lower his arms, but Lyney had him pinned right and no matter how hard he bucked his hips and arched his spine, he simply couldn't push Lumine off him. 

The traveler skittered her fingernails up and down his ticklish armpits, making him see stars. She pinched the muscle, making him laugh hysterically, and then rubbed deep circles against the crease where his arm met his torso. 

Tapping, caressing, pinching and vibrating– she did every single technique she knew so well worked wonders on Wanderer and oh, he was laughing out of his head. 

Small tears of laughter began to cling to his long eyelashes, making them shine in the warm light coming through the window. 

“Whoa,” Lyney mumbled breathlessly. “Look how beautiful he is, Lumine.” 

Wanderer whined, but then he shrieked as the tickling to his armpits seemed to increase. Wanderer was so overwhelmed about the tickling there, he could barely feel Lyney's hand moving away from his stomach to his ribs. 

“He really is beautiful. Look how big he can smile, ah but remember he's not ticklish!” They giggled again, relentlessly tickling Wanderer to pieces.

Thankfully for him, Wanderer didn't need to breathe, but it caused his laughter to come out in a smooth, unbroken stream. Uninterrupted and unbroken, it simply didn't stop or pause for breath. His shoulders shook and his lips trembled as the mirthful sound filled the air like a steady hum. 

And that was simply so embarrassing when those two were abusing all of his sensitive spots until he was feeling somehow dizzy and lightheaded. At the verge of fainting, but at the same time, hyper aware of everything that was going on. 

“NOT TIHIHICKLING THEHEHERE!” He begged, his cheeks hurting from smiling so much. 

Lumine giggled. “Why are you even saying so if it doesn't tickle at all, or does it?” 

“NOHOHO! It dohohoesn’t!” He knew perfectly well that his words weren't helping his cause at all, but still he couldn't help but challenge them because… he liked the sensation. 

It was extremely overwhelming, and made him want to scream and run away and cringe out of his skin, but at the same time, he liked that feeling of wanting to run away, he liked that he couldn't think of anything else but those fingers digging into all his weak points. 

He liked to hear how much fun they were having when tickling him; there was no malice in their intentions even if they said the most embarrassing things to make him feel flustered. He knew that the words they said about how beautiful he was or how precious his smile was were true and made him feel warm, loved. A sensation that was still strange to him and made him feel uncomfortable, but good at the same time. 

“Do you want to tickle him here?” He heard Lumine ask as she stopped tickling his armpits for a bit.

Wanderer's laughter stopped dead. His face was still wearing a lingering smile and his eyes were sparkling with tears of mirth as he looked at Lumine. His body went limp, suddenly still as if the laughter had been switched off like a light.

“I'm gonna show the absolute, number one, weakest spot on this not-so-ticklish Wanderer,” she said with a big smile on her lips and Wanderer widened his eyes, pulling at his arms and kicking his legs as he shook his head. 

“Don't you dare! I swear if you- ahahahack! Lyney! Dohohon't!” 

The nerve-ending melody of his laughter filled their ears again when Lyney started tickling his armpits. He had learned so well from that silly traveler, who was spreading Wanderer's legs even though he was trying to resist and she got in between them, laughing mischievously.

“Where on earth are you going to tickle him?!” Lyney asked with a deep blush assaulting his cheeks, his fingers faltering a little, but not enough to stop Wanderer’s laughter.

Lumine laughed, her fingers walking like little legs from Wanderer's knees to the inner part of his thighs, under his shorts. 

“Lehehet go! Lehehehet gohoho! Dohohon't do ihihIHIHIT!” Wanderer shrieked with hysterical laughter as Lumine's fingers found that meaty part so close to his groins. 

His trashing was no joke, he desperately tried to escape, but there was no way. So he could only stay there between them as they absolutely destroyed his ticklish spots and he spiraled into ticklish agony. 

“His inner thighs are so ticklish~” She said to Lyney as she squeezed and squeezed the muscle over and over, making Wanderer howl. “You gotta have him pinned, though, otherwise he'll kill you.”

“... He's not even ticklish though!” More of their giggles and Wanderer wanted the earth to swallow him whole. 

He really doubted that that terrible sound was coming from him. It was desperate, frantic and panicky. It was also loud, boisterous, scraping in his throat and bubbling out of his mouth nonstop, a steady rhythm that didn't falter. 

There was no way a human could resist that amount of tickling, but Wanderer would gladly try it out on these two humans as soon as they stopped! 

“Wanderer, why are you so pretty?” Lyney asked nonchalantly, as if he wasn't tickling Wanderer's armpits as if life depended on it. 

“Why do you have such a beautiful smile?” Lumine asked, massaging his inner thighs in the most ticklish way possible. 

“Why do you keep saying you're not ticklish when you can barely keep yourself together?” 

“Why are you laughing so hard if you're not ticklish?” 

“Why do you keep squirming if you're not ticklish?” 

“Why do you–

Enough! 

“FIHIHINE! FIHIHINE, DAHAHAMMIT! I'm fuhuhucking tihihicklish! PLEHEHEASE, please stohohop!” He begged, unable to keep fighting against them and simply going limp as they tickled and tickled and tickled him. 

He thought they would tickle him forever, but they eventually slowed down enough to make his hysteria turn into soft giggles and then complete sudden silence again. Everything was suddenly quiet, except for the faint echoes of his laughter ringing in their ears. 

“Did that tickle, Wanderer?” He jolted a little when he felt warm hands cleaning his tears. It was Lumine, looking at him with such love in her eyes it made Wanderer want her to tickle him again. 

“Our poor Wanderer. He's so ticklish~” He didn't get to answer as Lyney finally let go of his hands and helped him sit back up, his arms wrapped around his waist again, hugging him tightly. “Wanderer, I won't be able to stop tickling you ever again!” 

He groaned, “that's exactly why I didn't want you to know!” He said, but he didn't even sound annoyed and he really didn't do anything to try and escape the tight hug or the nuzzling and kissing to his neck. Lumine chuckled and she wrapped her arms around Wanderer's neck, placing little kisses to his cheek. 

Ah, he still wasn't sure how he had ended up with these two, but he thought he could never choose anyone better to be his lovers. Of course, that was something he would never dare to say out loud. It didn't matter how much they tickled him or how many times they told him he was beautiful! 

[dujour13]

Knight-Commander Raqim Ag Adar

art by the wonderful @mooreaux! 💕

character summary below the cut, with some pwotr spoilers

If I Betray My Heart on AO3

The Dragonmarked / Favored Son

Race | Human

Class(es) | Firewarden Ranger

Mythic Path | Angel -> Gold Dragon

Nationality | Rahadoumi

Ethnicity | Qadiran

Religion | Atheist

Gender | Cis straight man, he/him

Profession | Pure Legion scout

Sweetie | Seelah

Skills | Knowledge: Nature, Knowledge: Arcana, Perception

Appearance | Dark olive skin; neat beard; long, thick, black hair usually wrapped in a tagelmust. Eyes so dark brown they’re almost black. He wears the white-and-gold light armor of the Pure Legion but in Avistan rapidly adopts a thick fur cloak.

Personality | Dutiful, responsible, compassionate, rational, gentle but also fierce. A do-the-right-thing kind of guy you can trust. A zealous Rahadoumi atheist and not above some arrogant eyebrow-raising, but this is because he has something to prove to himself. He can’t otherwise rationalize how he treated his father.

Polite but surprisingly warm with those he gets close to. Dry sense of humor—only his eyes laugh. He likes to party more than he lets on. Prone to smoldering temper. No patience for religion but in need of spiritual healing. As the Favored Son and a former refugee he hates being chosen, special, different. Desperate to fit in. He willingly, unquestioningly shoulders burdens placed on him. He has always carried so much. He is a man whose regrets eat him alive.

Arc | How can you forgive yourself when the people you hurt are gone, and you can’t fix what you broke?

Quotes | “You people are dogs. I will join you, as always.”

“Let no man be beholden to a god.”  - First Law of Kalim Onaku

“A Rahadoumi laughs at death—but it’s a shared laugh, not a defiant one.”

“We will find our way.”

“My brother died. I was young. I didn’t understand. I ate what I was given, not noticing he was given nothing. Do not blame my parents. They had a terrible choice: to watch both of us die slowly, or only one. I was chosen to live, and he to die. If I could find him again I would share my food and we would live or die together.”

Story |

Childhood – Born to a family of goatherds in the interior highlands of Qadira, as an infant Raqim was chosen as an offering to a dragon that lived in the mountains to the south. Most children offered to the dragon were never seen again, but every now and then, one was returned to his family bearing the mark of the dragon’s blessing—in Raqim’s case, bronze scales across his shoulders and back. This did not bring his family the luck they had hoped for, because drought and famine swept the region, and when Raqim was six, they were forced to flee across the desert and the sea. Raqim’s mother and brother perished on the voyage. His father heard talk of the prestigious schools of magic in Rahadoum and worked on board a ship in exchange for passage there, with the hope that his dragonmarked son could someday realize his full potential.

Upon arrival, Raqim’s father was forced to hide his Sarenrite faith and accept poorly paid laboring jobs, shoveling sand in Manaket, or later working in the tanneries outside Azir. In the meantime, Raqim went to Rahadoumi school and unlike his father rapidly assimilated, making friends and learning the language and customs.

His father, once his greatest hero—who had brought him across the desert, who knew everything about the sun, the wind and the beasts—now became dependent on him, an old, superstitious god-worshipping refugee Raqim had to help for everything. In his teen years the contempt he felt for his father grew into resentment.

Adulthood – At eighteen, Raqim began his apprenticeship, training as a ranger with the Pure Legion.

Seven years later, his company smoked out a Sarenrite enclave near Botosani. The Sarenrites refused to cede and were put to siege. Raqim’s captain used him as a threat, claiming he was a fire-sorcerer who would burn down their compound if they didn’t hand themselves over.

The Sarenrites panicked, rushing the Pure Legion scouts and killing two of Raqim’s best friends and comrades. Cornered and desperate, Raqim destroyed them with fire, incinerating the compound and killing all the remaining Sarenrites within. When it’s quiet he can still hear their screams. The last thing he remembers is being gutted by a Sarenrite scimitar.

Areelu’s Experiment –

The dragon Raqim was offered to as an infant was in fact under a geas to provide children for Areelu Vorlesh’s experiments. Most of the children perished, until she attempted to graft draconic essence into one of them in the hope it would help the child resist the extreme heat of the stitching process. It did. Raqim was returned to his family and kept under observation.

When he came of age, it was time for the next stage of the experiment. She made sure he would not recall his kidnapping or the horrific process of the graft, which also expanded the Worldwound. He was fourteen, like her child.

Ten years later, when as a scout with the Pure Legion he attacked a Sarenrite enclave and was almost killed, she whisked him away to her laboratory to revive him. She then kept him in stasis in the lab for seventy-seven years to continue work on the Nahyndrian power she hoped would stabilize the graft.

Until Targona, an angel Areelu had taken captive, succeeded in escaping, and freed Raqim into the Worldwound, urging him to save himself. Areelu recaptured Targona and punished her for this setback in her experiment; still, she noted that Raqim was not only alive and stable, but gifted at surviving on his own in the wilderness. She bade Suture leave his clothing and weapons for him, and then kept a close eye on him as he traveled to the banks of the Sellen and southward toward Mendev. The wound on his chest reached critical instability not long afterward, and she was forced to knock him out and drag him into Kenabres on a stretcher to be healed by the dragon, and then fetch him a dose of the N.

[myokk]

barging in with ask game questions! 💕

Who's your MC’s favourite professor? What's their dynamic? Anyone they don't get along with?

Who are your MCs closest friends? What's special about their friendship?

Out of our MC’s opponents, who do they fear the most? If none, who/what do they fear at all?

HI BAGEL🥹♥️♥️♥️

Favorite Professors:

Eloise’s favorite professor is definitely Sharp. He is very structured and reliable in a way that no adults in her life really are, and there have been a few instances where she felt horribly uncomfortable with attention from other students, and he put a stop to it.

When the door of the Potions classroom quietly opened, Sebastian could tell that Eloise was trying to sneak in and be as inconspicuous as possible. It was all for naught. The class erupted in whispers at her sudden appearance and Sebastian found he couldn't tear his eyes away from her as she made her way to an empty potions station in the back of the classroom.

Her head was tucked down, long brown braid swishing behind her as she sat on the stool. Sebastian stared at her back as she shakily took out her copy of Magical Drafts and Potions, a blank roll of parchment, and her quill. Once she had set everything up, making sure it was all in place, she folded her hands in her lap and stared at the textbook in front of her but made no move to grab the quill.

She couldn't have written anything, even if she'd wanted to.

Her right hand was completely covered in a crisp, white bandage and she was resting it palm up in her lap.

Professor Sharp cleared his throat loudly to get the attention of the class again, twenty heads turned in his direction and away from Eloise, and continued his lecture as if nothing had happened. Sebastian couldn't look away from her, though. His eyes traced the defeated curve of her shoulders. She was normally so poised, especially when she knew others were watching her; one thing he had noticed - he would be a fool not to - was that she put on a false bravado when she felt put on the spot, that she had never let herself look so vulnerable before, unless it was just the two of them. What had happened to her? Why hadn't she sat with him, or with Imelda and Anne? She hadn't even so much as glanced in their direction.

As for teachers she hate🤭 PROFESSOR GARLICK😭😭😭 she simply wanted to perish on the first day of classes and Eloise holds grudges for way too long😣

Closest Friends:

Eloise’s best friends are Anne and Imelda HANDS DOWN ‼️‼️‼️

The three of them have such a funny dynamic though♥️ Eloise is so serious and proper, and Anne and Imelda are fine by themselves, but I imagine they are INSUFFERABLE MENACES when they join forces🤭🤭🤭 in my fic, Eloise and Imelda are already extremely close, both girls are just starved for a healthy girl friendship (and I really really value good friendships so I like to include those scenes bc a story is more than just a romance♥️), but Anne hasn’t really joined their dynamic yet. BUT…if you’ve read my oneshots you know what Anne and Imelda are like together😭 they love Eloise to death, but they’re also always pushing things a tiny bit, trying to get her to loosen up, and love teasing her🤭🫶

Fears:

Eloise most fears becoming like her mother in the future😔😔 and she also fears losing control of her life, not having agency…unfortunately it’s her fate and she doesn’t really know what to do about it😭😔

Being this close to her mother, Eloise was struck by their physical similarities. As a young girl, it had been impossible to see, but now that she was a young woman they were striking. She felt as if she were looking in a mirror, but a twisted mirror: everything that was warm about her appearance was turned cold in her mother: hazel eyes to a frigid silver, unruly brown hair to straight black; her mother's skin was somehow even more pale than Eloise's, as if she were cut from marble. Everything soft about Eloise was made sharp in her mother, and Eloise wondered what had made her this way. She was terrified that in twenty years' time, the two of them would be indistinguishable.

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK AND THE INTEREST IN MY GIRL🥹🥹🥹

[eldritch-spouse]

Belo my lovely silkie chicken I just wanna collect his fur and make a nice cozy sweater with it 💕

also I was going through your world building post and one thing I noticed is that Saiders are very heavy with punishments: humans who practiced magic without their say so, angels who had big disagreements, etc would all get severe punishments what would that look like?

[Belo sweater would be the most comfortable thing you've ever worn in a while and probably help when you're going through health/mood lows.]

Siadar are extremely heavy with punishment, regardless of who or what that punishment is targeted towards. They're harsh with angels, they're harsh with humanity, they're harsh with their own kind and they continue to be harsh elsewhere, to their newer projects.

The top of their hierarchy will find a million and one ways to justify the intensity of their punitive force, so it's not as if the siadar themselves see their actions as cruel. Neither do angels, as beings with very defined purposes instilled into them since birth (and no real biological or psychological reason to break them). In fact, humanity itself, devoid of any moral compass created by its own species, absorbed the moral compass of siadars for practically the entire duration there was interlevel contact. So many humans understood and accepted the punishments they saw happen or were subjected to as normal.

Now, humanity isn't very magically inclined by default. The species was designed to have less "magnetism" to that type or energy, to reject it, so the humans that are out there practicing it in that period of time are already deviants in some form or another. This means we're probably talking about a collection of "infractions" already committed by the humans in question. Death is a very likely outcome here. Or, at the very least, the removal of reproductive abilities, so that this particular human -If they happen to biologically be more attuned to magic than they should be- Cannot spread that ability to any descendants.

The sight of a particularly magically talented human is reason enough for siadar authorities to investigate other highers in charge of monitoring human populations, in the effort of judging whether or not a human was directly tampered with in forbidden ways.

Angels are a very organized species, to say the least. Out of most non-humans out there, these would be the individuals that are least likely to ever question their place in life, to ponder on concepts bigger than their routines and duties, or even seriously entertain intrusive thoughts. They're a lot more likely to report their own perceived defective symptoms to assigned siadars than they are to attempt to act on them. It's worth noting that angels also monitor each other, especially the ones of Worshipper rank, and will easily report suspicious behavior. They aren't malicious in this evaluation, but they're unwilling to cover up serious situations.

Big disagreements between angels, although rare (until the time Betrayer seeded doubt into the minds of some celestials), aren't very likely to escalate into angel-on-angel physical violence. In spite of any bubbling emotion, they're still practically hardwired to respect rank differences and have internalized that harming another angel is harming their kind altogether. These disagreements can entirely halt the productivity of many tasks if the celestials involved have equal standing in terms of authority. In these instances, both will eventually request the opinion of the nearest unoccupied siadar.

Angels are a self-punitive species as well. They'll perceive their failures -Even if not directly their fault- as punishment worthy and will inflict wounds on themselves or deprive themselves of participation on anything until they are "forgiven" by their highers. Celestials can and will die simply from feeling that they are consistently failing, becoming lethargic and weak until they simply perish.

[odditycircus-2002]

Hi ✨ I hope you’re doing well could you do Valentine’s Day head cannons for Shang Tsung and Medusa Reader (both mk11 and mk1) 💖✨💕✨

A/N: Well, this is late as HELL! I am SO sorry for this because it came out during Midterms, and I was busy studying for all of those. But with Spring Break here, I can spare the energy and have time to finally answer this!😁😁😁 Also, I hope you don't mind me not having Valentine's Day heavily featured. It will be mentioned, though. Also, if you wanna know what the hell anon is referring to, please click the link here for the master list.

Valentine's Day with Shang Tsung and Medusa!Reader

MK11 Shang Tsung

Let's be honest. Every day is Valentine's Day between you and Shang Tsung, even though you are understandably occupied with your tasks under Shao Khan. However, that just makes every romantic gesture even more precious.

I mean, you both have a day of flowers and chocolate, and that's because you both hold fragments of each other's souls within your respective wedding rings. Not just out of sentiment but as a backup in case the other should perish.

But let's just say that You caught wind of the holiday and thought of it as the perfect excuse to gift your husband with a new statue you've titled "Lovebirds' Final Moment," which is a petrified couple holding each other as they look upon a threat in terror.

After surprising Shang Tsung with the statue, which he then placed just outside his study window, you eagerly explained Valentine's Day. For example, its origins date back to a third-century Roman feast that included sacrificial offerings and whipping women in hopes of making them fertile, and it became a far-tamer holiday over the centuries. Shang Tsung listened to every word as a plan began brewing.

For now, all Shang Tsung could give you in exchange was some new carnivorous plants native to Vaeternus to grow in your garden. To which you then responded by making love in the garden right then and there, before the petrified couple.

Afterward, his plan was conducted in secret. The Sorcerer had his servants find the best chocolate craftsman in Earthrealm and commission something odd. He then had the finished product delivered to him months after the holiday, wrapped in one of those red Valentine boxes, before he presented it during your anniversary feast.

With a flourish, Shang Tsung revealed a large chunk of chocolate meticulously carved to resemble a human heart. A gift that's basically the Sorcerer's way of saying that you have his heart. You then took a nibble off, as did the rest of your snakes, moaning as you savored the treat that was so rare during your time.

Then, you got a delicious idea by taking another bite of the chocolate before kissing Shang Tsung and pushing the chocolate into his mouth. Letting him taste just how sweet his heart is to her. Not surprisingly, this ended with you both having passionate sex on the banquet table right then and there, with both of you tasting chocolate.

MK1 Shang Tsung

Before you and Shang Tsung had a falling out (Shang Tsung turning you into a gorgon-like creature), you often set aside time from your mutually busy schedules to sit down and have some tea. Sometimes, you would surprise Shang Tsung with meals that you made using recipes from your home canton.

Once, Shang Tsung surprised you with a chocolate-filled tray during one of these tea breaks. A treat that you immediately began to salivate over but one you didn't receive until you paid Shang Tsung with a kiss. One that you readily agreed to before devouring the rare treats, moaning in delight at the taste. Shang Tsung, unable to help himself, asked for a taste, which he received by kissing you on the lips; the taste of the sweet treat lingering on your tongue made all the sweeter by his lips. The Sorcerer was grinning ear to ear when he pulled away to gaze at your flushed expression.

Sometimes, Shang Tsung would bring flowers to give a bit of "color" to the room, or so he claims. But you and he both knew they were meant as gifts for you, often flowers you have a fondness for or ones with specific meanings such as devotion and loyalty.

Sometimes, it's not unusual to add the flowers' petals, especially poisonous ones, into your tea for extra "flavor." This is a habit that Shang Tsung was concerned about before you explained how you just enjoy the sensation the extra poison gives you and how it only builds up your immunity. You assured Shang Tsung that you would never add poison to his tea or meal, as it wastes good poison. A comment that got a chuckle out of the Sorcerer, as he knew you were being honest.

While the upcoming Sorcerer didn't always like how you made the tea, sometimes finding it too bitter, he genuinely enjoyed sitting with you in a moment of reprieve. After the events of the game, he sometimes finds himself missing the meals you would prep just for him and you. Even if he can try the dishes elsewhere, they never taste like yours.

You, however, just wanted to forget your joyous time with the traitorous Sorcerer, as reminiscing on them made his betrayal sting even more. However, it seems you're unable to even if you wanted to, as you often would receive "mysterious" gifts consisting of flowers or shiny trinkets. Although you know who the gifts are from, you would often burn them or throw them away immediately afterward. You don't tell anyone, even Baraka or Syzoth, about these "gifts".

During an Earthrealm holiday called "Valentine's Day", not long after Baraka gifted you a heart-shaped box of assorted chocolate, you would wake up the next morning to find a similarly shaped box addressed to you. However, this box was wrapped in lace and looked professionally made, inside was an assortment of chocolate carved to look like human hearts and rodents for your head full of snakes. There was a note inside that read "A reminder that you still have my heart". You briefly gave a small grin at the gesture, remembering the first time Shang Tsung gifted you such a treat. You then scowled before you disposed of the box, not putting it past Shang Tsung to have either poisoned it or drugged it with a love potion.

Playlist while writing this

"Bad Romance" by Lady Gaga

"Babooshka" by Kate Bush

"Judas" by Lady Gaga

"Sway" by Michael Buble

[lamemaster]

Love her, not me

Request: Hey I love your writing! Really like your finrod works I love him with an edain reader and I think the potential internal conflict with him about amarie and reader would be so juicy??? "Do I wait for my past elven lover who will be with me for eternity? Or explore this new love with an edain who will leave me eventually." THE DRAMA

Pairing: Finrod x Reader

Genre: Angst and ✨DRAMA✨

AN: This has been coming a long time I am sorry for the delay. I hope you like it anon💕

"Don't be so nice to me, it might get my hopes up." You push away the cup of tea presented in front of you.

Seated next to you Finrod's smile freezes at your words. An awkward but perfectly diplomatic smile settles on his lips. It is unlike the one you have come to love.

The king of Nargothrond clears his throat, his eyes wandering all over the room. Landing anywhere but at you. Perhaps it was too much to even look you in the eye. "It is merely tea between friends. We are still friends are we not?" He asks, his voice meek. It is different from the elf who manages to charm every race on the face of Arda.

"Friends do not cancel meetings to meet up for tea, friends do not insist on meeting alone; devoid of any other company." Your words are sharp. They seem to cut the air laden with tension between you both. "And we Finrod can never just be friends. My heart won't allow that without stringing itself to foolish hope."

 This marked your last chanced meeting with the King of Nargothrond.

Falling for Finrod Felagund was foolish but also foolishly easy. It was easy to forget that the world did not revolve around him. He, who was magnificent compared to any other creature to walk on the face of Arda, was not the center of the world. A presence too perfect that it felt as if Eru himself had taken the pain of shaping every inch of him.

So, yes you fell in love with him. It was inevitable. But you never intended it to be anything more than the burden of your own heart. You were afterall too prideful to confess to him like every other stary-eyed Edain. 

Your entire time was devoted to transcribing the oral legends of your language to his while keeping your eyes from staring at him for too long. But somehow, your eyes met with his smiling ones. A fragment of the moment that you wished to never have happened. 

The sole moment was enough to tug the King of Nargothrond by your side. What started as a conversation about rolling r’s lent itself into debates, evening strolls, sharing books, watching him play a harp, tracing constellations until the stars led your hand into his. And it fit so perfectly. As if it was made to be held by him. 

The path from fingertips to the caress of lips was a slippery slope. It felt too right to cradle his face in your palms and feel his lips on yours. His curls slipped into your fingers settling into your palms softly. 

You were eager. You wanted it more than anything else. Perhaps it was the eagerness of possessing that kind of love, that blinded you. 

But it did not take long for the sweetness of your kiss to turn into the bitterness of the realization. Your love was doomed to perish from its conception. The celebration of Finrod’s reciprocity to your affection was dulled by a growing ache of the truth that he was not yours. You had known it. The King of Nargothrond had a lover waiting back in the blessed lands. 

You pulled away from him. Your hands slipped off from his curls. Your heart had protested every single movement that took you away from him. You ached to be closer despite the abyss of truth between you and him.

However, more painfull the look of horror on Finrod’s face or how he had stormed off leaving you alone. It was a rejection that came with the broken hope of acceptance. 

For weeks you did not see him. Those felt the heaviest of your mortal life. So, you busied yourself in finishing your work during the days and blacked out drunk at night. But even a glimpse of him seemed to evade you. 

Bundling your misery into the fevor of finishing your labor, you stained your hands with ink. There wasn’t much that you could offer him but your absence. Then so be it. Finrod would never have to remember you or the insignificant kiss that centuries could bury into a forgotten memory.

You were ready to give him the present of your absence, until he showed up. Just the sight of him had deluded your mind into thinking perhaps…he too felt something. 

But the Finrod who returned was different. He returned with an oblivion to whatever had transpired between you both. As all your heartache was a construct of your own making. For a fleeting moment you believed it. 

He greeted you with a warm smile, the same smile that once marked the beginning of your friendship to him. It was as if the pages of time had turned, erasing the chapters of heartache and leaving only the ink of indifference.

"You seem to have been quite occupied in my absence," he remarked, glancing at the scattered parchments and ink-stained hands that bore witness to the agony you had poured into your work.

Your heart, which had dared to hope, now sank like a stone. The weight of his obliviousness pressed upon you, and you realized that the love that had gripped your soul had failed to leave a lasting mark on his memory.

With a forced smile, you replied, "Yes, I've been immersed in my tasks. A distraction, if you will." The bitterness of those words hung in the air, a subtle reminder of the wounds that refused to heal.

He could have fooled you, if not for the foreign distance that loomed between you both. Opting for the seat farthest from you, he did not pour over your work like he always did. He still laughed and rambled passionately about the characters of ancient legends but it was contained. It was King of Nargothrond not Finrod you had to yourself for a second of your life. 

You played along the role he assigned you. A friend, a coworker, nothing more. It was better this way. 

The distancing should have stirred anger within you, should have humiliated your pride, but instead, it became a silent torment that gnawed at your soul. Nights were spent in solitude, your mind spinning with futile thoughts of how to bridge the gap, how to reclaim the love that had slipped through your fingers.

In the quiet moments, when the world slept, your heart wrestled with the demons of longing. You crafted scenarios in your mind, scenarios where the King of Nargothrond melted away, and Finrod, with the sparkle in his eyes and the warmth in his smile, returned to you.

Perhaps his cruelty would have harderened your heart. Stripped you of irrsupressable longing had the slivers of his own desire not slipped into your meeting with him. 

Finrod was subtle in his desperation, a master at concealing the traces of his own desire. A mere mortal might not have detected the nuances, the subtle shifts in his gaze, the hesitation in his voice, or the way his fingers lingered on the pages of your work. But your heart, fueled by its own yearning, became a relentless seeker of any sign, any glimmer of reciprocation.

The unexpected errands, the discussions about tea, the orchestrated crossings of your paths—each encounter with Finrod seemed to hold the promise of something more, yet every meeting left you with the bitter taste of a friendship that refused to evolve.

In a moment of desperate rebellion against the unending cycle of longing and unfulfilled desires, you threw yourself into the arms of a random stranger who happened to approach you during dinner. It was a bold move, driven by the need to sever the invisible threads that bound you to the King of Nargothrond.

You felt his eyes on you, a gaze that had become a constant presence in your life. The decision to embrace the arms of another was not driven by the desire for a new connection but rather a desperate attempt to shake Finrod from his silent yearning. It was a calculated move, a ploy to force him to confront the reality of your actions.

As the stranger engaged you in conversation, you played along, allowing the charade to unfold. Finrod's gaze, once filled with a subtle longing, now bore witness to a scene that shattered the illusion of exclusivity. It was a painful spectacle, a dagger aimed at the heart of a love that had become entangled in a web of unspoken words.

You wrapped your arms around the stranger whose name felt awkward on your tongue. You let the man whisper filth in your ears. Words that could have been loud enough for Finrod to hear. You let his hands roam all over you. And then while you could still feel Finrod’s gaze glaring at you, you led the man to your room. 

You spent the night with him breaking all and every chance of ever attaining love you desired the most. Even as the man held your body, kissed your lips, you could not help but wonder how he, the one you love, would have done it. 

Finrod would have been more gentle, he would have never degraded you with the speech the man used taking you for an easy catch. He would perhaps have held you hand. But you don’t know. You will never know. 

The tears that flow down your face that night are not of pleasure but of sorrow. Even as your body trembles with pleasure, your heart feels nothing but the pain of the hurt you have caused him. 

After kicking out the stranger from your room, you lay back down on the sweat soaked sheets that smelled nothing like what you had once hoped for. 

You made the choice for him. You have surrendered to the fair elleth who waits for your beloved seas apart. The fates have played as they were set to do. He will be happier next to her, you tell yourself. He had to be. 

Someone out of you both had to find joy. It had to be him. 

In the final moments of Finrod's breath, his eyes remained fixed on you. There, right beside him, you kissed his wounds with gentle lips, a tender gesture in the face of impending darkness.

"You are one stubborn elf, Nom," you chuckled, your arms wrapping around him. In this moment, nothing held you back from him. In the passing moments of death, you could love him freely, even if only as a figment in his mind.

“I love you,” he whispered aloud, a confession that resonated through the darkness of Angband. Your kisses paused, surprise flickering in your eyes even within the dream. “I love you so much that I cannot stop. I tried,” tears streaked down his cheeks. “I tried not to love you. I stopped Aegnor, but I myself could not resist. I still love you very much.” Ages worth of grievances and confessions spilled from his lips.

You wiped away his tears with hands that still held the fragrance of ink and paper. “I love you, Finrod. There is no other reason for my existence but to love you,” you spoke, tilting his chin to kiss him once more. “All my actions, all my motivations have been for nothing but you.” He knew it better than anyone.

He had known it, and the knowledge cut deeper than any wound. His inability to act on his feelings had led you to make a choice, a choice to bow to a man you never loved.

Bleeding out on the freezing ground, Finrod, the firstborn of Arafinwe, dreamed not of Valinor, his siblings, his parents on nether shores, or of Amarie as you both had wished. His dreams were of you. In those dreams, Finrod leaned into the warmth of your hands, which seemed to numb his pain and replace it with the thrumming pleasure of your touch. In those dreams, he could finally love you without the constraints of the waking world.

[jackabbot]

I can't but also can believe how much faith they had in oliver and lou to pull this off. I mean tim mentioned he wasn't necessarily happy with the love interests before and this story is important, so to trust them to have this kind of chemistry even though they've never really met and only discussed the kiss on a phone call? And oliver just said hey as long as you're comfortable, go for it? I will indeed perish over their kisses next episode(s)

honestlyyyy. like okay, Tim having trust in Oliver and Lou makes sense in general, but as you said that scene was important, Tim even went to set to make sure it was all going okay and he never goes to set.

I think it's definitely a testament to the atmosphere on the show and the talent and personality of the actors that it went this beautifully, even though they only met briefly before and only had one specific call about it.

I feel very lucky and grateful that we get to have such amazing people on cast and crew and staff and that they'll be continuing to give us more of this sweet love story, wherever it goes. 💕

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hello! Interested in your encyclopaedic knowledge on this. Skim-rereading the VC now for first time since I was a teenager and have to ask - does Louis ever, like - do anything for Lestat? This prompted particularly by TOTBT which my god is so savage. I can’t believe he’s happy to just… let him die?!? He doesn’t lift a finger, he doesn’t even try to protect him? It’s IWTV all over again, only supposedly their relationship is much better by this point.

It got me looking for examples where Louis does anything whatsoever proactive for Lestat and I’m really struggling. At the end of QotD, it seems like lots of the other vamps are trying to look after traumatised Lestat a bit, but I don’t think Louis comes to him? He just wanders off to New Orleans? Maybe I’ve missed a bit though. He looks after him a bit in his coma? Although not moreso than anyone else. But in the end it is Lestat who ends up waking up to save Louis. Even that bit in PLaTRoA where Lestat is about to have his heart stopped - Louis sitting next to his coffin - but Lestat reaches out to take Louis’ hand, not the other way round. Aside from verbally saying that he loves him, other than being generally nice and calm and polite, does Louis ever do anything to show it?

Hey nonny!

(Not sure about the encyclopedic but I‘ll try 😅💕) I do see a lot of the mentioned events a bit differently, allow me to explain (this is gonna be long^^):

Soooo to address your mention of TtotBT first off, I personally do think Louis thought of Lestat first and foremost when he sent him away in that scene.

Louis was tempted. It's no surprise imho that Jacob really wants to do that scene with Sam, because the power dynamics are inverted of course, but it is also emotionally very raw.

I want to pause here and recall a quote from QotD here, which is important:

Louis, the watcher, the patient one, was there on account of love pure and simple. The two had found each other only last night, and theirs had been an extraordinary reunion. Louis would go where Lestat led him. Louis would perish if Lestat perished. But their fears and hopes for this night were heartbreakingly human.

Louis... would perish if Lestat perished.

For Louis to send Lestat away... is to resign himself to death also. I think that has to be taken into account for the scene you mentioned, where Louis decides that Lestat deserves to save his soul, before Louis himself deserves to save his own. His rejection of Lestat there is done in full knowledge that he condemns himself there to a very lonely, cold, and ultimately fatal existence. He rejects Lestat there, knowing he will lose his greatest love.

I wouldn't call that happy to let him die? And I, personally, don't see it as a parallel to IWTV either, though it might feel a bit like that for Lestat, but the Louis here knows how much this will hurt. He knows what he is doing. He is condemning himself, hoping it will free Lestat.

And, while we're on TtotBT, in the beginning of the book there is the mention of Louis coming by Lestat's, to 'Netflix & chill', to share space and spend time, watch movies (for example "Company of the wolves", just being there. Talk. Discuss. Being together. So Louis did come by, for Lestat. And Lestat visited Louis, in his shack, had his own chair there. They were in each other's lives.

And... in the end of that book - when David show's up? What does Louis do? He takes David in. Makes room for David in their old home in Rue Royale. Accepts David - for Lestat. Accompanies them, too. Honestly, given David is David... that is a HUGE sacrifice! He let's David, the new fledgling, into their home. Because he is Lestat's. Later on, in PL, he will do the same for Antoine, which is obviously something that had to grate quite a lot as well, and I have always seen that as a rather conscious decision to allow it. To allow Antoine into their lives, because he is Lestat's.

Louis also tries to protect Lestat before the concert.

I know a lot of people read that from Lestat's POV and are just happy with the reunion (and of course it is beautiful and I really want to see it on the show!!) but... it's not only that.

Louis comes, to Lestat, not only because he can do so. But he pleads for Lestat to stay safe, too, to not do the concert. Because he is afraid for Lestat. He wants to keep him safe, wants to keep him with himself, too. He pleads with him not to go on stage. Offers to talk, to make plans, to 'Let us have each other in this century the way we never did in the past'.

You mentioned the end of QotD, and... in their universe, all that happens right after this reunion. A few days, a week at most. And then Lestat hides himself away again, in a room, trying to cope. Because he has been used again, abused, too, in a way he himself can only cope with by reframing it as love.

Louis knows it isn't. Wasn't. And he knows that he and Lestat cannot talk freely with the others there. He and Lestat are not able to use the mind gift directly. And... he is deeply unsettled by Jesse's report, the report she gives Lestat. Claudia's ghost. Deeply, deeply personal and something they share, very painfully. They go by Louis' tombstone, and then they can talk. A bit. Louis trusts Lestat and in his new powers. Falls asleep in his arms.

And that... is a rather powerful statement.

Louis (admittedly begrudgingly) enters that "adventure" with Lestat, fully trusting in Lestat. Kissing, embracing. Sleeping in his arms. It's a statement.

A statement that, despite Lestat feeling changed, and alien, that Louis still trusts him. Trusts in him, too.

And it is Louis, who tries to take Lestat home in Memnoch, Louis who pleads, begs for Lestat to be released. Louis who cries out when Lestat is locked up. Louis is the one who saves the books, Louis is the one who tries to comfort Lestat. Louis is the one who holds the proverbial fort at Rue Royale, with David, for long, long years. Louis is the one who despairs, eventually, when Lestat goes back into that half-awake coma, his soul taken away by angels.

Though there is more to that, too. You say Louis did not look after Lestat more than others, and I'd beg to differ. Louis was the one in the chapel, guarding Lestat. Holding his ground with the ancients, and the riff raff that Armand hunted down (even once with Lestat later). Louis is the one who keeps Ruy Royale, and makes sure Lestat is kept clean during his episodes of stillness, and it is only when he breaks, eventually, when Merrick takes his focus... that that... stops. When the Merrick events start, David visits Lestat, and Louis is 'there, seated on the marble beside Lestat, reading in a hushed voice from an old book of English poetry'.

Louis never leaves Lestat's side for long. Armand notes how he seems emaciated, hungry when Armand comes by in his version of the tale.

It is only when Merrick's spell unfolds that Louis leaves Lestat's side, that his focus shifts. And with the shift to Claudia and her ghost... the despair takes hold.

And it is when Louis heartbeat stops - that the "angels" lose their blackmailing material.

Lestat later tells of how he was forced to do "their bidding" by them threatening to take the eye... and though he doesn't elaborate... it is very clear what that means wrt Louis.

Because there simply was nothing else they could threaten him with anymore. Nothing else was more important than Louis. Not his eye, not his soul.

This always sends a shiver down my spine.

But that just as a note.

Louis is the one who accepts Lestat's judgment, after Merrick's creation.

He also accepts Lestat abandoning New Orleans, eventually, because Lestat cannot stand it anymore to kill the riff raff, those who "offend Armand", something Lestat calls "autocratic, ruthless" wrt to Armand's killing of them.

Louis accepts Lestat's decision there, and goes to Armand. Something that Lestat in turn accepts and supports(!):

My beloved Louis de Pointe du Lac left soon after, and from that time on lived in New York with Armand. Armand keeps the island of Manhattan safe for them—Louis, Armand, and two young blood drinkers, Benjamin and Sybelle, and whoever else joins them in their palatial digs on the Upper East Side.

And when Lestat is finally ready, it is Louis who apologizes to Lestat for the "past" by hunting a woman who wanted to murder her husband - in front of Lestat.

Personally, I find that a very poignant "doing-it-for-someone" :)))

But there is more.

Louis is the one who rescues Rose! Rose, Lestat's charge. Louis knows about Rose. Lestat's lawyers know about Louis. Louis takes over when Lestat is unreachable.

There is so much in these simple facts!

Like, they must have talked about Rose. Louis knows about Rose, knows she is important to Lestat, he takes the responsibility, saves her from fire, kills the ones who harmed her. Brings her to him. And he is the one Lestat's lawyers reach out to when Lestat is gone? Unreachable? What a statement is that in and by itself?! Louis is the one Lestat trusts with that child, the girl he saved and who will become his immortal daughter. Their immortal daughter.

And then, when Rhosh is there in NYC, at that table, and the axe scene happens... what does Louis do?

He smiles.

Now I don't know if you know that scene well, but it is quite the scene, and I honestly cannot wait to see it on the show.

And Louis... smiles. Shows support.

Quiet. Steadfast. The support Lestat needs, probably more than he consciously realizes.

And then, of course, later on - knowing what "Lestat cannot confide". They are finally sharing blood again, and Louis becomes Lestat's confidant. To all the things Lestat cannot speak about, all the things he has hinted at but cannot put into words. All the things that are too heavy to address.

That is no trifle.

And the silver cord, where Louis pushes the matter against Lestat's (not) better judgement. Where Louis is there, for Lestat to reach out.

Your ask made it seem (a bit) as if being there and offering is not sufficient, but strength shows itself in very different ways. Lestat is more direct, "flashy". Louis' strength is more subtle, it is an offer for support, unwavering support, whenever Lestat wants it. For as long as Lestat wants it. Not taking agency from Lestat, which is like the worst thing that could happen again... because that is something that has been taken from Lestat again, and again, and again. And Louis knows that.

And so he doesn't.

He doesn't take. He offers. It shows he knows Lestat. And he accepts him, and their respective pasts, and all the shit that has happened.

Again, that is no trifle, imho.

There is more. Little mentions, in the books.

A "grotto" they once shared. For example. Louis wearing the clothes Lestat chooses.

But for the most part you have to "read between the lines" as Lestat says, for the juicy details - however, I think when you consider the arcs? The arcs that span all the books?

The things we are told actually speak for themselves, imho.

Louis does a lot of things for Lestat. The important things, actually.

He is there for Lestat to turn to when Lestat's strength fails.

And yes, that includes the rejection in TtotBT - because Louis thought he had to be the one to show the strength for Lestat - to hold fast to the initial belief. The initial hope that drove the body switch - because Lestat had just found out he could not die anymore. Even if he tried. And he had tried. And it had sent him spiraling.

Would Louis have held out indefinitely? Probably not :) But that's another discussion.

[teawiththegods]

What do you do with food / perishable offerings at an altar? do you remove them at some point and if so, is it before or after they start to go bad? I feel rude, removing offerings from an altar, but I feel equally bad leaving rotten food at an altar.

Also for putting makeup and jewelry at an Aphrodite altar, can you still use and wear those items, or do they have to stay at the altar?

Hey hon! 😊

It really depends on the food. Anything that’s perishable I don’t leave on the altar for long, maybe an hour tops. Non perishables, like candy or other snacks, I admit I’ve left out for days sometimes.

To help minimize the guilt you might feel taking food off the altar think of it like any mortal eating a plate of food. It doesn’t take us long to finish a plate so the same can be believed for the gods as well. It’s likely they take whatever energy from the offering rather quickly so you’re free to take the food whenever you wish.

You can absolutely use the makeup and jewelry you put on an altar! I actually encourage it bc then you’re bringing Aphrodite’s energy with you!

Hope that helps! 💕

[uroboros-if]

seeing your rant about how difficult it is to be somewhat rude without ruining your relationships in ifs WAS SO RELATABLE! It doesn’t feel real to be always good or nice to characters to be liked

I’m not saying you should be able beat them up and still romance without consequences but romance/relationships aren’t always perfect and peaceful!!! Disagreements/arguments should be something that can happen without it being at the cost of the relationship itself ugh because that’s normal come on >:| as an angst enjoyer, its so hard to have fun without the character being like “you dont agree with me? perish then”

so I’m even more excited for the game now that I saw your take on it because LETS GO!!!!!! <3

You succinctly explained what I struggled to! 😭

I will confess it's half self-indulgent, because I really enjoy relationships where the two must confront their conflicting ideals! I understand most seek other like-minded people, but what of characters who like to be challenged? Characters who can't help but be attached to someone they shouldn't be?

Even setting that aside, you are completely correct! As long as that topic isn't sensitive to someone and neither party is inflexible, people won't automatically like you less.

So not only does such an approval system lose out on angst potential, sometimes it's also unrealistic. There is truth in it as our opinions of others do adjust based on their actions, and those things add up! However, it's a problem when it's applied to even arbitrary choices, or it unnecessarily severely impacts your approval.

Under the read more is my "theory" on why some ROs in IFs are defined by a dynamic trope (rivals to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, etc)!! 💕

It is difficult, if not impossible for a numerical approval system to qualitatively judge your relationship dynamics; it can only judge based on the weight of each choice. It can't, for example, see you've transitioned from being rude, to softening up to the character after realizing they're not so bad. The game only sees the sum of all your negative and positive points.

Without a way to label your actions by anything but a number, a system that purely relies on numerics is incapable of interpreting the dynamics of your relationship, and therefore customizing future interactions with the RO.

Of course, I think most IFs don't purely rely on numbers. Some do a hybrid in which important decisions are tracked qualitatively and lesser ones are tracked numerically. However, even then, some romance is limited by a baseline approval you must achieve in a certain timeframe, and that leads to pressure to meet that mystery number.

Furthermore, these qualitative "important decisions" often have more to do with the plot than how it defines your relationship specifically -- things like "did you kill their father?" rather than "What were their first impressions of the MC?"

So I believe that without a way to interpret the MC's actions meaningfully, there's only one way to play a romance route. There's only one dynamic with that character, one way the relationship can really be. You can be different genders, have your relationship contextualized differently as the story changes from your actions, but rarely does it dramatically differ solely on personality. Rarely does it examine how your relationship varies from the different ways you interact with that character.

I think it's fine that some characters are like that! In fact, it's realistic that some dynamics don't suit certain characters. For example, it's not possible to have rivals to lovers with Salvatore, because they have no reason to see you as a rival, even if you hate them or try to compete with them.

However, taking Sal as an example, your relationship can vary widely by your attitude towards them. It can be a case of friends who lost touch and regret having lost touch; it can be one-sided, as Sal may view MC as a friend, but the MC is bitterly jealous of them. Perhaps MC doesn't think much of them at all.

That's the kind of meaningful interpretation of relationships I aim for--different dynamics rather than boxing in Sal as the typical childhood friends to lovers. There is no one way to play their romance; it should change as the MC is different.

I see how it's not for everyone, and I acknowledge that it is a Herculean task that may, in time, reveal the full extent of its complexity. But I strive for it because such a complicated relationship is central to the conflict of Uroboros. There is nothing more important an undertaking than character relationships in the IF.

Extremely long theory and rambling, but I am so happy someone shares my thoughts, at least as far as disagreements with the ROs!! ❤️❤️ Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to share even more of my opinion, Anon! I'm thrilled you are so excited for the story!

[nokk0]

🎮, 🗣, and ❤️ for whoever!! :D

Second ask by: @nightcovefox

🎮: What Kirby game or what point in the Kirby series timeline would your OC first appear?

★ i hope i'm interpreting this correctly...

Fal's story begins just after the defeat of Fecto Elfilis, at the end of Forgotten Land and after completing the True Arena... He has nothing to do with the main games or the anime...

🗣️: If you could cast a voice actor to voice your OC who would you choose?

★ Something funny is that Fal and Snow already have voice actors!

In the Raising Project anime adaptation, the voice of Snow White is made by Nao Tōyama... Or so the character's wiki says, because the actress's wiki does not mention her participation…

On the other hand, although Fal hasn't made an appearance in the anime, there is a character identical to him called Fav, the voice is made by Kurumi Mamiya

Fun fact: Kurumi Mamiya is the voice of Elfilin in Forgotten Land :D

❤️: What is your OC’s love language (Words of affirmation, Quality time, Physical touch, Receiving gifts, or Acts of service)?

★ Uhm… Acts of service and words of affirmation, i think…!

Fal is devoted to anyone he trusts, so rest assured that he will help and accompany if necessary, offering information or comfort with words. Snow is more reserved, but her actions speak louder than words

💎: Does your OC like to collect anything?

★ Mementos

Many of these objects are memories of different experiences, or rather, different people with whom the two interacted. You could say that they are attached to the belongings of the deceased... Fal also has other things that he “borrows” from Magolor, such as the Gem Apples

🤫: Does your Oc have any secrets?

Yes, but just like three secrets. Next question

🥺: What is your Oc’s biggest regret?

★ With Snow i would say that not protecting her friends... She has lost too many allies, many of them really close friends. In the Beginning of the end, we can see her extremely protective towards Wolfbell because:

1- Wolfbell reminds her to her powerless self when she was still alive

2- She doesn't want to make the same mistakes. She's already dead, so she can risk without worrying for her own life

Fal… The death of a certain person, and of course the death of Snow herself. This person... Basically, she was someone that Fal involved without knowing what was really happening and who ended up perishing despite having nothing to do with the matter. A victim he condemned by mistake

i hope i answered these correctly... Thank you so much for the asks!!!

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

[asnowfern]

Til Forever Falls Apart - Chapter One

Summary: The great kingdom of Ye was not always held captive by Hybern and their three suns. Up until over a year ago, the kingdom still teemed with life but the invaders came with their unholy deal with the heavens and entrapped their lives in an endless cycle of heat waves and forest fires. Faced with the ultimatum to either fight or perish with the world, Feyre agreed to be a spy within the Moonstone Palace. There were just two people she had to look out for: Raven, her ally and spy that she was to assist in the rebellion efforts, and Prince Rhysand, the cruel prince that betrayed their country.

Read on AO3

A/N: Hi, Happy Lunar New Year!🍊🍊🧧 It's me again with yet another ancient Chinese legend inspired fic! I had originally intended to post this on day one of the new year but the festivities got away with me. There are fourteen days to the celebration so it still counts right?😂 Although I will be drawing quite a few inspirations from East Asian customs and culture, this fic is set in a fantasy world of my own imagination with a little twist to the original Chang E and Houyi legend. I am honestly so excited to share this fic with the world so I really hope you enjoy! This is also my first longer-ish Feysand fic so please be kind😅 A huge thanks to my lovely betas, @reverie-tales and @witch-and-her-witcher for all the kind words and encouragement! I couldn't have done this without you! Love you both so dearly!💕💕💕

Chapter One: The Mission

It felt like the world was on fire.

Feyre squinted at the oppressing heat raining down on them from the multiple suns above, her vision blurred from the way the fiery air itself seems to shake and sway. She halted in her path to readjust the scarf covering her face from her eyes down, the parasole slipped slightly in the pinched space of her underarm. Gulping down humid air, she put one foot in front of the other to move forward. 

It didn’t used to be like this.

The great kingdom of Ye was not always held captive by Hybern and their three suns. Up until over a year ago, the kingdom teemed with life. The air used to be crisp and cool, the forest green and vibrant, the waters glitter and shimmer. Children could run around and play barefooted while the everyday folk could tend to live crops to sustain themselves.

Then the invaders came with their unholy deal with the heavens and entrapped their lives in an endless cycle of heat waves and forest fires. No matter how fearless and fierce their armies were, they stood no chance fighting in this new climate. They didn’t even last a month before the ruling family surrendered. 

Just the thought of it left a bitter taste in Feyre’s mouth.

How they, the rulers and supposed protectors of Ye, could simply hand over their people’s fates to the enemies’ hands and retreat back into their insulated palace within the mountain, abandoning the rest of them to suffer in this new heat. 

Over time, the water began to dry up, taking most of the marine life with them. Rivers that used to run so deep were swallowed by the raging skies until the water levels barely came up to Feyre’s hips. Crops browned and died in a crisp, its remains crumbled into nothingness. 

Feyre’s shoes crunched under the dried dirt underneath her soles, pulling her back to the pathway where she was trekking. 

They wouldn’t survive another summer.

She lifted her chin just enough to glance at the brown mossy mountains in the distance. She stopped herself from looking up any further, knowing that to do so would be to risk blindness. Her jaw clenched and she tilted her head back horizontal. She kept moving forward until the mountain housing Hewn City and the infamous Moonstone Palace came into view. 

She stopped some distance away to observe the entrance. The doors, etched deep into the mountain were massive, towering over her three times over. Steel detailing snaked from the hinges and over the surface of the maroon painted wood. Grand, majestic, foreboding.

A warning to those who dare.

***

“A spy in the palace?” 

“A second spy in the palace,” Jurian, the leader of their rebellion, corrected. ”We already have an insider who will be laying the crucial steps to turn this rebellion into a revolution in the next couple of weeks. He will need covert assistance.”

Her brows pinched. “I haven’t heard about anything going down in the next couple of weeks.” 

“That’s good. If you did, I would be very worried.” He said wryly, the corners of his lips edged upwards in a smile that felt more obligatory than anything else. He continued grimly, “This is not an order, Feyre. I know the risks you will take - for you and your sisters. It is your choice.” He slid an envelope across the table over to her, the scratching of surfaces resounding in the heavy silence that fell over the both of them. 

She considered for a moment, focusing blue grey eyes on the sprawling map of the Ye kingdom laid on the table. The map was littered sporadically with flags, each marking where the suns and the Hybern army decimated life. 

She knew then. Nothing would matter because it was only a matter of time before they were all dead.

“I’ll do it on one condition.” She agreed solemnly, lowering a hand to pick up the envelope of clandestine instructions from the table top, levelling her gaze on the commander. “My sisters cannot know.” 

Deep brown eyes flashed for a moment but Jurian gave a curt nod. “They will only know what you tell them. I promise you.” 

“Thank you.” 

“I should be the one to thank you.” He ran a hand up and down his jaw, his face turned weary. The expression was gone when his hand parted from his chin. He said briskly, “Everything you need to know is in the missive. Read it then burn it.”

Feyre nodded, slipping the envelope into the lapels of her robes. With a retreating bow, she rotated on her heels and exited the room. 

“Come back alive and with all your fingers intact, Feyre.” 

And the door closed with a resounding click. 

***

Sweat beaded down the sides of Feyre’s face as she pounded on the large doors with the iron knockers.

What she was doing was considered treason at the highest level, made ever more so dangerous by her proximity to the high ranking officials who resided in Hewn City and the palace. 

She would be bled out for every piece of information she had and publicly executed, with Elain and Nesta right next to her. 

A panel slid open to reveal slit eyes. The guard asked gruffly, “State your business in Hewn City.” 

“H-hi,” She didn’t have to fake the nervousness in her voice. “I’m a new servant at the Moonstone palace? I am supposed to report to Ms. Sar for duty.” 

The slits narrowed impossibly into mere lines. “The help is supposed to report through the back entrance meant for servants.”

Well, fuck. The missive had clearly stated the main entrance. What the hell was this spy playing at? 

Feyre amplified the fear and panic in her voice. “Oh no! I am so sorry!” Blue grey eyes wide and round as they stared pleadingly. “I must have misread it. I promise, I didn’t-” 

A large groan cuts off her stream of warbled words. “Show me your recruitment letter.” 

She made a show of searching her robes before finally slipping the small note through the crack in the door. 

Her breathing was shallow, in time with her pounding heart, as she waited for the note to be accepted. Surely, the spy didn’t screw her up before she even got through the doors? 

Thankfully, iron hinges groaned loudly as the heavy doors swung open and Feyre was promptly dismissed with a slam of the note into her worn palms. She shuffled through the gaps with a sigh of relief, entering the darkness which laid beyond the city boundaries.

The grumpy gatekeeper curled his lips in disdain as he waited with another burly guard on the other end of the entrance. He gestured to the guard, “He will bring you into the palace. Try not to cause any more unnecessary trouble.” 

Feyre turned to face the open streets that wound out of the main gate. Unlike the dusty roads of Velaris, the streets here were immaculate. Rows of shops lined the pathway, paper lanterns hung at the entrances, lighting up the space in a pale orange hue.

Despite the rows of shops, the streets were unnervingly empty, save for some formally dressed nobles who walked obnoxiously slowly with their noses permanently tilted in the air. 

At the end of the aisle stood a lifesize statue of an elegant goddess that she didn’t recognised, one belonging to the multitude of old gods that the Hybern conquerors brought with them. With intricate detailing carved into her stone dress, She looked down on the city in elegant benevolence, all-seeing and giving. Was this goddess one of them, Feyre thought bitterly. Did the old gods gifted Hybern the extra suns that doomed them all? 

“Hurry up and don’t stare!” The guard ordered, his tone low and impatient, tearing her out of her stream of angry consciousness.  

Feyre joined her hands in a low bow, her arms still held horizontal within her sleeves as they started walking. The path to the Moonstone Palace was a maze, requiring numerous turns of seemingly identical streets. With every turn, she used the hidden brush to mark the route on her covered arms. She just hoped it would still be legible by the time she finally retreated to her quarters. 

After fifteen minutes of walking, they finally rounded to a dingy looking small door at the back - entrance to the palace befitting their low statuses. Her guard barely gave her another look before handing her off to another lady. 

She asked sternly the moment the door closed. “Can you read?” Cutting Feyre off before she could reply, “Obviously not, since you evidently can’t follow basic instructions. You are not to cause a scene like that again.” 

With her head held high, she brought Feyre into the narrow depths of the palace. She introduced herself, “I am Sar, you will be reporting to me from today on. There is just one basic rule to surviving this place. Do not draw attention to yourself. When you receive orders, follow them. When you’re not needed, you will blend into the walls and not exist. If you draw the wrong attention, I will not be able to help you. Do I make myself clear?”

In other words, she had broken the one rule they live by. Great.

She dipped her head in a sign of deference, “Yes, mad-”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” A low purr sliced through the heaviness in the air. 

Feyre raised her eyes to locate the source of the voice, unable to stop the slight tremors in her knees when she did. Her mind whirled at an impossible speed, suddenly overwhelmed by the conflicting thoughts. 

Beautiful. Rage. Bewitching. Traitor. Mesmerising. Hatred. Beautiful.

Beautiful beautiful beautiful. 

This man was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. 

And the biggest traitor she had ever known.  

“Prince Rhysand!” Sar greeted demurely from next to her. Her knees sank into a low dignified bow while her hands forcibly but subtly tugged Feyre down with her. They pulled on trembling joints to crash into the stone floors, shooting bolts of pain up her legs. 

Feyre forced her eyes back down to the cool hard surface of the ground, hot blood rushing in her ears. 

Prince Rhysand.

The man allied himself with the foreign invaders, killed his family and retreated into the cool conclaves of his palace. Feyre and her fellow rebels might be labelled as enemies of the crown but there was no doubt to her that the greatest enemy of the people was the man who stood before her. 

Silks of the deepest shade of purple, so dark it almost seemed black, gilded across the smooth floors and stopped right in front of her. Cool but rough fingers held her chin and tilted it up to meet his face.

He was even more beautiful up close. His face was cut with sharp and sensual lines, a strong nose, thick perfectly shaped lips and perhaps most damningly, bright blue eyes so vibrant that they appeared almost violet. She could get lost in them forever. 

Then they dimmed, akin to a gate shuttering the light away. Perfect lips pressed into a thin line before asking, “Is this your new helper, Sar?”

Despite the one new rule she ought to live by, Feyre forced her face to sharpen and glared back. Foreign feminine fingers tightened their grip, digging into her flesh. But just for a second, she thought she caught an amused amethyst glint.

“Yes, my prince.” The palace maid replied hurriedly. “She just arrived and would be assigned to serving Lady Amarantha.” 

His fingers left her chin, letting them drop horizontal. Her skin tingled, immediately missing their presence. “No.” 

“My prince?”

He sneered down at Feyre, lips curling in disdain, “Send her to the wardrobe department or the kitchens. I don’t want to see her here again.” 

The blood leached from her face as Sar looked visibly panicked. She protested, “My prince, this request came from Lady Amarantha!”

He cuts her off with a glare cold enough to cool the scorching heat of Velaris. “Say that again.”  

The lady-in-waiting visibly swallowed, her eyes shifting downwards, “My prince-“ 

He interrupted once more, venom laced his tone, “As you said, your prince. Does my word weigh less than that of Lady Amarantha?” 

Her pupils shifted wildly at the ground, desperation emanating from her in waves. “O-of course not. But you have to understand, sir. Lady Amarantha requires six attending ladies at all times and if she finds out about this…” She raised her head, those dark brown eyes widening to circles at the royal. 

Rhysand looked thunderous despite his calm demeanour. He asked icily, “I have to understand?” 

Sar prostrated herself, slamming her forehead to the ground with a sickening thud. She cried pleadingly, “No, no! I misspoke. I am so sorry, my prince, it will not happen again. Please forgive me!”

Feyre’s insides turned to lead as she watched the woman, so proud and haughty just minutes ago, turned into a pitiful teary mess on the verge of a breakdown. She couldn’t let this go any further. 

In one smooth motion, she doubled over, her forehead gingerly touched the back of her palms on the ground. “Please, Your Highness. Today is but my first day, this humble servant will go anywhere the prince assigns me.” 

She held her breath as she waited for that despicable low purr that lit her insides. 

The young royal decided after an agonising beat, “Fine, we are done here.”

They breathed again, raising their heads, “Thank you, my prince.” 

“But, Sar?” He turned a cruel eye on her, the edges of his mouth lifted in a smirk of twisted amusement. “You will personally inform Lady Amarantha of the news, am I clear?”

Every fibre of the maid trembled as she gave a low curtsy, “Of course, my prince.” 

A rustle of silks and they were once more alone in the hallway. Feyre’s fist clenched by her side as the woman next to her silently sobbed. 

He truly was a monster.

***

The ground beneath her was cool and soft. They tickled her feet as wind playfully whipped around her face in the lightest caress. 

Feyre kept her eyes closed, her arms stretched out in the air and she spun, giggling. She danced with teasing rivulets of rain, the feeling of wet grass beneath bare feet, the smell of petrichor soaking the air. 

She spun round and round, elation filling her entire body. 

Her hands were then forced down, pinned down by unnatural forces. Her world warped and Feyre snapped her eyes open. 

She awoke to endless depths of the abyss staring back at her. With her next exhale, she twisted her arms and body away from her assailant, her legs swung up to strike him with a sloppy kick to the chest. 

Feyre scrambled to her feet as the guy staggered backwards. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes darting wildly to take in her opponent. 

Dressed in cottons of the endless night, the man was masked in a demonic face as dark as the rest of his clothed form. He recovered swiftly as his mask continued to bare its fangs at Feyre, his feet shifting into a stable and relaxed stance, hands raised to the level of his shoulders. 

She rolled her shoulders, lifting her own arms to mirror his. “Please, let us not circle around each other needlessly.” 

She swore she could feel his amusement radiating through the clothed and paper cover before he struck, his movements sharp and swift like a hawk. Feyre blocked out of trained reflex, her arms snaked around his arms to twist them, locking his shoulders into a rigid hold. 

His head snapped to her for a brief moment, phantom eyes widening in surprise. She rotated her wrist just slightly, half an inch before his shoulder would pop out of its joint. 

The inch was never completed. Instead, Feyre was flipped over him and her back slammed hard into the ground, knocking her breath out of her in one swoosh. 

The assailant’s body covered hers and pinned her down with haunting painted eyes. Feyre seethed and spat in his face. She twisted her limbs to flip their position but every action was met with an infuriating counter, his hard body pressed firmly against hers.

“Jurian said you were good.” He mused, relaxing his hold. 

The words floated through the narrow space between them, slow and sluggish, reaching her brain just a little too late. Her body, on the other hand, registered the lack of force pushing down her body and reacted instantly, landing a solid kick between his legs. 

Feyre winced as he rolled off her to lie on his back, cursing harshly. 

“Raven?” She called out hesitantly, speaking the code name, a secret even amongst secrets, for the first time. 

Raven raised an open palm at her, his breath still coming out in pants. An awkward wait later, he stood up shakily. 

“Some kick.” 

She shrugged, stating simply, “You attacked me.” 

Unexpectedly, he chuckled, low and enticing. “That I did,” he acknowledged, chucking the robes that slung on a chair towards her, “but that was just part one of your test. Get dressed.”

Feyre went still and silent, her chest heated uncomfortably when she remembered her state of undress. Nothing but her underthings - a pair of comfortable breezy pants and a top where the front was barely supported by thin straps and virtually nothing in the back. 

The spy turned to a corner of the room, chuckling once more. It warmed her, a lingering heat that remained even as she donned similarly dark cotton robes. She shook off the sensation as she asked, “So what’s part two of my test?”

He opened the door, the smirk evident in his voice. “Cover up that pretty face and keep up. Quietly.”

He didn’t see the scowl on her face, choosing instead to dissolve into the shadows the instant the doors shut close. She followed, guided only by the barest hint of light steps and shadowy hints of a human silhouette. 

They melted into the cover of night as Raven led her through numerous turns in the deep tunnels of the palace. No guards spotted them, her leader always quick to spot them and avoid attention. 

They stopped after what felt like a jaunt around the entire mountain. He spun around, their bodies a bare inch from the other. Heat radiated from him, laced with a slight delicious hint of salt and citrus. Feyre stiffened and resisted the urge to lean in for more.

“Part three,” the demonic mask instructed, “Count to ten and then find your way back.” 

Feyre smiled beneath the black cloth covering her face, “Think you can lose me in ten seconds?”  

He crooned just before he slid into the dark, “Catch me then.” 

Explanatory notes: If you're curious how ancient Chinese female undergarments (the one Feyre was wearing) looks like, here's a reference!

[daniwib]

Hiiii 💕💕💕

For the fic never have I ever:

1) have you ever written anything about buddie and sleeping (like an insomnia fic, nightmares, cuddling and falling asleep, etc)?

2) have you ever written anything about buddie and chronic pain?

3.) have you ever written anything about buddie and hurt/comfort? What about angst?

4) have you ever written any sort of buddie AU?

-❤️🪐

Hey, hii!

(Me, holy shit, someone actually sent me an ask? Stay cool, stay cool, it’s cool everyone!)

(Also me, oh shit, I did not realise that this means I have to remember what I’ve written. Hmm. This may have been a mistake, I have the worst memory, I really do. Goes and checks out own ao3 profile for the answers…)

Ok here we go.

Nightmares. Oh hey look at that! I’ve actually got a fic with the word in its title, who knew! A spell for nightmares & fractured hearts is a short and fluffy lil fic about Buck helping Chris heal after the tsunami, and then Chris (and Eddie) helping Buck do the same. And because I’m allergic to fluff, I followed it up with part 2 in that series being long, whumpy and angsty. As for falling asleep, cuddling or insomnia, I can’t find anything in my quick search but I think I’ve written all of those in several of my fics, just not as a major part of the plot, more as part of the comfort part after the hurt usually.

Similar answer for chronic pain, I think? I’ve referenced it here and there in various fics but haven’t written on just about that. It’s a little bit too close to home for me, my dad has had 3 hip replacements (first because of major injury as a firefighter when I was 10, he fell through 3 floors in a burning building) so having lived with someone experiencing it, it doesn’t really appeal to me to write.

Buddie and hurt/comfort – um. Pretty much every single one of my Buddie fics?! I filtered my works with that tag and got 30 hits, so…. Here’s one I’m posting right now that I’m kinda proud of Pictures of You, in which Abuela dies post season 6, Eddie hurts and Buck comforts.

Buddie and angst – refer to above answer lol. If I had to choose a favourite, I think I’d choose empty, broken, lonely, hoping, my beloved presumed dead fic where Buck and Christopher are thought to have perished when Buck’s apartment building burns down and Eddie goes through several chapters of angst. It’s unrelenting really, poor guy. 4. Buddie AU – again, I’ve got several depending on your definition.

If you want a truly Alternate Universe, try I Once Was Lost. It’s a Peter Pan fusion where Buck is Peter, Eddie is Wendy Darling and almost all of the other characters feature in Neverland too. It covers from their childhood up until the end of season 5 and I have a particular soft spot in my heart for it.

If you prefer Canon Divergence, try There Walks Darkness. It’s basically What If Maddie didn’t kill Doug and he was arrested instead – and was one of the prisoners who took Buck and Eddie hostage in season 5? It features a lot of hurt Buck, Buck whump, worried Eddie and the 118, some of my favourite tropes to write.

And lastly, if you prefer supernatural AU, try Returned for a shorter read, which perhaps unsurprisingly is based on the movie and tv show… Returned.

Which reminds me of another supernatural AU that I can’t believe I forgot because I adore it! Trust Me, Darlin’ is my first collab, with the lovely @hella-cious! It's a Supernatural / 911 crossover in which Buck runs into an old hook up (Dean Winchester ofc) at a scene in LA and is promptly kidnapped before the 118’s eyes. Lots of angst and whump in this one and while there is Buck/Dean because lets face it, those two are far too hot not to ship together, it ends in Buddie (and Destiel too, for SPN fans!)

So, wow. There you go. This was a lot longer than I expected it to be but then I’ve never done one of these before. Thanks for being my first ask @steadfastsaturnsrings !!

[violetasteria]

Clandestine Chapter 12 💗

Happy Only You Sango Week! 💕 

To kick things off, @skyelara & I are thrilled to give you the next installation of Clandestine! Read it ✨here✨ today!

For today's Roots theme from @only-you-sango-week, we focused on the meaning of the Hiraikotsu to Sango and what she might be feeling when it breaks in Episodes 44-45.

(New banner still in the works, but enjoy this one for now so at least we don't end up in banner jail again 😂)

We've decided that, in order to get more frequent updates, we're returning to Clandestine's roots as a drabble series. But don't worry, there's still plenty of saucy and secret moments to come.

Check out today's preview below the cut 😊

As one last treat, I have also recently received this STUNNING commission of Clandestine from the wonderful @eliza-faust-diary 🤩 It takes place a bit before today's chapter, and shows an incredible stolen moment from our favorite monk and slayer 💕 

The pieces clattered uselessly to the ground around the possessed swordsmith. A gasp escaped her lips at the sight. Her weapon crashed to the ground, torn in two. A sudden pang of grief grasped her heart, squeezing, as she felt her heart split the same as her weapon had. Eyes trained on her now useless weapon, her lungs ceased to work. 

She didn’t truly understand the devastation she’d felt at the time, but now it was clear.

Hirakotsu was so much more to her than a simple weapon. It was who she was. It was her very foundation as a demon slayer and a cherished remnant of a previous, happy life in the slayers’ village.

She reached down to collect the ruins of her beloved weapon, her shaky palms brushing against the cool bones. The voices of her chattering friends reached her ears from across the open field. They were unaware of her plight, caught up in their deliberation of how to proceed with the dangerous sword, whose evil still lingered even after its master had perished.

Tears streamed silently down her face as she ran her hand over the smooth rift of the weapon where Tokijin had split it in half. She was careful not to make too much noise, lest she attract the prying eyes of her friends. She knew, of course, how much they cared for her by now, but she really did prefer to grieve alone. 

It was bad enough that Miroku had caught her crying in her moments of sorrow. She didn’t need the others to also see the weakness in her heart, as well. She didn’t need them to see how she wasn’t strong enough to protect her allies. Her friends. After all, she had just been so helplessly injured in the aftermath of their last battle. First it was Kanna, slinging her weapon back at her, like she was a child again, training for the first time. Now her weapon, the very source of her strength, was struck down without so much as making a strike against her enemy.

[samairuart]

HELLO 💕💕

I just wanna say your desified genshin (and hualian) art inspires me so much and always makes me happy when i see it on my tl 🥹🥹

Thank you for being the brown rep i needed and making me feel more comfortable with + proud of my culture

Aww hehehe thank you!! That makes me super happy to hear 🥹🫶🏽

Any time I can sneak in some desi Genshin art, I will!! What kills me is when I have to detail out any jewelry or embroidery, I perish I look away!!!

And oh gosh the second part, thank you for also loving what I do and making me feel equally proud of our culture. It’s thanks to you all enjoying it that makes me feel warm and whole. 🪷 for so many years I fell prey to the typical hiding away parts of myself and hating on being South Asian to fit the norm, and only reconnected with our culture during my college years. That reconnection helped me feel less lonely, it also opened my eyes to how beautiful our people and heritage are.

It’s also great that we have characters like Kaeya and Nahida to express ourselves with (if we aren’t yet comfortable creating our own). 💗

[stygiansun-totaleclipse]

STOP why can’t we just have a non suspicious best friend that’ll always have our backs. Also, is it weird for me to find it odd that mc interacts with luca like an adult? (idk a grown adult interacting so casually with someone who looks like a kid seems weird, right?)

also the love you have for this is so evident all throughout the story, wishing you the best <3

Luca has and always will have your back, and wouldn’t ever want mc to think they can’t trust them. Not every secret is so sinister nor kept with malicious intent. But Luca has always been a taciturn one. There might be some things they just don’t quite know how to talk about right now…

I actually meant to put in a small blurb addressing MCs and Lucas relationship bc I figured some people might react that way but I think I forgot. I’ll probs add that in just to clarify. Their relationship is an odd one sure, but so are the circumstances. Luca may look 13 as they are taking on the appearance of the day they perished but Luca has been showing up in MCs dreams for over nine years now, and has been there while MC has grown older. Their relationship is still close as childhood friends, kind of like nothings changed and they can be kids together, but they’ve also both matured together over the years as well, so mc can confide in Luca with more mature topics as well. Kind of like some things stay the same and some things change. Their friendship has just remained as close as it’s always been even as MC has grown older. If that makes sense. I get it’s an odd one tho.

thank you for reading the demo and taking the time to share your thoughts! I do have a lot of passion for the story as I’ve been working on it for a while now and I hope you all continue to enjoy it as it develops!! 💖💕