#how to write effectively

[middle-earth-mythopoeia]

Uh, guys? Don't confuse your crappy televised fanfic for the story that Tolkien actually wrote.

Galadriel was never "under Sauron's thrall." That's something ROP made up. In Unfinished Tales, she was the only one in Eregion who suspected that Annatar was lying about being an emissary of the Valar. Celebrimbor was deceived by him. She was not. She was certainly not "under his thrall." No, not even because she had Nenya.

Yes, when Frodo offered her the One Ring, she was tempted. It could have given her the power to prevent the fading of Lothlórien. But when she makes this speech in the book, and in the Peter Jackson movies, it's her own thought, she's not repeating something that Sauron said to her once:

“You will give me the Ring freely! In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair!”

These are Galadriel's words. Her words. Not Sauron's. And she was tempted by the One Ring because she could have been a more powerful queen, not Sauron's queen. Like, you guys really took one of the most powerful and complex female characters in Tolkien's works and you made her story all about a man and his power over her and his manipulation of her. Fuck off.

And stop tagging ROP as Lord of the Rings.

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[anachronistic-falsehood]

i need to sit down every fanfiction writer who writes smut about trans guys and i need to explain to them the effects testosterone can and will have on a transmasc person's body and also explain how depictions of trans guys in porn can come off as extremely fetishizing when written carelessly and they really need to speak to transmasc people and see them as People before throwing them into a fic to get fucked by some extremely masculine cis man

[bluerosefox]

Beloved Beyond Time

A DeadSerious Prompt where a young Damian follows his mother's advice about finding his future 'Beloved' and is smitten with a TimeTraveling Ghost King (Prince) Danny when his grandfather summoned the eldritch being.

Damian, despite being young, will want no other to be by his side once he takes over the League. Especially since the King was able to strike fear in his grandfather for even just for a moment.

Danny, whose just started taking up his soon to be Kingly title and duties, at first freaked out when a kid who just got out of toddlerhood is offering marriage. Who wouldn't. And well while he didn't fully encourage it, he found it a little adorable and tried to nudge the kid away from said... err crush feelings?

He was a little sad to have to say goodbye to the kid when his month long stay with the al Ghul's (mostly to see if they're worthy to keep the Pits) he was pretty for sure he'd never run into the kid again and if he did who knows how old they'd actually be because again.. time travel.

So Danny now at the age of 16 really wasn't expecting to be basically be cornered on his first day at his new school at Gotham Academy by a 17 year old Damian Wayne who is leaning over him and says "Hello Beloved. Time has been kind to you it seems."

Danny's poor half-alive heart is currently dying from being cornered by an older Damian.

Let this crazy train wreck begin.

[major-alenko]

I love Kaidan Alenko a lot, lol. Every single thing about him, I love so much.

He knows exactly who he is and is comfortable with himself; he doesn't "need fixing" and tells Shepard that outright.

He's got a steadfast sense of morality and won't compromise his beliefs for anyone, not even his partner. He apologizes after Horizon but he won't say he was wrong. (And he knows he wasn't.)

He was a skilled and decorated officer even before joining the Normandy. He's hard-working, driven, and intelligent. His promotions feel earned. He outranks Shepard by ME3 because he's a damn good soldier.

His biotics set him apart, and throughout the trilogy, he becomes more assured of himself and confident in his abilities.

He goes from saying stuff like "I may as well get a paycheck for (being biotic)" to mentoring other biotics in the military and running his own special forces squads.

From holding back because he's afraid of hurting someone to learning to reave and bragging about it, embracing his biotics as something good. Something to be proud of— because they are.

Even after everything he’s been through, he’s not bitter. He’s not jaded. Underneath it all, he’s still the kid who read books about the hero going to space to prove himself worthy of the person he loves (or, you know, for justice.) He’s still a romantic.

He left BAaT feeling like he screwed everything up and after taking some time, rejoined the Alliance to serve because he wanted to make a difference. And he does. He has such a positive impact on everyone around him.

I love him. He’s an incredibly strong, kind, honest, and brave character. 💙

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I came here for the silly haha doodles, but I've stayed for the absolutely blazing commentary in the tags. Your analysis of this story is so so so good! Thanks for all the work and thought you put into this!

I am just a silly little comics blog. I am not hiding anything in the tags, no way. Never.

[egg-writes-whump]

thinking about Whumpees being hugged as a way to both comfort and restrain them when they have injuries that need to be treated (painfully)

[bigfatbreak]

Question about your changling AU, where did you learn about the ins and outs of Fae and Changling myths? I'm interested in learning too but not sure where to start lol

some of the lore I have for the AU I crafted myself, otherwise I read a lot of old faerie tales growing up and my mom, for some reason, knows an awful lot about shit like that, so some of it is just innate from her. otherwise i just read a lotttttt of books around the concepts of these things when I was younger because I was fascinated with jim henson's worlds

[kell-eramis]

Thinking about this line from the Transformers Annual. Instead of saying “me!” or being defensive, Bumblebee says “nice people”—even though perhaps back in the time Optimus and Pyra were talking about, Bumblebee was likely being genuine. However this line denotes that at least at this point in time, saying things like that is a conscious decision to be “nice”. It’s a conscious facade, and part of why Bumblebee works so well with Starscream in phase 2–they’re both stuck between who other people perceive them as, and who they are and become as they heal post war. As they do their best to unite neutrals, autobots, and decepticons, or colonists and cybertronians. Part of why they both end up failing to lead is BECAUSE their reputations precede them in such a way, but that doesn’t mean they can’t still push towards their wish to see Cybertronian become home once more, and being able to be themselves and rest with each other. Bumblebee and Starscream are a lot more alike than many people—both within and outside of canon—think.

[short-wooloo]

i forgot to post this a week ago...

Its 2025 now, which means this year these all turn 15!!

[edains]

Children of Rannoch: Notable Quarians aboard the Rayya

Children of Rannoch - A Quarian Overhaul (LE2)

(template)

[a-leg-without-fear]

Sweet

sin sin sin sIN SIN THIS IS SIN. please enjoy pleasuring our dear college!matt

Ship: Matt Murdock x Female!Reader

Rating: 18+ (pure filth, truly)

Wordcount: 2.7k

Warnings: smut, sexual situations, foreplay, some depressive thoughts (because i apparently can't write anything without them)

Warm.

Soft, warm, gentle, sweet. Sweeter than anything he’d tasted. Like dew that’s been licked off a cold strawberry, or the fragrant scent that wafts through the air outside of flower shops. A delicate and tender sweetness. Subtle, comforting, like the smell of home after being away for years. Such sweetness could make Matt lose himself, letting himself drift away on a current of fond smiles and warm embraces. He would allow himself to drown in the sweet taste, even if it was the last drop to pass his lips before he drifted to the ocean floor.

At the sudden loss of the warmth, the tenderness, the sweetness, Matt’s throat let out a whine of annoyance. His body moved of its own accord as he scrambled to reconnect himself to the source. Fingers tangling in silken hair. Hand bunching in a tank top. Teeth nipping at a plump, pink lower lip.

“Matt,” you sighed. The words cascaded past Matt’s tongue and down his throat, carrying a breeze filled with cherry blossoms in their wake. He could distantly feel delicate fingertips brush at his jaw. A tingling warmth trailed behind the gentle touch, only fueling his need to swallow as much sweetness as he could.

“Matt, honey. Breathe.”

Matt’s eyes fell open as he pulled away from his brief reprieve. His senses came crashing down like a cave in. All he could see was a haze of swirling oranges and reds that filled every inch in sight. Streaks of flame and blood painting the college dorm room like a canvas on fire. His cotton shirt was too tight, too scratchy. The humid air settled in his pores like an unwelcome visitor. A sudden cacophony of noise spilled into his ears through the crack under the door and the thin material of the walls. He blinked a few times to reorient. 

The first inhale he allowed himself felt like a punch in the lungs. Gone was the taste of strawberries or cherry blossoms, the feeling of warmth and comfort. A sharp tang of stale alcohol plunged its way into his sinuses and left him reeling. Notes of old, worn carpet and water-damaged ceilings shoved their way through to stand side by side to overwhelm thought and feeling. Matt screwed his eyes shut, trying to recall the smell of flowers that flowed like water down his throat.

“Hey, I’m right here,” you whispered, your melodic voice brushing aside the sounds assaulting Matt’s senses. Your soft hand rested along his jaw and brought his forehead to yours. Matt could feel your breath fan across his face. Warm and gentle and sweet.

“I… I’m sorry,” Matt said. He felt naïve. The world was harsh and cold and unforgiving. He shouldn’t have let himself get carried away by the allure you unintentionally provided. The sweet ambrosia that flowed from your lips could never compete with the torrential downpour of too much all around him.

“Sorry for what?” you asked. Your fingers brushed strands of Matt’s dark hair away from his face, then trailed their way down his cheek to rest on his collarbone. 

Matt opened his eyes again in a desperate attempt to see you. See anything. But all he was met with was the clouded reds and oranges that submerged the world beneath a pool of blood. 

He tried to focus on where your face would be, using the brush of air currents along your seated body to understand where you were on the bed. Your head was cocked, hair falling in front of your kind eyes. Matt could tell you were looking at him. From the way your heart calmly beat behind your ribs and the pheromones that surrounded you like an aura, Matt assumed you were happy. Content.

“I got caught up in the moment,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. You chuckled at his bashfulness, the sound ringing like a small bell around Matt’s head. Hopefully he could deflect from his lapse in awareness. Of course he had to be blind and easily distracted.

“That’s not a bad thing, you know. Just gotta remember to breathe,” you said. Matt scoffed playfully at the jab. He let his hands drift down to your waist, tucking his fingers beneath the bunched-up hem of your shirt.

“I don’t know, you seem to like it when I prevent you from breathing.”

Your breath caught in your throat as your heart leapt and your face heated. A flash of the intoxicating scent that was distinctly you floated from between your legs. Matt could feel his own arousal swirling like a whirlpool in his stomach. An uncontrollable tempest begging to be released over calm waters. Despite how desperately he wanted your clothes off and you beneath him, he pulled his mouth into a cocky grin while his fingers worked their way up to your bra.

“What’s wrong? Feeling embarrassed? Or are you just remembering how good it felt when I choked you?” he purred.

That got you riled up. Your chest started heaving as your skin grew hot and clammy over your entire body. A fresh wave of wetness and delicious scent warmed the inside of your thighs. You swallowed heavily and Matt could practically feel the way the muscles in your throat moved.

But you hesitated. Your fingers stopped their soft stroking along his sensitive skin. Your breath halted just behind your soft lips. Matt’s brow furrowed as a frown tugged at the edges of his lips.

“You okay?” he asked warily. Matt forced his hands to cease in their uphill climb and placed them on your hips. Anxiety gripped at his chest. Did he misread the situation? Misread you? Did he make you uncomfortable? God, what if you finally realized you’d made a mistake in dating him? It was bound to happen, sooner or later.

“Can I be on top tonight?” you asked, as though that sentence didn’t hit him like a ton of bricks to the stomach.

“W-What?” Matt spluttered.

“These past few times you’ve been making me feel good. Really good. I want to try to return the favor,” you explained. Your nails began to pick at a stray thread on Matt’s shirt collar. Matt’s ears picked up on the uptick in your pulse. Were you… nervous?

“If you don’t want to, that's fine, you can be on top. We can also just kiss if that’s more what you’re feeling today. I don’t want to make you feel weird and-”

“Sweetheart, slow down,” Matt said, interrupting your fast-paced tangent. Your mouth clamped shut as a deep breath filled your lungs. Matt grabbed loosely at your shoulders, thumbs rubbing back and forth on your bare skin, as an easy smile fell over his face.

He gave you a few seconds to catch your breath then said, “You can be on top. I just wasn’t expecting you to ask.”

In all honesty, he wasn’t expecting you to ask. Matt’s life was a never ending learning curve of discovering that love was not guaranteed. His mother left before he was a year old, his father died when he was nine, his mentor, Stick, abandoned him at the first sign of affection. He learned long ago to not expect anything from anyone. That was the first lesson Stick had taught him. 

And yet, against all odds, here you sat. An enigma if ever there was one. Offering your affection on a silver platter at Matt’s feet. A clear sign of trust, of devotion, of love.

“Okay,” you said. A relieved smile broke out across your face. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you cleared your throat. Matt’s heart raced in time with yours. His fingers began kneading in the soft flesh at your hips.

“Lie down for me,” you said. Four words, spoken softly with the gentleness of a feather, yet they struck Matt in the chest like a wide haymaker. A sentence that carried the weight of authority and a gentle caress all in one. Suddenly all he wanted to do was follow instructions.

In a flash he had his head on the pillow, arms at his sides, breathing at an alarmingly fast rate. Anticipation burned its way through his veins and clouded his senses. The world outside the dorm room faded away. Like a memory retreating into a dense fog. Loud voices down the hall quieted into nothing, the humidity in the air evaporated, his shirt felt like the softest silk, and the scent around him. God, all he could smell was you. Your breath was like the first day of spring, your skin like rolling hills of green grass, your hair like soft strands of pure sunlight. Matt’s world was, yet again, sweet.

“Let me know if I’m making you uncomfortable,” you breathed, your lips suddenly brushing against his earlobe. Matt would have jumped had he not been so relaxed beneath your comforting presence. Your sense of calm had washed over him like a warm wave at low tide. 

“I will,” Matt replied, having to use what remained of his mind to form two coherent words. A soft hum of acknowledgement rustled the baby hairs by his ear. He had just enough awareness to track you as you pressed a soft kiss under his jaw. 

A sigh escaped his lips as he tilted his head back against the pillow. You smiled against his skin, rewarding the accommodation by pressing a firmer kiss into the soft skin beneath his ear. Tendrils of goodgoodgood shocked their way through his veins from where your lips connected to the sensitive skin. His breath hitched as he let his eyes fall closed.

“Good spot, I take it,” you said through a smile Matt could hear. Matt barely got out the word “yes” before you licked a broad swipe up his neck and ended at that sensitive spot. Matt’s back arched as a groan kicked its way out of his throat. His hands fisted into your tank top out of pure instinct, practically begging the source of his pleasure to stay put. Another pass of your tongue stoked the embers in his abdomen into a bonfire, flames licking their way over his damp skin.

“Sweetheart, please,” Matt begged, the words a whisper on his parted lips. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was begging for. All he knew was he never wanted you to stop. 

Blunt fingernails traced the exposed skin beneath his shirt. Matt’s hips bucked up, chasing the light touch. The muscles beneath his skin jumped as you slowly, so slowly, started pushing his shirt up. It was agonizing, the feeling of your nails lightly scraping along his stomach. Each finger lit up thousands of nerve endings, each nerve ending pushing him further and further toward the edge of a steep cliff.

You pressed a soft kiss to the shell of Matt’s ear as you whispered, “Arms up, Matt.”

You could tell him to kneel at your feet for the rest of his life and he would.

Matt did the best his melted body could to help you take his shirt off. The two of you were a mess of limbs and cotton for a moment before you were able to pull the infernal garment away. Matt’s arms fell beside him like two sacks of grain. Palms as soft as calfskin ever so gently glided down his bare chest. You made sure every divot and round muscle got the attention it deserved, caressing Matt like he was the finest lace. When your pinky brushed against his nipple, a sharp hiss escaped through his teeth.

You hummed, hands retreating in their path, fingers dancing along the edges of Matt’s nipples. Matt choked out a moan, baring his neck as his back arched into your touch. Your tongue made another pass of his throat as feather-light glances of your fingers across both of his nipples chased the last coherent thoughts from Matt’s mind.

“Fuck,” Matt groaned. Every millimeter of his skin felt like it was aflame. Fire left in the wake of your gentle touch. Burning away all sense and reason until all that was left was Matt’s writhing body.

He was close. Embarrassingly so. Matt clung to the cliff’s edge by his fingertips, each kiss and caress prying his fingers off one by one. His hips moved of their own volition. He was bucking into your thigh like a dog in heat. Whines and moans flew from his glistening lips while his hands scrabbled against the sheets.

With your hands still toying at Matt’s chest, you shifted in his lap until the warm heat between your thighs settled over where his shorts had tented. A slurred string of curses and your name spilled from between his teeth. His wild grinding now dispersed your scent in the air around him. And God, there was so much. It settled into every inch of Matt’s skin until he could taste it on his tongue, feel it coat his lungs as he breathed it in.

“Sw-eetheart,” Matt choked out. He could feel his fingers falling away from the cliff in rapid succession. The precipice below him seemed to climb up the cliffside until it was just beneath his feet, tempting him to let go and plunge into its depths.

The final nail in his coffin was when you nipped at his neck, teeth closing around where his pulse flowed strongest. The air in his lungs leapt through his throat in one big gust. His unseeing eyes rolled back in his head, hands grabbing at anything in their vicinity. 

Matt’s final grip on the cliff fell away, plunging him into warmth and gentleness and sweetness that surrounded him like a strong embrace. Held him tight and wove its way through every muscle in his body. A shock of white hot pleasure rolled through him like a steam train. Starting in his groin and washing over him in wave after wave of fuckyesgoodfuckkeepgoingdon’tstop. He could barely register how loud he was over the roaring in his ears. His heart pounded against his chest like an animal behind bars.

Your lips found his again and everything clicked into place. Matt lapped at your mouth like he was drinking his first glass after a month in the desert. The sweet nectar that you produced flowed down his throat and prolonged his orgasm. His hips rocked up into yours, chasing a heat that he could feel in his bones. Hands, trembling, bunched themselves in your shirt and pulled your chest flush to his.

It took several minutes for the aftershocks to calm down. Every breath, every twitching muscle made his overwhelmed senses go haywire. In his mind, the world around him was a swirling cloud of bliss. All he could hear was your breathing, all he could feel was your heartbeat against his chest, all he could taste was strawberries and cherry blossoms. He let his fingertips trail along your exposed shoulders, zeroing in on the feeling, bringing himself back to reality.

When you felt the movement, you lifted your head to look at him, “Back with us?”

A tired smile spread itself over his lips. Matt opened his eyes, the effort to lift his eyelids like lifting a dumbbell, and let his empty gaze land somewhere on your face.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he sighed. You responded by giving him a quick peck on the lips. Matt grumbled, brow furrowing, then guided your chin back up to kiss him again. You chuckled against his lips, a whisper of “ridiculous man” absorbed between your mouths. Matt relished in the familiar sweetness before letting you pull away.

“I take it you enjoyed that?” you asked. Matt gave you a solemn nod, at which you laughed. He shifted beneath you so he could attempt to meet your eyes.

“Did you like it?” he asked tentatively. He fiddled with the hem of your shirt as he waited for your answer. He hadn’t done anything for you, he just laid there and made you do all the work. What kind of boyfriend was he? Not to mention you didn’t even touch him. A few grazes of your fingers over his chest and he was done for.

“I loved it. It was fun to figure out what buttons to push,” you laughed. The tinkling tune of your laugh erased any negative thoughts Matt retained about the experience. He let his smile return, holding you tighter to his chest.

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll return the favor,” Matt said, letting that seductive edge find its way back into his voice. You shuddered on top of him. Your thighs clenched instinctively around his. You blew a stray strand of hair out of your face, attempting to mask the want clearly written on your skin.

“3 minutes, then we’re back in business.”

“Deal.”

HUGE thanks to the Murdock Tuna Team for being the inspiration for this fic. i have them to blame for the filth that fills my head on an hourly basis.

Murdock Tuna Team 🐟: @vigilxnte-shit @pastafossa @yarrystyleeza @ecxlipse @sunflowersandsapphires @amphitrite-5 @fuckyeahpommelstrike @mar-thewriter @zomtart @what-i-call-men

[sweetsouldhavernas]

paint me like one of your french murfs

[qrowscant]

larp is fun, here is art for my game character

[penumbra-mayhem]

An Accidental Bridge

Sam/Darlin' fluff | 1759 words

(I hc Darlin' with a stutter; read here for more.)

--------------------------

Sam’s mind was gently pulled into consciousness as a great horned owl called from outside his bedroom. He glimpsed at the clock on the wall. Nine o'clock. Still late evening, not yet time to be up. Enticed by the owl's promise of a set sun, though, Sam slipped off his blankets.

Bare feet met hardwood as he left the bed, eyes still closed in an attempt to at least stay half-asleep. He shuffled over to his window and pulled back the black-out curtains before feeling around for the latch. His fingers found it just as a sliver of a voice snuck through the silence:

“SSSam?”

He gave a groggy response as he opened the window, “Jus’ gettin’ someair…”

Darlin’ gave a low hum of approval and rolled over to face him. Sam made his way back over and climbed into their bed with all the grace of a drunk bat, eliciting a sleep-laden giggle from his mate.

“Oh, hush,” he grumbled, his smile unwittingly trickling into his voice, “I’m barely awake.” He drew Darlin’ to his chest.

They both drifted in and out of sleep, lulled by the owl’s repeated call. The cool air of early night seeped into their room; the two snuggled further under the covers in response.

"I can feel your magic,” Sam mumbled. It was an uncommon sensation; usually, Darlin' only let their magic extend beyond themself when they felt safe. And they rarely felt safe.

“Yours t-t-too...”

“Feel good?”

Sam felt them nod. He gave them a small kiss before asking, “What’s it feel like?”

Darlin’ drew sleepy circles on his chest as they tuned into his magic. After a few moments of silence, they spoke—slowly, like they were savoring a flavor in their mouth:

“It’s l-l-like….sinking into a wwwarm b-b-bath..it’s like a…b-b-bass…low and in-in the b-back…thrumming…ocean wwwaves under a full mmmoon…immmmense…soothing…l-like aloe v-vera on skin after a-a sunny day…”

Joy swelled in Sam's chest and he tightened his arms around them. “I love the way you put that, darlin’,” he murmured.

Darlin’ smiled softly, sleep tugging at them. “How's mmmine?”

“Yours? Mmm…” Sam allowed Darlin’s magic to seep into him. “Your magic…is like fireworks. Those kinds that you light and then toss into the street to see them spin real quick and change colors…you’re the buzz after a concert...the windswept euphoria when you get off a roller coaster…you’re stargazin' durin' a meteor shower…your magic feels like…like…”

Home.

Darlin’ jumped.

They pushed themself up a bit and stared at Sam with wide eyes.

“What? What is it?” he asked, staring back in concern.

They shook their head. “Fuck, I-I-I heard y-you in-in mmmmy head.”

Sam mouthed a small ‘oh’. Seeing that Darlin’ was more startled than scared, he relaxed slightly. “You think we might of bridged?”

Darlin’ gave a small nod. “I-I didn’t mmmmean t-t-to.”

“Me neither,” Sam assured them, “Guess we were just…in tune with each other.”

They dropped their gaze. "I...I-I haven't d-d-d-done that in-in...in a l-l-l-long t-t-time."

"Me neither," Sam replied. He studied them a moment before asking, "Are you okay?"

They nodded again. "Are-are y-you?"

Sam couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just worried about you."

Darlin' lowered their head back onto his chest. “I-I’m fine. J-just…surprised mmme,” they muttered, trying to slow Sam's heartrate with their words.

Sam ran one hand up and down their back, with the other in their hair. When he felt like they had both reached a state of calm again, he asked, “Is that somethin' you’d be interested in doin' with me?"

After no response, he added, "S'alright if the answer’s no.”

"You don't wwwant that. N-not wwwwith mmme."

Shut down. It was the kind of response he often got from them. It was the kind of response he couldn't stand. He knew it was a form of protection, and they had been getting better about it. But still, every so often, Darlin' would deny him or themself something in the belief that they were broken or unworthy or dangerous. Every time, it simultaneously burned Sam's heart and broke it.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, trying to keep his tone gentle.

Darlin' bit the inside of their cheek. When he was met with no response again, Sam kissed the top of their head and entreated, "Please, Darlin'. You don't have to speak quick. You don't even have to give an explanation. But please don't ignore me entirely."

Fuck. How could words spoken soft as candlelight twist guilt into their gut like a knife? Darlin' buried their face into Sam's chest, breathing in his scent. It steadied them.

Finally, they responded, their voice muffled by Sam's sleepshirt, "It...fucking s-sucks…in-in mmmy head."

There it was.

Sam sighed, "That may be true, for you. But that doesn't mean I don't want to bridge with you. I'm not scared of your thoughts, darlin'."

"B-but you should b-be.”

"But I'm not," Sam pushed back, just a little. Silence fell between them, and he let it. Darlin' had answered his question. There was no point in trying to convince them how he felt. He kissed their head once again in silent reassurance that he was not mad and closed his eyes, hoping to get a bit more sleep.

Darlin' bit harder at the inside of their cheek, their mind buzzing with frustration. The owl outside made itself known again; Darlin' laid in indecision as they listened to it call over and over. They could feel Sam's magic—not reaching out but still present. His magic was safe. He was safe. He was strong. Stronger than they were. Braver. Calmer. Steadier.

When Darlin' finally spoke, their voice was small and soft and scared:

"I-I wwwwant t-to try...if-if you also wwwant t-to."

Sam felt his heart skip. He craned his neck to the side to make eye contact with Darlin' as he asked, "You sure? I don't want you doin' this if you're not really wantin’ it."

"You-you give mmme all of you. I-I wwant to do the same. E-Even if it scares mme," they whispered, "I-I wwwant t-to b-be b-brave for you."

"You don't have to."

"B-but I wwant t-to."

Sam studied their face for a moment before kissing their forehead and whispering, "Alright. Thank you, darlin'. But if we start and you don’t like it, you tell me and we’ll stop, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good…is there a certain way you want to lay or sit?"

"N-n-no. You?"

"Nah, this is perfect."

Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his pillow, running his hand through Darlin's hair. Darlin' closed their eyes as well, listening to Sam's heart.

It was quick. Almost as quick as the first time. When the bridge reformed, Sam could feel Darlin's body tense against his. Through the bridge, he felt the tension in his own muscles. He kissed the top of their head.

It's okay. You're safe.

“Fuck.” Fuck, woah, that's fucking weird.

I'm going to fuck this up.

I shouldn't have done this.

I'm just going to hurt you—

—hey, hey, it's ok.

Fuck, sorry, I'll try to quiet down...

...Do you think anyone's ever tried bridging with more than one person at one time?

If you can do that, could you make a true hive mind?

Bee people. Bee shifters? Are there any insect shifters—

—fuck! Sorry!

"SSSorry..." Darlin' muttered. Sam giggled and stroked Darlin's head. The sensation soothed them both.

You're alright, darlin'.

I don’t mind your thoughts.

But you should—

—shut up, Tank—

—fuck, I wish I would just shut up!

Sorry…

...Your head is so quiet.

Shit, I don't mean quiet like empty I just—

—god I am such an ass!

You're not an ass, darlin'.

Damn, I love you.

I love you.

"I love you, darlin'."

Darlin’s body went lax at the assurance. Their mind stilled for just a moment. Tap tap tap. Darlin’ tapped Sam’s chest three times—a gesture he’d come to learn meant ‘I love you’. The feeling of their own fingers echoed against Darlin’s chest.

I love you, too.

So much.

Fuck what time is it?

Shit, we’ve got to get up soon.

Do we?

It’s…Saturday? Yeah, Saturday.

Fuck yeah, we can stay in bed.

We could make breakfast.

More like you could make breakfast, I’m shit at cooking.

I’m shit at most things.

I don’t even think I’m doing this right—

—you’re doin’ just fine, pup.

Sam’s heart skipped as he realized what he’d just thought. Or maybe it was Darlin’s heart skipping, he couldn’t quite tell. His eyes shot open, and he looked down at Darlin’, whose face was already turning red. Sam’s own face began to burn too.

“Fuck, Darlin’, I’m so sorry.” I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean to think that.

That wasn’t appropriate.

I should have asked before—

—fuck…

For once, Darlin’s head was quiet. Like static. Sam’s stomach fluttered. Or maybe it was Darlin’s. The bridge was somehow deepening, and Sam struggled to differentiate where the feelings were originating.

I know wolves can be particular with those kinds of names.

Especially when their mates aren’t wolves.

I should have asked.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…

Sam’s thoughts slowed as Darlin’ pressed a soft kiss to his lips. They buried their face into his neck.

“Darlin’?”

I liked that.

You…what? "What?"

Darlin’ groaned quietly, “I-I liked it.”

Call me it again—

—wait, I mean, uh, um…

A grin stretched across Sam’s face. “Oh yeah?” he cooed, stroking the nape of Darlin’s neck.

You like bein’ called pup?

Sam giggled as his stomach fluttered at the word; this time he could tell that feeling definitely came from Darlin’.

You just a little puppy?

My puppy?

“SSSSSaaaammm…” Darlin’ whined.

Sam pulled his body back a bit. Darlin’ turned their head to look up at him. The blush on their cheeks made Sam swoon, but he still had to be sure:

“I can stop, darlin’,” Sam said, his voice soft but serious.

Darlin’ shook their head. “N-no.” It’s just, nobody’s ever called me that…

Sam couldn’t stop grinning. Their blush. The way they ducked their head and avoided his eyes. The weakness in their voice. He rarely saw Darlin’ so bashful.

Well it’s about time…

My sweet puppy…

C’mere… "C'mere."

Darlin’ hummed as they curled themself around Sam once more, tangling their limbs with his. Sam ran his hands through their hair as they traced their fingers over his chest. The two sank into repose as their sensations and thoughts melded and lost origin.

Sam breathed deep and murmured, “Such a good pup.”

Your pup.

[akascow]

yet another JAYVIK post about the Butterfly Effect :3

also spoilers lol

So Hextech isn't invented in Ekko's alternate timeline, and I feel like since life seemed so much better without Hextech there can be a couple things to infer about alternate Jayce and, by association, our Jayce (and Viktor!) here:

this is a long one and my long posts never get notes but i promise its actually super interesting to think about so u should totally read through it 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️🔥

1. (and also my favorite one bc its Very JayVik lmao) alternate Jayce never pursued Hextech after the explosion: maybe too guilty over killing someone (because we see alternate Vi died from that explosion during the kids' robbery), he does what Heimerdinger advises him to: fully admitting his crimes and not mentioning the arcane. And we can assume the academy burned all his studies too becauseeeeee…

Viktor never endorsed it. Assuming the admission of guilt theory is correct- Viktor never would’ve even known about the arcane in the first place, because Jayce would never mention it in the council room trial. Viktor would never know that the arcane can be used to help cure people, which we see is what piques his interest in the first place. And like, obviously Viktor wants to cure his leg and illness lol

Which means Viktor never interrupted Jayce's suicide attempt after the trial and Jayce probably goes through with killing himself, Viktor never went to check on him. It seems the compelling force behind Viktor’s interrupting in season 1 was initially from Jayce’s journal, which he picks up while browsing all the Hextech equipment they were planning to destroy. Viktor only really looks at the notes because he was interested in the arcane in the first place, which again, can't happen if Jayce never mentions it in the council room. 

Which is SO important to the plot and me that everything happened the exact way that it did for everything to succeed (which is quite literally the butterfly effect btw lmao). Because it shows how extremely important Jayce and Viktor’s partnership was to not only their own lives, but the entire future of Piltover, good or bad ie no hextech=no shimmer and peace between the cities, hextech= tons of shimmer, the corruption of the arcane, and the destruction of piltover.

Jayce needed someone there to believe in him, and that was Viktor: After the council disagrees with him, and he’s kicked out of the academy and banned from studying the arcane, he tries to find comfort with his mother. She’s the one who was saved using the arcane in the first place after all, so surely she’ll understand. But she tells him to give up on this dream, a dream he’s had almost his entire life. His own mother doesn’t believe in him.

He then goes to the Kiramman’s because “I'll find someone to believe in me,”  most likely assuming if they sponsored his studies in the first place, they would still support him after the trial. But they kick him out from the Kiramman household too, as well as forbid his and Caitlyn’s friendship. And with no one left, the very next scene we see of him is as he’s deciding to jump. 

The only thing that stops him is Viktor showing up. With an interest in the Hextech theory after he reads Jayce’s notes, Viktor wants to help Jayce make the Hextech a reality. Viktor believes in him, and he supports him. That interaction is what leads to their partnership forming, them sneaking back into the lab, grabbing the Hextech equipment and showing Mel and Heimerdinger that it was possible to create magic, and Mel's influence leading to the council’s support and the okay on continuing to develop Hextech together, projecting Piltover into success (and of course accelerating it into ruin, seen in s2. but I won’t get into that snowballing effect here because we’ll be here for hours)

Also, Viktor would be against Hextech if his first and only introduction to seeing it was as a tool to invoke harm (on a Zaunite especially). Which is what would drive Viktor away from investigating it, and before their theory ever even has the chance to get off the ground or evolve, it's already dead in the water for good because:

Something both of them, but especially Viktor, have been extremely against during the entire show was that their plans for Hextech WILL NOT be used as weapons to kill or harm, only to make lives better (especially in the undercity). Think about it: Viktor only adamantly opposed using the Hexcore AFTER it killed Skye.

The guilty conscience of accidentally killing another person with his own technology would not have helped Jayce’s mental state either lol. Like, think about the DIRECT PARALLEL in our timeline: where Viktor almost jumps and kills himself, after Skye's death, as a result of his tampering with the Hexcore, before Jayce interrupts him (ohhh their mirroring, it hurts me)

2. If not from jumping, then alternate Jayce was arrested or exiled… I mean like, he inadvertently killed a young Zaunite girl. That's a lot more consequential to his conscience, reputation, house name AND criminal record than just the building blowing up in our timeline. It’s pretty vague if anyone died in our timeline from it, I think the most that’s mentioned is some people were injured (“Was anyone hurt?” “A building was blown to bits, what do you think?”) so it would weigh heavier on Jayce’s shoulders if someone actually died in this timeline.

Also remember: he felt so guilty about accidentally killing a child with his hammer in s1, that he gave up entirely on trying to wipe out the production of Shimmer. Once he sees how his Hextech can be used against someone, he drops all his plans because "thats not what we created Hextech for"

From that theory, I'm assuming more-so that he was exiled though? Because Heimerdinger said he was in the alternate timeline for like 3 years and couldn't find Jayce, so I don't know... plus I feel like he would have found Jayce in jail if he was there lol.

And beforeeeee anyone yaps, ik Heimerdinger actually said he thinks Jayce ended up somewhere else, and never specifically stated that he "couldn't find Jayce". BUT from the end, since we see two Ekko's before he goes back to the main timeline, we can assume that the original person's mind inhabits the other's body so that there aren't like paradoxical two people in one place at the same time. 

SO theoretically, Heimerdinger actually does go looking for Jayce, and if he found the alternate timeline's Jayce, he probably would've mentioned it to Ekko when asked if Jayce was there too… right? I’m assuming he was hanging around Ekko for most of the 3 years that he was there, waiting for our Ekko to be projected into the alternate Ekko, because it's not like Heimerdinger just happened to show up right when our Ekko gets there, he might’ve assumed it would happen eventually. And when the alternate Ekko starts freaking out about being in the wrong universe, it's pretty clear that this is his Ekko now lol

But then why stick around Ekko and not Jayce? I guess he was currently closer to Ekko, calling him his current pupil, and given that he was the one who showed him the Firelights community and gave him hope. Plus I mean, Jayce literally voted him off the council from a disagreement over the Hexcore so there's some salt in the wound there lmao. Or maybe because Ekko is a lot younger and would not react as calmly or rationally as Jayce would (I'm assuming... idrk HAHA). You could argue that Heimerdinger was just visiting both of them back and forth, but again if he couldn't find any Jayce, then I think it would explain why he doesn’t mention any Jayce at all, and that's where this make the most sense, at least to me.

3. alternate Jayce also died in the explosion with Vi- When we see it in our timeline, he and Vi were the closest to the blast. If it killed Vi, it would’ve presumably killed Jayce too. And if he did die, then obviously Hextech would never be invented, reasons being: everything I just mentioned in the previous theories.. but like, even more simplified bc he wasn't there to begin with lol

I only say it's a weaker theory because Heimerdinger definitely would've seen a memorial for him (or at the very least a gravestone), given Jayce was in the Talis house and under the study of the Kiramman family, it was a pretty high status name compared to the average Piltovian citizen, and probably wouldn’t be silenced or brushed away… 

Although to counter that, I guess since everything in the over city is super status-y, maybe the Kiramman’s wouldn't want their name being tied with the death of two people, which is a similar but obviously more significant reason to why they kicked him out of their house in our timeline after the trial, his “name is no good now.” Plus we hear in the council trial from Ximena that the Talis family is a lower house too, and their voice doesn’t hold as much weight, so maybe it wouldn’t actually have that much mention? He hasn’t become the “Man of Progress” yet either since he’d never get to finish his studies…hmmmmm idk

also edit but some ppl just pointed this out to me that viktor likely died from his sickness bc he didnt have the hexcore to heal him and that makes me SAD !!!!

anyway thats all i have. if you made it this far i greatly appreciate you :3 🫶���� i love analyzing this show because OUGH the jayvik butterfly effect goes CRAZY HARD bc its both figurative with the theory and literal with the butterflies being in SO MUCH of their imagery UGHHHHH what the FUCKKKK

also some shameless self promos symbolism of viktor’s humanity and jayce's hallucinations analysis posts if u liked this one :3c