#i could write a polycule...

[aurantiumred]

the temptation to start a new roleswap au with reyna being taken in son... no! i need to finish my moa rewrite... but... the voices... but... valgrace... but jercy praetors...

[lazylittledragon]

Your novel excerpts are incredible and I would love to see more. The warmth and care you put into it shines through and I just want more of it!

On a side note, incredibly unfair that you can draw AND write so masterfully. A true power house, haha.

aaAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH :'DDD

as a treat you can have some more akdffd

if the main plot is 'Fantasy Murder Mystery' then the biggest subplot is probably 'Snow is Not Doing Well'

[juicysnoop]

watched like 7 seasons of buffy in half a month something is wrong with me anyway ... him

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 39

Geralt is standing above the unconscious bloodied body of his beloved, Jaskier. The mage Geralt was tracking down to kill had meant to blast Geralt, but Jaskier had tackled the mage and things got ugly. The mage chuckles, eerily, and prowls closer. "So the mighty witcher has a weakness after all. Perhaps it'd be best if I do let you both live. Eternal sorrow is far more delicious than a passing trifle." And Geralt falls unconscious. He relives his entire life through flashes of memories, though they're all cruel and wrong. Things happen differently, skewed and twisted. The first time he meets Jaskier, he punches him in the stomach. Jaskier is standing beside him, near a body of water, as Geralt insults his voice. His passion, his livelihood, his reason for living. Jaskier standing outside awkwardly as Geralt fucks Yennefer. Geralt can see him in his peripheral, and yet he doesn't stop, nor even have the decency to pull the curtains, he just continues. Soon enough, the blur of colors at the edge of his vision disappears as Jaskier runs into the distance. Geralt however thinks that the worst memories are the quick three-second flashes of him just endlessly needlessly insulting Jaskier throughout their decades of companionship. It's not banter, it's not teasing, it's just abuse. Then Geralt is suddenly on a mountain, and he's yelling at Jaskier. "If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!" ... Nevermind. This is the worst one. Geralt is sick to his stomach. Jaskier's eyes widen, and begin to tear up. His face pales of blood, he looks like he's about to faint. His lip even quivers, the way it does when he's well and truly devastated. And Geralt did that to him. "Right.. Uh.. I'll get the rest of the story from the others. I'll see you around Geralt." But then he wakes up in Yennefer's hut. "Where's Jaskier?" he asks immediately. "That bard you hated? The one that followed you around for a few years? I don't know. It's been years since you've even thought about that wretch." He explains that this is wrong. That he loves Jaskier. He adores him. And she tuts sympathetically before explaining that it was a spell the mage put him under. Fake memories of a life where he paired up with the bard. She mimes gagging at the sentiment and he feels hot with anger. As if Jaskier is such a bad choice of romantic partner. He storms out of her place and races off to find his bard. He needs to know for sure what their standing is, and even if he has been cruel, he can at least apologize to the poor bard. "I don't know what to do, Yenna!" A bandaged Jaskier shrieked as the afformentioned witch examined Geralt for the fourth time that hour. Geralt lay comatose in her guest bed, under some sort of spell. Every once in a while, Geralt frowns or winces in his sleep, but that's all they can get from him. "He hasn't woken up since we were fighting the mage." She has a feeling she knows what sort of spell it is. A very cruel trick to play. The mage was smart enough to trust Geralt's self-flagellation. That upon waking from a fake world he perceived as real where all he did was harm Jaskier, he'd most certainly distance himself from the real Jaskier in fear of becoming the version of him in the curse. The mage was dumb enough however, to not think of how far Jaskier would go to save his beloved.

[thenightshadowqueen]

I get that a lot of us ship Ashen and Lukas and I’m totally here for that but I feel like there’s so much poly potential for the four of them and we don’t discuss that enough.

Like, I’m rewatching the first Bittersweetheart stream right now, and before they’ve even left the dungeon, Ashen has had chemistry with Daemys—and don’t fucking get me started on how much heartbreaking potential that has—and Falmouth has asked if Ashen is single. (Granted, I think that was Tom making a joke, but I’m choosing to interpret it in character for the sake of this post.)

So… yeah, I think I’ve expanded my shipping of Ashen and Lukas to encompass Falmouth and Daemys, too.

[hyog-blog]

1,000 Years of Longing [fic]

I needed me some Li Lun, lots of Li Lun and Zhuo Yichen, with Zhu Yan still being present there as a shadow, a memory, a promise, and the glue keeping them both together. It's a Post-Canon kind-of-fix-it that spans across quite a devastating vista of experience, with Zhuo Yichen taking it upon himself, as he always does, to save the people that he loves the most (or rather, that one person). Li Lun gets saved as well, but definitely not by mistake.

So it's an M/M/M kind of situation and Li Lun's post-redemption redemption arc. I love that polycule to bits and now I've finally witnessed it being born (at least in my own mind :D). There's gentleness, and flirting, and teasing, and hurt/comfort, and guilt, and trying to make sense of things, and a hideous amount of waiting.

If you read it and like it - come celebrate with me in the comments! :D

Summary:

“I think you’re mistaking that feeling for something else entirely,” Zhuo Yichen says cryptically, but then decides to elaborate, seeing no understanding on Li Lun’s face whatsoever, “You don’t have to be with me to get close to him. We don’t even need to be friends, you and I. Let alone… something else,” his gaze becomes somewhat intense as he says this, making Li Lun’s heart miss a few beats.

[blightandshiningarmor]

W: (...) Then perhaps you should know that something stirs within the fraternities. The Libertarians wish to pull away entirely from the Chantry. And if they get enough support... A: Pull away entirely? That's madness. I hate Chantry oversight as much as the next mage, but they can't just decide to leave. This is a recipe for disaster. C: It's about time the mages free themselves. W: The mages will never be free! The Chantry would never allow it. Our only hope for survival is to show them we can be trusted! Don't you remember what happened to the Circle in Ferelden? Do you want to give the templars another excuse to call for the culling of all mages? This change cannot be forced. C: Then it will never come.

A conversation between Warden Commander Fyre Cousland, Anders, and Wynne, in Amaranthine.

Anders was sure there was nothing he could do but run forever from abuse and oppression, that aiming higher was madness, that trying to leave the Chantry would lead to a disaster.

But his Commander, who always believed in fighting for freedom no matter the cost, knew that the change had to come, that the spark had to be ignited.

She was a noblewoman. She never wanted to become a Grey Warden: she had a thousand dreams of justice and equality, she wanted to shape Highever into a better place for all. And then she was stripped of everything: her home, her family, her prestige, her very dreams. And even with nothing but a shield on her back and a copper in her pocket, she fought: for the elves, for the casteless, for the mages, with a heart full of tender love for the destitute and white hatred for the corrupt and the unfair.

Fyre Cousland is, first and foremost, a beacon of merciless, uncompromising, ferocious justice.

And she adored Anders from the very first moment, wanted a better life for him and for all the mages, would have given him the world if given the chance.

...And then he left, with his baggage of misery, shame, and despair. And Justice. But he remembered that kind woman always by his side, always smiling at him, comforting him, defending him, encouraging him to strive for a better life while reminding him that he wouldn't need to fight alone.

That's why I know, I know he will go home, because the world will want his head and chaos will rule his mind, but he will remember that one door, her door, will always be open for him.

And so the change came, she will say, softly. She will smile. And he will be at home.

[chicago-geniza]

Oh No (Agnes is publishing op-eds about acting when I have been preoccupied by Acting as a Concept) (she's drawing me back into her orbit as a mental interlocutor because we have radically different ideas but she always approaches problems from angles I would never have considered)

[hiis-theme]

somewhere out there is an alternate timeline where toby was correct and people actually did hate spamton. could you imagine that. i have to imagine we wouldn't have gotten the spamton sweepstakes in that case which is crazy to think about given how much lore that gave us-

[nonbinary-octopus]

me: okay so they are watching this tv show, and this moment is on screen when this bit of fic happens—

logic: hi. remember that rule about not putting numbers in things cause they can be fact checked? Remember how you've been doing real well about that so far? Well guess what! episodes have lengths! this is a real world tv show with real lengths, and you juat said they watched a specific number of episodes between breakfast and lunch! You don't know how long that takes! What if you just accidentally implied there's some serious time dilation going on in their home theater!?

me, googling: oh shit you're right

me a bit later: okay so the episodes are not a consistent length, but the first five episodes are just over four hours long, and the sixth is almost an hour, so if they had breakfast at, hm, nine? then they'd be at the beginning of episode six at one, and finish it around two. that's reasonable.

logic: okay but consider: you said breakfast at nine and then started counting movie time also at nine. They don’t overlap. They'd have to start breakfast earlier to be done by nine togo watch tv

me: ughhhhh I guess I'll find a different quote from earlier on

me: or rework that paragraph to not need a quote

[karinyosa]

there's this boy in writing workshop who gives me the vibe of like we come off very similar in terms of sensibility but if we knew each other better we would be just incongruous enough to be somewhat grating to one another but he is BEAUTIFUL and good at critique so i'm like vaguely ticked by him but i'm also like what if we made out about it. since you are so complicated

[beetlethebug]

okay so i'm thinking about like. in my emmrich x rook x lucanis x spite polycule, it probably bothers emmrich (and spite) that spite cannot be heard by rook. so, he and bellara team up to use the power of ancient elven technology, some magic, and a whole lot of sleepless nights to make something for spite to speak into that allows rook to hear them. kind of like an object for him to possess, in a way? in my mind it's like an earring or ear cuff, and it's a set. lucanis, emmrich, and rook each have a piece, so no one gets left out. in my mind it works a lot like the earrings of sending from the vox machina season of critical role. they can touch the earring and send a message to a person who has an earring.

they spend a whole day just testing the limits. can spite speak to rook when they're all the way across the lighthouse? how about half-way into arlathan woods? can rook speak to them underwater (quickly abandoned for obvious reasons). spite is so so happy for rook to be able to hear him that he talks to them all the time. Lucanis finds it hard to be annoyed when Spite is so eagerly and happily saying "Hi, Rook," for the fourteenth time that day. Maybe it's because he gets to hear Rook giggle and say, "Hello, Spite," back.

spite being able to ask every question that he wants! spite who has two patient teachers (and lucanis) readily available to answer any question that he has. yeah, sometimes they're silly. but it's also so fucking charming when spite goes "do you like this?" and then seeing twelve of them in their room later. spite who can now ask for help when lucanis cannot. who isn't afraid to admit when they're struggling because what's the point? help is right there and he can reach them now!!!!

spite who is so happy because now he can flirt with rook directly! and he can flirt with emmrich and rook when they aren't in the same room!! spite who will get on the line and demand manfred updates. emmrich who finds a way to fashion it for manfred to wear so lucanis and rook get to hear manfred and spite chatting away. (it's actually very endearing. they forget that the others can hear and talk about how much they love and care about their people and they all get a little tear eyed).

i just!! i 100% think that between everyone in the veilguard they can absolutely provide spite with a vessel to communicate!

[kuglschreiba]

would you still follow me if i started primarily posting dnd ocs or

[tea-with-eleni]

“You must know I charmed you,” she said with a slight frown. “Sweetness, you can’t love me.”

I laughed. “Do you claim to be an authority on the subject?” I asked. “I’ll never speak to my goddess again and she’d probably kill me for good if she could, but I still had a pretty extensive education on the subject of love.” I reached for her, but she pulled away. “I know that you charmed me,” I said. “I knew when I called for you, when I was dying. Maybe the charm changed how I acted, maybe it didn’t. I don’t think it could have done much."

“You let me bite you. You let me kill you.” She sounded like she was trying very hard to keep her tone neutral, but I could hear some kind of emotion I couldn’t identify in her voice. I shrugged.

“Well, yes. I asked you kill me. I can now say that I’m glad it didn’t stick.” I took her hand, kissed the back of it. She let me do that, at least. Actually, that was a little worrying. She didn't seem to notice at all. I kept her hand clasped in mine, but let it fall between us. “I did let you bite me. But, also, you still asked if you could. It wasn’t especially harmful. You made sure I wasn’t hurt afterwards. In terms of romantic encounters, it was a little unusual for a first date, but hardly evil.”

[walkingstackofbooks]

Treat- Gashiar "Protective Garak"

It took me quite a while to remember if I'd ever written something matching that description hehe XD (I really don't write that much Garashir, and what I do write is canon-typical-subtext with more than a dash of Garak's-a-dick-even-when-he's-trying lmao.)

But actually, yeah - a whole chapter of Vision Awry was Garak being protective over Julian - even if Julian was very much resenting it! - and that definitely was something I was very proud of. So, my apologies if you've already read it, but here's an extract from that!

<Link to ask game here!>

--

“I trust your experiment was successful?” 

Bashir scowled at him. “You really can’t let anything go, can you?” he said, frustration evident in his voice.

“I am certain you've made that observation before,” replied Garak, raising his eyebrows at the doctor. 

Bashir pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply, before locking eyes with Garak. “Fine,” he said, “I’ll tell you. But I’m trusting you, Garak - you can’t tell Girani, or anyone else. Somehow, they don’t understand how important this is. But you’ll understand, won’t you?”

Garak could almost taste the doctor’s desperation. “I’m sure your explanation will be enlightening,” he said carefully; not a lie, but not a promise, either. 

Apparently it was enough for Bashir. He sat up straighter in his chair, still holding Garak’s gaze with a determined intensity - as though eye contact was a task that required great focus. 

“I think you know that this is the third time I’ve re-lived this day, and that in each of the three previous versions, Chief O’Brien died.” He paused for confirmation; Garak nodded. “Well, the first time it happened by accident - but on the second and third days I was able to synthesise a serum that allowed the time-travelling effect to take place once again. We still haven’t worked out exactly what’s happening, but to put it simply, it seems that absorbing delta series radioisotopes into my bloodstream allows me to experience a temporal shift while I sleep.”

“And that’s what you were formulating on my counter,” said Garak, mind racing to work out why Girani was supposedly so opposed to it. “Excuse my ignorance, Doctor, but that does sound rather dangerous - almost as if you’re giving yourself radiation poisoning.”

Bashir shrugged. “In effect, I am, yes,” he said, “but only very mildly, and it seems to disappear when the day resets. Trust me - I’ve given myself a very thorough medical workout, and there are no physical side-effects. It’s perfectly safe.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Garak replied. “I assume any mental side-effects are equally well-accounted for?”

“Girani’s wrong about me being suicidal, if that’s what you’re asking,” Bashir said bluntly. 

Garak pretended to take a sip of his now-too-cold tea, watching the doctor carefully over the rim of the mug. Bashir continued to meet Garak’s eyes coolly, daring the tailor to argue back. 

“I bow to your expertise, Doctor.” 

Bashir’s eyes widened slightly before his lips settled into a smile, pleased at Garak’s response, just as Garak had known he would be. With his next question already on his tongue, Garak leant forward. 

“If I may ask, what precautions are you taking so that you don’t become so in the future?” 

Immediately, the doctor opened his mouth, but then closed it, sitting back and appearing to properly consider the question. This was satisfying; Garak had hoped that Bashir would find it difficult to just brush his words away. Although he did believe that Bashir genuinely did not think he was a danger to himself, he could not yet be certain that the doctor’s self-assessment was more accurate than Girani’s.

“I’m not going to just… give up,” said Bashir slowly, eyes flickering from side to side as he collected his thoughts. “That’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it? If I can’t save Miles, then I’m going to keep going until I do save him, no matter how I feel. And if he doesn’t die, then it’s all over anyway, and everything will be fine, again.”

“And how are you feeling, Doctor?”

“What?” Bashir looked confused, as though he actually couldn’t imagine why Garak would have asked him that.

“You said that you’re going to keep going, no matter how you feel. How are you feeling today, my dear?” 

It wasn’t sentiment asking the question, Garak assured himself. It was a natural continuation of the trap that Bashir was talking himself into, and the doctor would never answer if he didn’t believe that Garak cared. 

“You asked me something similar in the infirmary, too. Since when did we discuss our feelings?” the young man asked playfully, trying to cover up his vulnerability with a gentle laugh.

“My dear doctor, your feelings are always on display to me . Every discussion we have is positively awash with your emotions. You do not try to hide them.”

That was not entirely true - Julian simply wasn’t good at hiding how he felt. There had been many times over the years where the doctor had suddenly grown quieter, more reserved, some sort of shame stealing the passion or hurt from his voice; but it was not usually so difficult to discern what Bashir’s true feelings were. 

“Earlier, you said I was a puzzle,” Bashir said.

“Earlier, you were.”

“Then why are you asking, Garak?” the doctor replied with a soft, weary sigh. “If you’ve managed to figure me out, why not just tell me how I’m feeling?”

Sitting back, Garak clasped his hands together in front of him, considering if he should take up that invitation, and how far he could go before Bashir decided he’d had enough. 

“Well, if that’s what you’d like…” he said.

Bashir scoffed. “Everyone else seems to be, so I guess I might as well hear you, too.”

Garaks’ lips curled up into a wide smile. “You’re angry, doctor, and frustrated. You resent being put on this fifty-two-hour watch - and actually, I do believe you’re embarrassed by it, too. You’re scared it might interfere with your ability to save Chief O’Brien, and you’re distressed by the memories of watching him die. And you’re trying to ignore the possibility that it might be impossible to ever save him--”

“That’s not true!” Bashir interrupted. 

“Isn’t it, Doctor?” asked Garak blandly. “You’ve accepted that all this time travel might be…futile?”

“Of course I haven’t!” he exclaimed. “You wouldn’t either, if it was someone that you lo-- that you cared about. There’s got to be a way that Miles can survive today - and however long it takes me, I’m going to find it, you can count on that.”

“Hmm,” Garak said. “I am afraid to say that I remain unconvinced. I cannot claim to know how the universe works, but if Chief O’Brien is supposed to die today, then I suppose the day will end with Chief O’Brien dying. You cannot cheat fate, Doctor, no matter how hard you try.”

“I won’t accept that, Garak,” Bashir shot back. “You can’t know that you’re right.”

“And nor, my dear Doctor, can you,” said Garak, increasing the harshness of his voice. “How many days will it take you to stop chasing this pointless quest? Twenty? Fifty? One hundred?”

“I don’t know!” Bashir stood up sharply. “But you can jolly well bet that it won’t be today.”

“Your loyalty is commendable,” said Garak, also rising out of his chair. “But it should not be your priority. Your optimism cannot last forever, Doctor: what happens when it runs out? When will you push yourself beyond your limits, and will anyone be able to catch you when you do?”

Bashir crossed his arms. “You’d do anything for Cardassia,” he retorted, “whether or not it was good for you, loyalty to the state comes before anything else, doesn’t it? Well in the Federation, we’re loyal to our friends - they come first. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected you to understand that.”

Sometimes, Garak felt as though he was merely a spectator in his own body, hearing his voice speak words that he hadn’t yet thought of. His need to win this argument, prove himself right overcame everything else, and muscle memory took over, caution giving way to borderline cruelty.

 “They’re hardly the same, Doctor, but I would not expect you to understand that, either. You have clearly failed to grasp the most basic concept in Cardassian literature.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“I speak of the repetitive epic, Doctor. There is nothing that ever really changes. Oh, small details might, you may be able to buy some extra minutes, even hours for our Chief of Operations. But in the end, you will fail, just as you’ve failed before, and you will be far better off if you accept that now. Chief O’Brien is doomed, and you will be too if you continue down this foolhardy path.”

“This isn’t a Cardassian novel, Garak, this is my life!” Bashir snarled, stepping angrily towards the tailor. “How could I live with myself if I didn’t try? If I give up on Miles, I might as well give up on myself!” 

Bashir was breathing heavily; for a few seconds, Garak watched the rough rise and fall of his chest as the doctor started to recompose himself. The momentary distraction was enough for Garak to swallow his retort, and before he could say something that he would really regret, he walked over to the replicator. 

“More tea?” he asked, causing a huff of breathless laughter from the other man. 

“Is that all you’ve got to say?” Bashir replied incredulously. “More tea? ”

“I think we’ve both made our positions clear,” Garak said. “And now, I am going to make some more tea. Would you like some?”

[professorfcknmoriarty]

I am, politely, begging for you to absolutely run away with the gift that is submissive, puppy Evan.

I trust you and your writing skills the give that boy the domming of a life time.

(Also; hi, I love all your Evan/Sam fics so much)

...it's very likely going to happen. 😬 LET'S JUST SAY it wouldn't be the first time I wrote a Brennan character as someone's dog, and whew boi, that other one was fun.

Thank you! 💛