#i love looking at my old snippets like ‘how long do i usually make them ?’

[utterlyazriel]

There's no sound coming from inside. No scent of blood, no crackle of fire. Yet, somehow, he knows without question that you're in there. As his concern winds down a notch, his rational brain begins to tick. There might be someone else in there with you. As the different scenario's get considered and discarded, Azriel lands on the most likely one. It's a trap. The reasoning builds up the motive, spinning a story that makes sense. A Shadowsinger, the Spymaster of the Night Court, caught off his guard by using his latest confidant against him. Azriel turns over the idea slowly and decisively, thinking of Brudam, of Lord Mylind, wondering if they've been buying their time all this while— and he's been too distracted with you to even notice. Azriel curses himself for being so careless. There's still no noise from within the shelter. If it's a trap, it doesn't matter; the only way out is through.

snippet of chapter 6 of whom the shadows sing for! prepare for toil and trouble my dears <3

[aliensunflower-fics]

My Recommended Fic List

So, I got this ask awhile ago, and since I have been re-reading a bunch of my old favorite fics as a way to cheer up after work I figured why not. This list will be long... and varied but mostly its older fics cuz idk there my favs. Now lets go:

Fashion Upgrade - By @soap-lady : Straight up one of my favorite fics ever, its fun, its creative, it never fails to make me laugh when I need something warm and wholesome after a bad day. Also go check out the rest of her stuff there's so much good okay like shes just a writing queen. Shes on AO3 I don't want to spoil you on her other stuff just GO experience it for yourself.

Ode To Decoy pt 1 / 2 / 3 - By @a-marlene-s : Ive always liked this short sweet little fic about Lila getting caught. Its Lila + class salt though so avoid if that's not your flavor.

EVERYTHING - By @unmaskedagain : They have salt, they have sugar, they have funny, they have crossovers. Like honestly they are a just a great writer with so much variety so go check out the masterlist I linked and I guarantee there will be something there you like.

@ravennm84 Is a writer on the saltier side but they have a wonderful selection of weird wacky tales from the salty but oh so well written Damning Evidence that sees Lila get caught in the best way to the 3 part Horror inspired Serafina other great fics from them include Marinettes Family Court Circus pt 1 / 2 and Of Moldy Bread and Cockroaches / Be Kind to Servers honestly its worth giving there blog a look.

@mochinek0 Is another writer with several beloved fics. They write a lot of Maribat and we love them for it. Ones to check out would be Blind Date / Bruce vs Gabriel just go check out there tag list of daminette for more.

Accidental Crime Boss Marinette - By @lady-literature : This is a wonderful idea and a wonderful little fic and I just... I just like it okay. Sadly I haven't read a lot of there other stuff... But I might after finishing this list considering how much I enjoy this one.

@nobodyfamousposts I love a LOT of there fics. They are one of the best when it comes to striking that sweet spot of calling out the show for some of its garbage while not getting so salty that you cant have fun lighthearted goodness. I have been looking for a masterlist of there work but cant find one so just go stalk there tags. I do recommend there Chloe's Lament Series 1 / 2 exploring how certain 'wishes' would backfire. Guardian Assistant Kevin is also a good one Miracle Queen Aftermath pt 1 / 2 / The 8 parter Burn the Witch series / The Wisdom Teeth Reveal / Kagami Vs The Wall of Faces / Resigning With Grace & Spite / I tried to give a lot of links cuz they have a lot of stuff

Kill Them With Kindness - By @luki-fanfic : Well written, good salt without going overboard. Just good vibes. I havent stalked there other stuff but if its anything like this fic its probably excellent quality.

Stephen Vladislav pt 1 / 2 - By @stormiclown : Adrien centered salt on the idea of finally giving Adrien his own proper rival. I like the idea of Adrien having a rival because its usually Marinette and this was just the right length to get those creative ideas flowing. Also just well written what more can you ask for.

Power Trip - By @storygirl000 : This was the first fic that made me go... Wait would it be more fun if Lila was actually competent? And that set me on the path to writing my own fics where Lila is more villainous and more capable. Its short, well written. Good.

Your Wish is My Command - By DemiGoddess28 on AO3 : A great 11 chapter fic looking into Lila's life if she were to win and get a miraculous wish. Its got sugary goodness for our protagonists and the class and salt for our dearest friend Lila.

LadyBugOut AU - By Miraculous-Content on AO3 : A 50 chapter fic made up of snippets and ideas. I found it really inspiring in many ways. I also love how it redeems Marinettes classmates showing how and why they were tricked but holding them accountable anyway its just... Good.

Juleka vs The Forces of the Universe - By goldenlaurelleaves on AO3 : For those of us not yet ready to accept the death of luka/mari we have this wonderful fic showing Juleka being the biggest wingman as she helps these idiots find there way together.

ChaoticNeutral on AO3 has there own Chloe's Lament fic as well as a Gabriel's Lament fic for people who need sweet salty of those two characters.

BroadwayCutie16 was Inspired by the person above and DemiGoddesses your wish is my command fic to write Lila's Lament fic going over Lilas failed wish. Honestly I always love these fics because there just so interesting and the way wishes can be taken and twisted is always a fascinating idea to me.

#WayneAngel - By Tired-Writing-Teach on AO3 : For us Maribat lovers. Its fun and lighthearted with some good gags and some light fluff.

Damian in Paris - By Lilliesandliveries on AO3 : A sweet Maribat series showing what would happen if Damian ran away from home and found himself in Paris and getting therapy.

How a Demon Commissions an Angel - By AlixAnonymous : Damian blackmails Marinette into letting him be her client so he can get his bros the best gifts, they end up becoming penpal buddies.

Mythomania - By LadyEnna_50 on AO3 : Proof that I dont hate Adrien or Mari/Adrien. In this fic Adrien's spine gets titanium plating and he sees just how bad Lila is hurting Marinette and does something about it.

The Contingency - By AbyssalGuardian on AO3 : SALT. Also Tim/Mari but even still I love the way this was written, the style, and some of the ideas just ugh love it. Its not for those who dont like salt so just avoid at your own discretion. Its about a chaotic Marinette done with her life running away to Gotham where she meets her true black cat, and gets her life back on track.

The String That Binds Us - By FaithAndATypeWriter on AO3 : Okay so is there any Mari/Bat fan who hasnt already heard of this one? Who cares its good, its cute, I love it. May the author be blessed with snacks.

The Great IKEA Game - By @batsandbugs : Okay again... I think every Mari/Bat fan has probably heard of this one already because its just that good and that popular. But who cares I am recommending it anyway. Don't read if your allergic to fun I guess.

If this list still doesn't somehow have enough salt for you then try @goggles-mcgee fics here is a link to there Masterlist. They are in a way a professional at salt and angst and they make you want to adopt Marinette and pop her in a blanket fort.

Honestly I could keep going but this list already feels so long for other great recs though I can link you to @jayphoenic who has some great Daminette Fic Recs and some Lila Salt Fic Recs!

Feel free to reblog this and add some links to stuff you would think I or others might like! Also lets just acknowledge how many talented authors the community has like wow.

[deconstructthesoup]

I think the reason that Dimension 20 really scratches all those itches in my brain is that it really shows what you can do with D&D---and TTRPGs as a whole.

Fantasy High, by itself, is an incredibly compelling concept. What would D&D look like in a semi-modern setting? What would a high school that's all about teaching teens how to be adventurers look like? And the way it's done is beyond inventive, especially if you look at all the encounters in the first season---we've got a literal food fight, a high-speed road chase with tiefling greasers, a nightclub brawl with zombies, vampires, and werewolves, a skating match with a bunch of dwarven middle schoolers and a concrete golem, a high-stakes game of football (ish) with undead jocks that give off major teen slasher vibes, a fight done in an arcade where characters can get trapped in the consoles, and the final battle is done at prom. PROM! How cool is that?

And then we get to the Unsleeping City, which takes the urban fantasy elements that Fantasy High already had and elevates it. The way the D&D lore and magic is interpreted in a modern New York setting is excellent, as is the whole take on the "American Dream," magic literally coming from dreams, ideas, and the imagination. I know that I need to actually finish the UC saga, but from what I've seen and experienced, it is truly fantastic.

And the same energy carries through to the other seasons---my personal favorite outside of Fantasy High being A Court of Fey and Flowers, just because I'm a sucker for any Fey Realm content and I've been raised on Jane Austen---where the genre mashups shine through in the best way possible. I'll admit, I haven't seen A Crown of Candy, purely because I know how heartbreaking and devastating it is and I don't think I can physically handle it, but the concept of Candyland Game of Thrones is so beautifully bizarre that I totally get why people love it so much. Escape from the Bloodkeep hitting that workplace comedy vibe that we love to see in villains. Misfits & Magic being a love letter to the "magical boarding school" genre while also calling out all the weird contradictions inherent in it. A Starstruck Odyssey literally being an homage to Brennan's mom and exactly the kind of madcap and unhinged energy I need from my sci-fi. Neverafter perfectly encapsulating the true horror of fairy tales. Mentopolis hitting my noir-loving heart and personifying hyperfixation in the best way possible.

I'm not even kidding when I say that, if it weren't for Dimension 20... I probably wouldn't have even started my own campaign. I'd had snippets and ideas ever since officially getting into D&D and joining a game with some old friends (and getting back in touch with them in the process), but after I saw the Mentopolis trailer, I realized just how much variety TTRGPs had to offer. I could do a time-blending, history-meets-future campaign. I could go out-of-the-box. I could have endless amounts of options available to my friends and still tell the story that I wanted to tell. And when I sat down and watched Fantasy High---and when I got that Dropout subscription so I could consume whatever I wanted---it felt like the show was actually giving me advice. It's fantastic.

Also it helps that the episodes are usually only roughly a couple hours instead of being, like, an entire afternoon long. And that each season is 20 episodes, tops. No offense to Critical Role, but the sheer amount of content literally makes it impossible for me to get into it.

[the-modern-typewriter]

if you like, would you do a snippet about the daughter of a vampire hunter who frees a captive vampire from her father?

The vampire looked only a little older than her. Seventeen, maybe. Eighteen. Myna knew that didn't count for much - you couldn't tell a vampire's age just by looking at them, but still.

She was beautiful too, of course, in the way that all vampires in some way were. Her bloody eyes were striking, ethereal things that tracked Myna's every movement into the room. They paused on the keys clutched tightly in Myna's hand and then flicked to her face. The vampire's head tilted.

Myna stopped in front of her, just out of reach.

"Will you attack me if I release you?" Myna asked.

"Would you believe me if I said no?"

It was a good question. Myna wet her lips, nervously, and the vampire's gaze darted to those next.

"No," the vampire said. "I have no desire to linger here, not even to hurt him."

But the vampire did want to hurt her father. That much was obvious, but also understandable. Maybe Myna was making a mistake. Maybe she was under a thrall that was simply masquerading itself as morality, because though desire was more insidious it was easier to resist. Maybe she would only know when the vampire was gone, and she could think clearly, or maybe she would always wonder.

Myna hesitated, shifting her grip on the keys.

"He hurts you."

"He does not like my kind."

"Your kind are monsters."

"And your father's behaviour is monstrous." The vampire shrugged, light and almost careless. Almost. She raised a delicate eyebrow. "But you know that or you wouldn't be thinking about doing what you're doing."

Myna gulped.

She'd been raised to believe that vampires were pure predator, unnatural and evil, but the more she had actually seen of them the less she could possibly believe that true. The less she saw of...her the less Myna could believe it.

Her father said that was how vampires operated. They mimicked passion, love, the human things to ensure their own safety.

Myna usually felt like she was faking it too, though.

Most of the other girls at school thought hunting was archaic, barbaric. It also felt an entirely different thing to kill a vampire and to keep one one captive for weeks on end in a converted wine cellar.

Most girls always seemed to know what to say, while Myna felt like her script had got lost somewhere and so she kept reading her cues all wrong.

If faking was the standard for being inhuman, for being evil, then what did that make her?

"How old are you?" It was a silly question, in the grand scheme of absolutely everything.

The vampire blinked. "Twenty three."

It felt ancient. It felt a world away. Twenty three meant life away from her father's house and no more school and the freedom to do whatever she wanted. She knew, though, that it wasn't very long at all. She knew what a human lifespan was supposed to be. She knew how old vampires could get.

"How old are you?" The vampire's tone was strangely soft.

"Sixteen."

"Sixteen," the vampire echoed. A wistful sort of smile curled her lips. "Sweet sixteen girl."

"I'm not sweet."

"No." The vampire said it almost musingly. "You're something much more enticing. More interesting."

Enticing. Interesting.

Myna cleared her throat. She felt heat rise, ridiculous and unbidden to her cheeks, and stepped closer. She was glad she didn't fumble the locks, but her heartbeat still picked up the second the metal hit the floor.

She scurried back swiftly, even as she was aware her swiftness was a snail compared to what the vampire was.

The vampire stood, slowly, even to Myna's human eyes, like she was trying not to scare her.

"Thank you." The vampire seemed a little unsure. She wet her lips in turn, and Myna's gaze darted treacherously to them. "It gets better," she said. "I promise."

Myna looked down, because the words weren't what she'd expected and she didn't know what exactly she'd wanted. "You should go."

When she glanced up again, the vampire stood right in front of her, barely a breath away. Myna's breath caught.

"You could come with me," the vampire said. "Your father will be angry with you for freeing me."

Myna's stomach churned, but she squared her shoulders. "He won't hurt me."

"Tell him I thralled you," the vampire said. She reached her hand up, pressing the pad of her thumb over Myna's bottom lip. "He'll believe it."

"Uhuh."

The vampire smiled; wicked and feral and everything that Myna thought she might be too, if she was only brave enough. The vampire pressed the sweetest of kisses to Myna's lips.

"All a vampire is," the vampire whispered, "is everything human with the volume turned up. Your father doesn't like what is reflected back when he thinks of us. Humans can be awful."

"And me?" Myna managed.

"You," the vampire said, "will be feral when you finally get around to unlocking your own cage. I look forward to it, sweet sixteen."

Then, she was gone.

And Myna could taste power on her tongue.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Can I have a snippet about a morally grey Hero taking advantage of yandere Villain’s jealousy and violent tendencies? Hero knows Villain kills people Hero gets too close to, so they start flirting with other villains that they want stopped or villains that they just plain don’t like.

“You look tired,” the hero said. Usually, they would have the curtesy to ring the bell and not enter through the window. However, they hadn’t had time to change into their normal clothes which left the window as the best option.

They weren’t too thrilled to explain to the villain’s neighbours why they were dressed up like a superhero. Especially not to the old lady above them.

“I...” The villain looked at them, pupils blown up. They looked quite innocent like this and the hero supposed they rather made that impression on everyone in their life. The villain was clever, was quiet when they had to be, was assertive when it was demanded of them, was seductive when they forced themselves to be. Sometimes the villain’s ability to adapt scared the hero. What if the hero was too boring for them one day?

Would they get rid of them?

Although that seemed unlikely, the hero had seen the villain’s deepest secrets and they had learnt about their most vulnerable parts. If this was a long-term thing (and the hero wanted that, not only for the violent benefits but also for the ego boost), they couldn’t allow themselves to slip up.

Then again, the villain was efficient when it came to murder but they also had the tendency to lose all their power when it came to the hero.

They were like a puppy.

“Hm?” The hero raked their fingers through the villain’s messy hair. It wasn't exactly love what they wanted. So what?

Didn’t they deserve a little compensation for all the pain they had lived through? Losing people was part of the job and if the hero could have someone who wanted them, who could protect themselves, who really cared about them, even if the hero didn't have the same feelings for them? Who could blame them for continuing this? Who could blame them for wanting to be loved?

“Sorry, I’m very tired,” the villain said. They closed their eyes and took in a deep breath.

“Hard day?”

“Yeah.” Obviously. The villain had murdered one of the most powerful villains in the entire country a few hours ago and it hadn’t been a quick fight. The hero would know. They had watched carefully.

They doubted the villain knew any of that.

“Got into an argument again, did you?”

No one had found the body yet.

“Yeah, you could say that,” the villain said. The hero smiled gently as their grip grew stronger in the villain's hair. Slowly, the hero scrutinised the villain, noticing bandages and bandaids on their body. Not saying a word, they let go of the villain and walked over to their fridge.

For a moment, the hero had thought the villain wouldn’t make it. The fight had been brutal and bloody and anything but easy. But even if the villain had died, the hero could’ve killed the other villain easily.

It would have been a devastating loss, obviously. The villain had already killed ten of their own kind and their work was incredible.

“How was your day?” the villain asked, despite being in incredible pain. It was adorable how they thought the hero wouldn’t notice.

“Oh, it was alright. Arresting some bad guys, doing an interview, stuff like that.” They closed the fridge, disappointed.

“Being a superhero must be hard.”

“You have no idea,” the hero mumbled, still eager to find something to eat in the kitchen. It was a mess and the hero was truly not impressed.

“...I’ve been thinking about us,” the villain said quietly. “Today was...difficult and I just want you to know that you mean a lot to me. All I do is for you and—”

“We agreed on friends with benefits,” the hero interrupted. “I told you my secret because I trust you, because I care about you, too. You know I cannot have relationships that are more than that.”

The hero looked at them sharply, as if to scold them and apparently, the villain understood. They wanted to say something but did not.

“That being said, there’s a new villain I got assigned to. I don’t know, they’re kind of funny.”

“Oh, really? How funny?”

The villain didn’t learn, they always took the bait.

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

Here's another long-winded post about me combing through BG3 early access files in search of Aylin and Isobel tidbits - rummaging that already resulted in this post right here. Let me just say I'm pleased to have brought Aylin Silverblood some attention because, again, I think it's a dope name.

Now, obviously, Isobel and Aylin are both Act 2 characters, and early access only covered Act 1. So anything related to them is partial stuff that wasn't scrubbed from the game files for whatever reason, and a lot of placeholders (these are usually indicated by |the text being in vertical lines|). This all means that sometimes (usually!) there are no nice voice lines indexed by UUID and parseable dialogue trees, and you have to trawl through a giant localisation XML of every bit of text in the game instead. An additional complication is all these stories were in flux, but older bits of writing from deprecated iterations didn't get immediately removed from the files, so it's sometimes hard to tell what belongs to which version.

The biggest luck I've had with regards to these two is the 24/11/2021 version of the game - EA Patch #6 Hotfix #19, aka game version v. 4.1.1.1356845, aka the source of Aylin Silverblood (my beloved). Here's a handy list of the patch and hotfix history, if you're like me and interested in this stuff. I'm actually wrangling files from 5 versions of the game right now, ranging from March 2021 to July 2022 - it's been a fun time. This old datamining post on reddit really helped narrow down the timeframe for me to look into.

Why am I doing this? I genuinely find it fun and interesting! There's some neat writing to be found! I crave more Isobel at all times! And I'm always into WIP and "how the sausage is made" type stuff. Also, tons of cool inspo for fics and headcanons.

Note, because I know that's a popular EA tidbit: this is all from after the Halsin killing Isobel variant was scrapped. This is, in fact, the version where she gets killed and soul trapped by Balthazar, and Aylin gets framed for it.

I'm going to start this off with my favourite part, and that is snippets of an early version of the Aylin/Isobel reunion from 2021. I've done my best to put them in order, but be aware a lot of this is still me speculating.

|[CINE: Nightsong teleports the party to the plaza in front of Last Light. As she looks around trying to familiarize herself, Isobel notices your arrival from the balcony. Her reaction is pure shock, followed by an immediate rush down the stairs.]|

|[CINE: Isobel dashes out of the front of the inn, wide-eyed and out of breath. Nightsong stares at her, stunned.]|

Aylin: |(distant, shocked) Isobel.|

Isobel: |Aylin...|

|[CINE: Nightsong takes an instinctive step towards her but stumbles, collapsing to her knees, eyes blown with pain and disbelief. Isobel closes the distance between them in hasty steps, trying to help Nightsong up, but Nightsong tightly grips at her arms - as if the contact makes everything real.]|

|[CINE: Isobel's eyes fill with tears as she drops down to the ground, throwing her arms around Nightsong's shoulders in a tight embrace. Shaking, almost fearful, Nightsong returns the embrace - the first kind touch she's had in a hundred years.]|

|[CINE: Nightsong draws back from the hug, looking Isobel in the eyes. Isobel helps Nightsong to her feet. As the two of them stand, they keep their hands linked.]|

Aylin: |A hundred years. Isobel, light of my heart, where were you? (choking up) I found your body, I....|

Isobel: |I was dead, Aylin. For so long. It was Balthazar - he trapped my soul, he-|

Player: |[Doesn'tKnowRelationship] You were lovers? Did Ketheric know?|

Aylin: |(jaw tightens) We were lovers. Her father was against it. He saw nothing but future misery. I'm immortal. I would never age, but she would.|

Isobel: |He didn't understand. It doesn't matter when... (fearful, as if worried Aylin's feelings might have changed) ... I still love you so much.|

Aylin: |(her first genuine smile) And I, you. No trial or pain could ever change that. (relaxes a touch) It is why I couldn't leave your body, even when they came. Balthazar and that Sharran witch told your father that I was to blame.|

|And he believed them over you?|

Aylin: |(frowns) He believed what he wanted to believe. Ketheric saw his daughter dead, and he saw someone he wanted to hurt. Shar took that cruel thread, that moment of mortal pain, and used it to corrupt him to the core.|

Aylin: |I was put on trial, and I had no defence. The moment it was over, I was taken down to the temple and... well, you saw what they had done.|

|Isobel presses against Nightsong's side, face tight with worry, running her fingers in slow strokes up and down Nightsong's arm.|

|[CINE: Nightsong tilts her head back towards the player.]|

Aylin: |These heroes saved me. Without them, I'd still be trapped in Balthazar's soul cage, with Ketheric gripping my heart like a leech.|

|[CINE: Isobel's face falls at the mention of her father's name.]|

Isobel: |A *soul cage*? Gods.|

Isobel: |I didn't know. Gods, he didn't say a word to me. I ran away because it was Balthazar that brought me back. As I ran, I heard my father shouting... but I'd seen enough. There was no saving him.|

Aylin: |You are not your father, Isobel. (sad, wry smile) You were the only thing that kept me alive in the dark. When hope began to fade, I simply thought of you.|

Isobel: |[To player] Thank you. (smiles wide) I... I can't possibly thank you enough, for bringing Aylin back to me.|

|Nightsong smiles too, but she's lost looking at Isobel, completely tuning out everyone else around them. Isobel leans in, resting her brow against Nightsong's and closing her eyes, Nightsong's hand clutched to her chest.|

Then, there is an option to press Isobel for details:

|You said the necromancer trapped your soul. Why?| |Was Balthazar the one who killed you, Isobel?|

Isobel: |(hesitant, visibly guilty) I think Aylin would know better than I do. The last thing I remember is a blade in the dark. Too fast to feel pain. Then silence.|

Asking Isobel to go with you to Moonrise was possible at various points, leading to different responses:

Will you come with me to Moonrise? I could use your help. If we're going to stop Ketheric, you have to come with me.

Until there is a way to keep Last Light safe, I cannot leave. All I can do is pray. |Not if everyone is killed at Last Light in my absence. I'll do everything I can to help you from here, but I won't go with you.| |Not if everyone is killed at Last Light in my absence. If someone else could take my place, I would go with you. I swear it.|

|Nightsong is here, she will protect Last Light - let's go to Moonrise, like you promised.| |I want to spend the night with Aylin. Meet me at Moonrise tomorrow.| |Nightsong will protect the people while together we can stop Ketheric.|

Isobel: I... we need to get close to him, don't we? And Aylin can protect Last Light in my absence. Aylin: Isobel, I have just gotten you back. To put yourself in his hands again-

Looks like we would've had a flip of the current Act 2 boss fight, and Isobel would be the ally for the confrontation with Ketheric, not Aylin. Also, that one line right there that is our first indication of Succor™, gotta love it. Sadly, post-reunion I only have:

|TBD: Post Nightsong Reunion.| |How are you and Aylin doing?|

To borrow release version Isobel's stock line: KEEPING VERY WELL, I HOPE? In any case, I'm putting the rest under a cut, featuring options for calling Isobel out on her parentage, Aylin being from Mt. Celestia, and Balthazar being gross - among many other things.

At one point quite early on, Isobel's protection from the shadow curse wasn't a spell, but an ointment:

|Ointment of Selûne| |Ointment Container PLACEHOLDER| |Isobel filled this with precious doses of her sacred Ointment of Selûne.| |First get the ointment from Isobel.| Have you received Isobel's ointment yet? What protection can her ointment offer, exactly? You should see Isobel. If Marcus does crop up, I'd sooner you had her ointment to protect you. Can use that cleric's ointment to get you on your way. But I have to move out - now. Can I get some of your ointment? No more theories! It's time for action. Our secret weapon needs to travel to Moonrise Towers, which means they'll need your ointment. You have the ointment. You have the Gate Stone. Moonrise Towers awaits. Are you sure the ointment will last long enough?

What is now Isobel's Ominous Cough was a gradual weakening that was remarked upon and seemed to be there to create more of a sense of urgency:

I won't claim to know Isobel's craft, but Selûne's light is bright in her. Isobel's tough - though she was tougher at the start. I've rarely seen a cleric so in tune with her goddess, but the curse is taking its toll. The light used to be stronger, Isobel. How much more of this curse can you take? You look paler than death, Isobel. How much more of this curse can you take?

We have some nice concise infodumps on Ketheric:

After Ketheric turned to darkness, the Enclave joined with the Harpers to unseat him and his Sharran cohorts. We marched together, fought together, bled together... and in the end we prevailed.

Only it wasn't the end. Nothing seemed to kill Ketheric himself, so the Harpers decided to seal him in his own tomb, alive. They thought that would be enough. But they hadn't counted on Ketheric unleashing the shadow curse. We watched it drain all light and life away from this place, saw it twist people into abominations. The Harpers lost hope.

Ketheric wove the curse on this land. The moment he was sealed in that tomb, Shar's poison devoured everything in its path.

Fallen paladin. Champion of Shar. He was building an army bent on unholy conquest, but we stopped him. Killed him. Buried him.

It was not enough. General Thorm lives again. He's built a new army, and this time he marches under the banner of the Absolute.

November 2021 is the earliest mention of Aylin I found, mostly marked as not finalised and placeholder dialogue (and that reunion up there). The Nightsong as present in that patch is still very different from what we ended up getting - nobody was killing her, in fact people were coming to get her "kiss", and there was a whole thing where it seems like Shar would directly take control of her and you could help her overcome the curse, or abandon her to it - or kill her. 

Embrace the Nightsong and be sworn to Eternal Shadow.

Anyway, here are her lines (all of these exist as voice files, which is rare for stuff I put in this post - but they're done by a voice actress who doesn't sound like Helen Keeley, our final Aylin VA, so I don't know what to make of it all tbh):

Shar is the Nightsinger, and I am her Nightsong. I am her instrument, transforming the faithful into shadows. I've been here for centuries. Do you know how many priests of Shar came here, full of faith, seeking my kiss? I've been here for centuries. Thousands of Sharrans came here seeking my kiss. I drink their sorrow, their loss, their grief. Then I vomit it back into the world. All of them are shadows now. That is Shar's only reward. But Ketheric returned for my kiss, over and over. You're the first to survive my kiss intact. You're the only one who can help me. Please, you have to help. No one's ever resisted the kiss before. No one has ever resisted my kiss. But you are not merely *one*, are you? That thing in your head must be incredibly powerful to resist a goddess. Perhaps it's also divine in nature. Because a mind can't survive two masters. It breaks us. Shar's attention must be elsewhere. Speak quickly. She's watching now. She's waiting to steal my voice. But it won't last. Please - listen! I was captured by Ketheric Thorm, Shar's chosen. He turned me into this creature. I'm a slave of Shar. She owns me, just like that thing in your head owns you. I want to sing my own song. Not Shar's. Not *Ketheric's*. Find Ketheric. Kill him so I can be free! Slay Ketheric. His wretched existence binds me to this temple. Oh. That made her angry. The Lady returns! She has me again! *Again!* Stop! You've driven her away!

I am not your *spectacle*. Turn away before I strike you blind. Tell them to come and receive my kiss.

Some possible relevant tags, interactions, and outcomes include:

|The soul cage has greatly weakened Nightsong| |Debug: click to save Nightsong (sets the flag to talk to Isobel)| |We sided with Ketheric and doomed Nightsong.| |Companion comment!||But if his power is linked to this Nightsong, there must be a way to unlink it.| |You have taken control of Ketheric's Soul Cage| |You are bound to Ketheric's soul cage, taking his regenerative powers for yourself| |Bound to Soul Cage| |Soul Cage Key| |Soul Cage Research| |The book details the necromancer's research on the soul cage| |There is a glimpse of Isobel's ghost, as she takes her Father with her to the afterlife.| |There is a glimpse of Isobel's ghost terrified and in agony. Both Isobel and Ketheric will disappear.|

At one point Isobel delivers her own, Ketheric's, and Aylin's backstory as "a story", but sadly I can find very little of it, just disjointed fragments:

You seem to know a lot about Ketheric. He was a devout Selûnite who converted to Shar. They say it was Ketheric's purity that drew an angel down from Celestia. You're Isobel Thorm. The daughter who died in that story.

And there seem to be many options to question Isobel about her hiding the truth about her father:

Why are you lying to me, Isobel? Everyone thinks you're dead, Isobel. Tell me the truth, Isobel. Everything. Still, Isobel might have saved us some time had she been honest from the beginning. |Why didn't you tell me what happened from the start, Isobel?|

Ketheric. Don't you mean your father? Ketheric is your father. I know the truth. Ketheric told me at Moonrise. He wants me to bring you home. I need your father to trust me. He wants you back. You sent me after your father - Ketheric. I think we should discuss Ketheric - your father - first. For all you've said about Ketheric, you left out the part where he's your father.

To which I've found some responses:

And would you have trusted her? Ketheric's daughter? Why didn't I tell you that I was murdered, that my soul was locked away for a hundred years? What would I have told her? That my father murdered her fellow Harpers, but that I can surely be trusted?

[Attempt to read Isobel's thoughts.] *You see Ketheric standing before Isobel, although the memory is hazy. His words are unclear, but his tone is not - he is pleading with her.*

Brought back by the same man that killed me. Balthazar. Standing next to my father with a smile on his face.

But I'm not sure it would have mattered. To stand with that man, my father has surrendered to deepest evil.

I would love to know what the whole pleading thing is about, and what Isobel "didn't know" that she claims didn't matter anyway.

My father. After a century, he somehow brought me back. But I saw the monster he had become. I couldn't bear it... I ran. I ran until I found Last Light. It was like a second home to me, once. I've been studying the curse ever since, searching for answers. Trying to restore the damage my father has wrought upon this land. It's possible I may have to sacrifice myself. But this is my father's crime.

And then, there is this nugget I cannot place but that I like: 

|Your father's due will come.|

There is also an option to tell her Nightsong is Aylin (who was, at this point, a full celestial - no mention of being connected to Selûne, though, and in fact, if she was indeed from Mount Celestia as mentioned in the "story", she would not have been):

Isobel: My father's curse still blackens this earth. Have you found anything? Player: A celestial, chained to Ketheric's soul. Player: They called her Nightsong, but she told me her name was Aylin. Isobel: Aylin. She... she's alive. I knew she had to be, I… Player: Ketheric's necromancer took her to Moonrise. Isobel: His necromancer? Gods, you have to free her. Isobel: You have to go to Moonrise and free Aylin. When Ketheric is weak, this can all be over. Isobel: The truth is that I would give anything to see her again, and anything to stop my father. Free her, and you do both. Isobel: At least, the shell of my father. There's nothing left of the man that championed Selûne. Isobel: Find her. Free her. If Ketheric isn't stopped, all of us are doomed.

Player: |[Doesn'tKnowName] Aylin? Care to explain?| Isobel: The angel in my story about Ketheric. That was Aylin.

Speaking of Balthazar. Some lines from him:

[Introductory note: please imagine everything Balthazar says spoken with a wheezy voice, as if he's permanently out of breath.]

[I need to retrieve the Nightsong, but the temple is haunted and my minions cannot make it past the trial grounds. I cannot go there until the ghosts have been dealt with. Now that you are here on behalf of Ketheric, you will do all this for me.]

I, Fodder, am here on behalf of General Ketheric Thorm. Down in the depths of this temple writhes his desire. I am to bring it to him.

I created the Nightsong for General Ketheric, many moons... HEAR THAT SHAR? Many moons ago.

*As you hold the necromancer's mocking gaze, you can tell how it starts to dawn on him you are not the mere minion he thought you were.*

Along the way I found some more recent Patch 8 (2022-ish) gross Balthazar lines, some bits of which have actually survived to release:

She was a unique specimen even before I began my work. Aasimar. A god's blood united with mortal flesh.

Such fine clay she was. We grew quite close as I… remoulded her. Now she is General Thorm's shield. Her strength is his to drink upon. His pains are hers to bear.

If I never exceed her, I will still die happy. If I ever do something as gauche as truly dying, that is.

Utterly revolting! Makes my skin crawl! Man deserves a yeeting into the Shadowfell a hundred times over! But in order to not end on a gross note, I leave you with:

Ketheric Thorm. Murderer. Oathbreaker.

Aylin Silverblood. My true name. Nightsong was only ever a curse.

[diazsdimples]

WIP Wednesday

Don't look at me, I'm working on another wip 🙈. This is from the 3rd chapter of With you I'm home, my beloved Dad!Buck sequel that I so cruelly abandoned in favour of, well, everything. But today I wrote a snippet of Eddie telling Christopher about his and Buck's plans for a new baby. Please enjoy (under the cut cause it's kinda long sorry)!

I was tagged for Tease Tidbit Tuesday by @daffi-990 @jesuisici33 @disasterbuckdiaz @cal-daisies-and-briars @exhuastedpigeon @tizniz @kitteneddiediaz @wikiangela and @elvensorceress (count this as your Wednesday tag) and WIP Wednesday tag by @theotherbuckley

Eddie pauses, searching Christopher’s face to gauge any kind of reaction, positive or negative. Christopher’s expression remains blank, but he does nod slowly, his eyes narrowing a little bit.

“How would that work?” he asks, and he flushes as he realises the implications of the question, quickly adding on, “And I don’t mean like, sex, because I know about all that, but how would you and Buck having a baby work?”

Eddie quietly tucks away the bit of information that, somehow, his 13-year-old son knows about sex for God’s sake and explains it the way him and Buck talked about.

“Well, we’d thought about maybe adopting, and that’s still an option but we agreed that we’d like another biological child, cause you and Aidan are so cute. And Buck suggested that, because he’s got Aidan, that maybe the new baby could be my biological kid. So, we’d use my sperm, and would find an egg donor, and then you’d have a baby brother or sister,” he finishes lamely.

Eddie looks at Christopher, who hasn’t moved a muscle since he started talking, and gently nudges his leg. “Whatcha thinking bud? Have you got any questions?”

Christopher flicks his eyes upwards, locking onto Eddie’s, and Eddie notices with a jolt that they’re dark and angry, not at all the picture of the little boy he remembers when they’d just moved here, or even the kid that had been so excited for Buck and Aidan to move in with them.

“Yeah,” says Christopher, quietly. “Yeah, I have got a question.”

It’s his tone of voice that makes Eddie realise that somehow, somewhere, something has gone terribly wrong. Christopher has never been one for true, proper anger, usually falling back on snippy comments and snide remarks, but right now Eddie can see a mixture of irritation, fury, and worst of all, hurt all swirling behind his son’s eyes.

“Okay – uh – what is it?” Eddie asks.

Christopher’s jaw ticks. “Am I not good enough for you?”

The question hits Eddie like a physical blow and he recoils, feeling as though he’s suddenly had a bucket of icy water thrown over him.

“W-what? Chris why would you ever – God, no, you’re more than enough!” he stammers, but it’s clearly not enough as Christopher rolls his eyes and lets out a small, cold laugh.

“Really? Then why would you use your sperm?” Christopher’s eyes flash as he speaks, and he pushes himself further up the bed so his legs are no long touching Eddie. “Is it because of my CP? You want another chance at having a normal kid, so you’re using your sperm? You want to be able to have a child that’s perfect and not so damn broken like I am? Is that it?”

“Christopher!” Eddie gasps, aghast. It’s like he’s watching the perfect ideation of his life crumbling in front of him, the new baby being cuddled by his two sons, delighted by the arrival of a new sibling a dream fading quickly. “You know I would never replace you! Jesus, Chris, I love you so much, Buck loves you so much! We don’t think you’re broken; how could you say that?”

Christopher’s lip curls, twisting his face into an ugly grimace, and Eddie watches with dismay as a small part of the baby he’d cuddled 13 years ago slips away from him.

“Bullshit” Christopher spits out.

“I beg your pardon? You do not use language like that in this house, young man!”

Christopher leaps to his feet, standing in front of Eddie, and it’s now as he’s confronted with his son, rage-filled and looming over him, that Eddie realises him and Buck have made a very serious miscalculation.

Christopher glares down at his father, his chest heaving as the breathes heavily. “Well, it is bullshit! If you actually loved me then you wouldn’t be trying to replace me! You are full of shit!”

Something inside Eddie snaps, releasing all the anger and frustration he’s felt towards his stroppy teenager for the last 4 months, and Eddie’s on his feet before he knows it, towering over his son. Christopher has the good grace to cower a little bit.

“That’s it,” Eddie says, his voice remarkably measured for someone who feels as though the entire earth has just dropped out from beneath him, leaving him suspended in a hellish limbo between being a good father, and emulating Ramon Diaz. “You’re grounded. No screens or friends for a month. You never, ever speak to me like that again, got it?”

Christopher’s fists are balled at his sides and Eddie can see his small frame shaking in anger. His knuckles are white, and Eddie imagines that if he were to uncurl his son’s fists, he’d find crescents where his nails have dug into his palms. He braces himself for the inevitable fallout, the kicking and screaming and swearing, apparently, that comes with grounding a teenager, but instead, Christopher looks up at him, his lower lip wobbling and his eyes swimming behind a film of tears. He blinks and the tears spill over, running down his cheeks.

“I hate you,” he whispers, barely loud enough to be audible, but Eddie catches it nonetheless. It cuts deep, slicing Eddie’s heart into a million tiny pieces and scattering them to the wind as he watches his son storm from the room. Eddie sits heavily on the edge of Christopher’s bed and drops his head into his hands, trying to swallow down the rapidly rising lump in his throat.

What the fuck just happened?

No pressure tagging @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @puppyboybuckley @bucksbackwardcap @fortheloveofbuddie @spotsandsocks @aroeddiediaz @pirrusstuff @housewifebuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @buckbuckgoose @wildlife4life @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @evanbegins @nmcggg @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @smilingbuckley

[thecasualauthor]

Okay okay okay look I KNOW I'm technically on hiatus but I was watching The Hunger Games and my old Jily AU came back to haunt me so I wrote a prequel. @jilymicrofics I uh.... didn't use specific propmt but it's fairly short, so-

Here's a snippet:

Six long months had passed since they’d last seen each other at the Seventieth Hunger Games, and they’d spent the last several hours together, making up for lost time. Lily knows they’ll have to go back to being friendly acquaintances as a Victor and citizen of the Capitol in a matter of hours.

Enjoy! Read under the cut:

James and Lily lay entwined in Lily’s soft sheets, holding each other about as tightly as they possibly can. 

Moonlight spills over them, and Lily’s eyes are closed. James runs a hand up and down her back, and Lily could fall asleep to the touch alone if it didn’t thrill her so much. 

Six long months had passed since they’d last seen each other at the Seventieth Hunger Games, and they’d spent the last several hours together, making up for lost time. Lily knows they’ll have to go back to being friendly acquaintances as a vVctor and citizen of the Capitol in a matter of hours. True, a handful of people saw Lily lead James to her bedroom, but it’s not as if it’s out of the ordinary, Capitol citizens bringing Victors to their beds. It makes Lily sick actually, but there is the small consolation that she and James actually do love each other. 

They’d met years previously, when James was brought into the Capitol as a tribute from District Seven. It was during the tribute parade when they’d locked eyes, and she felt with a staggering clarity that she was connected to him somehow. James later reported the same when they’d met in person while Lily was helping with the training sessions. 

It was sheer dumb luck on her part that she was able to pull so much headway for him during his games, and skill on his part that enabled him to use Lily's said luck to survive.

“We make a pretty good team,” James had said when they saw each other again, and their friendship had been born, now they were certain they weren’t going to be separated by death. 

(The word “again” usually accompanied that thought. Lily tried not to think about it most days.)

Nearly a year of correspondence and phone calls and visits to each other had made their friendship into something more, and now here they are, tangled up in each other, dreading the moment they have to let go.  They spend as much time together as they can, though as James is a victor and Lily an unwilling gamemaker, it limits most activities. 

And now that the thought of gamemaking has crossed her mind–

“Has Plutarch contacted you yet? Lily asks softly, opening her eyes to meet James’ gaze, and finds that he’s looking at her. James shakes his head. 

“Not yet. I don’t blame him though, I’m not the most approachable.”  Lily rolls her eyes. 

“I think you’re plenty approachable,” Lily says. “It’s Plutarch’s issue. He’s a bit paranoid.” 

“As he should be,” James murmurs, pulling her even closer to him. Lily shivers. “He’s organizing a Capitol rebellion.” 

“Fair,” Lily sighs. She pauses for a long moment. “How have things been? You know… with– everything.” She doesn’t want to say the words aloud, due to the aforementioned sickness it gives her, but James just smiles sadly. 

“Same old, same old,” he says wearily. “I mean, they only have one person to use against me, and that happens to be you.” 

Lily chokes. There’s the crushing guilt at what he has to do to keep her safe. 

She’s replaceable, Snow had said. Like she was nothing. Thank goodness he didn't know about how valuable she actually was. She does what she can for the rebellion, feeds information to Plutarch about her father, undermines the Games all she can. It’s not enough though. Children are still dying in the Hunger Games, people are still starving in the districts, and Victors are being sold to the highest bidder. 

Unfortunately for her, Lily does has one outward value to President Snow, and that's being James Potter’s reason. 

They’re relationship had been discovered a few years back, and they’re still facing those consequences. Before her, James had no one, no family or real friends to speak of. But then Snow discovered them, and suddenly there was a weakness to exploit.  

“He kills someone you love,” Finnick Odair had said, and that was that. 

She and James are lucky, she supposes, that they even get time together. Poor Finnick is away from Annie ninety percent of the time, all to protect her. At least James isn't as popular as Finnick is. At least he and Lily get to see each other semi–often. As a Capitol citizen, she’s allowed to visit him, and he’s allowed to come to the Capitol occasionally. It’s not a perfect arrangement, but it works for them. 

Now, James leans over and places a soft kiss on her jaw. 

“It isn’t your fault,” he whispers onto her skin, and Lily wants to cry. 

“It feels like it is,” she replies, and when she looks up at James again, he’s looking at her with love in his eyes that takes her breath away. 

“I know,” he says, “But it’s my fault too. My fault you’re in so much danger.”

“James…”

“We both played our part in it. We’ve been making the best of it. We’ll just... have to keep doing that.” 

“I know,” Lily replies, hands reaching up to tangle in his messy black hair. “I know.” James lowers his lips to hers, and warmth fills every part of her. It always does. She responds in kind, and she finds herself underneath him, kissing him fiercely, like it's the last thing she’ll ever do. The kisses deepen, and when they break apart, Lily is gasping, doing everything she can to hold onto him, to this moment of calm and togetherness amidst everything that has gone wrong in their lives. 

Soon he’ll have to leave, and she’ll be alone in her enormous bedroom overlooking the training center, missing her other half. The person she cares most about in this world. 

But for now, he’s here. With her. 

And that’s enough.

[rayshippouuchiha]

I've noticed you're happy when people share snippets of things they're writing, so today I want to share with you one of the scenes I'm the most proud to have ever written

To give you a bit of context so it makes sense: Time travel fuckery happens when Naruto uses almost all of Kurama's power to get back in time. What little power was left of the Bijuu merges with his body and gives him orangy-red hair the same color of Kurama's fur so he makes himself pass as Kushina's younger brother when he appears in Konoha around the time young Naruto is 5/6 y/o, going by the name of Uzumaki Kurama to avoid raising any suspicious about two Narutos. Shit happens, he and Kakashi fall in love but are idiots who don't communicate. The scene takes place after Pain's attack and Kakashi dying and coming back to life.

-

The dust has long settled on the destroyed village, and now the moon was high in the sky, watching over Her people in silence.

Tenzō had done an amazing job, Kakashi has to admit. It's thanks to his Mokuton that the people of Konoha have a place to sleep at until the village is properly re-built.

Not him, though. He couldn't fall asleep.

He's not too surprised by the fact that he's awake in the middle of the night. He's used to it. Usually he can fall asleep for an hour or two at some point, but this time is different. He guesses dying and coming back to life will do that to you.

He's not the only one awake. ANBU are patrolling the village. Some of them nod their head at him when passing by, but no one stops to bother him as he stands on top of a mostly destroyed building, away from where the rest of the village is resting.

Kakashi is not on duty. He hasn't been since the day the Sandaime had told him that he was to become a Jōnin Sensei. Yet, tonight he misses the mask. He feels like his head is too full of thoughts, and he needs to put on his ANBU uniform and let that part of him take the lead. The youngest ANBU to have ever been made. The only ANBU with a perfect mission score. He misses not thinking about anything but a mission, his body moving mechanically as his mind takes a step back and rests.

Alas, he can't. He had to give his mask and uniform back all those years ago, leave them in the hands of the Hokage and never take them back.

It's barely past 0300 when someone joins him. Kakashi doesn't hear their footsteps but he does feel their familiar chakra, as bright as the sun and as scalding hot and dangerous as a forest fire.

Kurama doesn't say anything as he sits beside him, and it's in that moment that Kakashi realizes he hasn't seen the man all day, not even when the fight ended and everything went quiet.

Kakashi looks at him, but Kurama isn't looking back. No. He's looking at the village with an expression that Kakashi can't decipher. Oh, but how he wishes that he could. He would give anything to be able to read this man like one of his beloved books.

"I died today," Kakashi finds himself saying, unable, for once, to stand the silence.

"I know."

"I saw my father."

Kurama finally looks at him, and Kakashi can finally see. There's a deep grief in his blue eyes, a grief that looks as old as the man himself.

"How was it?" Kurama asks. He sounds tired, even more than Kakashi feels.

"Meeting him?"

"Dying."

The question hangs heavy in the air, and after a while Kurama looks back towards the village.

"All my life I've seen people either die or leave without me being able to do anything to prevent it. While I was here, I almost forgot how terrible war was for those who survive it," he sighs, then shakes his head. "I know we didn't lose anyone today thanks to Naruto, but..."

But we could have, he doesn't say. But we did, even if only for a short while.

Kakashi finally sits down, and it hits him suddenly that Kurama was probably already around when Uzushio was attacked and destroyed. That he had to witness his home be razed to the ground. His clan, his family, his friends, forever lost. And who knows where those who were able to run away ended up. Did Kurama escape with his parents? With a friend? And where are they, now?

Kakashi already knows the answer to that particular question for sure.

"But we're still here," Kakashi says, a gentleness in his voice he didn't think he was even capable of having. "And, you know, talking with my father made me realize something important."

Kurama looks at him so intently with those deep blue eyes of his, and Kakashi wonders, not for the first time, what is it about this man that makes him want to open up. Hatake Kakashi hates being vulnerable, so why does he want Kurama to know his every secret?

"While I was with him, we talked about a lot of things. I told him about my old team, my students, my mistakes and failures over the years, and," he stops for a moment. Has to look away from Kurama's blue eyes, "I talked about you, too."

There's a surprised sound from beside him, but Kakashi lets his eye rest on the sleeping village stretching in front of them.

"And I realized that, for you, I'd-"

A hand shots out, pressing against Kakashi's lips to silence him. The way Kurama is looking at him now is pained.

"If you're about to tell me that you'd die for me, don't," he sounds even more tired, and Kakashi can see it in the way his body is positioned that he's tense, so much that Kakshi almost fears it might hurt.

Gently, Kakashi grabs Kurama's wrist to pull his hand away from his lips, but instead of pushing it away he keeps it in his.

"I would have, before," he admits. Kurama's hand is warm in his, as he presses it over his heart. He can almost sense its warmth all the way under his jōnin uniform. "But that's not what I was about to say."

He looks at him again, and for the first time in forever Kakashi feels like everything is right in this shitty world they had been thrown in. That everything will be okay, no matter what the world throws at them. And a smile, gentle and small, pulls softly at his lips, hidden under his trusted mask.

For the first time, the little wrinkles forming around his eye are genuine

"I would live for you, Kurama."

[racfoam]

hey rac ! Can I have one more snippet of muggle Harriet and Tom (aged like in his 70's) I just love these scenario!! 💖💖💖

Hello, anon! I'm happy to hear you love these scenarios!

I have so many Old Man Muggle Voldy fics it’s getting out of hand. You can pick, I have Priest Old Man Voldy, Evil Cowboy Old Man Voldy (Western AU), Cult Leader Old Man Voldy, King Old Man Voldy (Medieval AU)... Of course he's a serial killer in all of them, who do you think I am? He's also sometimes rich/well-off in the Modern Setting Muggle AUs... I call him Harry's sugar granddaddy 😊

I think I'll just do the usual... Here you go, anon! This is the one where Old Man Serial Killer Voldy kidnaps Harry — they’re already married in this scene.

Warnings: Explicit Language and Sexual Dialogue, Unconsensual Touching

Harry carefully slipped down the staircase, mindful not to be heard. The blinds were slipped open, letting the rays of the sun into the wood. Landing barefoot on the carpet of the ground floor, Harry smelled pleasant aromas of bacon, eggs and tea. She heard the sound of the sizzling of the oil and the pan. She heard Voldemort humming Can't Take My Eyes Off You. Shivering, bringing her nightcloak closer to her nightdress to cover up from the chill summoned by his voice, Harry sneaked past the doorframe leading to the kitchen and down the hallway. There was another doorway down the hall that entered the kitchen as well. As long as Harry could sneak past that and to the backdoors at the end of the hallway, she could make a break for it. Holding her breath, shaking with nerves, Harry set down the hallway. The smell of the bacon, eggs and tea strengthened. Harry was in front of the back doors now. How she made it with her racing heart, she did not know. The light in the kitchen illuminated her body, but she ignored it, reaching for the golden, circular knob. “Good morning, Harry.” Harry jumped, snatching her hand back to her side. Voldemort was standing by the stove, wiping his large palms with a napkin. He looked immaculate, dressed in a light blue silk shirt and dark trousers, his grey hair tidy, his brown eyes enchanting. Tall, he stood in front of the stove, facing Harry, who knew her expression fit that of a startled doe. Voldemort put the napkin aside, leaning away from the counter, and moved toward Harry. Harry couldn’t move. She only croaked out an awkward, “Hi.” “Harry,” said Voldemort softly, “the nightdress is for the bedroom, not to walk around in the house.” “I’m sorry,” said Harry quickly, feeling panic surge inside her stomach. “I’ll go change —” Voldemort snatched Harry’s wrist, pulling her to him, until her breasts pressed to his chest. Voldemort untied the sash of the white satin cloak, and slipped it off of Harry’s shoulders. The white fabric fluttered to the ground, exposing Harry in the white nightie. Voldemort hummed an approving sound. His long fingers came up to touch the thin white straps on Harry’s shoulders.  As Voldemort gazed down on her, Harry realised his pupils had swallowed his irises. “Stay.” he whispered.

He leaned down, bending low to tuck his head into her neck, his nose brushing against her skin. He pressed his lips there, kissing her throat. Then another kiss, this one lower.

Another warm kiss, in the crook of her neck. The next on her left shoulder. His thumbs dragged along the flimsy strips on her shoulders, and pulled them down. Harry’s eyes stung. “Will you get on your knees again for me?” purred Voldemort, dragging his fingers along Harry’s thighs. Under the morning light, his eyes looked like crimson fire.  He pressed the bulge of his cock against her. Harry whined. “Or will you spread your legs for me and let me bury my cock in your tight, lovely cunt?” he whispered against Harry's ear.

[autumnmobile12]

“You’ve always been so good with children, Mai,”  Rei said.  “But you’ve never talked about having any of your own.”

This hadn’t been the first time someone had asked her about this.

As she searched for the words to a concise answer, Mai pulled her mom’s old house key from her neck and dangled it in front of the baby in her arms.  “What is that, Touya?  What’s that?”  It wasn’t as though she hadn’t thought about it.  Mai liked children, and many of the hundreds she’d rescued or helped rescue had taken a liking to her.  Ayako had often told her she would be a good mother.  And yet, “My Quirk is distressing, Rei.  It's not fire or ice. It's not a power I can just stop using. What it allows me to see and experience is so real and so intense that if I were to pass that along to any potential children, or some variation of it…if I were to wake up in the middle of the night because a son or daughter of mine was inconsolable over a nightmare, knowing I’m the cause, I don’t think I could live with myself.”

Rei put a hand on her back.  “You’ve never told me this.  I knew your abilities troubled you sometimes, but——”

“No, don’t worry about it,”  Mai said with a smile.  “The idea of not having kids doesn’t bother me, really it doesn't.  It just means I’ll have to be content with being an auntie to this little one.  Isn’t that right, you little firebug?”

By now, Touya had grabbed ahold of the key and was trying to tug it away from her.  Mai stuck her tongue out at him.

...

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,”  Aunt Mai said.  “I don’t want you to go to the mountain.”

“But——”

“We’re going to…”  He watched her face scrunch up in search of an idea.  Mom did the same thing sometimes.  She used to.  “The zoo.  We are going to the zoo.”

“What?”

“Yep.  You and your siblings.  We’ll head there tomorrow.”  At that, she pushed away from the table and rose to her full height.  She was a little taller than Mom, so he was barely higher than her elbow, and yet for some reason, he always felt so much smaller next to her.  Bringing her hands together in a light clap, Mai said with a wide smile,  “We’ll go see the animals, we’ll get ice cream, and we’ll all have a wonderful time.  Sound good, Firebug?”

Touya stared at her.  “I’m not five anymore.”

“Neither am I, what’s your point?”  She crossed her arms and tilted her head to one side so that her long braid dangled off her shoulder.  “Don’t go acting tough with me.  I know for a fact you still love polar bears.”

He supposed they hadn’t gone to the zoo, or anywhere fun, in a long time. Mom was never the same after Shouto was born, and Dad didn't have time for any of them aside from Shouto. And from the look in her eyes, Aunt Mai knew it, too.

...

(on phone) "This isn't a good time, Naru."

"This is important."

"Is it more important than teaching my niece and nephews how to make tea, preferably without it winding up in someone's face?"

"..."

"..."

"...carry on."

"That's what I thought. Talk later."

...

If you saw my other post notes on this crossover and read the snippet I wrote with Mai and Hawks, you probably already saw that I have the Ghost Hunt cast aged up quite a bit compared to the usual fandom stuff I do.  To clarify, in the current timeline of My Hero’s canon, Mai is forty-six years old.  (She’s actually a month older than Endeavor. There’s nothing significant about that; it’s just petty ‘I’m marginally older than you,’ fodder and I think that’s funny.)

In this crossover, Mai chose to never have children.  Since Quirks are hereditary, she feared passing her Retrocognition and the Death Dreams that come with it along to potential descendants and what it might mutate into over the generations.  She decided her power was one of pain and anguish and she refused to willingly inflict that on someone else.  That said, she did grow up with Rei, so she is very close with Rei’s children and inevitably got herself entangled in the family’s toxic dynamics.  But here is the conundrum I’m having with exploring avenues for this crossover because there are three ways to look at Mai’s presence and how it affects My Hero’s canon, particularly the events revolving around Touya’s ‘death’ and how Mai’s dreams work:

Scenario 1:  The fire and feeling every second of that experience firsthand through one of her dreams was traumatic enough that she was deceived into believing he died.  Canon events continue as normal.

Scenario 2:  Since Touya wasn’t actually killed by the fire, the incident wouldn’t trigger one of her dreams, and therefore she would know he didn’t die, which firmly lands him in missing person territory.  Investigation ensues.

Scenario 3:  The fire never happened.

The reason for this last one is based on this previous post, but the main part of it is Mai definitely is a character who has the mental fortitude and determination to stand up to someone like Endeavor, and the absence of that character-type is a huge part of how and why the situation in the Todoroki family got so out of hand.  Rei would not stand up to the threat to herself or her children, and the kids were too young to do so for themselves even if they were able to understand their family dynamic was not normal/healthy.  No one was checking Endeavor’s behavior.  Enter the very angry sister-in-law and her, “Fuck around and find out, I dare you,” mentality.

That said, I do have the headcanon that adult Mai is also super wary around kids due to her many, many close encounters with weird kids/ghost kids in canon.  So I think her method of dealing with Touya’s increasingly erratic behavior is probably a mixture of resignation, turning to the other three and saying, “Promise me your teenage years won’t be like this,” and then having to go talk the little pyromaniac down from whatever frenzy he’s worked himself into because apparently neither parent was going to do it.

Bringing us to the million dollar question: Can Mai deal with Touya?

Well…between how quickly she interceded with what the creepy Yoshimi kids were up to and her lifelong career of dealing with arrogant, little shits…yes, yes she can.  If she can handle Naru’s arrogance, Ayako and Takigawa’s bickering, and Yasuhara’s bullshit all in the same day, she can handle a thirteen year old having a crisis.

Plus, I think if she knew he was on Sekoto Peak, waiting for his dad in the dark and the cold, it would probably bring up some uncomfortable memories of what happened to Kenji, so she definitely would’ve gone looking for him.

[morganofthewildfire]

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

By Your Side

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

Happy Yulemas Swap @writtenonreceipts !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This piece was originally supposed to be a whooooole long oneshot but i've been really out of the groove so i was forced to shorten it down to just a snippet, but there's more out there if i ever get the chance to write it!!!

This is very much inspired by your love for my oneshot 2 AM Walks from two years ago 🥰 you were always so nice about that one, so I wanted to deliver you another single parent holiday au! Hopefully you enjoy, this is just an introduction, there's a lot more to this world 😉

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

Aelin’s arms were going to fall off. It was official. The dozen plastic grocery bags were digging into her arms, making indents on her skin through her sweater as she struggled to carry them up the stairs. Eloise had asked if she needed help, but all she’d ended up giving to the little girl was one plastic bag, filled with just the little reindeer stuffed animal they’d picked up at the store.

It’d been on sale. That was the only way she’d be able to afford it with all of the money already spent on Yulemas presents. 

Even the price of just groceries and essentials had made her cringe. Sam’s child support hadn’t kicked in yet for the month, but she still needed the food. So she’d done what she had to do.

“Mama!” Eloise called out, skipping ahead up the stairs. “Hurry up!” 

Aelin huffed a laugh, doing her best to walk up the stairs as quickly as possible. Their apartment building had an elevator, but it wasn’t working right now, leaving her and her daughter to trek up five floors worth of stairs every time they went to and from the apartment. 

It was usually a decently slow process; Eloise was still young, still small. She had energy, but didn’t have the size to bound up a set of stairs quickly. But today was different. Her favorite cartoon was having a Yulemas special, and she absolutely could not miss it. 

Nevermind the fact that it was set to record, and that there were still a few dates until Yulemas to watch it. Eloise didn’t think like that.

She wanted to watch it now, And who was Aelin to deny her?

“One second, baby,” she called ahead, “I need to unlock the door for you.” Her daughter had already bounded ahead up the stairs, undoubtedly pushing out onto their floor and hurrying to their apartment door. 

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to keep the bags stable as she pushed up the last few steps, turning to use her body to open the door to her floor. Eloise was at their door, jiggling in excitement, her light brown curls bouncing up and down as she waited (im)patiently. 

At four years old, Eloise was already beginning to look like Sam. She had the same hair, the same skin, some of the same mannerisms too, but she had Aelin’s eyes. 

Aelin hadn’t expected being married, divorced, and a mother by the age of 25, but here she was. Getting pregnant by her college boyfriend, marrying him, and then subsequently getting cheated on less than a year later had not been in her plans. But even then, she’d given Sam the chance to be a father. 

Yeah, he was a crappy husband, but she was of the belief that that didn’t always indicate if someone would be a good father or not. And she certainly didn’t believe in taking someone’s ability to be a father away just because of a personal grudge. 

But, he hadn’t stepped up. They’d gotten divorced quickly, and she’d asked him about custody, trying to solve it civilly, but he’d just let her take charge. And hadn’t fought her for any visiting rights, just showing up when he wanted to see Eloise, which wasn’t often and never announced despite how much Aelin had complained to him about it.

So when a great job opportunity had opened up for her over in Doranelle, she hadn’t regretted moving away. Sam hadn’t proven that he wanted to be a father, so she was just going to do her damned best to be a great mother. 

But sometimes…it was hard. 

He’d managed to take most of their friends in the divorce, and with the move to a completely new city, there wasn’t anybody for her to rely on except for herself. And -

“Hey, munchkin,” a familiar voice sounded from down the hallway, and her cheeks immediately flushed red. Even though he wasn’t even talking to her. “Where’s your mom?” 

“I’m here,” Aelin called down, smiling lightly at the man exiting the apartment next to theirs, clearly concerned about why a four year old girl was standing by herself in the hallway. 

When that green gaze shifted and locked eyes with hers, she felt her heart squeeze almost painfully. But she ignored it, walking down the hallway and still trying not to drop all of the bags she’d so painfully carried up the stairs. 

Rowan Whitethorn was an interesting case. He was their next door neighbor, and had been one of the only ones to introduce himself, but not of his own volition. They’d run into each other in the hallway, literally, and after being on the receiving end of his frown for a solid minute or so, he’d finally straightened up and introduced himself.

That’d been a few months ago, and since then they’d settled into friends? Kind of? It was difficult to tell. 

Yes, he was hot. Yes, he was charming in a shy way that was incredibly endearing. Yes, he was amazing with Eloise. In fact, the little girl adored him. It was nice to see her willing to open up to someone after the disappointment that was Sam. But, because of Sam, was she really willing to entertain the possibility of more heartbreak?

Aelin wasn’t sure.

“Need any help?” Rowan asked, breaking her out of her thoughts, and she was about to shake her head no, but he was already walking over, relieving her of the burden of probably 75% of the bags. She nearly sighed in relief, her arms sagging, and she resented a little how easy he made it look. But she also had to hide the blush that spread on her face at the strength it showed.

“Sure, I guess,” Aelin said faintly, smiling at him as he gestured for her to head toward the door.

“I think someone’s in a rush,” Rowan said, nodding at Eloise, who was standing at the front door, bouncing back and forth on her feet.

“Her favorite show is starting soon,” Aelin said, rolling her eyes, but obeyed her daughter’s plea, taking out her keys and opening the door. Eloise bounded in, skipping toward the carpet in front of the TV, laying down almost immediately and kicking her feet. 

Rowan gestured for her to go, and Aelin stepped inside her warm apartment, setting the few bags she had left on the counter and sighing as she took off her heavy coat. It was starting to get really cold outside. 

But still no snow. 

“Thanks for the help,” Aelin said as Rowan set the rest of the bags down on the counter. But he just dismissed her thanks with a shake of his head and a smile. And even started unpacking the bags, taking all of the groceries she’d bought at the store and beginning to sort them on the counter. 

“Where were you off to in such a rush?” Aelin asked with a small smile, hoping he understood it was teasing and not accusing. But he caught on, rolling with her punches as easily as he had in the few months they’d known each other. 

“Lawyers,” Rowan said, smiling weakly. It was an answer, and he didn’t seem annoyed at her question, but he didn’t seem as lighthearted as before. 

“Oh?” Aelin asked, helping him get everything out of the bags. Most important was the gingerbread house kit she’d bought. It was a bit of a splurge, and she’d cringed at the price, but making a gingerbread house had been on Eloise’s list for what she wanted to do this Yulemas, so she couldn’t say no. 

It was their first one without Sam at least around, so Aelin wanted to do everything she could to make it a great one.

“Aren’t you going to be late?” She questioned, but he just shrugged. Aelin didn’t want to pry, but she couldn’t deny she was curious.

“Doesn’t matter,” Rowan dismissed, with a loose shrug as he opened the fridge to put away a carton of milk. “She’s going to be late too, anyway.”

Aelin’s brows shot up, but she knew better than to ask, deciding to just help put the rest of the groceries away instead, in silence. It wasn’t awkward, but there was a bit of tension there that wasn’t there before. She was tempted to ask if he was okay.

But she wouldn’t. She didn’t want to risk losing the tentative friendship they had by making things uncomfortable. Not that they really had too much of a friendship. He had her number, and they’d texted maybe once or twice. But mostly it consisted of him helping her out with chores and things like that.

Rowan always insisted she call him if she needed help with anything. Aelin had only taken him up on that a few times, one notable time being when the sink faucet was broken and she needed someone besides their incompetent landlord to look at it. 

He’d obliged, and fixed it in twenty minutes, before staying over for dinner and watching a princess movie, at Eloise’s insistence. 

“Do you think it’s going to snow soon?” Aelin asked, after a few moments of silence. The only sound in the apartment was the cartoon on the TV and the rustling of grocery bags being balled up and put away.

Rowan hummed a bit in consideration, glancing out the small window in the kitchen. “It’s hard to predict, but I would say so.” 

“I promised Eloise a white Yulemas, so it better.” Aelin huffed a laugh, setting the gingerbread kit on the now clear counter. He leaned against the counter, looking over at her with a smile.

“Then you better tell the sky it needs to listen to you,” he teased, and she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, looking up at him.

“I’ll use my mom voice,” she said, lifting her brows. “It’ll have to listen to me then.” 

They grinned at each other for a moment, before his phone rang. He sighed and broke their stare, checking who was calling. But he didn’t answer it, just rejecting the call and sliding the device back into his jeans pocket.

“I better go,” he said, pushing off of the counter.

“Okay,” Aelin said, nodding. But her heart felt like it was shrinking at the idea of him leaving, even if it was only for a little bit. Even if he lived next door. It was just…nice. Being able to pretend in a way. Pretend that she wasn’t alone, that she had someone by her side to make sure the weight of everything she was carrying didn’t pull her down completely. 

It wasn’t fair of her to do that; he didn’t owe her anything. But she couldn’t deny the way she felt no matter how much she wanted to.

She walked him toward the front door, about to see him out when -

“Wait, are you leaving?” Eloise asked, darting up from her spot on the carpet and prancing over to the door. Her eyes were wide and sad. Aelin was just surprised she’d been able to unglue them from the TV.

“Rowan’s gotta go, sweetie,” she said, brushing a hand through her daughter’s curls. “He was just stopping by to help keep my arms from falling off.”

Her daughter’s blue eyes started watering and she clung onto Rowan’s leg, as if she could keep him there by sheer force of will.

“Eloise,” Aelin chastised, but he just laughed. 

“I’d stay if I could, Firefly,” he said fondly, ruffling her hair. “But your mom’s right, I have to go.”

Her daughter’s face could win a record for how pouty it was, and a laugh bubbled out of her too.

“Let him go, baby,” Aelin urged, laughing while she did. “You’ll see him soon.” 

Rowan’s brow shot up, and Aelin winced, especially as her daughter piped up.

“Yeah! You’re coming over for Yulemas Eve right?” Eloise asked, finally letting him go and bouncing a little bit as she spoke.  “My mama said she was going to ask.”

Rowan turned his green eyes on her then, and Aelin’s heart thundered in her chest. But she forced herself to do what she’d been putting off for a few days now.

“I didn’t know if you had any plans,” she spoke, a little stilted. “But if you didn’t, me and Eloise are just hanging out here if you need something to do.” Rowan didn’t seem to have a lot of people coming over, nor did he seem like he went out much, which was the only reason she’d actually considered asking.

And once she’d voiced the idea to Eloise, she’d had quite the enthusiastic support.

“I’d love to,” Rowan answered, before she could stuff her foot in her mouth anymore. 

“Yeah?” She asked, and a blush spread across her cheeks when he smiled at her. 

“If I wouldn't be intruding, yeah.” He shrugged, his smile settling into a half quirk of his lips. It was incredibly endearing. Aelin normally prided herself on never getting flustered, at always being the one holding the power in a conversation, especially with men. But it hadn’t been the same since moving out on her own with Eloise, or maybe it was just Rowan.

Either way, she’d be embarrassed if it didn’t seem like he found her endearing too. 

“So you are coming!” Eloise piped in, a wild smile on her little face, and Aelin was once again reminded of another exception surrounding Rowan. Her daughter could be the shyest person you’d ever meet around most strangers, but pretty much from the moment she’d met Rowan, she’d been a bundle of energy. 

It hadn’t been instantaneous, but it’d been pretty damn close.

“Looks like it,” Rowan chuckled, before crouching down by Eloise and tapping her on the nose. “Now, the quicker you guys put away the food, I bet the quicker you’ll get to work on that gingerbread house I saw on the counter.” Her eyes went wide. “So you better be good and help your mom out, alright?”

Eloise nodded rapidly, bouncing on her feet once again. He straightened up, about to head out the door before pausing and turning back to Aelin.

“See you in a few days,” he said, with a wink, and she could barely squeeze out a bye with the little breath she had.

The lingering fear of commitment was still there, and wouldn’t go away for a while, but she was also pretty sure this was going to be one of her favorite Yulemases yet.

--------

taglist:

@wordsafterhours

@romancinghollywood

@superspiritfestival

@wishfulimaginings

@larisssss

@punkassbookjockey26

@shyvioletcat

@aelinchocolatelover

@s-uppertime

@leiawritesstories

@elentiyawhitethorn

@backtobl4ck

@goddess-aelin

@fromthelibraryofemilyj

@justreadertings

@rowaelinismyotp

@live-the-fangirl-life

@swankii-art-teacher

@tomtenadia

@highqueenofelfhame

@firestarsandseneschals

@thegreyj

@mariamuses

@house-of-galathynius

@rowanaelinn

@llyncooljones

@story-scribbler

@charlizeed

@bookcide

@elizarikaallen

@slytherhys

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@rowaelinrambling

@courtofjurdan

@peppermint-fae

@rowaelinyulemasswap

[sammysorrowful]

Words are Hell, But Less With You - Hero x Villain Snippet

The stoic Hero and the witty, suave Villain have been more personal. Hero wants something not even they understand from Villain. But Hero isn’t good with words.

“Why is it always the filthy alleyways?” Hero muttered as they were pushed against the wall by Villain. Villain invaded Hero’s precious personal space, though not to the complaint of Hero. “‘Cause, shady alleyways in the middle of nowhere is always a good place for some stuff to go down, no?” Villain replied with a wink.

“I suppose, however, you have to understand how filthy this place is.” Hero continued as Villain smiled devilishly. The kind of look only they could pull off. Villain laughed, just a bit. “What? Would you rather out in the open?” Villain joked, laughing further. “I know you would hate that.” They added. They leaned forward once more, going back into Hero’s space. Hero could feel Villains breath on their neck. Something in Hero spoke. Villain and Hero had done this countless times. And Hero never regretted a single time. However, something spoke. Hero wanted more. It felt greedy of them to say, but they wanted more of…something to do with Villain, but in a very specific way that they didn’t know how to say. Hero didn’t know how to say a lot of things. But Villain always did find a way to understand. 

“Villain…” Hero said their name, the name itself drenched in a kind of sweetness that Villain loved. “Yes, dearest?” Villain replied. Hero couldn’t find the words. Villain stopped and they leaned back to where they and Hero locked eyes. “Dearest?” Villain added, just making sure. The words got caught in Hero’s throat. Villain figured that them being in Hero’s space wouldn’t help them speak. So Villain leaned back out and out of Hero’s space, giving them room to figure their thoughts out. “I…” Hero couldn’t find their words. “Desire something…From you.” They specified. Villain slightly giggled at that. Hero always loved that. Villain never did make Hero feel like a burden, and yet Hero was never quite sure of how they managed to do it. “Whatever it is, just say the words, dearest. I'll find a way to put them together." Villain said, flashing Hero a wink and finger-guns. Hero rolled their eyes at that. “You are so unbelievably corny.” Hero stated. Villain giggled again. “That’s my job, isn’t it?” Villain replied with their usual smile. Hero evaded their eyes. Villain’s expression didn’t sour. “I don’t mean to make this a police interrogation, so how about a game?” Villain suggested. “To try and help ya figure what ya want out.” Villain continued and slightly leaned back against the opposite wall of the alleyway. “What kind of game?” Hero replied. “It’s an easy one. It’ll help ya narrow stuff down, I think. All you have to do is say ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ No need for explanation. Okay?” Villain explained. Hero vaguely nodded. Villain smiled. 

“Is what you want from me an item or something like that?” Villain began. Hero paused, and thought. No. But it was certainly something to do with Villain. “Not quite.” Hero answered, looking up at Villain. “Is it something emotionally represented physically?” “You’re certainly utilizing your vocabulary today.” Hero muttered. “I try.” Villain said somewhat sarcastically. Hero smiled. “It’s…both emotional and physical, I can feel it.” Hero stated whole-heartedly. Villain nodded. “Is it old or new?” Villain asked. Villain seemed to be enjoying themselves in this little game. 

“It’s new, I know that. However, it feels like it is centuries old, like it has been sleeping within me for as long as I’ve lived.” Hero answered. “Poetic, as usual.” Villain commented. They slightly leaned forward again, getting invested. “Are you ashamed at all? Of whatever it is you want?” Villain asked. They looked over at the Hero, who contemplated. They quickly came to an answer. “Not at all.” Hero said. They couldn’t care less what people thought about them and Villain.

“Mhhmm, well, Hero, do you want what you think you can’t have? You heroes tend to do that, from what I’ve heard.” Villain suggested. Hero paused once more, but not hesitated. “I never thought I couldn’t have them.” Hero answered. “Them?” Villain repeated, just a bit confused. Hero froze for a moment, as if someone had hit pause on them. And the realization hit them like a bus. The ‘material’ was not an item at all. But rather…the physical comfort that Villain loved to exhibit so often. The emotional coordination being their absolute care for Villain. It made sense, then.

“I want you. To be with you. Not just with you but by you at all. In a way not like this. But in a way…a way where we…are...together.” It didn’t make much sense, but they were finding the words. The words were natural. A kind of natural Hero never knew. The words were still clunky, but Hero knew how hard they stumbled over the words, they’d find them.

Hero knew they could be there all day, and Villain would listen to every word.

[dewdropreader]

❦ ➷ get to know your fellow fanfic writers better ༊ ✧.*

I was tagged by @bebx and @loki-is-my-kink-awakening for this “get to know the writer” tag! Thank you! 😊

when did you post your first ever fanfic?

I believe in 2012-2013? I was around 13-14 years old, so around then anyway (my first one doesn’t exist online anymore as far as I know so I can’t double check.) it was the usual middle school fandom girl era lol. First for my current account was February of 2022!

first character you wrote for:

It would have been Rin Matsuoka from Free! Iwatobi Swim Club! Specifically him and Nitori, they were one of my fave ships in that series!

main character(s) you’re currently writing for:

Basically anyone from the Loki series but especially Loki and Mobius and Sylvie, not necessarily in that order or all together but some combo of them 💚

character(s) you haven’t written about before but plan on writing about soon:

I haven’t written for OFMD but would really like to! I’ve had a lot of feels s2, no solid ideas yet but maybe something will spark some inspiration! Also Red White and Royal Blue! I haven’t gotten a chance to read the book yet but I watched the movie and got hooked and love those boys too 💕 so maybe one or both of them if the Loki series even temporarily gets it’s hooks out of me (with s2 though I’ve been as bad if not worse than before with my obsession so who knows lol)

And for within marvel the ship that got me into fanfic and got me to make this current ao3 account was Stucky so even though I only read for them and never wrote, they always have a place in my heart!

fandom(s) you’re currently writing for:

Also just Loki atm! But who knows for the future.

platonic pairing(s) you currently write for:

Mobius and any of the void Lokis as the best found family ever (Mobius and kid, Mobius and classic, Mobius and all of them my beloveds)

I haven’t written it recently but also wrote B-15 and Sylvie in a non romantic context and even though I think they’re also cute romantically I love them as a platonic pair and want to do more with them too! Similarly Sylvie and C-20, I wish they could have been friends if things had gone a bit differently 🥺

romantic pairing(s) you currently write for:

Lokius and Sylkius! Haven’t written any pure Sylki but who knows (I just like Mobius too much to not include him atm)

your top 3 tags on AO3 (if you post your works on AO3):

Hurt/comfort, fluff, and hugs 😂 sounds about right to me! I like some pain and crying and working through stuff but need the hugs and comfort alongside it/after it for sure.

your current platform where you post your works

AO3 is the same as my name here!

I try to post my fics links on tumblr too but don’t always remember so ao3 is always best bet if you want to read my stuff!! 😍

snippet of the wip you’re currently working on:

Right now I’m most heavily focused on a character study type fic cataloging different moments with Sylvie adapting to her McDonald’s life but specifically looking at her relationship with Jack, I think she would have such a great big sister vibe and they could learn a lot from each other 🥹

“Good job today, Sylvie,” Jack says, his lopsided smile clear even before Sylvie glances his way. He’s always got compliments and kindness at the ready, and he’s young and gentle enough that they’re always believable.

“Thanks, Jack,” she feels a smile curl onto her face. She still, even after knowing Loki and Mobius and B-15, feels like she doesn’t know how to have friends or family or any genuine connections at all. But Jack is the first in a long time to feel so real to her, to feel like a relationship she can stick with, with these new more permanent circumstances and her distance from the trauma of the TVA. She doesn’t remember what it’s like to be a sister, her memories of Thor long gone beyond the occasional glimmers in her dreams, let alone what being the older sister would be like, but this is what she suspects it is. A fierce protectiveness and gentle care, the ignoring of any silly flaws or naïveté because you just care about the person. That’s what she has for Jack, ever since he took her under his wing as an employee, she’s done the same for him as just a person.

“Mind if I stay here for a bit? My ma is going to be a few more minutes.”

Sylvie just smiles softly and scoots over on the wide hood of her truck, gesturing to the empty spot.

Jack nods rather sagely as he awkwardly hoists himself on to the hood of the truck, pushing himself up with his arms and then practically throwing himself on to it.

He pants softly as he adjusts to lay on his back a foot or two away from Sylvie, giving her another boyish grin. “Hey.”

“Very smooth, Jack,” Sylvie snorts.

“Your truck is huge! I’ve ridden in trucks before but yours is massive! I’m not sure how you even get up here, you’re shorter than me!” He laughs.

“My little secret, I guess,” Sylvie shrugs with a slight smile, returning her gaze to the inky sky, dotted with a trillion stars.

I’m excited to keep writing this, I’ve got some Lokius ideas in the works too but this one has been my focus for a few days!!

I’d love to see anyone do this that is interested but I’ll tag my usual group!!

@insert-witty-user-name-here @starport-seven-five @lgwilt @mirilyawrites @cha-melodius @chaos-monkeyy @waterhorseyblues-ao3 @blackbirdofasgard @dreamycloud @queen-of-meows

[oflights]

wip snip 2.3

thank you for the tag, @m0srael! i'm still plugging away at turkey baster fic, wherein draco is still on his quest for a suitable sperm donor (but hasn't taken harry up on his offer. yet.)

in this (rather long, sorry!!) snippet, harry has dropped off ginger foster kittens, and he and draco are talking, as they often do in this fic, about getting pregnant.

“Are you going to try it for yourself? You seemed interested.” Draco doesn’t clarify what he means, mostly because he wants Potter to. While he can admit that Potter would, will, be a brilliant father, he doesn’t love the idea of Potter stealing his idea and making a go of this, either on his own or with someone else. All right, he hates the idea of Potter making a go of this with someone else, purely for the sake of young 20-year-old Draco who learned the hard way not to fancy blokes like Harry Potter, but doing it on his own doesn’t sound good to him either; chances are he’ll be better at it than Draco, because that’s how their lives have always worked.

Potter shakes his head, and Draco all but Occludes to hide how relieved he is. “No, that wasn’t quite what I was interested in.” He gives Draco a significant look there, and Draco just blinks back at him, missing whatever implication he’s supposed to glean before narrowing his eyes.

“Ah. You don’t want to be the one to carry?”

“No, I don’t—never mind. No, it’s more like I’ve taken your advice; I shouldn’t give up on doing it with the partner I want. I’ve just felt a bit—stuck, I suppose. I’m not sure what to do next.” Potter frowns thoughtfully, the kitten back in his big hands, rubbing absentmindedly through the tufty fur.

“Well, you’re not on a time limit, like I am,” Draco says, going slightly cold at the thought. He’s lost nine weeks to using the Book of Sperm; less than four months is a terrifying lack of time. He knows he’ll have to discuss different options with Healer Harper the next time he visits, but he’s dreading the thought.

“I understand, a bit, why you don’t want to lose this place,” Potter tells him, looking at the pet room all around them. “It’s so—you. And the garden—I would kill for your garden.”

“Bertrand’s going to rip it up,” Draco says. It’s satisfying how pinched Potter’s face goes, like he really does understand how devastating that would be. “He knows how much I love it; he’s told me how he wants to destroy it. I can’t—I won’t let that happen.”

“And there’s no other way?” Potter asks, before scrambling to add, “Not that I think you won’t—I mean, you’ll be fantastic with a baby, no doubt about it.”

“Really? No doubts at all?” Draco grins, expecting Potter to join in on the joke, but he just raises his chin stubbornly, nodding firmly.

“Not even one.” The moment hangs between them, oddly charged. Draco, of course, can’t help thinking that Potter has changed his tune, though he manages not to snipe that out. He knows that, rationally, knows that how Potter feels about him has changed; it’s the only reason they’re in this same room together, surrounded and covered by kittens Potter is entrusting to Draco’s care.

“Thank you,” Draco says, and then he clears his throat and gestures at the kittens, dipping his head to nuzzle the one at his shoulder slightly, stroking the one in his hand. “And thank you for—them. I needed this, really.”

“I did promise you were next up, and you’re always brilliant with them. Though, I should warn you—I don’t think you’ll have them for very long. Kneazle hybrids usually get snapped up fast, and Millie has a friend who might want two.” Potter’s shoulder slump apologetically, but Draco waves at him dismissively.

“I know how this works, don’t worry. I won’t get too attached.” Out of the corner of his eye, Odette seems to appear from nowhere on the wall, a dark gray cloud swishing her tail teasingly, proving him wrong. He ignores her pointedly to grin at Potter. “Do they have names yet?”

“Nope. Be my guest.”

“Excellent.” Draco sets down the kitten he’s holding next to the one between his legs to rub his hands together greedily, and he watches with delight as the two of them immediately curl up together, the feather toy held between them and poking out from between their little kitten bellies. “All right, since these are Weasley kittens, and there are seven of them—”

“Oh, you git—”

“—I think these two are Fred and George. This one up here—” He reaches up to stroke the one on his shoulder, smiling at the purring that elicits. “—is the dragon one, what’s his name? The fit one who said I was cute that time—”

“Charlie,” Potter bites out, face clouding, though he’s clearly also holding back a laugh.

“That’s right, you’re Charlie, aren’t you? Perfect. And those over there, the sleepy ones—Ronald, of course, he’s the one getting his turn at a bath from Beau, surely he needs it—and which ones are girls?”

“There are two girls; this is one,” Potter says, holding up the one that Fig is so fascinated by. He grins over at Draco. “George is a girl, too.”

“Wonderful. That one’s Ginny, then, of course—the one all over you—”

“She’ll punch you out for saying that, you know.”

“Yes, she does often resort to violence, that works perfectly. And that leaves Percy and Bill over there with Beau, right? Have I got them all?”

“You have.” Potter is faintly beaming at him, and Draco can’t help his slightly dopey smile back, forgetting to be self-conscious about it. There’s something too delightful about all this, too comfortable and joyous.

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

Hi, I wanted to let you know that I've been following your Cabin in The Woods fanfiction since the first chapter came out and I'm totally blown away by how well you wrote it and that the snippets already show that the sequel will be absolutely wonderful ♥️

I also love all the original characters (Hunter, Gunner, Ada) and I totally don't understand how you managed to write them all so differently and creatively.

I s wanted to ask two questions: 1. Can you post a new snippet from Cabin?

2. Do you know when you will add your Cabin work to the Sims gallery? Some time ago I sent you my version of Hunter and Spider and I really need Quaritch, Paz and a house because I absolutely can't make them and it frustrates me so much haha

Have a lovely day/night ♥️

You are so sweet! your message was the first thing I saw this morning and it made my whole day 💞

To answer your questions I finally got around to making that cc list for the sims! Here is the link to that post and I hope you have fun! Let me know if you want/need anything for your game.

And of course you can have a snippet. I'm always happy to share💙

******************************************************************

 He glanced at Junior again, snuggled in his bed on the very edge of sleep, and smiled. “Good night son. Sweet dreams.” Miles Sr went to bed not long after, enjoyed a dreamless sleep, then woke at his usual four am. The first thing he did was check on his son. Only for his heart to freeze in his chest when he found him gone. Escaped through his window. 

    Rage immediately consumed him, making the man see red, as he dressed and grabbed his tracker. How could Junior have left me, just like that. After everythin’ I’ve done for him. Saved him, cared for him, loved him. Ungrateful brat. I’ll set him straight, that's for sure. Sadness complemented his anger, twisting his insides to a pulp. We’ve been so happy. Why would he still want to run? Then the fury returned, reminding him, they poisoned his mind. It’s not my fault and it’s not his either. I’ll fix him. Everythin’ is going to be alright. 

    He found his son easily enough. Junior was walking around the perimeter searching for a weak point. The father scoffed at the sight. The sensors for his ankle monitor were buried underground. There was no way his son would ever find them unless he knew exactly where to look. 

    Rage still fueled him as he shouted, “The hell you think you’re doing boy!” Junior froze like a deer in headlights. Their eyes met for just a moment, his son’s filling with fear before he darted to the closet tree, shimmying up to its lower branches in seconds. Miles Sr would have been proud if he wasn’t extremely pissed off. “Boy you have ten seconds to put your feet on the ground before things get even worse for you. One…two…three….four….,” Junior wisely jumped down, slumping in defeat, head hung low. The father reached out, scruffed him by the neck, then began the walk back home.     

Junior, in the first act of common sense he’d show all day, stayed silent as they traversed the forest. Now that he had his son back, Miles Sr had to think up a fitting punishment. Something that would knock some real sense into his boy. But what? His last punishment had clearly been a temporary fix to the problem. Maybe a more old school approach would do the trick.