#if the host is willing to be the filter

[maximumzombiecreator]

I've seen a lot of posts recently where people say they can't find players to play non-5e TTRPGs with. As someone who moves countries every few years, I've had to rebuild my roster of local TTRPG players from scratch a number of times. Here's how I do it.

Caveats first: while I've done this in small cities, I have always done it in cities. If you're in, like, a rural environment, you might just not have enough interested people around. You can always do it online in that case. I'm not really going to cover finding players online, except to say you should probably look for communities for the specific system you want to play. Most of them are enthusiastically looking for new participants. Especially game masters.

Okay, first things first, you gotta find people. I generally find I get better results if the search is location first. That is, rather than using city-wide or regional Looking For Group type internet groups, I look for physical locations that host gaming groups. Local game stores, public libraries, gaming cafes/bars, etc.

Being location first helps avoid some common bad behaviours. Online LFG groups often have a few shitty people hanging around who can't find long term groups because they're shitty. They'll jump at the opportunity to join new groups where people don't know them, because everyone else knows better than to game with them. But location-based groups are better at filtering this. Someone who harasses people at an LGS can be banned from the store, but decentralized online groups struggle to handle these situations in my personal experience.

Being location first also solves the next problem, which is giving you a location to play. Eventually, when I have a long term group, I'll host games in my home. But there needs to be a level of trust before that feels safe, and we're looking for randoms, so for now we need a public gaming venue. If, for whatever reason, there aren't dedicated gaming spaces where you can do this, I've had the most success gaming in cafes or restaurants during off peak hours. I've run a bunch of games in restaurants from, like, 2pm-5pm on a Saturday, and as long as you're buying drinks and some snacks or something, and being polite and non-disruptive, it's typically not too hard to get permission.

Now, if that local group has enough interest in a non-5e system that I'm interested in running, I'll happily do that, and it's pretty free from there. Most people who are willing to play one other system will gladly try others if they find they like playing with you. But even in big cities, I feel it's pretty often the case that postings for local games of other systems don't wind up actually finding successful groups.

So, here is the bit where, unfortunately, finding people to play non-5e games with involves playing some 5e. Community groups are always looking for more GMs to run games, so I will set out to run a number of short 5e adventures, each with different groups. These are typically oneshots that I have the option of extending for another 1 or 2 sessions.

I always run adventures that I've written myself for these, because I want my particular GMing style to really come through. Looking for players is a two way street. I'm looking for people I like GMing for, but I'm also looking to make sure they know what they're getting. Especially if I'm going to ask them to play a system they've never tried, they should know that there's going to be something they enjoy. So, these short adventures are full of the types of silly but sincere NPCs I tend to run, the open-ended scenarios I prefer, the tropes I favour, etc. If someone isn't going to enjoy playing with me, I want them to know it from this adventure.

I structure the adventures to give me a lot of flexibility in terms of how long they run. They're nearly always mysteries, but with some active component to the mystery, so that if things drag or dawdle I can have the villain show up and force a final confrontation. They're also structured to have a natural "next thing." You find and defeat the villain, but there's an implied next villain you'll be going after. That way, if the group is working well and I want to continue, it's easy to present the option to the group. But if I'm not interested in continuing with the group, the next thing can just serve as an "and the adventures continue" implied epilogue, and the game still feels complete.

I don't like players just bringing their own character sheet to the table. Someone who brings a disruptive character can ruin a session without me getting much useful information out of it, other than that I don't want to play with that person. And if it ruins the experience for the other players, I'm often out the opportunity to game with those people, through neither of our faults. I've experimented with both asking players to submit their characters in advance or making them choose between a collection of premade characters. The former is a good check for whether people will put in a basic amount of effort and follow instructions, but it can dissuade people who are just looking to dip their toes into playing for the first time. The latter can turn off players who are into crunchy games and are excited about character building. As a result, I'll usually choose the approach based on what non-5e system I'm currently most excited about running. Do I want to get together a group for a rules-light game? Premade characters it is. Looking to run some PF2e? Please submit your character sheet in advance. Some locations also do more drop-in based games, in which case it's premades all day.

As I'm running the game, I'm observing the players. There's a simple vibe check, obviously. Do I like playing with this person? But I'm also looking at how they play. What are they here for, what's exciting them? Are they struggling with finding optimal turns in combat, or do they like mastering a system? Are they curious about the world, or do they glaze over when the spotlight isn't on them? Do they light up in dialogue scenes? Do they want to try crazy things outside of their on-sheet abilities? Remember, later, I'm going to try to persuade this person to try to play a game they've never played before. I need to know what specifically is going to excite them.

I have (always with permission) recorded sessions before to go over in making these choices, but honestly even just a few small reminder notes will help me unravel things later. If a session goes well, I'll ask at the end for people to give me their contact information if they'd be interested in playing again. Non-committal, at their comfort, and it doesn't single out people that I don't want to play with. I can always just not call them. Usually I find I'm interested in playing again with a little more than half of the players I meet this way. In my experience, it's fairly rare for a player to say they're not interested in playing again, TTRPGs rule and there's a DM shortage.

What I usually do is keep running these until I have enough people in mind to run something else, even if it isn't the system I'm most excited about. Probably it would be better to spend more time in this starter phase building up more connections, but after running like 4-5 5e adventures, I'm usually more than ready to run anything else, and if I have to shelve my Lancer ideas because I've mostly found crunch-averse players, I'm usually fine with that.

So, next comes the invites. Now, most players I meet this way will eventually be open to playing most games, but listen: you can put people well out of their comfort zone for their third TTRPG, but you gotta be real careful with their second. Most of the time, the game I'm inviting people to will be their first real exposure to a non-5e TTRPG. If they don't like it, they will run back to the safety of 5e and you will never get them out of it again. So I am very careful in picking the right system for the players I am inviting.

Whatever the new system I want to run is, I will set up a pilot session for it. I am very clear to players that I will teach them the system at the session, they do not need to know it in advance. Eventually, when I have a reliable group of TTRPG people to play with, I'll expect them to be able to pick up systems without a ton of help, but for players that are only used to the complexity of 5e, the idea of learning a new system is daunting. I rehearse the teaching of the game session. It's the only thing for TTRPGs I ever rehearse, but I want to know down pat how I'm going to quickly teach a new system and make it feel approachable and non-threatening. I'm also very clear that this will be a single session, with the possibility of turning into a campaign if we like it. All of this is structured to feel very safe. No initial learning required, no long term commitment, with a GM you already know you like.

But even as safe as that is, you still have to pitch the system. Why should the player be excited about playing this new game? Don't go all TTRPG nerd on them and explain all the details of the system, or use a bunch of jargon. Give them one or two things to be excited about with short, detailed anecdotes to back them up.

"We're going to be playing Blades in the Dark. It's a game where you play a gang of criminals in a haunted, steampunk dystopia. Every session you'll do heists, but instead of meticulously planning them, you start right in the action, and when you need to have planned for something, you can do a flashback scene to explain your preparation. One group I ran this for got busted by guards during an early heist, but used a flashback to create a scene where they had gotten a buddy of theirs a job as one of the guards, and he helped them out of the situation. And for some reason they fell in love with this bumbling goof I improvised to be the buddy, and then on a bunch of future jobs they kept using flashbacks to get him jobs wherever they were robbing. So this one idiot was just a de-facto crew member who worked a dozen different inside jobs despite being about as sharp as an eraser. And eventually they fucked up and got him killed, but they brought him back as a ghost, because you can do that in Blades in the Dark."

I find using a specific example of play really helps get peoples' imaginations going, which is what is going to help them say yes. And that example is tailored to what I know that player vibes with, what it is I think that makes them a good fit for this game.

The last detail about the invites is that I'm telling them, not asking them. It is not, "Hey, are you interested in playing this new game?" It's "I'm going to be running this new game. If you're interested in playing, please let me know what times work for you." If you're asking, you're going to get some "well but can it be 5e?" If you're telling, then they can choose to learn a new game in order to keep playing TTRPGs with a GM they know they like, or they can choose not to play at all.

Once you get enough yesses for a game, you run it, and then from there you're on your own. I think those are basically just friends you have at that point, and I'm not gonna tell you how to have friends.

Hopefully at least one person finds all that useful!

[hrts4hanniehae]

clutch || five

there are written parts :)

note that the timeline or educations may not add up but just ignore it because i don't have the brain power to sync up THIRTEEN + 1 's education schedules

also!!!! the story begins in the christmas period of 2022!!!! IF THERE ARE YEAR ERRORS IM SO SORRY!!!! i legit can't change it omfg

"so you guys went to vernon's place before coming back?" - wonwoo

"can't risk e/n finding out where yn lives now." - vernon

"you and seungkwan have to be careful too." - dino

"yeah. he's away hosting this netflix show so i'll just look out for myself." - vernon

"he's so annoying..." - yn

"i'll fetch you from work from now on, yn." - wonwoo

dino and vernon turn to look at him in shock. wonwoo? volunteering? to go out of the house? to help someone?

"thanks... i didn't really expect him to become like this..." - yn

no one expected e/n to knock on wonwoo's door while yn and dino were home alone.

hiding in her art room as the knocks got louder, yn and dino began to silently panic.

"where the hell is wonwoo" - yn

"he has a streamer event to attend. i'm going to cry why is he so scary..." - dino

"okay wait go strip and put on your bathroom after wetting ur body or smth then open the door and ask why he's here." - yn

"huh?!" - dino

"fasterpleasegonow." - yn

dino took a deep breath before opening the door. sure enough, it was e/n, who was shocked to see him."

"sorry but does someone named yn ln live here?" - e/n

"sorry who?" - dino

"yn ln. about this tall, (hair colour), (eye colour)..." - e/n

"i don't know anyone like that. sorry. would you mind leaving? this apartment building is off limits to those who don't live here and i don't recognise you." - dino

"... sorry for bothering you." - e/n

dino immediately closes and locks the door once e/n leaves and rushes back to the art room.

"how the hell did he get in without the keycard?" - yn

"probably tailgated someone inside. have you texted wonwoo?" - dino

"he said he was on the way back." - yn

when he got the text from yn, his heart dropped. a simple sentence. "e/n is here. help." he feared the worst. he didn't understand. yn was one of the nicest people he knew, willing to help anyone, hardworking and dedicated. why was she suffering at the hands people like this?

his relief when she texted that she was okay made his legs weak. he barely knew her, but he knew the effort she'd put in to keep a smile on her face.

e/n threatened her peace. and he didn't know why he cared so much, but he did.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

a/n: i'm sorry it's a little short today but i was tired since i went out to buy albums today. i finally bought my boynextdoor album. and OMG TWS MEMBERS???? based off instant attraction alone... it's me and shinyu against the world.

synopsis: wonwoo is a popular streamer known for his incredible gaming skills and good looks. He turned heads. but he hates the attention. he just wants to play games and earn money. one day he receives a letter. his apartment’s rent has almost doubled. no warnings at all. his current paycheck from streaming can’t shoulder those bills. he has no choice but to rent out his spare room. to who? a fresh art university graduate who has… 1. a stable job ✅ 2. talent for art and sculpting ✅ 3. many friends ❌ 4. social anxiety ✅ 5. no filter ✅ when his iconic cat logo gets copystriked, she comes to the rescue with a new logo for him. when his apartment’s walls start peeling, she fixes it. whatever he used to struggle with… the empty space... was now filled by her. so what does he *last player standing* do when her ex *enemy spotted* tries to take her back? heh. *clutch* he clutches.

inspired by wonwoo's gam3bo1 streams, falling into your smile & gogo squid (has hints of valorant)

pairing: streamer!jeon wonwoo x fem!artist!reader (ft. jeongcheol, soonhoon, junhao, seoksoo, verkwan)

genre: fluff, comfort, slowburn, comfort, pining, bestfriend!minghao

warnings: stalker ex, toxic ex, mentions of abuse, guns (game), cursing, hate comments, panic attacks

started: 28.12.23

ended: ?

taglist: join from my masterlist

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tags! @fairyofhour @megseungmin @sun-daddy-yoriichi @woozixo @euphoric-univers @christinewithluv @haowonbins @ocyeanicc @asyre @cynthiaaax13 @superhoshisvt @bangantokchy @chimmy-bts @angelarin @daisawa @writingbarnes @jeonghansshitester

@belladaises @wonwootakemyheart @wonwooz1 @luchiet @kookssecret @caratsland @peachescreamandcrumble @thepoopdokyeomtouched @isabellah29 @leah-rose03 @yandere-stories @coupshour @heesbees @hamji-hae

[soulessjourney]

Autumn's Whispered Secrets

Summary: Fall has finally made its appearance in Velaris. Once a year the Night Court hosts a large event once a year called the "Autumn Elegance Gala." This year, however, it seemed as though the event held a deeper meaning for you and a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 2.2k

Velaris was already beautiful, but when autumn arrived, the city transformed into a new spectacle. Stores adorned their windows with artificial orange leaves, pumpkins adorned almost every doorstep, and the air was infused with the scents of spice and pumpkin pie. The festive atmosphere was truly remarkable.

Today marked a special occasion, much like Starfall. It was a day when many gathered to celebrate the arrival of fall. Children roamed the streets, dressed as ghosts and ghouls, their laughter reverberating off the city's buildings.

Small arms encircled your leg as a young boy looked up at you, his eyes sparkling. "Auntie Y/N, are you going to join us for the festival today? Mother mentioned she had spoken to you!" You picked up Nyx and playfully tapped his nose with a wide smile as you listened to his enthusiastic chatter about the various events scheduled for the day. He was the spitting image of Rhysand and had the vibrant personality of your longtime friend, Feyre.

"Well, little Nyx, I suppose I can join you all today since you asked so nicely," you replied, grinning and gently tickling the boy's side. Your smile widened as his laughter filled the air, and Nyx never failed to brighten your day, particularly when you had been burdened with the paperwork assigned to you by his father. This little boy had a knack for spreading joy, even on the toughest days.

"Uncle Az will be thrilled to hear that you're coming. He kept saying he wouldn't go unless you did," Nyx shared, his grin lighting up his face. Nyx had no filter, and there was no keeping secrets around him.

Laughing softly, you set the small boy down and affectionately ruffled his hair. "Well, I'm sure Uncle Azriel would have gone even if I couldn't make it," you teased, your heart fluttering at Nyx's words. Placing a hand over your chest, you made your way to your room to start getting ready for the day's events.

-----

Your eyes couldn't help but wander as you and the Inner Circle strolled through the streets of Velaris. Nyx, running ahead, urged everyone to walk faster. You snapped out of your reverie when Mor fell into step beside you, slinging an arm over your shoulders.

"You've got someone who won't stop staring. I'm pretty sure he's going to burn holes into the back of your head at this rate," she said with a snicker. Glancing over your shoulder, you turned to see who she was referring to, and sure enough, Azriel had his gaze locked on you. When your eyes met, you quickly turned your attention forward, feeling a blush creep onto your face.

"I swear both of you know you're mates, so why don't you just make a move already," Mor grumbled, looking down at you.

You sucked in a deep breath and clicked your tongue. "Because, Mor, he's interested in Elain, and that's not a fire I'm willing to play with," you replied, shrugging off Mor's arm. It was true. You had been aware of the bond for the past few months but had never made an effort to bring it up. Azriel seemed smitten with Elain, and it was clear from the way he looked at her that he was falling for her. You didn't want to interfere or force his hand just because of the bond. If Azriel had any intentions with you, you'd leave it up to him to make the first move.

The moment you all stepped into the town square, you let out a loud gasp. It was utterly beautiful. Small wooden booths were set up around the square, with merchants selling their goods to families and couples. The square was brightly lit and vibrant, filled with people laughing and chatting with one another. It never failed to take your breath away. Everyone here seemed genuinely happy to be around each other, and you loved that atmosphere. Looking around, you noticed that your family had dispersed to explore the booths or entertain the small child who ruled your group.

Someone fell in step next to you, and you jumped. "Looks like it's just us," Azriel said, his voice low as he nervously glanced around. Something inside you fluttered at the sound of his voice, which had a deep, sultry quality. Every time you heard him speak, your stomach did somersaults. As he stood beside you, you noticed how tense he was, his eyes darting around the square.

"Are you scared of crowds, Azriel?" you asked, laughter escaping your lips. It would be something new to witness, the Shadow Singer scared of crowds. You couldn't miss the blush that tinged his tan skin as he looked away from you. He was embarrassed, and that only made you laugh harder.

"I'm not scared, just surveilling the area to make sure nothing could hurt Nyx," he replied, clearing his throat. His shoulders tensed as a couple walked by, getting a bit too close for his comfort. Slipping your hand into his, you chose to ignore the look of shock he sent your way as you guided him through the square, pointing out various charms and clothing items for sale. Spending time with Azriel made the bond between you hum with happiness, but you kept trying to suppress it.

As you weaved in and out of the different booths, you suddenly came to a halt, causing the taller male to bump into your smaller frame. There, an array of hair clips lay, each one catching your eye. With how often Mor dressed you to the nines, you wanted a hairpiece to complement your attire. As your eyes scanned the table, they landed on a white floral hair clip. The gold accents perfectly complemented the white flowers, making it a truly beautiful piece. Seeing that your gaze lingered, Azriel reached down and picked up the hair clip. He turned you to face him, gently brushing your hair away from your face and neck. His rough fingers brushed against your skin, setting your senses on fire. As he placed the clip into your hair, he held your gaze, and the space between you two slowly decreased.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, brushing his nose against yours. Just as you began to lean up, Mor's voice rang out from a few feet away. You jumped away from Azriel, smiling, and handed him the clip just as Mor approached.

"Sorry to interrupt your date, but your dress is ready for tonight, Y/N, and little Nyx is starting to fall asleep. Feyre wants us to head back and start getting ready," Mor announced as she pulled you along. Glancing back at Azriel, you gave him a small wave, not missing the look of longing in his hazel eyes.

-----

Music filled the building, accompanied by lively chatter. Bodies swayed in the middle of the room, and conversations buzzed on the sides. Mor clung to your arm as you descended the stairs, your dress flowing behind you. She had truly outdone herself with the dress, knowing it was both beautiful and alluring enough to turn heads. The gown had a golden hue with a long slit running up your right leg, teasing every time you walked. The design on the right shoulder resembled leaves, cascading from your hip over your shoulder. It was an absolutely stunning dress, and Mor's effort made you feel grateful to have her as a friend.

As you stepped onto the floor, you spotted the Inner Circle standing just off to the side, sharing laughter over something Cassian had said. Nesta playfully smacked his arm. But your eyes were drawn to Azriel, his hair slicked back, exposing part of his forehead. The suit he wore accentuated his figure in the best possible way. Your cheeks grew warm at the sight of him, and the bond pulled you closer to your mate, urging for contact.

Stopping next to Feyre, gasps escaped the group as they looked at you. "Damn, Y/N, you clean up well. That dress knows how to showcase your curves," Cassian said, earning a scowl and another smack from Nesta.

"You look lovely this evening. Please excuse Cassian; we all know he lacks a filter," Nesta said, sending a scowl toward Cassian. You laughed and thanked her before mingling with your group. You felt a tug on the bond and turned your attention to Azriel. He signaled you to follow him, and you excused yourself to join him on the balcony.

Once outside, Azriel presented a small box. "I wanted to give this to you. It seemed like you loved it, and it suited you well," he said, passing you the box. When you opened it, you gasped at the sight of the hair clip he had put in your hair earlier that day. "Here, let me," he said gently, taking the clip and turning you around. He slid it into your hair and smiled, his hands gently caressing your shoulders. "Perfect," he whispered into your ear.

Turning back toward the Shadow Singer, you gave him a small smile. "Thank you, I'll be sure to wear it well," you teased, scanning him once again. Part of you wondered what things would be like if you had confessed to Azriel the moment you felt the bond snap into place. Would you be together and happy? Would you constantly worry about his closeness to Elain? You contemplated talking to him and seeing where things might lead. You glanced back at Azriel, who looked at you with longing in his eyes, yearning for a kiss. Grabbing his hand, you pulled him onto the dance floor, dancing together as one. "I'm sure you know about the bond between us, but why haven't you said anything?" you asked, looking up at Azriel.

He hummed, taking a moment to find the right words. "I didn't want to force you. You've been dealing with things since the last mission Rhys sent you on, and I didn't want to push the mating bond onto you. It wouldn't have been fair to you, especially if you weren't ready," he explained, his hand resting on the small of your back. "Why haven't you said anything about the mating bond?" he inquired.

You mumbled, "Well, you were close with Elain, and I didn't want to intrude on your relationship with her." Your eyes landed on Elain, who watched you both from across the room, jealousy apparent.

Ever since Elain joined the Inner Circle, tension had built between you and Azriel. She turned it into a competition, trying to prove who knew him better or who could hold his attention longer, so you had pulled away. "I didn't want to force the bond onto you either, especially if you chose Elain in the end," you admitted.

Azriel chuckled, drawing you closer. "Elain is a sweet girl, but she's not someone I'm interested in. I'm only there to help make her stay here more manageable," he said, cupping your cheek. "Cassian has been pestering me for a month to open up to you and discuss the mating bond. Every time I tried, I was sent on a mission or you were whisked away by Mor or Rhysand," he grumbled. "I'm tired of fighting this bond, and I want to embrace it. I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up in your arms. I want to listen to you complain about the reports Rhysand keeps giving you. I want to hold you when you wake from a nightmare and be the one you go to when you're having a bad day. I want to be the one who tells you that I love you every minute of every day."

Azriel's words took you by surprise. You had never imagined he wanted all of that. You always felt like you came second when it came to Elain. Hearing his words made your heart swell. "I want that too, Az. I want to feel your touch and kiss you during my lowest moments. I want to share my secrets and frustrations. I want to come to you when I'm having a bad day and just lie in your arms. I want to be there to welcome you home after a mission and tell you how much I missed you," you whispered, leaning into his hand on your cheek. "I want to be yours because I'm deeply and utterly in love with you."

Azriel smiled and leaned down to kiss you. The bond hummed with happiness at the touch of your lips, making you feel complete after months of emptiness. The kiss felt like it lasted an eternity, yet it was over all too soon. Brushing his nose against yours, Azriel smiled. "I love you too, more than you'll ever know," he whispered, giving you another gentle kiss.

"Bet you fifty bucks he gets laid tonight," Cassian whispered to Nesta. They were standing a few feet away, with the rest of the Inner Circle, watching you both.

"Cassian, if you don't shut your mouth, you're going to be the one who doesn't get laid," Nesta retorted, causing the others to laugh and Rhysand to pat the disheartened Cassian on the back.

Looking over at the scene, you and Azriel laughed at the sight before turning back to each other. "Should we head home? I make a mean pumpkin pie, and given how you devoured that one over there, I'm sure you're craving more," you teased. Azriel let out a hearty laugh and leaned down to kiss you once again.

[professorofcosplay]

WHAT’S THIS?! TADC Headcanons?!?

— As the youngest circus member, Jax has definitely played FNAF and immediately thought “oh yes this is awesome” when he got into his digital body. However, sadly, no one else has played FNAF or gets his occasional references. 

— Bubble has a knack for showing up unannounced, absolutely silently. One minute, you’re chilling in your room; the next, Bubble is also chilling in your room. 4 inches behind your face. Silently.

— As there’s only humans, NPCs, and AIs in the circus, where does Jax get the bugs to harass Ragatha with?  My theory is that he bribes Caine to get them and Caine, being a natural prankster, is all too willing to indulge and make bugs appear out of thin air. 

— Ragatha is terrified that the bugs will crawl in where her stuffing should be like the Oogie Boogie Man. She was creeped out by Nightmare Before Christmas. She will never tell this to Jax, though. 

— Caine has accidentally bit one of his eyes before, just like someone biting their tongue. It hurts every bit and much much more. It hurts so much he glitches in and out of cyberspace for a few moments in pain.

— Gummigoo is actually an abstraction that has regained control using an NPC as a channel/shell for their essence. This is why he’s so self-aware and determined to return to the Circus, even if he’s not aware of it or his past life in the Circus. 

— Bubble watches reality TV (with a big bowl of popcorn) and, while Caine acts like he hates it, he watches it for all the big romantic gestures so he can know what to do for the Moon when he wants to flirt. 

— Bubble made Caine a big box of chocolates to give to her on Valentine’s Day. He still feels very touched by the gesture.

— Caine, on the other hand, is a huge fan of game shows and is actually imitating a game show host persona. He’s actually a lot more introverted when just one on one. 

— Kinger does not know how to play chess. He does love a good game of Candy Land, though. 

— Jax has an exclusive copy of GTA VI. How did he get it? Nobody knows. When he’s in his room, he’s just off playing it, though he doesn’t like it as much as GTAV. He taught Kinger how to play and he’s actually pretty good. However, Kinger forgets after every time they play. 

— Gangle can and does slither like a snake from time to time on those ribbons; it just freaks out Ragatha so she doesn’t do it. 

— Gangle has an irrational fear of ball pits. Mainly because she’s worried they’ll get stuck in her smaller coils. 

— Zooble was once disassembled and used as a hot wheels ramp/course by Jax as a prank. Caine thus has banned the use of Hot Wheels from the Circus.  

— Caine and Bubble have full internet access. He keeps up to date with trends and sprinkles in references that the Circus cast obviously don’t get.

— Caine and Bubble have a lot of inside jokes and no filter when they’re together. Bubble is also comfortable saying anything to Caine.

[ofduskanddreams]

Pierce The Clouds

for @elucienweekofficial day 2: magic

A/N: I say this is "from the vault" because it's based on part of an old (no longer public) fic that I plan to rewrite if I ever have the time. I wasn't planning on posting anything today, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head so here we are :)

READ ON AO3 | RATED: E | CANON-TYPICAL VIOLENCE | 8.3k WORDS

When Lucien encounters trouble in the mortal lands, the bond draws Elain's shuttered power to the surface. Everyone knows that getting between a Fae and their injured mate is a death wish, but no one, not even Elain, knows just how far her magic is willing to go.

Lucien

He winnowed directly from the entrance of the Hewn City into his apartment in Velaris. He kicked off his shoes and fell back onto his bed, ignoring the slight cloud of dust that puffed up from the duvet on impact. 

Two minutes, he told himself. Two minutes to close his eyes and soak in the blissful silence.

Lucien didn’t want to think about that meeting, it all made him too uneasy. Eris had mentioned nothing about a plan to kill Beron, he’d simply thanked Rhys again for hosting him for Winter Solstice again and made a snide comment about how unfortunate it was that Cassian—“that Illyrian brute” as Eris called him—didn’t let him within twenty feet of Nesta this year. 

Rhys, looking as bored as ever, had signed his approval on a trade agreement between the Nightmares and Eris’s territory in Autumn: ore for agricultural products. Lucien and Rhys spoke mind-to-mind about how it was suspiciously mutually beneficial, but on paper, he could make no objections.

Dealing with Eris always left him unsettled, and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Growing up with his brothers, it was second nature to expect every good deed to have an equally bad counterpart. But with Eris, the shoe hadn’t dropped. Yet. That was the most unnerving thing, what would be the cost of centuries of Eris’s so-called generosity towards him?

With a groan, Lucien forced himself to get up and change. He grabbed the second bag in the line of pre-packed leather duffels lining the wall near the door. It was a system he had developed while working as Tamlin’s emissary. A bag of necessities and appropriate clothing for each of Prythian’s courts, spelled with simple enchantments to keep everything fresh and wrinkle-free. The bag in his hand, for the human lands, was newer than the others yet still worn and marked by a small white leather tag.

Rhys had suggested that Lucien take Eris’s news that all was quiet with Beron and Koschei to Vassa sooner rather than later. The knowing look in Rhys’s eyes made it clear he was offering Lucien an out from family dinner should he want it. 

With a wave of his hand, Lucien put out the fire in his fireplace and winnowed to the woods outside the wards he’d placed on Vassa’s manor. The near evening light lacked any sparkle as it filtered through the dull green canopy above him. He was grateful to Rhys; he didn’t want to think about trying to face Elain right now, unsettled as he was. It was hard enough to play that politely distanced courtier for her on a good day. 

Lucien was a patient male, he prided himself on his self-control but even he had his limits. Elain wasn’t happy. He felt it through their dulled bond, and his instincts screamed at him to do something about it but he couldn’t. Being around her made it even more obvious and equally more difficult to ignore. Elain acted like she was happy, and was probably unaware that he knew her true feelings. It wasn’t his place to say anything so he’d been distancing himself. It seemed to be what she wanted.

Lucien walked through the manor’s gates and immediately came face-to-face with a flustered Jurian.

Jurian braced a hand on his shoulder as he caught his breath. “Impeccable…timing,” Jurian wheezed.

Lucien’s metal eye whirred in its socket, examining. The wards were fine. Nothing was on fire. There were no screams or clashing blades ringing through the air.

“What’s wrong?” he asked Jurian.

“I was just about to send for you,” Jurian began, leading him towards the manor doors. “A few minutes ago, I had a runner come saying that there was a fight on the border. Apparently some of Nolan’s men got into it with a unit of your Prythian Guard.”

“Fuck,” Lucien exhaled, dread simmering in his veins. “Any injuries? Casualties?”

Jurian shook his head as they entered the manor hall. “The poor kid only said one injury before passing out on my office floor.”

“We don’t know if they were human or Fae?” Lucien inquired, dropping his bag and taking out the spare dagger he kept there. He sheathed it next to the short sword he always carried on his right hip.

“No,” Jurian sighed. “Since it could be either, I think it’s best if we both go.”

Lucien nodded in grim agreement.

It took them half an hour’s hard riding to reach the second garrison of the Prythian Guard. The Guard had been one of Lucien’s better ideas, endorsed by Rhys to address Tamlin’s non-existent border security. It was a peacekeeping force made up of Fae representing every court to monitor the border where the wall once stood.

It would have been easy for Lucien to winnow himself and Jurian, but riding in alongside the former human general sent a better message in this situation that and outcomes, could easily escalate into a greater conflict. Riding was also a thrill Lucien had enjoyed for as long as he could remember. He didn’t understand why most High Fae avoided it.

The sun was setting when Lucien dismounted at the wooden gate and nodded to Jurian. He would continue on to Nolan’s outpost and figure out what he could. With both sides of the story, maybe the two of them could piece together what actually happened.

The guard standing watch—Winter Court if his fair hair, skin, and frosty eyes were a sign—opened the gate for Lucien with a deferential nod.

“They’re all in the main hall,” he said, taking the reins from Lucien.

As he crossed the dirt courtyard, Lucien tried his best not to jump to morbid conclusions. The likelihood of this sparking another human-fae war was slim. If he was being honest, he’d poured so much of himself into maintaining peace since the war with Hybern ended that any breach of it felt like a personal attack. He was glad that his magic was still drained from all the winnowing he’d done in the last day and a half. If it hadn’t been, sparks would fly from his fingertips.

The sight that met Lucien in the chamber was far from encouraging. The assembled grave-faced guards stepped aside in a wave of pewter gray to reveal a male laying on a table. For a sickening heartbeat the male’s golden hair looked like Tamlin’s, but as Lucien stepped closer, he saw gray hairs mingled with gold and speckled with blood.

Lucien had to grip the table to keep from falling to his knees, because the male taking wet, ragged breaths was Valin.

“Lucien,” a voice addressed him. 

Lucien looked up from the table to find Bron, one of Tamlin’s former sentries standing beside him, the crest of a commander on his gray uniform.

“What happened?” Lucien seethed behind gritted teeth.

“Valin had his unit on their regular patrol when they came across a bunch of Nolan’s men, drunk. They were aggressive, trying to cross the border and hoping for revenge from the sound of it. The unit followed protocol and was working to disarm the group with minimal injury when Valin took a scatter-ash arrow to the chest. Under Valin’s orders, they didn’t retaliate and half of them escorted Nolan’s men back to their outpost while the rest brough Valin here.”

“I should have known the prospect of ordering people around would have drawn Valin out of retirement.” Lucien and Bron exchanged sad smiles. Valin was Andras’s older brother, had been the captain of Tamlin’s sentries since his father had ruled Spring. He retired a few decades after Lucien arrived in the court, to start a family when he found his mate. But they’d stayed friends, Lucien had visited often and written when he couldn’t.

“Talia should be here soon, I sent a winnower to her as soon as I saw him,” Bron spoke quietly.

“He won’t make it?”

Bron closed his eyes and shook his head. “Scatter-ash, it’s Nolan’s latest invention. The arrow heads and lower shafts are made of ash chips somehow melded together so they break into pieces if the arrow hits bone or is removed.”

Lucien’s elbows hit the table as he rested his head in his hands. The sound of running footsteps made him snap upright, just in time to see Talia burst through the doors. She froze, nostrils flaring as she scented her mate’s blood.

“Everybody back to your posts,” Lucien ordered softly, and the room cleared save for himself, Talia and Bron.

In the blink of an eye, Talia was standing beside her mate clutching his hand to her chest. Her translucent wings shivered as tears fell silently down her face.

The room was quiet, save for Valin’s jagged breaths that were slowing by the minute. Lucien and Bron stood together in mute vigil for their fallen friend and mentor as the sun sank beneath the horizon, coloring the room a somber shadow-blue. Lucien would never forget the moment Valin’s heart stopped and his soul crossed the Veil. Talia froze before she began shaking. Then she fell to her knees, hands clasped over her heart and screamed.

That scream of unearthly sorrow and rage and grief hit Lucien like a serrated blade to the gut. He saw Bron stagger as well under the weight of Talia’s pain as half of her soul was ripped out and cast to the void. Lucien had only read about what could happen following the death of one’s mate. He couldn’t stop himself from picturing Elain on that table, dead. The thought of that golden light in his chest winking out threatened the stability of Lucien’s knees.

The wail turned to a choked-off sob. He wished he could go to her, but there was no comfort he could give that would ease the force of her grief. Eventually the sobbing stopped and Talia slowly turned to them.

“Who?” she growled, rage blazing in her eyes.

“Talia, an off-duty human guard shot him,” Lucien spoke carefully with his hands outstretched, palms up in a gesture of peace. “I will meet with Lord Nolan in the morning and demand he turn over the man responsible. His judgment will be yours to give.”

Lucien looked to the side at Bron who gave an imperceptible nod before he stepped forward slowly. 

Bron approached her as one might a spooked horse. All Fae knew there were few things as dangerous as a mate seeking retribution—instinct could spark a bloodlust in the most peaceful of souls. Once Lucien felt relatively sure that Talia would allow Bron to help her prepare her mate’s body for the pyre without killing him, he slipped out of the room and down a narrow hall to the guest officer’s quarters. 

He wasn’t able to shake the smothering, bone-rending sadness he felt. He couldn’t bear the thought of what Talia must be going through; couldn’t stop his mind from reliving the night Jesminda’s life was stolen by his folly.

Lucien collapsed onto the small bed in the dark, cold room. He couldn’t staunch that gut-wrenching grief he’d buried so deep. He closed his eyes but immediately saw the light leaving Jes’s walnut eyes. When he heard the wet slice of a blade meeting bone, of her head hitting the stone, Lucien’s eyes flew open. He was drowning in grief too long ignored.

He jolted when there was a sharp tug behind his ribs, hard enough that his breath hitched.

Then there was a bright warmth blooming. 

Lucien sat up, but no—he hadn’t accidentally started a fire. It happened rarely, when the nightmares were at their worst and he would wake to the acrid scent of burning fabrics.

An image of small hands buried in a white mane flying flashed in front of his mind's eye.

And then he was a youngling hiding in the kitchens while his mother baked apple crumble and he stole as many bites as he could.

Lucien lay back and let his head hit the pillow as he was surrounded by the colors of autumn, shrouded in a blanket of sunset and he felt peace.

It was Elain; he realized with no small amount of wonder. Elain must have sensed him. 

All the hollow sadness was suddenly filled with a nervous amount of hope dashed with embarrassment. He was careful to keep his emotions to himself, had never slipped up like this before. Cauldron, she must have felt everything. The hope was a soft glow, Elain had never touched their bond before.

Jurian met him at the Garrison at dawn. From what he heard at Nolan’s outpost, it was exactly as Bron described. Nolan’s men claimed the fault lay with the Fae, but Jurian believed the guard had done everything by the parameters of the treaty.

Jurian agreed with Lucien’s plan to deliver Valin’s assailant to Talia. Then again, Jurian was one of the few humans with firsthand experience of what mates were capable of when truly motivated.

Lucien didn’t waste time setting out for the Nolan’s manor, assured that Jurian would inform Vassa of everything that had occurred. His magic was still somewhat drained so Lucien opted to ride again.

Recalling the memory from the previous night, Lucien smiled to himself. If Elain enjoyed riding, maybe he could ask her to accompany him some time. 

Lucien dismounted when the manor’s gates were in sight, leaving the horse to graze on dew-dampened grass. He’d only come to Nolan’s manor on foot before, better to lessen the chances of aggravating anyone. The guards posted on the gate were two Lucien didn’t recognize. He stopped some twenty paces back, their loaded crossbows trained on him. 

“Stay right where you are, Fae filth,” the shorter of the two guards called out. “Your kind isn’t welcome here.”

Lucien held both of his hands up, showing that he would make no move for his weapon.

“My name is Lucien Vanserra. I am an emissary, I mean no harm.” He choked on his family name but that was how the humans did it and he was here for the sake of peace. “I’ve been here several times before,” Lucien took a careful step forward. His gaze flicked between the short one and the one whose eyes were wide with fear. “Your commander knows me, he can verify my identity.”

“How do we know this isn’t just some magic trick?” the short one sneered.

Lucien took a calming breath, “I am here under the terms of the treaty between our peoples, that includes not using glamours to deceive you.” He took another careful step forward.

Only to be knocked back by a blinding pain near his heart. His ears rang, but he could hear the cadence of conversation. 

“You idiot. Set the lord’s hounds on him, leave no evidence.”

Then there was a riot of barking. For half a second Lucien found himself back in Eris’s kennels, the hounds greeting him. But these were not those hounds. 

Lucien felt several sets of teeth sink into his limbs. He couldn’t just stay here and die. That wasn’t right. It would hurt her. Elain. 

Elain, the name clanged through him. 

He needed a chance with Elain, with his mate.

Lucien reached deeply for whatever threads of dwindling magic he could grab and threw himself into the darkness, thinking of the first place that sprang into his mind. 

He didn’t remember how he crawled up the steps and through the off-kilter door, but his eyes opened to stare down at the familiar black-and-white checkered marble floors. His eyes closed at the sound of talons clicking against the cracked stone that shifted to familiar footsteps as every thought eddied out of his head and the world bled black.

Tamlin

He scented Lucien long before he saw the male. Tamlin cursed the spark of hope that warmed him at the thought that Lucien might give him another chance. But then he neared the manor and scented Lucien's blood and red stained his vision. He ran.

There was too much blood—the wounds weren’t closing. Cauldron, were those bite marks? Tamlin’s heart was beating too quickly, his hands crimson-slicked as he gently turned Lucien onto his back to reveal the splintered shaft of an ash arrow embedded not a finger’s width from his heart. Tamlin quickly dragged a talon across his ankle; it stung and bled a drop before closing—not a nightmare then.

Fuck.

Tamlin forced himself to breathe. To think. He would lose no one else. There were no healers here anymore. No one was here. So he had to go where healers were. Where there were people who were better for Lucien than he was.

Never again, he told himself. I won’t lose him again.

Tamlin summoned the strength he often tried to forget and, with enough force that the ground rumbled, he spoke from his mind, projecting it far north.

Rhysand. I’m bringing Lucien to you. I mean no harm. He’s dying, he needs a Healer.

Tamlin gathered Lucien into his arms and winnowed. Lucien was the only thing he had left to lose.

Time seemed to slow as the darkness pressed upon him. The first rule of winnowing is to have a clear picture of your destination. Lucien had told him about Velaris before Tamlin had banned him from his court in anger. Centuries before that, lifetimes ago really, the heir of Night and the son of Spring had gotten drunk together. The memory of Rhys’s description was faded but better than nothing, so Tamlin held that image close. 

Another image flashed before him, star-tinged—from Rhysand. A wrought-iron fence before the small yard of a home on a quiet street. 

Then he was there, shoving aside that gate and bounding up the steps. The door opened for him and Tamlin barely noted the towering Illyrian wings he brushed past as he moved to lay Lucien down on the table. A gray-haired female stepped towards Lucien’s prone form and Tamlin bit back a snarl, at the same time the High Lord of Night’s hand came down on his shoulder.

Madja’s our best healer, she’ll do all she can, Rhysand spoke into his mind.

“It's a new kind of ash arrow. It breaks into shards when disturbed,” Tamlin explained, his long unused voice rasping. “He winnowed from the mortal lands to my manor with that much ash in him. I would have said it’s not possible, but he did it.” 

Madja nodded to him and turned back to Lucien. “Sons of fire don’t burn out easily, this one still has a chance.”

Tamlin sagged with relief, then quickly straightened his spine. He’d already let these males see too much of him.

“Here,” Cassian grunted and shoved a glass of whiskey into Tamlin’s faintly trembling hands.

The reality of his situation came into sharp focus as the instinctive drive to protect his closest friend faded. He was in the Night Court. He didn’t exactly ask to come. They had every valid reason to hate him, especially Rhys and Feyre. Cauldron, they were the same reasons he hated himself. He could see Rhysand and Cassian exchanging a look that meant they were mind-speaking. Cassian… Rhysand’s General.

The gears turned. He was a High Lord who winnowed uninvited into another court’s territory. An action any laws of Prythian could construe as an act of war that. Tamlin swallowed the rest of his drink painfully. 

There was only one way to guarantee this didn’t turn that direction. 

So, Tamlin set down his glass and crossed the room to where Rhys stood. Pride be damned, he had already lost everything at this point. Tamlin took a deep breath and placed his right fist over his heart, speaking the ancient words: “I, Tamlin, High Lord of Spring, thank you for offering me aid in my time of need. As payment for this debt I will grant you, Rhysand, High Lord of Night, a boon. Please accept my gratitude.”

Faint clinks made by ash splinters landing in a metal basin punctuated the silence. Tamlin kept his eyes downcast at the red patterned rug until Rhysand held out a tattooed hand.

Tamlin clasped it with his own. 

“I accept,” Rhysand responded, his expression guarded.

A shockwave of magic radiated through Velaris as the bargain inked itself across the High Lords’ wrists, setting the glasses rattling.

Then, the door to the townhouse swung open with such force that the little window in it shattered. 

Elain Archeron burst into the room. Her half-feral eyes stopped on Lucien, then flitted to Tamlin as he stood and turned towards her. Her brown eyes turned to silver as she took in the blood staining Tamlin’s clothes. 

Her rage was an aura shimmering at the edges of her. She winnowed across the room in a blink, appearing in front of Tamlin and slamming him back into the wall. Her forearm pushed into his throat. She growled, each word dripping with the promise of blood: “What. Happened. To. My. Mate.”

Elain

This wasn’t right. Elain looked around at the bare-boned trees shivering dark against a faded sky.

She was in Velaris. She was staring at a rosebush. There were clippers in her hand.

But when Elain looked down, there were no clippers, and the air was colder and dulled. It took a moment for recognition to set in—she recognized these woods, that far-off stone wall with its grotesque iron gate.

She shouldn’t be here. 

Couldn’t be. 

That was Lord Nolan’s manor, but she was in Velaris. Feyre and Nyx and Cerridwen were playing on the other side of the gardens. She was listening to them moments ago.

But this world was silent.

She realized it was a vision when her feet began moving against her will.

Suddenly, she stood before the gates staring at two guards in Graysen’s father’s colors. But the vision shattered, cracking and falling like the shards of a mirror. 

And then Elain was curled up on the grass of her garden with a searing white pain in her chest. Feyre was screaming.

The world was shaking—no, that was her, shaking. Being shook.

“...lain. Elain, please open your eyes,” Feyre’s voice pleaded.

Elain slowly obeyed, squinting and blinking and trying to adjust to the brightness of the sun above her. It was hard to do anything with the memory of that pain echoing across her skin.

“I…” Elain’s voice cracked, her mind still reeling. “I had a vision, I’m fine,” she said weakly as she let Feyre help her sit up.

Elain realized her mistake when she saw how wide Feyre’s eyes had grown. 

“You had… a vision?” Feyre parsed out the words on her tongue, piecing together her elder sister’s lies of the past year and a half. “Elain,” Feyre said with an equal amount of shame and reproach. She took a deep breath, then said more gently, “Let’s get you inside, okay?” 

Was this the moment when the world crashed down around her feet? This lie, her secret, no doubt already reaching the minds of the inner circle via Rhys. Because this changed everything. That was part of the reason Elain had hidden it.

Elain nodded and let Feyre tug her to her feet.

She wasn’t dumb, though it made life easier when people thought she was. While the others thought she only read books on flowers or the romances Nesta pawned off on her, Elain had done her research. She knew Clotho had a personal weakness for lemon tarts and that the female was happy to offer her the sanctuary of the Library beneath the House of the Wind regardless of the unseemly times of day she showed up. 

Elain knew how rare Seers were. She knew how they were coveted by High Lords and Kings, wooed and worshiped until they were locked up or literally chained to a wall in one case. It was a terrible power, she’d never understood….

Why, in those frozen depths of the Cauldron, when the Mother had examined her soul and somehow found her ‘worthy,’ had she cursed Elain with this ‘gift’ that often drove its bearers to madness? 

Yes, the Mother’s gift included many other things Elain didn’t understand, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to be a Seer, didn’t want to live with the constant threat of her mind being violated by the past or future. She didn’t want to deal with the burden of trying to unravel all those damned riddles her sight enjoyed laying at her feet.

Swallowing her anxiety down, Elain let Feyre lead her into the house and press a cup of tea into her hands. But that pain was still throbbing—enough to make her feel lightheaded. Elain couldn’t shake off the small voice screaming “something is wrong.” 

And then it clicked into place. Lucien. She’d been sensing him through the bond more recently. That must have been his pain. Which meant something had gone terribly wrong… Nolan’s manor. That vision had been of Lucien, or at least what had happened to him.

“Elain, what can I do?” Feyre’s question broke the clamor of her thoughts.

Mate. Protect him. Save him. That inner voice commanded with so much dominance Elain almost leapt off of the settee despite herself.

She couldn’t deny what she saw, what she was feeling. But something stopped her from voicing all of it to her sister. 

“I… I think I would like to lie down for a while, if that’s alright,” she answered Feyre in that soft small voice everyone thought was her only one.

Elain lost herself in thought while she allowed Feyre to lead her up to her room. She didn’t understand this thing writhing within her, this bond. Lucien was a stranger. Yet, even as a stranger Elain didn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone—she wanted to help, to soothe, to heal. Those had always been her core intentions. Even before she nearly drowned in the Cauldron and somehow emerged with the gifts of the Mother that made those instincts stronger. 

She hadn’t realized it until that fateful day, nearly a year ago when Nesta had sacrificed her magic to save Nyx, Feyre and Rhys. That was when that shimmering well of power sparked. While Nesta had laid herself across Feyre’s ashen form, Elain had dived into that inner abyss—had begged the Mother to let Nesta stay, to see that Nesta’s heart wasn’t owned by the Cauldron’s icy void, that Nesta was just trying to protect everyone, that Nesta deserved to live.  

Thankfully, the Mother had listened. Elain had mentioned nothing about that day. She scarcely dared think about it. Nesta would have died if the Mother hadn’t intervened. It was only the second time Elain had ever let that power fill her veins, to sever the Cauldron’s grip of Nesta’s soul—to keep it from killing her. The first had been during the war when she’d somehow winnowed and found her hand clenched tight around Truth-Teller, buried in the King of Hybern’s neck. 

Feyre drew the curtains shut while Elain sat on the edge of her bed. 

 Please leave, Elain hoped as Feyre turned towards her in the dim faelight.

“Do you want to be alone?” her sister asked.

“I think I’ll sleep for a while.” Elain pasted on an encouraging smile.

Save him. Save him. Don’t let it fade. The voice chanted.

As soon as the door shut behind Feyre, Elain moved: out to the balcony, down the trellis of ivy. She knew the way with her eyes closed. She’d spent many sleepless nights watching the Sidra drift by or scanning dusty tomes for answers that didn’t exist.

Elain’s slippered feet hit the frostbitten earth, the voice growing louder. She was tired of fighting it so, for the third time, Elain gave up. She let that shimmering light rise to the surface, allowed that voice to guide her steps. When she reached inside for that golden ribbon she knew would lead her to Lucien, she fell to her knees in the dead grass. 

No.

There wasn’t a ribbon. There were only ragged threads. Elain focused her hearing, no matter where he went she could hear it. His heartbeat was there, but it was too slow.

No.

Save him. Save him. Protect. Defend.

Elain let that unknown power force her shaking legs to stand. She could question all of this when she knew Lucien was safe. She’d already broken character, let Feyre see the truth. Pretense was irrelevant now. It was the least she could do after all, for the male whom had saved her countless times without knowing it.

She took a step forward, letting that power fill her vision as darkness pressed in on all sides and then she was standing outside of the townhouse. She’d winnowed again, somehow. Elain would worry about that another time. 

The air smelled strange. She could scent Lucien, closely mingled with another of stale flowers and rain and… blood. Icy dread sluiced through her veins at the realization it was Lucien’s blood. All Elain saw was red and light. She felt a pulse of magic, heard a faint shatter of glass.

Mate. Save him. Protect him.

There was Madja, staring blankly at her, bent over Lucien’s body—he was unconscious and covered in drying blood.

“Mate. Protect,” was the last thing Elain remembered hearing before her power consumed her completely.

Elain woke to the sound of hushed voices. She was lying on a hard surface.

“Was knocking her out really necessary?” Nesta quietly snarled.

“I didn’t ‘knock her out,’ I put her to sleep,” Rhys’s voice was calm yet equally hushed. “She wasn’t herself, Nesta. I didn’t want her to hurt anyone or hurt herself.”

“I thought she didn’t have magic anymore,” Cassian said.

“Well, I knew something was still there,” Amren sounded smug.

Elain cracked an eye open, just enough to get a blurry image of the scene. Feyre was slowly shaking her head, looking at the floor. They were still in the townhouse. Her head felt like someone had split her skull with a hammer and chisel.

“I found her unconscious in the garden this afternoon. I couldn’t get into her mind but when she woke up, she said she’d had a vision. I don’t know if it’s happened before, or if she’s aware of this power,” Feyre murmured.

“How long will she be asleep?” Nesta asked, concerned.

“She’s already awake,” a deep voice like honey rumbled from directly behind her, though it sounded strained.

Elain bolted upright, scrambled off the table and nearly head-butted the wall as the room swayed beneath her feet. Her fingertips dug into the molded oak paneling but then Nesta’s hands gripped her shoulders and steadied her. One of those hands moved to her cheek as Nesta turned her face to examine it. Elain shook off Nesta’s hand and turned back to look at the wide dining table where Lucien lay, his hair a sanguine red against a blue pillow.

She took a shaky step toward him before she stopped herself, ignoring that voice demanding she run to him and make sure he’s okay.

“Lucien,” she breathed. Her throat felt raw, like she had been screaming. She swallowed, painfully. “Are… are you going to be alright?”

“Right as rain, Lady,” he said with a smirk that twisted into a grimace as he coughed

Liar.

“He’ll be perfectly healed in a few days,” Madja explained from a chair by the fire. “He’s lucky he got here when he did, a few more minutes and some of those splinters would have reached his heart.”

“How do you feel, Elain?” Nesta asked softly, holding Elain’s elbow.

“I’m fine Nesta.” Elain’s words were clipped. She hated this feeling, that dark gap in her memory. 

Lucien coughed again, “She’s about thirty seconds from passing out if her heartbeat—cough—doesn’t slow and she has one of the worst burnout headaches I’ve ever felt.” His voice grew progressively quieter as he spoke. 

Elain rapidly snapped up her mental shields, but the exertion made her stumble.

Nesta gently shoved her down into an overstuffed armchair and forced a cup of water into her hand, gray eyes gleaming like daggers as she demanded Elain to drink.

Madja shuffled over and placed a wrinkled hand on Elain’s shoulder, the pounding in her head subsided but didn’t disappear. 

Feyre sat down on the ottoman in front of her chair. “Elain, can you tell me what happened? Do you remember?” 

Elain looked around the room. Lucien was now half sitting, propped up on a bunch of pillows. Nesta stood behind her chair, Cassian close to her side. Amren perched on an arm of the sofa where Rhys and Madja sat, behind Feyre. Azriel stood near the arched opening to the dining room, his shadows blending into the darkness behind him. What did she remember? What did she want to remember?

Elain knew she should handle this carefully, that she could play it right and keep things mostly the way they were before. But her head was so foggy, everything about her felt sluggish. What she remembered after she left her room were flashes, nothing coherent. Elain remembered the pain on Feyre’s face in the garden, when she’d suspected Elain had been lying.

Pain. She was in pain. Lucien was in pain. There was too much of it. Elain was tired. So very, very tired of pain. Elain took a deep breath and spoke.

“Earlier, I had a… vision.” She tucked her hand beneath her thighs to stop herself from wringing her fingers. “I saw the gates of Lord Nolan’s manor.” She forced her gaze to meet Lucien’s, “I felt those guards shoot you.”

Her eyes closed as her voice cracked. She couldn’t look at him without that voice chanting all the things she should do to those guards. Elain took a deep breath, “I felt your pain, that’s how I knew it was you. I feel nothing in my visions.” Unless they are about you, she finished in her head.

“I remember Feyre taking me up to my room. I remember leaving as soon as she left. I… I just couldn’t let anyone be in that kind of pain when I knew there was something I could do to help. When I tried to find you the bond—it was fading. I panicked, I could sense you were close to death.” Elain swiped an errant tear from her cheek. She shouldn’t be crying over a stranger. 

“That thing, that voice panicked and I could feel a sort of light, a power inside me and it wanted to get out. I could barely think straight so I let it—it felt like my best chance to find him. After that, it's just fragments. I remember standing outside of the townhouse. I remember it smelled wrong, like rain and dying flowers and Lucien’s blood.”

Elain noticed Feyre’s nostrils flare, then her whole body went rigid and her face paled. She stiffly nodded for Elain to continue but her eyes glazed over slightly.

“That’s really all I can remember.” Elain looked to the dancing flames behind the grate.

The silence in the room was broken when Rhys spoke a name, “Mor?”

Morrigan winced as she stepped out of Azriel’s shadows. “That's all she remembers,” she said Rhys.

Fuck. They used Mor? Was their distrust in her truly so immense? It hurt, more than Elain expected it would. Not that she could really blame them. Lucien looked shocked, but it seemed the others were aware. Mor, at least, had the decency to look apologetic.

Feyre moved off of the ottoman to sit on Rhys’s lap. Her color was better, whatever they’d spoken about mind-to-mind had worked. Rhys cleared his throat, “Well, let me show you all what I remember.”

Elain was grateful she was sitting down or she might have fainted as Rhys’s experience of events played through everyone’s minds, stopping on an image of her pinning Tamlin against the wall by his throat. 

“Fascinating,” Amren mused. She cocked her head, those unholy steel eyes flitting between Elain and Nesta, analyzing them as if they were one of her many puzzles. 

Elain’s mind was still trying to catch up with everything Rhys had revealed when she felt a sharp spike of self-loathing. She looked over to Lucien who wore a haunted expression.

“Stop that!” Elain hissed at him. 

Lucien’s russet and gold gaze turned sharply on her and Elain clapped a hand over her mouth, felt her eyes widen.

“Sorry I just… none of this was your fault Lucien,” she stammered, warmth rising to her cheeks.

“No, that’s not… never mind. You’re right,” his words were stilted. 

Elain noticed the others glancing between them, their faces betraying an odd mix of confusion and amusement. 

Before she had time to respond, Nesta snickered “You—you really…. Honestly, I’m jealous.”

Elain was confused. 

Nesta sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “Just—the next time you nail Tamlin’s balls to the wall—wait for me.”

Feyre snorted softly. 

Slowly, Elain turned to Rhys. “I…. Oh Gods… I attacked a High Lord… did I start a war?”

She held no sympathy for Tamlin, but Prythian was still recovering from the last war.

Rhys shook his head with a gentle smile. He asked Lucien, “Are you feeling well enough to head to the River House?”

Lucien nodded once.

“Right then, we will continue this discussion after we’ve all had something to eat,” Rhys concluded.

Cassian mumbled “about damn time,” as he and Nesta made their way outside.

Amren held her hand out expectantly to Azriel who rolled his eyes before winnowing away with the tiny ancient one in tow.

Rhys slung and arm around Lucien’s broad shoulders as he helped him stand. Elain was momentarily stunned because Lucien was taller than Rhys when she saw them side by side. No, that was a dumb thing to realize and why now…. Elain blinked a few times to clear her head.

Feyre and Mor were looking at her, waiting. Elain looked back at Lucien and Rhys, the latter now looking at her in silent question. 

She slowly rose to her feet, pleasantly surprised to find her legs steady. Elain took a step towards Feyre but the disquiet in her gut increased and she hesitated. 

“I’ll go with Lucien and Rhys,” she found herself saying. The nervous energy settled a bit more with each step towards them.

She didn’t even attempt to decipher the meaning in Rhys’s knowing gaze. Elain took his arm, and they winnowed to the lawn of the River House. Cassian was waiting for them by the door, taking over as Lucien’s support and disappearing into the house. Elain made to follow them but Rhys gently stopped her. 

“What?” Elain cocked her head at the High Lord of Night. For that definitely was not the expression of her smartass brother-in-law.

“I will allow you into this house if you swear to do no harm to my mate, my son, or any other members of my inner circle or guests of my household.” Rhys’s voice was the deep cold of a midwinter’s night.

Elain took a step back, eyes stinging. Did Rhys really think she would hurt her sisters, hurt Nyx?

His expression softened slightly, “The vow is a formality, Elain. I don’t think you would intentionally harm anyone but you… you weren’t yourself this morning. It will give you peace of mind as well, a guarantee that no one you care about would get hurt if you lost control again.”

That would be true, she supposed.

A part of her bristled at the ultimatum, that Rhys—the champion of choices—didn’t give her one. Another part of her was grateful, she didn’t trust herself. Hadn’t since she’d come out of the Cauldron. She’d buried her powers so deep because they scared her—that potential loss of control was absolutely terrifying. 

“I swear to do no harm to my sisters, my nephew, or any members of the inner circle or guests of your household,” Elain repeated as she held out her hand. 

Elain didn’t realize she was freezing until Rhys’s hand wrapped around hers, the warmth and the zing of magic pulsing through the air gave her goosebumps. She looked at their clasped hands and saw a tiny star tattooed on the inside of her right wrist. It was… cute.

Elain paid little attention to anything during dinner. Thankfully, everyone seemed happy to carry on their conversations without her. She wasn’t surprised, they normally were. She downed her first glass of wine and spent an hour picking at her food. Elain was grateful to be sitting next to Mor. In quiet solidarity, Mor kept pace with Elain. When the meal ended the two of them had finished a bottle.

She followed the others through to the sitting room, every sense softer—and she was delightfully warm. The events of the day felt less world-shattering. Elain’s mind was still drifting when Rhys called for everyone’s attention. Only then did the room come into focus. Amren, Feyre, and Nesta were giving her odd looks. She glanced down to see if she’d accidentally spilled wine on her dress only to meet Lucien’s russet-gold stare, not a foot below her.

Elain wished the floors would open up and swallow her. Apparently while her mind had wandered, her feet had carried her to stand halfway behind the chair where Lucien sat near the fire.

Good. He is still healing, watch over him, the voice said. 

Elain almost jumped at the sound, it hadn't spoken in hours.

To move away now, after everyone else had settled would be even more awkward, so Elain stayed. 

It’s just the bond. Just my instincts — it means nothing. They all know that, she talked herself down before she could feel too flustered.

“Alright Amren,” Rhys said coolly, holding his palm out in an invitation to speak.

Elain’s heart jumped into her throat. She felt like a child again, waiting for her mother’s tongue-lashing.

Would they ship her away like Nesta, or worse? At least Nesta hadn’t tricked everyone. She’d lied, but the lies were obvious. Elain had manipulated her family’s goodwill against them, for her own selfish comfort. She knew her powers could make a profound difference in the world… if she could bear to face them. 

She wasn’t like her sisters. She wasn’t a warrior; she didn’t want to lead people; she didn’t even want to be here half of the time. Elain missed being human, she missed the life Hybern and the Cauldron had stolen from her. She didn’t want this power in her veins so she’d done her best to ignore its existence.

Amren looked at Elain, her bobbed hair swaying as her head again tilted to the side, assessing. “This isn’t the first time. Is it, girl?”

“No,” Elain hated how meek her voice sounded.

“Well?” Amren motioned for her to elaborate. 

Elain took a deep breath that did nothing to steady her so she gripped the back of the chair, low enough that no one could see how weak she was. Feyre had no trouble commanding a room of faeries who hated her, but Elain was not her sister.

“I… um.” Elain stuttered.

Lucien shifted in front of her, crossing his arms and her breath hitched when she felt warm fingers brush against hers. The contact grounded her.

She swallowed and spoke. “The first time was during the war. I was pacing in camp when I saw Nesta’s blast. Felt it. I could sense something beneath my skin, like I was burning from the inside.” 

“I knew something bad was happening, could feel it in my bones. And then I heard a voice, your voice.” Elain looked at her little sister. “You begged me to save them.”

“I begged the Cauldron to save them,” Feyre explained. “How did you hear that?”

“The Cauldron and its power answer to ultimately to her, at least in this world. She knew you needed help,” Elain replied.

“Her?” Feyre asked.

“This world?” Rhys spoke at the same moment as his mate.

Elain blushed, she definitely said too much.

“Don’t get distracted, girl,” Amren chided.

Elain nodded and continued, “Well, I don’t know what I did. I just… let go. Let the light burn. And the next thing I can remember is my hand covered in blood holding Truth-Teller’s hilt in that King’s neck. I don’t know how I got there. I panicked when I realized what was happening—what I did. And well, Nesta took over then.”

Lucien’s fingers twitched against hers, the slight touch doing more to comfort her than was logical.

“The second time was different, internal. It was when Nyx was born,” Elain explained. Everyone in the room sat up a little straighter at that. 

“What I saw,” Cassian blurted out, “that was you? You stopped the Cauldron from taking all of Nesta’s power.”

“Not exactly me, but yes. I… well, it’s hard to explain since I don’t really understand it.” Elain paused, she really didn’t know if this would make any sense. 

“Just tell us as best as you can,” Lucien spoke for the first time since they’d gathered. 

“Well Nesta, remember the terms of your bargain? I’d seen what would happen, only I didn’t realize what the vision meant until you first said ‘I give it all back.’ The vision was a phrase: one life for three, moonlit death, what a bargain.” 

Elain saw Cassian stiffen as the meaning of the words hit him, he drew his wing closer around Nesta.

“Nesta, when you told the Cauldron you would ‘give it all back,’ you bargained away your life. I couldn’t let that happen so I reached out—reached down maybe, into the power. It’s kind of like a well right, so I dove to the bottom—to the heart, the source.”

“The source?” Amren prompted skeptically. 

“The Mother,” Elain replied.

Amren’s gray eyes went wide. 

“The Mother,” Elain continued, her voice more confident now, “is the only thing who can truly influence the Cauldron. She gave the Cauldron purpose when she created this world, the Cauldron loves her because of it.”

“What does the Mother have to do with Nesta’s bargain? How do you have a connection to her?” Feyre asked.

“Well,” Elain swallowed, trying to ignore terror brought on by the memories of that day in Hybern. She hadn’t realized her eyes had squeezed shut until another faint brush of Lucien’s fingers made her open them.

“When I went into the Cauldron,” Elain stared into the fire, “I was drifting for a long time until the Mother’s hand took hold of me. She said something about being pure of heart and told me the Cauldron would bless me with great gifts. And that she would always walk beside me.

“When I met her again, trying to save Nesta’s life from that bargain, I offered her anything she wanted as long as she made the Cauldron alter your bargain to let you live, to let you all live. She made me vow I would never seek to rid myself of my powers. I don’t know how much you all know about Seers, but it’s usually a cursed gift. They lose their sanity or become slaves and prisoners, often both. The Mother knew I didn’t want that. She knew it would be harder to keep the gifts than trade them for you. And well, here we are.”

The typically loud group of Fae were silent.  

“If you don’t believe me, that bargain is inked in gold on my spine,” Elain shrugged, trying to lighten the mood, her gaze still fixed on the fire. She could have sworn she saw a forest in the flames, a fox running between the trees. Then again, she’d had a lot of wine.

This world was bizarre, magic didn’t follow logic or reason. Compared to some stories she’d heard from this group—this might not even be the strangest. She felt light. Freer than she had felt for many years.

“Elain—” Nesta’s cracking voice drew Elain’s gaze. “You saved me. Twice. You saved Cassian’s life, too.”

“Considering how many times you’ve saved me over the years, Nesta, it was the least I could do to pay you back.”

Elain took a deep breath and addressed the room, breaking contact with Lucien and stepping away from the chair. “I’m sorry for keeping this all to myself. What I’ve told you all tonight is just a fraction. I was terrified—am terrified by all of this. It was too overwhelming, so I shut it all out. I know it was selfish. I’m sorry that I lied to you all, that I abused your kindness to shield myself from having to deal with any of it.”

Elain kept her eyes on the floor, waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure.

Nesta’s arms wrapped around her, squeezing. Feyre’s arms wound around both of them a second later. Warm tears tracked down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry I made you feel you couldn’t talk to me about any of this,” Feyre mumbled into Elain’s shoulder. “I hate that you’ve been dealing with this by yourself.”

“If anyone was selfish, it was me,” Nesta sniffed. “You were right that time at the River House. I was too consumed by my shit to realize you were going through it too, that you needed someone just as much as I did.”

Elain pulled away when it got hard to breathe, wiping the tears from her eyes and grinning at her sisters. Rhys cleared his throat. Elain saw Cassian wipe away a few tears of his own. She didn’t know why but she turned back toward Lucien.

He was smiling at her, his russet eye held a mix of wonder and pride. It was like Elain had spent the last three years under the clouds. Finally explaining part of what had been haunting her had revealed scraps of blue sky, but that one look from Lucien banished the rest. Like that smile was the sweetest ray of sunlight to ever shine. And maybe it would be okay.

tagging: @ablogofbipanic @damedechance @octobers-veryown @panicatthenightcourt @moonpatroclus @vulpes-fennec @krem-does-stuff @areyoudreaminof @spell-cleavers @fieldofdaisiies @foundress0fnothing @kingofsummer93

[novalupin]

Burning For You

Pairing: Diluc Ragnvindr x (Fem)Reader

summary: a game of chess, grape juice, and a heated encounter.

cw: mild sexual tension with an innuendo here or there, but generally sfw. if you don't suck at chess: i'm sorry.

notes: reposted from ao3, i'm novalupin there too if you prefer reading in that format.

The winery was silent except for the barely-audible chirps of grasshoppers surrounding it. Oil lamps cast an orange hue to your chambers as you pressed a rag against your hair to dry it from your bath. 

You were an adventurer - and something that came hand-in-hand with it is that no place would ever truly feel like home. No matter whether it was your house or someone else’s, you’d always just feel like a visitor. Maybe that’s what made you reluctant to buy a house in Mondstadt.

The thrill of adventure came from exploring and roughing it, and making do with a tent most nights never bothered you. In fact, you felt there was nothing that compared to waking up with the brilliant hues of the sunrise peaking straight into your tent - being so connected to the nature of Teyvat that you couldn’t discern where you ended and the scenery began. Almost nothing that could compare.

Now, you could barely remember a time before waking up to the winery. A couple of months prior, you’d decided to temporarily put down roots in Mondstadt, but your hesitation to buy a permanent house created a tough dilemma in your mind, and you had said as much to your closest confidants at Angel’s Share.

“Really?” Kaeya’s face lit up with his signature grin. “That’s great, [Y/N]!”

“Well, I like staying in Mondstadt, and I can’t be on the move for the rest of my life.” You explained, your finger tracing the rim of your glass in thought. “I’m uncertain about buying a place here, though. Would it be worth it if I leave every so often? I need opinions.”

“I say you should.” Rosaria spoke, tapping her fingerguards on the oaken bar. You looked at her to elaborate, and she did in a blunt manner. “It’s nice when you’re in the city. If you have a house here, we’ll see you more often.” 

“I disagree, if you’re unsure.” Diluc spoke from behind the bar, pausing unnaturally, as if there were words he was holding back. Those seemed to be all the thoughts he was willing to share, because he pursed his lips before resuming wiping the glass in his hand.

“Surprisingly, I think Diluc’s right.” You eyes snapped to the Cavalry Captain, eliciting an explanation. “It’s a large investment, [Y/N]. I feel like you should be certain.”

You nodded slowly, taking in his words. 

“However, that’s not to say you shouldn’t stay in the city, of course.” He continued, a plotting smile tugging at his lips as he sipped his wine. There was a glint in the blue tones of his eye as he spoke. “If you feel like crashing somewhere, I could-”

“You’re welcome to reside in the winery.” Diluc interrupted. Your gaze shifted to the tavern owner who’d cut him off. He turned from the array of bottles to face you, an unreadable expression on his face. Then again, most of his expressions were unreadable. “We have plenty of spare rooms, and you may come and go as you please. It would be my pleasure to host you.”

“Diluc, I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“Nonsense. It is the least I can do for a… friend.” He offered you the smallest of reassuring smiles, as he carelessly shoved a bottle towards the now-glowering Kaeya. The tavern was relatively quiet; all of the usual drunkards had filtered out for closing time, but the angry tension between the brothers was incredibly loud. “I can close up now, and assist you in bringing your belongings there.”

If the winery owner was being completely honest with himself, he had become infatuated with you in the time you’d spent in Mondstadt, and the nights you’d lit up the tavern with your various musings. His offer of residence, while generous, was also not completely altruistic. There was a slightly selfish motive plaguing him, albeit small. The idea of you living in the winery was painfully domestic, and on the walk home, with both of your arms full with your things as you gratefully rambled to him, he indulged himself by letting his mind wander to a fantasy in which the winery was just as much your home as it was his. 

Chatting, he’d come to find, was a horrible waste of time. Unless, of course, it was you. 

It seemed like such a demeaning description of your conversations. Chatting. It did nothing to capture the ponderings that he heard from your brilliant mind. You could turn the most mundane subject into intricate reveries with your witty remarks, and it probably explained why Kaeya took such a liking to you. He found himself wishing he had the silver-tongue to engage you as much as the Captain did. 

Maybe that’s why he knocked on the door to your room in the evening. Three controlled raps was all you needed to know it was him.

“May I come in?” He called out to you, clearing his throat. He only wished he could clear his awkwardness along with it. He heard a muffled “sure” come from inside and clicked the brass handle to gently open the door as he entered.

He glanced around the room before landing on you, and his mouth went dry. 

You were clad in a silk nightgown - the translucent white fabric flowing over your body left nothing to the imagination. Intricate lace lay taut against your bosom, and his gaze lingered for a few seconds before he snapped his head to the side and averted his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he hastily muttered, the amber light hiding the spreading crimson on his cheeks. He reached for the door handle behind him, starting to leave.  “I could’ve sworn I heard you tell me to come in.”

You tilted your head, a bit confused. “I did.”

“You’re not dressed.” He turned, still trying to find anywhere to look except for the ivory clothing that did nothing to cover the contours of your body underneath. It was almost comedic, seeing one of Teyvat’s greats reduced to a flustered schoolboy as his face burned with embarrassment. He felt exploitative, predatory even, if he relished in the sight of you, no matter how much a part of him wanted to. 

“I mean, it’s just sleepclothes. Archons forbid I show my ankles in front of Master Diluc Ragnvindr!” You joked, a giggle escaping you, and he let out an amused huff. You were right, of course. Maybe it wasn’t the clothing itself that made the encounter seem so intimate. Maybe it was just you. You always seemed to have that effect on him. He drew in a cautious breath before you spoke. “So, what did you need?”

“I have some spare time, and it has been a while since I entertained a chess game.” He said tentatively, seeming a bit too interested in picking at his nails. “Care to play a round?”

You nodded eagerly, and followed him downstairs. The winery had an almost gothic feel to it at night, the candlelight reflecting off of the marble floors casting an ethereal glow on the walls. He pulled out an armchair for you, before both of you took a seat next to the wooden chessboard.

“I feel like this is the right time to tell you that I’m horrible at chess.” You quipped as you moved a pawn forward. “You might lose brain cells.”

He graced you with a coarse chuckle, moving a knight. 

“I doubt you’re as bad as you say. Besides, your company isn’t exactly offensive, either.” You found yourself holding his gaze for a bit too long. Could anyone blame you? He looked a little too alluring in the soft light, the curl of his bangs framing his aristocratic bone structure perfectly. Mondstadt’s most eligible bachelor was sitting opposite you, it would’ve been a bit of an understatement to call him pretty. He gestured for you to move and you contemplated your options, before shifting a piece. 

“That is such high praise. I should tell the Mondstadt Gazette that Diluc Ragnvindr finds my company ‘not exactly offensive.’” A grin spread across your face as he leaned back in his chair and laughed with mirth.

“You know what I meant. I like having you here.” He gave you a small smile as he took one of your bishops, leaving you aghast at his ruthless strategy.

“You certainly don’t play like it,” you grumbled, castling your king. A few moves later, you scanned the board. He had you beat, his setup for a checkmate becoming more and more evident. You reviewed your options. You had to play dirty.

“Diluc…” He looked up at you through long crimson lashes, focus shifted from the board. “It’s no wonder you’re good at chess."

He quirked a brow, a bit apprehensive of your words.

“Since, you know,” you started, leaning forward in your seat to whisper suggestively. “Rumour has it that Mondstadt’s most eligible bachelor is particularly adept with his fingers.”

You watched as he stared before realisation started to set in. His eyes widened, flashing that dark ruby shade that you had grown to be fond of over the time you’d known him. As he collected himself, you subtly set up a move. A flush started to spread up his neck up to his cheeks as he furrowed his brows together.

“You’ve been talking to the Cavalry Captain too much. He always wants to colour people’s opinions of me.” He met your eyes with a half-lidded stare that arose an unfamiliar feeling inside of you. “You can’t believe half the things out of his mouth.”

“So, you’re denying it?” 

“You’re incorrigible,” he said, amused. “However…”

He made a show of knocking your crucial piece over with his move, before taking it off of the board.

“It will take quite a bit more than that to distract me.” He said, tilting his head as curls fell over his face.

You gritted your teeth in frustration, and the game was over a few moves later, with his triumphant exclamation of ‘checkmate’ as he placed his final piece.

“Still, it’s been a while since someone has tested me like this.” He said, standing up.

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” You mirrored his movements before crossing your arms.

“No, not at all.” He paused for a second, his eyes starting to wander before he snapped out of it, leading you both up the stairs. What was wrong with him? He’d never had much of a problem with his attraction to someone, not like this. He could barely take his eyes off of you.

It all just seemed tragically close. As he walked you to your room, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness that you didn’t share one. He was a social recluse - he was fully aware of that. He far preferred being alone to the company of other people, but this was different. You were different.

You lingered outside of the door, the silence hanging heavy over the two of you. You were the first one to break it.

“Goodnight, Diluc.” You said brightly, starting to turn the handle before you felt a gentle grip on your wrist. You turned to him, a look of confusion stark on your face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not… I’m not skilled with my words. You know this.” He said, drawing closer to you hesitantly. The hand on your wrist trailed up to your arm. “There’s something I’d like to do, if you’d let me.”

You nodded, still a bit dumbfounded.

He leaned closer, engulfing you with his comforting scent of grape juice and smoke, and pressed his lips against yours. You splayed your hand flat against the fabric of his button-down, the other tangling itself in his hair. 

You found yourself smiling against him, a sense of peace washing over you as your lips moulded together.

But as the kiss lingered, you both felt something shift. The tension in the air dissipated, replaced by a warmth and comfort that felt like home.

He was gentle with his touches, his rough fingers trailing over your sides as if you’d break with too much pressure. Cautious, yet adoring with the paths of his fingers. Diluc was often like that, you’d come to find. His bangs tickled you as he pressed deeper, backing you up against the wall and wrapping his arms around your waist.

When he did pull away, he was a sight. His face was flushed with his pupils blown wide, and stray locks of hair lay messily out of his ponytail. 

“Is this your prize for winning?” You asked, catching your breath as you rested your forehead on his chest.

“We ought to play more often, then.”

please consider leaving a note/reblog on your way out!! c:

[dira333]

A moth to the flame - Ibiki x Aburame! Reader part 3

masterlist - part 1

The sun filters through the windows of Ibiki’s apartment. Nyan’s stretched out on your lap, purring up a storm.

Ibiki told you to stay in bed, turns every few minutes as if to check you’re still there.

“Shibi would like to meet you,” you say, think of little Shino and his new step-brother Torune, of bringing Ibiki over.

“Okay?” He flips a pancake, slides it onto a plate. “You sound so serious, what does that mean?”

“If I bring you to the Aburame compound, everyone will know you’re there. We don’t have guests often. It’s pretty official.”

“Is it like with the Inuzuka?”

“I guess…” It’s hard to explain without going into too much detail. “You could compare it, in a way.”

He’s silent after that, you can tell he’s thinking it through.

“We don’t have to, of course,” you start when the silence stretches on for too long. You don’t want to push too hard too fast. You don’t want to lose this.

“Let’s eat,” he puts the plates down and your anxiety is soothed by the sight of yours, your pancake decorated with blueberries in the form of a smiling face.

“I love you,” he says when the plates are empty, taking your hand and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “I want this. I just… Our profession is dangerous. I moved out and live alone for a reason. We need to talk about this openly, okay? What… What does it mean, for an Aburame, to bring someone over?”

Talking has never been one of your strongest points. There’s always so much that gets lost, misunderstood, misinterpreted. But you’re willing to try, for Ibiki, for this.

“So if you bring me over, it’s official,” Ibiki summarizes, “It’s like asking for your hand in marriage, basically.”

“Well, in a way, but it’s not-” You struggle to put it into words. His thumb moves in soothing circles over the back of your hand.

“Before we do that, we need to check we still want the same things. You still want five kids?”

Warmth blossoms in your cheeks. He remembered.

“I can go down to three if you-”

“Better to aim high, right?” He jokes softly before turning serious again. “Pets?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Aburame do not keep pets. We have our Kikaichu to take care of.”

“I’m not giving up Nyan.”

“You won’t have to. We’ll be the first Aburame household with a pet.”

Ibiki smiles, leaning back to check on Nyan. “Did you hear that?” He asks, voice smug. “You’ll be the first official Aburame pet.”

Nyan sneezes, but could not care less.

“We’re going to live on the Aburame compound,” you point out, realizing that that might be a thing to talk about as well.

Ibiki stiffens. “On the compound?”

“Yes. I don’t know if there’s a rule about that but it has never happened before that someone moved away from the compound after marriage.”

“No one?”

“No one. It’s important to stay close for the ritual.”

“The ritual?”

“At birth, a child is offered to several special breeds of insects as a nest, residing just under their host's skin. These insects will then live in symbiosis with their host from that point on. Every Aburame goes through this process.”

It’s a sensible topic. You’ve heard of relationships breaking because of this, the thought that every child will inherit the Aburame Jutsu, no matter what.

Ibiki’s thumb stops his movements. Cold dread rises in your chest.

Will this be it? Is there a chance to mend this, a compromise maybe?

“When did Shibi think? I’d be free this weekend.”

-x-

Shibi’s waiting for them at the front gate, two kids at his side that flock to you the moment you’re in sight.

“This is Shino,” you introduce the boys, “and Torune, my nephews.”

Ibiki’s never been through a visit like this, meeting the family, making things official. He’s never had anything like this before.

Your hand stays in his. Shibi suggests a walk around the compound, keeps up a light conversation. He’s a well-known Shinobi, a Clan Head, your brother.

Ibiki can’t help but think that he could be friends with the man. He doesn’t talk too much or too loud, his view on varying topics is sensible but rational. He obviously cares for you and his children, but he doesn’t belittle you.

They pass other Clan’s people on their walk, share nothing more than a nodded greeting. Everyone seems to mind their own business, and Ibiki can’t help but think that he could enjoy living amongst them. 

He’s not a social person. He doesn’t have any friends he talks to in his free time - well, besides you. 

The group stops at a patch of land, the floor has been dug up and the dark soil is a stark contrast to the snow all around them.

“Our house is over there,” Shibi points out, “The Gate is not far. This will be yours.”

Ibiki blinks. Your hand squeezes his so hard he fears for his bones.

“Ours?” He asks. Little Shino, already a Know-It-All, looks up at him with furrowed brows. “When you get married,” he explains like there’s nothing left to question. Right.

-

You stay behind at the compound and he desperately wishes you hadn’t.

Yes, you have to leave on a mission early tomorrow morning and need to prepare, but for the first time in a long time he feels like he needs to talk to cope with what he’s feeling and you’re the only one he trusts to understand. To listen. To care.

His drink tastes stale and bitter and does nothing to clear his mind. 

He wanted to visit his mother tomorrow, check on Idate, and spend some time. How can he do that when this is looming over his head? 

“Ibiki?” 

He turns, a little surprised to find Guy standing over him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, a little surprised. “You don’t drink.”

“I was looking for Kakashi. Do you want to join us? The more the merrier, you know.”

He doesn’t, really. But he doesn’t want to go home either, where there’s only Nyan and his thoughts. 

“Why not,” he sighs, picks up his glass and joins them.

.

One drink turns into three. They reminisce about their days at the Academy, about awkward moments on missions, and the fact that Genma still hasn’t asked Anko out.

“What about you?” Guy asks, “You’re seeing someone, right?”

And it’s not like it’s a secret, at least not anymore. He threw that away when he barged out of your room at the hospital and made sure you got the care you deserved. 

But it’s the first time someone he knows well actually asks him about it.

“Indeed,” he agrees stiffly. “I am.”

“Nice,” Guy turns to Kakashi. “See. If Ibiki with his work ethic can find someone, there’s still hope for you. I don’t want to hear anything about being too busy anymore, you got that?”

“Yessir,” Kakashi jokes before turning his eye toward Ibiki. “You happy?”

Ibiki stiffens. He doesn’t like that question.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No need to get all defensive,” Kakashi drawls, “I was just asking. So far you’re the only one at this table who can tell how it is.”

“Are you worried for their safety?” Guy asks, eyes big. “Is that why you’re keeping it on the down-low?”

“No,” he snarls, “I just don’t like talking about private stuff. And neither does she, so-”

“No no, I get it,” Kakashi nods slowly, “If I’d ever find someone who’s willing to settle down with me, I’d probably keep them to myself as well. Did you hear, by the way? Ebisu is getting married.”

“He is?” Ibiki blinks in surprise. “I didn’t know he was seeing someone.”

“Neither did we,” Guy’s grinning, “But why not? I bet he can’t wait to have a few children to take care of. He’s moving onto the Akimichi estate after the marriage.”

His chance is there, he only needs to take it. 

“Would you do that?” Ibiki asks, phrasing it as openly and carelessly as he can. “Move into a Clan that’s not your own?”

Kakashi looks up at him and even though his mouth is hidden Ibiki can tell that there’s a knowing smirk. He should have kept his mouth shut. 

“I’ve lived in a Clan,” he says, “I don’t have to do this again.”

“You’re just looking for reasons to refuse a relationship,” Guy pesters him before turning to Ibiki. “Sure, why not? I don’t think that it matters all that much. Loving each other is more important.”

When he leaves hours later he’s still not much closer to the answer he’s looking for. Not that he anticipated finding it amongst those guys.

-x-

Ibiki’s waiting at the gate when you return. You’re one day late, but unharmed, yet his brows are furrowed in a way that tells you he’s not happy at all.

Your teammates muster him with a mix of confusion and curiosity that only grows when he follows you to the Hokage, waits outside like the world's grumpiest watchdog.

His hand does not take yours when you come back out, and his shoulders are hunched up as he walks next to you down the street.

If he wants to break up, you wonder, couldn’t he have picked you up from home?

You turn toward the Aburame compound but his hand closes around your elbow. It’s not a tight grip, you could slip away easily, but you still, look up at him.

His mouth is moving as if he’s chewing on something he can’t quite get out.

“If you want to break up, Ibiki,” you tell him as calmly as you can, “then just do it. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“What?” He hisses, his brows disappearing under his hitai-ate. “Why would I-? No, I meant to say… Ugh, this is hard, okay.” He takes a deep breath and looks to both sides as if to ensure you’re not being followed.

“I want you to meet my mother. And my brother too, but my mother… Well, she’s got something for you. I just- she’s going to embarrass me.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him, your voice scratchy from emotion. Your heart is hammering so fast you can barely breathe, “I already love you.”

.

It’s not his mother, who surprises you the most. It’s Idate. 

He is only a few years older than Shino, and oh so determined to prove himself to his big brother. He tells you about Jutsu’s he’s learned, shows off what he’s learned like a Kunai is just some tool. It reminds you of the magicians who work at festivals, their tricks not there to be useful but eye-catching.

But he’s young, you tell yourself. He’s going to learn, sooner or later, that a Shinobi’s life isn’t about catching one’s eye. It’s quite the opposite.

Ibiki dotes on his brother like a parent. It’s like looking into the future, sitting at the kitchen table. 

“Have you done your homework?” Ibiki asks, peering down at Idate.

“Yes!” He runs off, coming back with a few books. “And look. I got an A on my test. Sensei said I’m improving a lot.”

“Good,” Ibiki ruffles through his brother’s hair. “Keep it up.”

.

“Come,” his mother beckons you out of the kitchen, “I want to show you some things.”

One picture after the other you watch Ibiki grow up. 

He’d been a cranky baby, red faced and hardly ever silent. 

“He was very particular as a child,” his mother explains as she rummages through a cupboard, “I guess he still is. It was never my idea for him to move out but he got it in his head that it would be safer for us.”

Your fingertips move over a picture as if hoping to capture the feel of those silver strands that are becoming less and less on Ibiki’s head nowadays. Half of his head is already covered in scars. If you have children, will they have his hair or yours? 

“Here it is,” you lift your head to her and the small box she’s carrying. “I tucked it away so safe I could barely find it myself. This is my mothers jewelry box. When Ibiki told me that he was serious about me, I wanted to get my old wedding dress immediately but since you’re an Aburame you’ve probably got your own idea for a dress, am I right?”

You nod, surprised by her thoughtfulness.

“Now this is just a little something that has been passed down in my family. I wore it on my wedding day and I’d love it if you wore it too. No pressure there, though, I know those things aren’t modern anymore.”

And no, the necklace she offers you isn’t modern in any way, but you can tell how important it is and has been to her family. It’s the thought behind it that touches you the most.

With this offer you’ve essentially become a part of her family as well.

-x-

It’s become pretty obvious that you’re stressed out. 

Today you even snapped at Kawano when he ran into you and the poor guy instantly started crying. It’s a miracle he ever made Chunin.

“You okay?” Ibiki asks, locking your door when lunch break finally rolls around.

“I’m fine,” you huff, massaging your temples.

“Doesn’t sound fine.”

“I’m fine!” You insist, louder this time. A cloud of moths lifts from your body, hovering over you.

“You know I love you, right?” He asks, turning a chair so that he can sit across from you. “But I cannot read minds. What’s going on?”

You fall into him like there’s nothing holding you up any more. He’s lucky he got good reflexes because he might not have caught you otherwise.

“I don’t want to get married,” you croak, tears lacing your voice, “But I want to get married. I just… I just…”

“Tell me about it.” He rubs a hand over your back, knows by now how that relaxes you the most.

“I’ve been calling the Yamanaka’s three times already and everytime I call back in they’ve forgotten about my order. I’m a little scared of sending out invitations because the few people I wanted to invite personally had forgotten we were dating in the first place and…”

“What if,…” he asks in when you cut yourself of with a sob, “we only marry with our family present? I don’t have any friends aside from you and if they can’t remember basic things about you they don’t sound like great friends anyway. If we get married on the Aburame Compound your family’s already there and I’m sure we can fit in two chairs for my mother and Idate.”

“You would do that?” You ask, still sniffling a little. “I mean, I asked Genma mainly because I thought you were friends.”

He huffs. “I’d never call him a friend. I think I’d invite Guy, mainly because he would invite himself anyway, he’s never missed a wedding since he’s been old enough to attend, but that’s as far as I’d go.”

“What about the flowers, though?”

“Let me take care of those. I have nothing to do anyway besides packing my stuff. How’s the planning for the house going, do you need help there too?”

“No, that’s been going well.” You shake your head and dry your tears. “Shibi’s been really on top of it. Though, now that you ask, he wanted to know how many rooms we want. How… how many children we’re planning?”

Ibiki kisses you first, tastes the tears on your lips and the insecurity in your bones as you tremble.

“Are you still on for five?” He asks then, pressing his temple against yours, squints to see your eyes behind those dark glasses.

“Only if you-”

“I want you to be happy,” he insists, “And you’re going to be the mother, so this is mainly your decision.”

Silence settles between you, warm and lived in. You swallow thickly.

“I’ll tell Shibi then,” you conclude, though you don’t move away. 

It has taken the two of you some time, but you’ve grown comfortable in the arms of each other

taglist: @snuggleboots @missalienqueen @bennyb0i0 @kitty262 @burningbluegalaxy @ravenswife @shadowwolf202101blog @anaxst @satublueberry @neonrogueraven @bombshellbella @theferretkids @bjem

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[artemistorm]

Why Podfics are Important

A big part of why I like podfics so much is because to me it is an accessibility feature. There are times when I cannot look at a screen due to light sensitivity or I don't have spoons/brainpower to interact on Tumblr or or I'm too unfocused to read a fic but I still wanna be distracted and think about blorbos and podfics are perfect for that.

The problem is that there aren't very many of them.

When I first discovered them, I filtered for LU fics with no smut or MCD and there were only like 27 podfics. I listened to all of them in about 2 days. I was disappointed there weren't more, but the ones that were there were all excellent. So I asked myself why not try my hand at making them?

It took me about a week to figure out how to record audio, edit, where and how to host it, and how to link to AO3; and now that I know how to do it, I can record and post a fic in a couple of hours. You don't get alot of attention or fanfare for doing it--podfics are nowhere near as popular as ordinary fics, but it's a public service and its just plain fun. Actually its addicting. Every time I finish recording and posting a podfic my brain is like a sled dog pulling on a rope begging "More! Do more podfics!"

In an ideal world, I think every fic should have a podfic version. It would benefit everyone, not just disabled people. Not only are they good for low spoons time, they're also great for ordinary times when you're doing chores or riding the bus or something and you want something to listen to, just like you would listen to any other podcast. Not to mention the fact that by making podfics, you get to learn the valuable modern skill of recording audio and posting it.

I have a motto: "Try anything once," meaning, I'm game to try out learning any new thing and there's no commitment to do it long term or even do it more than that one time. Its just fun to learn and experiment. I've been trying a new thing every year for the past several years and have had fun gaining a bunch of oddball jack-of-all-trades skills like slacklining, longboarding, watercolor, digital art, and podfics.

I'd like to encourage everyone to try making a podfic and seeing how they like it (it does take a couple of podfics to really get your feet under you though). If you like it, or if you're willing and able to, making more podfics would be an invaluable service to provide for the fandom. And if you can't make podfics for whatever reason, why not just listen to a podfic and drop a kudos or comment or something to let the person doing them know that you appreciate it?

If anyone wants to know how to podfic, please feel free to reach out to me and I'll do what I can to help. Also, I'll be putting together a "how to make a podfic" post in the near future so keep an eye out for that.

[sithbelle]

Hi there. I'm going to be vulnerable for a moment. I wrote this book (working title "Synia") over the last 5 years, and finished it up back in April. Since then, I've been holding onto it, willing myself to send out queries. But the fear of rejection, and the knowledge that it's likely not a "sellable" book, has kept me back from actually sending out any letters. To force myself to do something, I'd like to share the prologue with you all. The story is about a pair of siblings who are Syniae, or creatures who have magical gifts based on synesthesia.

If you would like to know more, I'll be happy to blab on about it ad nauseam. If you know of any publishers or literary agents who are interested in such a story, please let me know. If this falls into the empty void, well...that's also feedback that I need. Thank you for reading the above, and I hope you enjoy the prologue below:

-----------------*-*-*-*-*---------------

Grey.

Everything was grey. The sky, the walls, the fog inside her head. Even her tormentor’s eyes were a piercing, unforgiving grey. It was the color that invaded her every thought from the moment she awoke until the moment she finally passed out.

Long ago, there used to be a spectrum. She vaguely recalled the melody of a forest green, the sweet sound of a tempting red, the echo of a vibrant yellow. That was an æon ago. Now, she was reduced to monochrome, the lifeless color of a rainy day.

Today, she had opted for a change of scenery. Instead of spending the entire day in bed, staring at the grey ceiling, she instead sat next to the grey-filtered transpane along one of the walls, watching the mist that enveloped the view.

Suddenly, the dreaded low, silky voice behind her called through the mental mist:

“Oh good, you’re up. I was beginning to wonder if I had finally broken you.” The disembodied tone had an air of amusement to it, as though it had told some clever inside joke.

She scowled in reply, but did not turn to search for the source of the voice. She had no words for the man. Words had color to them, and this Orb didn’t allow for that.

“I see. Just as conversational as ever,” mused her captor. “Come now, there’s no need for such reticence. We’re far beyond that. After all, we’ve both held up our ends of the bargain so far, and you can clearly see the benefits. You’re fully cooperative now and haven’t tried to escape in quite some time, and in return, your living quarters are quite generous, and I do try to make sure you’re well fed. For all intents and purposes, you are far more my guest than my prisoner at this point.”

And it was true. The sleeping room she was currently sitting in was rather large, and contained a bed, a small table, and two chairs, one of which she occupied. Attached to it was a respectable bathing room, complete with a tub. There was even a small cooking and eating room across a small, narrow hallway. She should have been comfortable. There were just two major problems: she was here against her will, and everything was that same damnable shade.

When she didn't hear the sound of her "host's" footsteps echoing away from her prison,

her curiosity and anger got the better of her. Almost subconsciously, she turned and gave the lurking man in the entryway a withering glance. To the prisoner, he was barely more than a silhouette. What little she could see was distorted into the same washed-out shade by the specially- filtered light. Slate shoes and the bottom half of a charcoal suit protruded into frame, along with a pair of ashen hands clasped in front of his sharkskin belt.

He responded to her glare by tugging slightly at the cuff of his sleeve, almost as if he were uncomfortable. It was a ruse, she knew; they had played this scenario out before. She turned back to face the table and transpane as the Grey Man strode in from the entryway behind her. His footsteps tapped a muffled rhythm on the shaggy grey carpet. In another life, she could have made a song from it. Now, it was just another sound to interrupt the monotony echoing pointlessly in her mind.

When he reached the remaining chair across from her, he paused before sitting, and instead looked down at her calculatedly for a moment. Then, he pulled her forward across the small, round table by her chin, forcing her brown eyes to meet his grey, separated only a couple centimeters. She was a bit taken aback at the action, but did not dare show it on her face. He had never been this aggressive before.

“Tell me, Synia, what makes you hate me so much? After all, you invited me. I merely gave you everything you asked for,” he purred.

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, then just as quickly returned to the hostile glare she had perfected in the last year. He had just given her the ability to escape, but he didn’t know it.

Yet.

She fought to keep her thoughts from showing on her face, taking care to ensure that the mask was firmly in place. Fortunately, he misunderstood the lapse.

“Ahhh, yes. The truth is rather uncomfortable, isn’t it? Just think: if your curiosity and desperation hadn’t gotten the better of you, you wouldn’t be here, and this whole mess could have been avoided. How selfish of you,” he said, almost a whisper. The man thrust her chin away, forcing her to break eye contact and instead focus on her balance. He smirked slightly as he stood up and faced the entryway.

“Still, I must be grateful. Thanks to you, I have been given the greatest gift of all. Because of your greed, I’m free to move as I wish, and every whim I could think of is catered to my specific design!” His voice rose slightly with each sentence, as if convincing himself that it was true.

He paused and when he spoke again, his voice was back to its usual silk: “Before too long now, I'll have cracked the code, and you will truly be at my mercy. I’m getting oh so close. This last experiment yielded some remarkable results that the bots are still analyzing. And when I do figure it out, I will be able to be rid of you for good. Until then..." He trailed off dramatically as he walked towards the door. She did not turn to watch him leave.

His footsteps paused behind her, and there was complete silence for several seconds. Her curiosity once again betrayed her. As she turned, she saw him standing with his back to her, the grey fob in his hand extended to unlock the door. However, he didn’t activate it. Instead, he had waited until he knew she was watching to leave his parting shot. His voice returned to the deadly not-quite-whisper:

“Well, that’s the only reason you’re still alive.”

He activated the fob, and the door clicked open. She had already turned back to face the transpane again by the time he had crossed over the threshold. There was a sound of the electomag lock bolt sliding back into place, followed by gentle footsteps that retreated back into the silence.

She closed her eyes and exhaled softly, like she had a million times before. Only this time, there was a monumental difference: he had finally made an error. He had been so careful in the last four-hundred-and-thirty-two days, sixteen hours, and twenty-two minutes to make sure that her entire life had no color except grey. Every single surface and feature had been carefully selected to prevent her from using her gift.

He had the bots shave her head every other day or so, leaving nothing but a faint, grey stubble. Her now threadbare clothes had been carefully selected to be comfortable, but monochromatic. There were no mirrors, and every surface that could have possibly held a reflection was scratched or matted down, so she could not see herself. And her tattoos…she still couldn’t think about that, even as she subconsciously touched the scars on her left forearm where one of them used to be. She was to be as much grey as the room itself. But they could not change her eyes.

Her brown eyes.

For an instant, as he held her gaze so close to his own, the filtered light was broken by his own shadow, and his wintery stare became twin mirrors. For the first time in three-hundred-and-ninety-six days, eight hours, and twenty minutes, she saw a color. And she remembered.

She remembered what brown felt like.

That tiny glimpse was all she needed. It was the spark of hope she had been waiting for, that she had almost given up on. She had a color; a good one, even. For the first time in her life, she was grateful that her eyes were the color of cesspools, as he had once described them.

Now all she had to do was focus, plan, and wait for the perfect moment. She had all the time in the Orb. After all, he stupidly thought she was beaten.

[sweet-drmzzz]

wowowowow I’m finally doing a pinned post

Hiya!! My names are Z-Fey, and Faele (pronounced fey-elle)!! I am the host of a median collective, and this is my/our main blog. You can find our plural side blog here: @treehousearchive

I go by Fae/Zi/It/They pronouns, and idrc how the grammar around them works (so you could say “fae are a person with adhd” or “fae is a person with adhd.” Please use my neopronouns as much as, if not more than you use they/it

if you misgender me I’ll eat ur knees /hj

I am faekin and foxkin, and I’m absolutely amazing at it. Don’t try to disprove alterhuman shit. I won’t listen. Also keep any alterhuman discourse off this blog. All nonhumans are welcome here. Yes even physical ones. Yes even ones that truly believe they are an animal. Yes even mentally ill/delusional ones.

Collectively we are aspec and arospec. Afaik that goes for everyone in our collective but I could be wrong.

currently I don’t check my discord, if you need to reach me my asks and DMs on here are the fastest ways.

I use a lot of emoticons, abbreviations, and tone tags :3

tone tag key:

/lh- light hearted

/j- joking

/hj- half joking

/sarc- sarcasm

/nm- not mean

/nf- not forced

/gen- genuine

/aesth- aesthetic (used to describe aesthetic attraction. Ex. “He’s hot /aesth”

if I ever use one u don’t understand just ask! I’m more then willing to inform!

DNI:

Pedos. Like genuinely. Pedos maps etc fucking disgust me. Stay tf away from my blog

Zionist. Yeah nuhuh. If u support genocide I don’t want to talk to u.

Homophobes/Transphobes. I’m gay asf. I don’t think you want to be here.

Zoophiles. No. Just no.

Anti furry/Anti alterhuman. Once again. I’m a therian. Y would u want to be here???

Sexual/kink blogs. Nothing against you, have ur fun. Idrc. I’m just not comfy w that.

Anti-endos. I don’t want that negativity on my blog. All good vibes here.

If you demonize mental illnesses (like schizophrenia or npd) fuck off. If you use “delulu” or treat serious mental illnesses as silly little things fuck off.

Anti aro/aspec. This shouldn’t even be a thing? Just let people exist?

if I don’t like u I’ll block u.

With all due respect, which is none, leave me alone.

Tags!!

#Happy Fox Hours

Foxkin euphoria and just generally happy foxkin related stuff

#Happy Fae Hours

Second verse, same as the first but w fae stuff this time.

#Zi speak!!

text posts and me ranting

#Soda Spill

My writing. Includes poetry and short stories/snippets from bigger stories. (Please note that since originally making this I have stopped using the name Soda, as that has gone to one of my headmates. This tag may change soon.)

#Faele agrees

Rebolgs!! I might forget to tag my rebolgs. I’ll try my best but if I do my apologies.

#Sad bitch time

vents n stuff. Me being depressed.

Boundaries: mostly im fine with anything.

pls don’t tag me in angelic/religious stuff, or send it to me. Especially if it has eyes featured prominently.

uhh i feel like this shouldn’t need to be said but just in case: foxes are a game animal where I live. I already see my kind’s hides enough. Don’t show me pics of that.

just yk… if i ask u to quit do so please. There’s nothing rly big other than those two things that I can think of. Be nice.

My filter tag list is here. If you are intentionally rude and disrespectful about it you will be blocked.

I have a side blog for Will wood stuff called @willwooddaily

thank you for your time!!

(userbox by @/plural-userboxes)

[thatdogmagic]

The "NSFW = Easy Mode" Post

We all know this post. We all know this complaint. NSFW artists have faced it the entire time we've spent drawing.

Aside from being hugely denigrating towards a very legitimate craft, there are multiple fallacies involved in the argument.

Let's start off with the most obvious, the very real phenomena of getting visible traction on social media sites. Namely, to say that, LIKES/RTS DO NOT TRANSLATE TO FINANCIAL STABILITY. Working your ass off does. NSFW artists who make it their livelihood churn out an absurd amount of work to stay relevant, constantly have to work outside of comfort zones, and face steep competition.

Next, the argument presumes that all NSFW is created equal. It's not. For example: mlm, that is to say, men loving men, will earn you much more traction than wlw, women loving women, and mlm involving trans bodies will earn you much less traction than the cis standard. Additionally, your audience for any of those things is NEVER guaranteed.

It places porn an erotica on the same footing, which is also enormously wrongheaded. Porn has an almost singular focus on secondary sex characteristics, and will rush straight to the point at every given opportunity; erotica is holistic, and doesn't even really have to show genitalia in order to hit its mark, if it's written and framed correctly.

To be clear: both of these things take an enormous amount of skill. It is not something you just learn to do overnight. Good, illustrated porn requires an understanding of action, anatomy, perspective, and all sorts of other technical skills that are often beyond even very adept artists.

With erotica, technical prowess is less of a focus. It's more on character art, scene setting, and story (be it implied by imagery or written in). I don't need to explain the level of expertise this requires, not the least of which is being a good writer, which is fully beyond a lot of peoples' grasp. It's a whole different skill, and being good at erotica is tough for even industry professionals. Many are embarrassingly bad at it.

The other bullet points, I outlined in a Twitter rant, but here they are:

NSFW artists face logistical hurdles SFW artists don't. Namely: we don't know when the site we're posting on will ban NSFW content.

We can be randomly banned/shadowbanned from a site whose rules are not especially clear (Tumblr), and whose filters are garbage. We can also have our work deboosted and effectively removed from circulation because we didn't label a nipple appropriately (Tumblr still thinks a female-presenting nipple is 100% sexual).

We can have our funding cut at random, for seemingly arbitrary reasons.

We face a host of degrading comments and overfamiliar clients.

NSFW artists working commissions have to take on work they're not personally very interested in. This takes way more work and fortitude than anyone is willing to admit. If you're commissioned for a fetish you don't like, you still have to make it look hot for the person who commissioned you. If you don't think that takes extra effort, IDK what to tell you.

We are constantly subjected to arrogant shitbags saying they can just jump in and make bank, because Site Number Went Up that one time.

Bottom line is the 'I should just do furry porn I guess' joke is not a joke. It's not funny. It's just you showing your ass, and insulting your friends/colleagues, who do very hard work for very little reward.

[chihirolovebot]

mistletoe.

featuring. shuichi saihara x reader

word count. 2.1k

synopsis. you host a christmas party for your classmates, and finally pluck up the courage to confess to shuichi (with the help of alcohol and a conveniently-placed plant)

content. drinking (reader and shuichi both drink), eggnog and shots, kissing, confessions, hope's peak au, gender-neutral reader, mild pining, fluff, safe for work, reader is a little drunk and shuichi is tipsy, mild sexual jokes (miu), pet names (pretty boy), cursing, getting together, kissing under the mistletoe, background kiibouruma and harumatsu.

ficmas masterlist.

It's been building for a while, you think.

Shuichi is lovely. He's kind, and quiet, and endlessly thoughtful in a way that prevails through his nervousness. And he is nervous, pretty constantly on-edge, has been since you started at Hope's Peak a year ago. You've built a relationship around it though, something that's been teetering between friendship and some other, like Other with a capital 'O', a great big warm something like being enveloped in a soft blanket.

It's just pretty hard to get a read on him, sometimes. Sure, he goes red when he sees you and smiles a lot and stammers over his words, but that's hardly saying much. He gets flushed and nervous around everyone. Kaede insists that he likes you, but you're unsure, and you're not willing to waste your friendship on a hunch.

But... it's Christmas, and maybe that has something to do with it. With December passing by the world tilts into a shimmering haze of sparkly lights and tinsel and ice; you're just a little out of touch with reality, and the alcoholic eggnog is not helping. You're fuzzy, warm, floating a little out of your fuzzy socks and boots as the party breathes around you, a cacophony of revolving bodies dressed in scarlet and green and white, Christmas music blaring in the foreground, the apartment alight with festive lights.

You feel dreamlike, like your head's unscrewing, like there's a sparkly filter in front of your eyes and everything is hazy and sweet.

You love your classmates.

Kokichi, Kiibo and Miu slump on the three-seater sofa, heads leant upon each others' shoulders. Miu was drunk, Kokichi and Kiibo decidedly sober, but they indulge her anyway as she rants and rambles. Kaede has got Maki in a corner, chatting animatedly; Kaito, Rantaro and Kiyo sit in a circle playing some sort of intricate card game that leaves a frustrated Kaito taking many shots; Tsumugi and Gonta have scuttled off to the kitchen, sitting upon the countertops and deep in conversation. It's good. Your party is good.

The only thing missing is—

"Ah, here you are..."

His voice floats past you, sweet and quiet, and you turn and he's there, cherubic, lovely, he's even swapped out his usual dark, brooding cap for a lopsided Santa hat that droops around his upturned eyebrows. It matches the pleased flush on his cheeks, his deep dark eyes glimmering with the reflection of all the decorative lights.

Your body feels light enough to float, the world whirling and shimmering around you, fading to nothing as Shuichi comes into hyperfocus, and you sling your arm around his shoulder. Suddenly your lips are by his ear and you're giggling, "Sweeetchi!" against his skin.

He squirms, laughing nervously, his hands finding home gently on your upper arms to steady you. The heat of his steady hands seeps through your clothes. "Are, ah... a-are you drunk?"

"Just a little," you mumble, unable to stop smiling. "'M allowed to be, though! No school tomorrow. And 's my party!"

"I—I wasn't chastising you, or anything," Shuichi hastens to clarify, eyes widening. "It's... perfectly within your right. And the, uh, the party looks great. You did a great job."

"Wasn't great without you here," you beam, delighting as he only turns redder and hides his face in his sleeve. "You wanna... you wanna drink? Pretty boy?"

"Pr..." Shuichi gapes like a fish out of water; the soft apples of his cheeks match the scarlet of his drooping Santa hat. "Wha, um, you—?"

"Drink!" You take his sleeve and tug him over to the table laden with drinks. A lot of the eggnog has gone but there's a couple of frosted glasses left, as well as backup bottles of spirits and chasers. A collection of stained-glass shotglasses has piled up on the side, mostly courtesy of Miu, Kaito and Kaede, but you know Shuichi has a sweet tooth and probably wouldn't be fond of any of the flavoured vodka, or tequila or anything else on offer. So it's eggnog, lukewarm and sweet with only an aftertang of brandy.

"Thank you," Shuichi smiles, holding the glass up nervously. "Eggnog?"

"Homemade, baby," you flash a grin, endeared as he blinks rapidly and ducks his head to take a deep drink in his fluster. He drains half the glass in a few anxious sips, wiping his mouth absently with the back of his hand afterwards. Sweet creamy froth streaks a line down the pale skin.

"Shot," you announce, staggering over to the table and fumbling for a glass. "'M doing a shot. Want one?"

"Oh... I'm not sure," Shuichi stammers. "I don't really like..."

"Just tip your head back and breathe in," you advise, pouring vanilla vodka clumsily into two pink shotglasses. "You can't even taste it."

You both clink your glasses together and down the liquid; it burns going down but it's sweet, and even though Shuichi coughs a little and rubs his chest you can tell he doesn't hate it. He drains his eggnog mug and you can see a film slide over his eyes, a sort of dreamy distance. He's always been a lightweight because he drinks once in a blue moon and rarely eats enough to sustain himself. He giggles as he sets the glass down.

"C'mon, okay—" You grab at him, clumsy hands missing, sliding over his shirt (god, he'd shed his jacket and tie and unbuttoned two buttons at his throat and jesus he'd rolled up his sleeves, the pale jut of his elbows poking out) before managing to get a grip on his hand and pulling him back towards the parlour room. "Let's go... say hi to people! People wanna see you!"

"Th-they do?" Shuichi says, bewildered and a little hazy as you drag him through the door; the lights recede into soft, burnished gold and red fairylights on the walls and Christmas tree and the music envelopes you both.

"'Course!" you exclaim happily. "Eeeeveryone loves you, Sweetchi. 'Specially me."

He trips over his own feet. "Wh—wha—?!"

"Kaedeeee!" you trill, staggering into the blonde with a crash and a smile. Maki edges away, looking put out as Kaede cheers and throws her arms first around you, then Shuichi, kissing his cheek frantically as they pull back.

"You came! I'm so glad!" she grins. "Are you drunk, mister detective?"

"N-no!" Shuichi says defensively, swaying a little on his feet. "I'm not... tell her, Y/n."

"Mister detective's on his night off," you wink, and Shuichi groans and buries his face in his hands as Kaede giggles feverishly.

"Well, you two have fun! I'm not leaving 'till later, so you can come find me if you need me, okay?" Kaede smiles; she pats Shuichi on the head again before you're tugging him over to a new group of people.

You make the rounds of the room slowly. Halfway through he lets you pass him another eggnog and by the time you go back to the kitchen he's stumbling like a baby deer, clinging onto the back of your shirt with fumbling fingers. When you get to the table and stop he crashes into your back, sending you stumbling forwards with a laugh.

He rights himself frantically, trying to pull you upright. "S-sorry! Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean, sorry..."

He's bright and flushed with earnestness. He's adorable.

"'S okay, Sweetchi," you mumble, turning around to pat his face. He's tipsy and sleepy enough to simply sigh and melt into the touch, his eyes big and starry as they watch you. You feel so close, the music melting out of focus, all you can hear is your heartbeat and all you can feel and see and touch is Shuichi, Shuichi, Shuichi.

"I," he whispers, his lips tracing against the skin of your palm. "I was... really happy you invited me."

"'Course," you say emphatically. "'Course I did. You're... I love you, Shuichi. 'Course I invited you."

"You love me?" he breathes, eyes round as coins. He's flushed to the roots of his hair, so lovely it hurts.

"Love you," you affirm in a slur, in a flutter of lidded eyes, but it doesn't mean that you mean it any less. "Sh-Shuichi, I..."

"Get a fuckin' room, lovebirds!" A screech cuts through the quiet kitchen; Miu slumps in the doorway, Kiibo and Kokichi hovering behind her. She marches up to the table and swipes a bottle of wine. "I'm ffffuckin' takin' this, you virgin losers. Clearly you don't need any kinda aphrodisiac enhancer here, ah-hahaha!"

"I'll take that." Kiibo gently pries the bottle from Miu's hands, even as she groans and complains. "Ah, sorry about her. We're going to get her home and to bed, I think."

"Kiiiinky," Miu sings, cackling, then slumps sideways. Kokichi catches her easily with an arm under her own, hoists her to her feet, and cringes.

"You stink," he sighs. "I mean, this is a new level of gross. Did you bathe in pickles and oil, you silly cow?"

"C-cow!" Miu's crystalline eyes flood with tears. "H-how mean... do it again!"

"Sorry," Kiibo apologises again. "Thank you very much for having us, Y/n, it's been great. We'll see you after Christmas break."

"Get back safe," you tell him, affording him a quick hug. You peck Miu on the cheek and ruffle Kokichi's hair as he squirms and ducks.

"Pervert," he mutters with no real bite. As he and Kiibo haul Miu from the kitchen, he turns around with a glint in his eyes, smirks, and tells you, "Oh, by the way... definitely don't look up right now."

You frown, and then do exactly that.

Mistletoe bears down at you, twinkling, innocent, deadly. You gape, and Shuichi sputters, going violently red.

"I don't... I mean," he stammers. "We, I mean, we don't have t-to..."

You cock your head. Your heart thrums against your ribcage, pumping syrup through your body and head and you can see clearly but at the same time it's shrouded. A small part of you protests, thinks, don't fuck this up. He's too special. Don't don't dont...

"D'you want to?" asks your traitorous mouth, and the world stops spinning.

"W-want..." He looks torn, agonised, almost, but he's red and lovely and red so you don't pull away you just have to get closer, 'till you can smell the eggnog and vanilla vodka on his breath, and it feels like holding your whole friendship on a precipice of a cliff but you're done being selfless. You just want to take for once. "I... Y/n, I..."

"I want to," you mumble, and brush your thumb against his lip. The alcohol takes most of the feeling from your fingertips, but you can watch him go cross-eyed trying to follow your touch, watch the pink on his cheeks get redder.

"I—I do," Shuichi whispers, barely there, breath brushing against your finger. "When you said... you loved me, did you mean, or, I mean—"

"I love you," you murmur, so close that your lips touch his when you talk. His body melts into you, hands drifting up to close over your upper arms. "Is that okay?"

He nods frantically, eyes wide and earnest. "It's okay," he babbles, "I mean, it's more, it's good, because I—I think I love you too but I couldn't, I mean I couldn't say it but you're amazing, and you saved my life I think and I just, I love you so much and I didn't want to ruin it, but I just—"

You lean down; your lips capture his in a slow cling, soft and fleeting and it's the first thing since the first drop of alcohol touched your lips tonight that's felt real. You smell standard cologne and coconut body wash and ink, and his soft fingers clench over your arm for a fraction of a second until he relaxes, melting into you, sinking into the embrace. You pull back, kiss him again, and again, and then you tilt your head just a little so you can push deeper, tasting the remnants of his drink on his lower lip.

It lasts forever or maybe a second. When you pull back the clock has ticked to a minute past midnight, which means it is technically the next day and Shuichi is still in your arms trembling and breathing fast and smiling like a giddy boy, which means this is real and not a dream.

"I'm," Shuichi hiccups, and shuts his eyes with a bashful smile. "I really am glad you invited me."

You smile. "I'm glad I invited you too," you say, and the mistletoe stays up for a month or so after that because you can't quite bring yourself to take it down.

[bitterkarmaa]

[This is not a canon KB event. This is about a dream that I had that fit into the vibe of this blog that I wanted to share]

“We’re getting overrun.”

Moon presses his back into the wall, ducking lower as more shots fly overhead. He drags Sun down with him, pulling his brother close as the distant sounds of battle filter in through the open doors.

Lunar clings to Moon’s leg, suppressing a whimper in his torn, star patterned pants.

“What are we gonna do?? I don’t wanna die again!” The smaller animatronic lets out a wail, and Moon hushes him softly- sympathetically. Part of him wants to cry, too.

“We’ll figure it out, okay? For now, we have to-“ Moon starts to say, then suddenly recoils with a snarl as oil spills freely from his shoulder. It quickly begins to soak into his clothing, but he clamps a hand down onto it before it can begin it’s incessant flow of oil. It still leaks out between his fingers, and Sun’s eyes shimmer with tears, reaching on hand out to his brother before pulling it back as if afraid of hurting him more.

“-for now, we have to find the terminal and hook either me or Lunar up to it.” Moon finishes through clenched teeth, his red eyes flashing with fury as another bullet flies by.

“You still haven’t explained why-“ Sun exclaims, eyes darting upwards as a body arches over the wall they’re situated behind. The robot crashes to the ground in a heap of shrapnel and wires, twitching and sparking before finally falling still. Eerily still. Deathly still.

“Because you’ll say no!” Moon shouts, tone taking on an edge of desperation, as if willing his twin not to argue any further. They don’t have time for that- not now, pinned under The Creator’s armada of bloodthirsty beasts- beasts thirsty for their blood, in specific.

Sun shakes his head, obviously wishing to ask more questions, but he holds back for the sake of their safety.

With a final roar from beyond, the sound of small mechanical pieces falling to the ground following close behind, all is left silent. A pair of heavy crashes break the silence, metal bits dancing out across the tile like a coin set to spin to decide one’s fate. All three animatronics are still.

Those same footfalls approach them, unsteady in rhythm but strong in force. Sun dares a look outside, then relaxes as he realizes who it is.

“KC!” He shouts, and Moon reveals himself with Lunar tucked against his leg shortly after.

Blood Moon is perched on the large bot’s shoulder, covered hood to shoe-bell in a thick layer of oil. It splatters evenly across their face and drips down into the mess on their chest, covering their normal colors in a dark shade of death.

KillCode, however, is filled with holes. Oil leaks from the wounds in sickeningly slow trails, but he pays no mind, sauntering over to the other three as a trail of their lifeblood follows close behind. Some is his, and some…is not.

“Wow, you’re…” Moon starts, motioning to his KillCode’s appearance.

“A mess, I know. Blood Moon, stop pulling on my hat.” The beast growls, and Blood Moon gives him a cheeky smile before pulling their hands back into their lap. They sit neatly in place, an innocent curiosity adorning their dripping face.

“How’d you get through?” Lunar asks quietly. KC gives him a deadpan look.

“Ripping and tearing and maiming- so fun!!” Blood Moon grins from their perch, and KC rolls his eyes as if having found the killing spree more of a chore than anything else. Lunar blinks owlishly, but says nothing.

“I need to get to the terminal. Do you think you could help with that?” Moon gets down to business as quickly as possible, trying to ignore Blood Moon’s earlier statement. KC turns his attention sluggishly onto his former host, looking the night-themed jester up and down as if assessing him based solely on appearance.

“You’re wounded.” It states in a bland tone, and Moon clutches his shoulder harder just to keep himself from lashing out. Why couldn’t anyone understand that he wasn’t the point right now?

“It’ll be more convincing. Can you help me, or not?”

KC quirks a brow curiously. “Convincing?”

“KILLCODE. ANSWER THE QUESTION.”

“Alright, alright- yes, I can get you there. So pushy.” It begins to shoo Blood Moon from its shoulder, and they let out an angry hiss before leaping off. They grapple onto the nearby play-structure, scaling it’s few remaining pieces as KC offers his hand to Moon.

“Have you seen any of the others?” Moon’s tone is tight as he taps KC’s palm, allowing him to pick Moon up, careful to avoid his injury.

“Hmm…” KC hums as he begins the trek outside, ducking under some of the collapsed structures as he goes.

“Solar Flare?”

KC shakes his head, and Moon falls back into his paranoid silence.

The halls are lined with bodies. Weapons of all kinds litter the floors like toys scattered about the daycare, yet these are all too real. Some hands still twitch, some bots still struggle to squirm around like half-dead corpses on the floor. Moon shuts his eyes. He doesn’t want to see faces he recognizes amongst them.

KC taps Moon on the shoulder when they make it to their destination, and Moon hesitantly cracks open an eye at the signal.

“What is this for, might I ask?” KC inquires once again, but Moon doesn’t reply as it places him gently onto the floor. Instead, his free hand is already extended towards the terminal, fingers shaking, mind churning with endless possibilities that all end in the same outcome.

Some of these paths contain his idea making the situation worse. But, in the back of his mind, he knows he has no choice. They need back up.

No matter how bad the back up is.

“I’ll go limp. This is normal. Please catch me.” Moon murmurs in a subdued tone, and KC nods. He knows better than to deny Moon in such a vulnerable state.

Moon hesitates for a few moments longer. Would he even be able to get in? Parts of the receiver are bent, while the screen is cracked, the display warped behind the damages. Is this a waste of his time? Will he even be there if he manages to make it inside?

Without giving him any more time to thing more on it, KC presses Moon’s hand down onto the screen, watching with mild amusement as his former host goes as limp as a noodle.

But, he made a promise, so he catches him, as he’d said he would.

-

It was…quiet. It had always been quiet around here, but today felt like a different type of quiet- the kind that followed funerals and natural disasters.

Eclipse…didn’t quite know what to think of that.

So, when the silence is broken by a snap of electricity, he instinctively brings up a hand to shield his face, stiffening as the figure cements itself into a…familiar face.

Moon stares back at him with tired eyes, eyes trailing over the fragmented pieces of what once was his mortal enemy.

“I need your help.”

Eclipse stares at him. His gaze travels over to the leaking wound in Moon’s shoulder. His eyes remain transfixed on the injury, even as his mouth moves to give a more careless response.

“Oh? Me? You must be truly desperate~” He flashes his other half a sinister grin, but Moon is in no mood to play his games. Not now. Not when so much is at stake.

“Cut the crap. We don’t have time for this.”

Eclipse quirks a brow, eyeing Moon as he begins to pace, advancing on Eclipse the longer he remains silent.

“We? Since when was there a ‘we’ here?” Eclipse sudden snaps, more fury in his words than Moon expected. He takes a step back as the other takes a step forwards, shoving his face so close to Moon’s that he can hear the slight ringing that Eclipse’s presence produces, hear the sound of the satellite scorching through his plain, mortal existence. Moon can’t bring himself to meet the eyes of the monster that he created.

“Since it wasn’t just about you versus me. Now it’s about us versus him.”

Eclipse searches his expression for any hint of deceit, then leans away when he finds none.

“Who’s him?”

Moon finally manages to look up and into that brilliant orange glare, hating the betrayal that he finds lurking within their depths. Some part of him screams that Eclipse has no right to feel such things after all he’s done, but the rest of him knows that, deep down, this is partially his own fault.

“The creator.”

Eclipse gives pause at that. He stares down the one animatronic he swore he’d never align himself with, one hand coming up slowly, carefully-

His clawed fingers gently brush up against Moon’s wound, a conflicted expression falling over Eclipse’s face as Moon watches him with slight discomfort.

“He’s behind this, is he? How odd…I warned you, didn’t I?”

Moon shoves him away, opening his mouth for a scathing retort before slowly, so, so slowly, he allows it to die in his throat. The tightness the words leave behind remind him of holding back tears, and he doesn’t realize that he’s been doing just that until they begin to drip down his face.

“Okay. Okay! So you were right? I admit it! Is that what you want to hear? That I’m wrong and you’re right?!” Moon snaps, surprising even himself.

Much to Moon’s chagrin, Eclipse lets out a bitter laugh. He moves forwards again, a devious glint dancing in his eyes, and suddenly Moon feels like a lion jumping through a hoop of flames.

“All I’ve ever wanted was a sorry, yet you’ve never considered that, have you?”

Eclipse brushes past Moon once he’s done speaking, leaving the stiff animatronic to pick apart his words and drown in the guilt that follows them. A single marigold hand comes out to rest upon Moon’s uninjured shoulder, jolting him from his spiral.

“But, for now, I’ll settle for a way out of here and someone to punch.” Another grin, this time equipped with so many ill-intentions that it almost makes Moon sick to think that he’s about to let him out to act upon them all.

“No hurting Sun. Or Lunar. Or-“

“Yes, yes, whatever. I’m not interested in who I can’t hurt, I’m interested in who I can.” A sharp edge slides into Eclipse’s voice, tainted by impatience. Moon brushes his hand off as his grip begins to tighten.

“You’ll need something to fight with first.” Moon mutters. Eclipse stays silent, merely tilting his head and brandishing his claws as if the answer is obvious.

“No. Something longer. Something sharper.” Moon steps forwards, then…reaches his hand out, swiping it through thin air. When the movement finishes, a sword seems to materialize in his hand, and he offers it out to Eclipse.

It’s beautiful, really. Wrought iron blade with serrated edges, sturdy handle with symbolic orange and black hues scattered about the surfaces.

And in the middle, an eclipse, glowing faintly beneath Eclipse’s mesmerized gaze.

“So? What do you say?”

Eclipse takes the sword in one hand, examining it like some sort of ancient artifact under the watch of a renowned architect.

Then, another smile breaks out across his face. Sharp teeth glint in the dim light cast out from the sword in his hand.

“Is this some sort of knighting? The guild of daycare defense?” He questions lightly, and, much to his surprise, Moon barks out a laugh.

“Yes, absolutely. You’re a knight.”

“Aren’t knights usually the heroes though, dear Moon?”

Moon can’t help but smile himself, reflecting the danger in Eclipse’s own grin. “Hero or not, they still kill. It’s the killing that matters to me, not how you define yourself.”

Eclipse turns away, at that, gazing down at the sword in his hands with an intense glint in his eyes, running his claws along the blade.

“Doesn’t seem all that heroic, does it? Killing?” Eclipse’s voice is flat. Unfeeling. He lifts his head, meeting Moon’s eyes. For a moment, Moon doesn’t see the fractured apparition the terminal generated for Eclipse. He sees a broken, burnt, twisted chassis with a half-visible smile hidden under the soot and scorch marks, metal bits poking out in odd places like a broken skeleton beneath years of rubble and decay.

“Like you killed me?”

Those oil streaks down that disfigured face aren’t from the damages, Moon knows. They’re from wounds much deeper than any of the destruction he wrought upon his enemy.

And yet, those wounds are still caused by him.

[ladydeadpoolismyspiritanimal]

Copied from Reddit

A Community Project to Celebrate a Year of r/OnlyFangsBG3

Hello to our lovely community of darlings, blood bags, and precious little Bhaal babes! As you may remember from last week, your hardworking mod team is in the process of putting together a little project to celebrate our one-year anniversary. We wanted to give ourselves a tiny head start (and, yes, maybe drum up some curiosity!) but we are now ready to announce that…

# We Are Assembling an Astarion Coloring Book!

The community we’ve assembled here is so incredibly talented in such an amazing variety of ways, and we thought this could be a fun way for our creative folks to get to come together and share that talent. ~~And. I mean, yes, *some* of us are slightly sad that we don’t have artistic skill but still want to make pretty pictures of the pretty vampire, *okay??*~~

We are currently looking for visual artists to help us by donating their original line art featuring Astarion, which other members of the sub can then color in whatever media they choose and share with all of us! **If you are willing, please send us your submission no later than September 23, 2024.**

While we are soliciting this art, we will be promoting a selection of charities that Neil publicly supports (more on those in a minute). No money will be going through us at any time, we will only be encouraging you all to donate to the charities directly. If you wish, you can then send us (redacted!!) receipts so that we can get a tally of how much the sub has raised and celebrate our community with some altruism. We won’t be requiring anyone to donate in order to get access to the coloring book, just encouraging donations to those causes on his behalf. At the end of the event, our sub’s birthday (September 30), we will share how much we raised and release a link to the compiled coloring book.

Anyway. That’s what we’re looking to accomplish!

## Requirements

* You are welcome to send us line art from an existing work, or create something new for the event. As long as the art is your own original work, you’re good to go.

* You may create line art by tracing or using filters on your own screenshots. If you use someone else’s screenshot, you must get their permission and credit them appropriately.

* Line art only, please!

* No AI artwork will be accepted.

* Artwork must contain Astarion; otherwise, please feel free to chase your muse. NSFW is fine, solo, M/M, M/F, multiple, the whole tadpole crew, Batstarion, comic panels, whatever floats your boat.

* Feel free to submit as much as you’d like! Depending on the volume of submissions, we may have to narrow things down a bit, but we will make sure that all contributors are represented in the final product.

* Include your name or handle in the bottom left corner. Those posting colored versions of these pages will be required to leave this legible (or rewritten elsewhere on the page) or they will be taken down.

* If you are not a frequent poster on the sub, we may do a bit of extra vetting to try to confirm that the work is your own. Please understand that this is us doing our due diligence to protect artists’ hard work and has nothing to do with you as an individual.

## How to Submit / File Info

If you would like to participate, you may submit your art in a few different ways. You can send an email to onlyfangsbg3@gmail.com with the attached image. Or you can send us a [modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=r/OnlyFangsbg3) and include a link to your art on Tumblr, Twitter, Imgur, or other platform that your image is hosted on.

As for file types, please submit them as something lossless - so no crunchy jpegs or anything. Types such as PNG, TIFF, SVG (hell even BMP if you can find space to host it lmao) will do splendidly.

For size, we are hoping to stick to "standard letter" sizes - either US Letter (8.5x11 inches), or A4 (21.0x29.7cm). We figure those sizes make the most sense for a coloring book project!

## What Charities Can You Donate to?

We’ve picked two charities from a handful that were listed on Neil’s Twitch channel that you can donate to. These two were picked just to narrow down the choices a bit for simplicity’s sake, but if any of the other ones speak to you, we won’t stop you from donating to them! The ones we’ve selected are:

* [The Red Card](https://www.theredcard.org/) - “Show Racism the Red Card (SRtRC) is the UK’s leading anti-racism educational charity.”

* [Black Lives Matter](https://blacklivesmatter.com/) - “Black Lives Matter Foundation is an abolition-centered foundation fighting institutional injustice and serving Black people globally.” (US-based)

From Neil’s Twitch page

> Please have a look at these charities- Be an ally. Do your bit.

> I am. My family are. We all can.

> Support, move, scream and keep the momentum to help even in small ways like this.

As stated earlier, there’s no requirement to donate to receive the completed coloring book at the end of the sub’s anniversary event; it just seems like a very nice way that we can show our support for Neil and our community! If you do donate, please send us a [modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=r/OnlyFangsbg3) with your receipt (blur out any personal information, of course) showing the total you donated. We will tally these up through September 29 and announce the grand total we raised for these charities on September 30th.

## Using the Coloring Book Pages

We’d love it if you shared what you did with the coloring book with the community! Whether you print it out and paint it by hand, color it digitally, use colored pencils, or whatever else your heart comes up with, we’d love to see! We will create a new flair for this purpose as we get closer to The Big Day.

That being said, be sure to credit the original artist! Any posts made with these images that fail to credit the original, or remove the artist's name/signature from the image, **will be removed**. Don't try to pass this off elsewhere as your original work.

## Spread the Word!

Do you know any artists, either friends or via patreon discords, that might be interested in participating? Then please (politely, gently!) see if they want to join in!

##tl;dr

* Send us line art by September 23

* Donate to charities and send us receipts by September 29

* We will release the full coloring book and the total we raised on September 30

* Share your beautiful pages, being sure to credit the original artists

Bonus Angel screenshot that I feel like has some meme potential

[clementine-kesh]

It's such a struggle to be a Phlox fucker, I'm not even kidding. It's not the lack of hot Phlox appreciation or the other people thinking it's a bit or even the hypocrisy of Quark and Garak being treated as sex symbols (I mean yes they're hot too but you know what I mean) while Phlox is just treated as some funny guy. All of that sucks but it's not what's hardest for me. No, it's the shipping.

I have been trying really hard to find someone to consistently pair him up with in my mind - I have already given up on finding a ship there's actually considerable content for, if you go to Phlox' ao3 tag and go to filter by relationship literally none of the options even involve him which is fucked up if you ask me - but there's always some kind of snag.

(Note from future me when I was finishing writing the rest of this message: I don't touch on every possibility, only ones I think could evolve into any kind of relationship rather than a quick one off shag (thinking of Trip here) so there's not even that many but I wrote way too much, especially on candidate #3)

The first I saw suggested was Archer which, fair enough I guess, but at that point I had not yet met Shran or knew about Shrancher and now that I do it's not like I stopped with the Phlox x Archer but it's just no longer a priority. And yes, you can totally make Archer having two alien boyfriends work, especially since both Denobulans and Andorians are poly by default, but while I haven't seen Shran and Phlox interact yet (and thus could be totally off) I just don't feel like they'd vibe enough to even hang out casually tbh. Again, I do still ship this but pretty low key.

The next option I wanna talk about is T'Pol and I think that at least initially, she's the most "realistic" option and if the show had been twice as long they probably would've been at least teased at some point (in part ofc since it was the 00s and so heterosexuality was the only option but y'know) and the whole "only two non-human crew members" thing adds something that vibes with me, too, but there's just no way you could ever make them work in the long run because Vulcans are just PAINFULLY monogamous and I simply don't think she's willing to break with that. Phlox would off-handedly mention one of his wives and T'Pol would be absolutely seething. This is not a long term ship.

Then possibly my favourite so far is Tobin Dax. Technically it's only beta canon that Tobin was around during Ent (in the alpha timeline Lela died in 2226 (thus presumably when Tobin was joined) which is over 60 years after the end of Ent and there's no alpha info on what he was doing before but in the beta timeline Tobin was definitely already joined by the 2160s and probably quite a bit before) so unless you wanna go with unjoined Tobin (whom we have zero alpha info and as far as I can tell little to no beta info on) you gotta go beta timeline which I know so little about that it's hard for me to daydream about. But at least Phlox and Tobin are said to have met in beta canon tho I don't know if there's scenes of their interactions. I can probably forget about any non me made content too since beta Tobin is already "commonly" (considering it's all beta) shipped with Iloja of Prim who, fun fact, is actually given as Jadzia's favourite Cardassian writer in alpha canon. Anyway, point is I just don't know enough about (beta) Tobin or beta canon in general to generate anything here.

(And I would consider other Dax hosts as well but unless you count the (alpha timeline) three years between Lela's joining and Ent ending there's not much opportunity for this without time travel. I should mention two things here, one: I don't think Lela is one of the Daxes that I'd ship with Phlox and two: I am not strictly opposed to time travel for the sole purpose of PhloxDax and I can defo imagine him with Jadzia, Curzon, maybe Torias and possibly Emony, but it's an extra level of complication that I frankly can't be bothered with if I'm the only one doing it.)

(Also, just for completeness' sake: in the beta timeline we know Phlox was alive at least until the 2260s which would put him parallel with Dax until at least Audrid tho it's very feasible he made it until after her death in 2284, the two subsequent hosts (who as you know didn't make it long) and Curzon's 2285 (again, beta timeline, it's '86 in alpha) joining. There's different lifespans given for Denobulans (about 300y in beta tho, according to memory beta) but even by the shortest I found (which said 170 to 280) it's very much possible since Phlox was born in the 2080s (beta)/generally sometime late 21st century (alpha). But that's just additional info.)

In summary, I may have to read Uncertain Logic (last Rise of the Federation novel to feature Tobin and the one that, based on my research, is most likely to show him interact with Phlox) but it would be difficult as I can no longer read long texts after getting off my ADD meds (which mess with my antidepressants) and thus literally haven't finished even half of a book in about a decade. As I said, the struggle is real. I swear to you I don't set out with the intention of writing a dissertation in your askbox each time, it just happens. I'm sorry.

Oh, also, if you have more suggestions (or better yet: content) for Phlox ships I'd be very eager to listen! Thank you so much for your time!

-Levi

i respect the grindset so much more people should be phloxfuckers tbh. he’s got that jovial mad scientist vibe and is in an open marriage with his three wives like?? the best phlox ship i have for you is ages ago i made a post that included a joke about neelix using a temporal anomaly to moonlight as the chef on the nx-01 and beginning a torrid love affair with phlox which i still stand by. it happened to me. also i know next to nothing about beta canon but conceptually the idea of pairing phlox with one of the dax hosts is very fun

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About Podfic

As promised in the Podfic Highlight Week post here are some infos and resources about podfic:

In case you don't know what podfic is, it's basically like an audio book or audio play but for fanfiction. Fans record audio versions of fanfiction, either of previously written fics or fics written specifically to record them. If you would like a more in-depth definition as well as history of podfics, check out the fanlore article.

Other audio based fan works are for example filk (fan songs) and oral not!fic (unscripted podfics). But for this highlight week all fanworks with an audio component qualify.

You can find podfic by searching/filtering for the podfic or podfic & podficced works on AO3. Just go into your favorite fandom or ship tag and see what amazing podfics have been made for it.

If you are interested in joining the podficcing community, I recommend the Discord server podfichat which is very welcoming to new members and has many amazing resources and lots of people willing to help and explain things. You don't need a lot to start podficcing. A pair of headphones, your phone or another mic and a free audio edditing software like Audacity or garage band are more than enough.

If you like the idea of people making podfics of your works, I recommend making a fandom permission statement for example with this handy tool. You can find more information @fanworkspermissionstatement.

If you're a podficcer looking for fics by authors who have blanket permission for podfics, check out the FPS data base. It's a data base that collects AO3 authors with permission statements. There is even a handy browser extension by @trollslimes that highlights these authors while you're looking through AO3.

I'm still very new to the podficcing community myself and definitely forgot very important resources. For example guides and tutorials that explain how to record, edit, host and post podfics. If you have resources you want to recommend please add them in a reblog. If I got anything wrong please let me know. If you have any questions, I will do my best to answer them.

I will collect more links and add them under the read more.

AO3 podfic posting guide