#might start writing fanfiction

[child-of-the-danube]

Ok, I need to preface this with saying that I have not read any of the Doom Patrol comics so I have no idea how well or in what quantity the show follows the comics so I have no concpet of spoilers/certainty as to how it will all end after next episode.

This is gonna be a long ass post so buckle up motherfuckers.

I am thoroughly worried with how it will all be wrapped up in a single episode. They have not gotten their longevity back, Immortus is still out there now planning world domination, Rita's basically dead, the Buttpocalypse future is on their doorstep etc. Either it will be all to quickly concluded with a Deus-ex-machina solution to everything given that Laura in one episode said that the future they saw was only one possible version of it and in this episode future Vic seemed way too calm finding out that his past self is being helped with the time portal thingy and saying it'll work out OOOOR the future they saw is really it and it's all a lost cause. I'm going to focus on my thoughts about the other one.

I would kind of prefer the sadder ending cause it would be more, I guess, poetic that these people turned mutant-turned superheroes who more than once saved everyone around them, the world and eachother, could not, despite all their effort, save themselves this one last time. Well, except for Vic but depends in what version of it.

Digression: I am also 99% sure the Immortimas episode was the one where Michelle and April kissed (which they mentioned in their insta live) cause if you look closely at the "Best friends" scene when they're really close together but we see Michelle's face more, April has her lips pursed and only switches back to a smile when Michelle moves her head away and I am so very calm and normal about this, not wanting to rip my skin off and scream into the void at all. It's fine, it really is :))))))))))))

I'm skipping talking about Rita since she wasn't in this episode at all. I'm assuming that they will either find her dead or on her last breaths once they return from the time stream unless, again, some magical solution falls from the sky immediately.

LARRY: I think of all the characters, Larry seems to be the one who's most prepared for his death. I feel like he always knew, no matter the longevity, that his body would give up on him at some point and was kind of always ready to go. He worries way more about Keeg than he does about what end is awaiting him. I love that he got to experience fatherhood once again through Keeg and I get his frustration about the Negative spirit not wanting to take care of Keeg, but if his end is set in stone, I could see him embrace the fact that he becomes "a new Sun". His journey started in space and ending it there as a new star would be full circle. In a way by becoming a star, a permanent part of the sky, he'd always be, though in new form, there for Keeg to see and visit.

CLIFF: I was wondering when and if it would be explained how Niles broke his back and I have to say I absolutely hate that it was Cliff given that, especially this season, a lot of shit seems to be portrayed as purely Cliff's fault. Like anything he touches or is given the role to take care off goes to shit. He has always been unlucky in that regard but I feel like the last thing in the "how can we fuck Cliff's already declining mental health up some more" arsenal should have been the fact that the first thing he felt in years wasn't his grandson but the blood and insides of another being he just killed. Like, I truly think that was the tipping point to break him completely, the rest is overkill. I hope if the spirit loop Buttpocalypse future is the end that he at least got to see and feel Clara and Rory once before returning to the Doom Patrol and accepting his end.

JANE: Similar to Larry, I feel like Jane got her resolution this episode. She finally said it out loud and accepted what truly happened to her. She became, both literally and metaphorically one with her whole self and can now be at peace, however long that might be, with the people she loves. She got her clarity in a way.

VIC: Vic being alive, well and teaching kids in the version of the future that saved them from the time stream is giving me hope that it might not all be set up to end tragically. That he might find his purpose and happiness after all. Cause of what use is it for him to be the last man standing in the future when everyone he loves is gone or soon to be gone. It's just survival, not life.

LAURA: Oh, boy. Oh, Lord. Here we go. Bare with me.

It's no secret she's my absolute favourite character and the one I have the most feelings and thoughts about. First of all, hats off to Michelle Gomez and her acting once again. You could feel the difference in past and present Laura not just by the way they are dressed but the mannerism, the speech, the body language, everything. The fear in past Laura's eyes not due to being beaten but due to the fact that she HERSELF is saying, or better, admitting, that she's in fact not a good person no matter how much she tries to delude herself or others. I love this character so deeply and that's why I am losing my mind over her.

Present day Laura saying she hasn't changed broke my heart into a million of peaces cause in the same way past Laura deluded herself into believing she's good, present Laura kept that same self hatred and turned it into convincing herself that no matter how much she tries, she'll never be good, she'll never escape her past, making people weapons or fucking it all up for the ones she truly cares about. For my Doctor Who fans, are you all reliving Missy's plot and the pain her end brought as much as I am???? And the "WE'RE THE FUCKING WEAPON" part??!!?!? Holy fucking shit. Her whole life and career she was hiding her abilities for her own safety and partially for the sisterhood's safety, declaring others as weapons, sending them off to fight and die but it truly was her who was the weapon. When you fire a gun, yes, the bullets are what ends up doing the job but they're disposable, you always need new ones to reload. What remains is the gun itself, needed for further firing of shots. Well, Laura was the gun and all those she branded weapons were just the disposable bullets.

It pains me inexplicably to say it, but I simply don't see any kind of happy ending for her. She has no one else but these bumbling idiots she met only a little while ago, who I'm not entirely sure would YET go to the lenghts she does for them for her, and Rita who:

a. Still hasn't fully forgiven her (I mean shit she called her a monster like 2 episodes ago)

b. Is on her death bed

c. I doubt would use her last breaths to tell her she's forgiven or admit that Laura does mean a lot to her

Nobody knows where she's in the future and I have a crippling feeling that it might be caused by Rita's death. If you think about it, all of them love Rita and will be there to comfort eachother after she's gone/as they inevitabely each go. Laura isn't dying. She has whatever natural time is left there for her still to go. She does not share their fate. And, as I've already said, they have known eachother for decades. Laura is someone they've basically just met, learned to trust even later, and in their mind to some degree the one who caused the Immortus stuff. If Rita dies, I have a feeling she will either immediately distance herself from them (or be distanced) or she'll end up watching all of them but Vic die one by one and then leave or worse...

So unless by some miracle everything turns out fine or after they're all gone she encounters Shelley and the Sisterhood and they embrace her, I see no bright ending there

Anyways, I'm booking therapy in advance cause I'm going to need it after next week more than I already did...

[osamusriceballs]

Finding Love

Bokuto x fem reader

Words: ~ 1,8 k

Warnings: NSFW (dry humping, sex against a wall)

About: A one night stand with Bokuto <3

A/n: I'm craving more one night stands with the haikyuu boys. Suna next. PERIOD.

"Y/n-"

The way he holds you sends shivers down your body. You're seated on his lap, his muscular thighs between yours, his lips delivering the messiest, hottest, open-mouthed kisses against your neck. Both of his large hands rest on your back, pulling you close, so close to him.

One of your hands rests on his shoulder, while the other finds its way into his spikey hair—messing it up as you involuntarily grab the strands tighter when he intensifies his actions.

"Koutaro..." His name still feels foreign on your tongue, a hazy memory from the introductions exchanged during passionate kisses in his car. His low groan assures you that you pronounced it correctly, and you're rewarded with a particularly hard suck against your throat.

He's hard. Unmistakably so. You subtly shift your weight, while your hand glides down his chest, tracing the outline of his well-defined muscles. He's not just tall, he exudes strength and fitness, making you feel incredibly safe and cherished in his embrace.

Your heart races in your chest, probably due to your excitement. Every move he makes steals your breath, his groans intensifying the sensation of his lips marking your skin.

"Y/n?" He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, a questioning furrow in his brow. He looks so good that it momentarily takes your breath away.

"Yes?" Your reply, and your hand releases his hair, allowing him to adjust his posture and sit back.

"Could we move this to the bedroom?" His question is filled with hesitation, his cheeks tinted with a pink flush while his teeth dig into his lower lip as soon as he finishes speaking.

Both of you know what he just proposed. Your mind races, and his expression shifts as he waits for your response—his gaze now dropping, an endearing shyness in his posture.

"We don't have to if you're not comfortable. I just thought..."

"No! I mean, yes, let's go to the bedroom." You quickly interrupt, eager to ensure that you want it too. You want to continue this, to explore more of him.

His expression changes once more, an enthusiastic grin playing across his features. His hands wander to your ass, and before you can react, he stands up with you still in his arms. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, his arousal pressing against your barely covered core—restrained only by the thin layers of your panties and his dress pants.

"I want so much more. To see you, to feel you," he murmurs, while he's walking towards what you presume is the bedroom. "Please, I want it- I want you so much," you gasp, trying to grind against him, the friction adding fuel to your arousal.

A hard kick of his leg opens door, and suddenly, you're pressed against the wall. He's towering over you, his lips finding yours in a feverish kiss full of hunger and need. His lips against yours are intoxicating, plump and soft, with a sweetness and passion that convinces you that you're the only focus of his desire right now. Pressed against the wall, you're barely able to think, only able to feel.

"Do you... want to continue like this? Against the wall?" His words reach your ears as barely more than a breath, his kiss taking all your thoughts away. His words and his sheer strength make your body tremble even more with excitement.

"Yes, Koutaro," you breathe out, your voice full with anticipation. Your hands dig under the fabric of his shirt, meeting the warm expanse of his bare back. His muscles are tense and firm, a clear sign of his physical strength- he probably hits the gym regularly.

"Fuck me, Koutaro, please." The plea slips from your lips, the words coming out breathy and needy. His response is immediate, his hips grinding against you, his cock pressing hardly against your cunt.

"Koutaro. Please," you rasp the words against his lips again, feeling him trembling with excitement suddenly. Your hands wander between your bodies, finally, a little clumsily reaching the button of his pants and fumbling for a few seconds before you open it and reach into his boxers. He breaks the kiss when your fingertips brush against his cock, feeling him hard and throbbing against you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath heavy and ragged, while you keep palming him and exploring his body. His cock is thick, so thick that you're not sure if you could wrap your hand fully around him. But what makes you tremble in anticipation is how long it actually is. His cock definitely matches his physical appearance—broad and tall.

"Your hand feels good, so good, so good," he suddenly thrusts his hips against your hand, and you quickly move your other hand to the hem of his boxers to pull them down. His cock finally springs free, pressing up against your body, and you simply reach down to push your panties to the side and line his cock up at your entrance.

"Fuck," he groans against your skin, his hot breath meeting the shell of your ear, and he finally, finally pushes into you, the head of his cock disappearing between your legs and making your eyes roll back.

"Kou, fuck, Kou," you groan, your head falling back against the wall, not caring about the thump and the loud sound of your head crashing against the wall echoing through the room, along with your lewd moan and his grunts.

His hips slowly push forward, his cock deliciously stretching you out while he sinks deeper into your cunt. He easily slides through your wetness, his hands gripping your ass even tighter, leaving fingerprints on your backside for sure, and you clench around him when he's fully inside of you.

Your lips part as you breathe heavily, your muscles tensing at the sudden feeling of being overwhelmed with emotions. His hips suddenly move back and slam forward, his cock barely leaving your pussy, but the sudden thrust makes you gasp for air. "Oh, please-" you whine, not even sure what you're begging for, but he has you, he thrusts his hips again, and again, harder with every thrust, his movements suddenly even more unrestricted. "Tell me when you want me to stop," he whispers against your ear, and you only moan in response before he starts to thrust faster.

"Oh my god, fuck-" curses and prayers leave your lips endlessly, until you only manage to moan his name when he thrusts his cock into you, again and again. Your mind is hazy, your whole body electrified by his touch, your pussy deliciously clenching around him at every particularly sharp thrust.

"Touch yourself," he groans into your ear, your whole body shuddering at his raspy needy voice. You quickly bring one hand to your chest and start palming yourself, squeezing your tit through your shirt with your hand. A gasp leaves your lips, and suddenly Bokuto's face is right in front of you, his lips connecting with yours hungrily, firmly, with an intensity that makes your whole body burn. Your hand wanders further down while you keep on kissing him, your fingers quickly finding your clit and starting to rub against it feverishly.

"You're so hot, so damn hot," his words make you flush even further, and you reciprocate the kiss with more intensity, your fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders.

"Please, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop, Kou," you whine, your hips rutting against him and grinding against his broad body. "Can't stop, baby, feels too good, you feel so good," he sounds almost desperate while he's grinding your body against him, the feeling making you see stars, you're so close, so close-

He presses his face against your neck, the sounds of his grunts and moans muffled against your skin, and when his hands grab your thighs almost painfully hard and he thrusts hard again—that's when you finally feel yourself cum, your muscles contracting and your body arching in his hold, your head falling back and your eyes rolling back in your head. "Kou, fuck-" you moan his name, your voice sounding so lewd that you'd be embarrassed, but your name leaves his lips at the same time, his body tensing and you feel a sudden warmth between your legs, his cum filling you up and making your high even more intense.

Your breath comes out erratically from your lips, your chest heaving heavily while your fingers comb through his hair. Most of his hairspray is already on your hands, the strands turning surprisingly soft, and you slightly tug on them after a while, to make him lift his face.

He quickly raises his head at the feeling, and your breath stops for a second when you see his face. He looks so cheerful and happy, his features even softer than you've ever seen before. He presses a quick peck to your lips, the gesture so soft and surprising that you can only stare at him with your jaw slightly dropped.

He finally stumbles back, his arms shaking, but his grip around your thighs still firm, and only two steps later he simply falls back onto the bed, your body resting on top of him. His cock is still half inside of you, slowly turning from hard to soft, but still so warm and welcome.

His hands find your bare back under your shirt, caressing your skin and drawing you closer. Bokuto exudes a soothing warmth, his body like a heater beneath you, and your fingers roam around his chest and play with the hem of his shirt. You did all this, and yet you're both still almost fully clothed- you can't even imagine how much more intense it would be if you're both naked.

"My friend Akaashi—you've seen him before, remember the guy with glasses? That's my best friend," he suddenly breaks the silence, prompting you to lift your gaze to meet his. His sweet smile causes your lips to curl upwards too. "Yes, I remember him. He was very polite." Bokuto's grin widens, and he nods with enthusiasm. "That's him. Akaashi told me that I'm not cut out for one-night stands. That they are all 'devoid of love'. But I believe that love can also start physically like this, don't you think? Because this did feel like the beginning of love." His sincere tone catches you off-guard, your eyebrows arching in surprise.

"I... yes, I think so too." Your response makes him smile even more- and the butterflies won't stop in your stomach.

"So... do you think we could see each other again?"

You feel his cum trickling between your legs, but both of you only focus on each other, not caring about the slowly growing stains on his dark pants. Your eyes are focused on him, his eyes shining with brightness and hope, his focus entirely on you. A comforting warmth washes over you, and you smile widely when you reply and lean closer to press a kiss to his lips.

"Yes. Yes, I think so."

[naquey]

[aboutiroh]

You know how Zuko and Azula were overhearing Ozai asking Azulon for Iroh's birthright and Zuko ran away before he could hear the rest of it? Well, what if didn't but stayed to hear Ozai's punishment and as a result ran away in fear. Basically it would like how Aang reacted when he overheard the monks planning to send him away except that Zuko would be even more scared. Anyway what do you think could happen? Like it would be a dark story of survival, hiding and secrecy for Zuko as he would probably have to stow away on ship to the Earth kingdom and be on the run from the fire nation. Maybe he could meet the gang while there and join them and Azulon might still alive at the time and Ursa and Iroh would probably do everything they can to find Zuko.

All I can think about is a 9 year-old Toph finding 13 year-old Zuko hiding in a cave and the unusual friendship that ensues. 

[wahoo-venus]

Short Hilson fic where House plays the piano, mayhaps? 😍

sure thing! it takes a bit to get to the piano part, sorry 'bout that, haha! I hope you enjoy<3

lmk if you have any more requests!

———

1,072 words

Wilson has trouble sleeping, and House knows how to help him

———

Fifth night in a row. God dammit.

Wilson stared at the ceiling with a frown. He was crashing at House's place, hoping that a change of air would help him sleep. It didn't.

For some unknown reason, the last four nights he wasn't able to sleep. This night appeared to be the same.

It was becoming a problem. He tried everything that helped in the past: Jogging until feeling extremely tired, taking a long steamy bath, reading the most boring documents he could find, taking melanin... Nothing. Zero. Nada.

He got up, irritated, and went to the kitchen and opened the cabinet looking for a glass, grabbing the tallest one he could find. He closed the pannel a little aggressively, and then opened the fridge with the same force. After analyzing the liquids avaliable, he opted for some orange juice and, again, closed the door with more aggression than needed. He poured the drink on his glass until it was about to spill, and drank it in one go, but before he could put the glass down he heard a familiar voice.

"Don't you dare break my glass. I think you already broke all other furniture you touched tonight" House entered the kitchen and went past him, eyeing the fridge as to see if there was any damage.

Wilson could only sigh. "Sorry. Did I wake you?" He put the glass down, very carefully now that he was aware of the force he put into his actions before. He glanced at House half looking for approval and half looking for forgiveness.

"No, my sixth sense warned me that if I didn't go to the kitchen right this instant, I would have one less glass in my arsenal." He said this while looking for box of cookies in pantry, side-eying him before actually finding the box. Wilson chuckled at the comment.

"Thank God for the supernatural" He said with a tinge of playfulness in his tone, before switching to a more exasperated one. "I'm just frustrated. I–"

"Still can't sleep" House said with his mouth filled with chocolate chip cookies, raising an eyebrow at him. His attention was now fully on his friend, when he wasn't taking another bite of his sweet snack.

"I've tried everything!" He shook his hands in the air, voice raising an octave. "I don't know what else to do! I feel like I'm going insane!" He turned to look at his friend, who was observing his outburst, almost puzzled. "I going to go crazy if I don't sleep tonight" this last part was almost a plea, as if House could do anything about it. His look changed from pensive to a little annoyed.

"And it's going to be my problem if you don't" Wilson hoped it meant what he thought it did. That House had a solution. That the solution was very, very simple, and that House knew it. If he was lucky, House would even share it.

Wilson took a few wary steps, as if aproaching a wild animal that he didn't want escaping. He didn't dare make a sound, just waited until House said something, hoping it would be useful. He stared, staying very still.

Then House rolled his eyes. "You should go back to the couch. My couch, by the way. You should be thankful i haven't invited some hooker and let her sleep there" He grabbed his cane and marched past Wilson, leaving the cookies behind.

He sighed. Of course he wouldn't help him. He had to pay some bigger price, like 100 Clinic Hours, or Unlimited Chinese Food For a Year. He rubbed his face with his hands and let out another sigh, thinking what he was willing to sacrifice for some sleep. Squeezing his eyes shut, he came up with a few ideas. But his train of thought was interrupted by something that came from the living room.

He opened his eyes and looked up. That... was House playing the piano? Was he playing for him?

He almost didn't dare to move. Then he thought about it, and if he didn't move House would probably shout at him and stop playing. So he slowly went to the living room, stopping as soon as House was in his range of view.

He really was playing. Wilson didn't know what, exactly, he never was one for classical music. But it was beautiful. It was calm yet not slow. And the way House was playing... He feels that if he heard another man play it, it wouldn't be as good.

Swallowing a bit, he took courage to lay on the couch. He tried to make as little sound as possible, and layed in a comfortable position where he could look at the piano.

He couldn't look at House's face, but he supposed it was better. That way he couldn't make fun at him later for making shocked expression with a touch of adoration. Instead, he was looking at his hands.

They looked so rough. They were lanky and long, with calluses from playing the guitar and messing with chemicals every once in a while. And they played marvelously. They went from one side of the piano to the other, swaying and not missing a single note.

The melody was a bit cheery, and the pace wasn't exactly fast, but was not at all slow. He smiled, and chuckled a bit. House took notice, because he turned his head a bit and gave a side-eye. Luckily Wilson was still looking at his hands.

House stopped playing. A beat. Dammit, Wilson had ruined it. He closed his eyes shut. Dammit. But before he could spiral, House started again.

This time it was a very calm melody. Sweet. Tender. Slow, but not boring. Again, it was beautiful. And House was playing it. For him.

He took a deep breath, and let it out, tension leaving his body. He didn't care if he had to pay a thousand dollars in cash tomorrow, it was worth it. He loved this. It was amazing, and almost didn't want to fall asleep just to keep hearing his friend play.

But his worries slowly flew away, leaving him with nothing but a tired body and an exhausted mind. He let the notes enter his body and invade his mind with the same words he used earlier: Calm. Sweet. Tender. Slow. Beautiful. House.

He fell asleep with a smile plastered on his face.

[toolazytodecide]

Anyone in the Solangelo/ percy Jackson fandom wanna chat/give me feedback on a fic I'm writing?

The idea is Nico and Will meet outside of camp halfblood when Nico finds himself spending a lot of time in DOA studios (the entrance to the underworld) and meets the son of the one of the recording artists Will. Cue them becoming best friends (and maybe more 👀) while both trying to hide the world of gods from their "mortal" friend.

[serenescribe]

had a really rough day. wanted to get out my feelings through writing. easier by the crane wives is a lilia song. enjoy c:

“I’ll be back soon, Silver,” Lilia whispers, kneeling down to press a kiss against his son’s forehead, one hand cupping his cheek. “Be good, alright? Remember your chores, and your—”

“And my exercises, I know,” Silver answers, smiling brightly at him. And oh, it makes Lilia’s chest ache so deeply, like a hand has grasped around his beating heart, fingers curling tighter and squeezing until his breath chokes in his throat.

Everything about the boy, the child he has taken in as his own, makes him feel so strongly — especially the silver strands of silken locks that frame his face, causing the aurora glint of his pupils to shine even brighter. It is a feeling that Lilia dubbed as a negative years ago, when he had picked up that wooden cradle in the woods and watched the baby tucked within it open its eyes — a reflection of a foe long since slaughtered, an enemy that makes Lilia’s blood boil with rippling rage.

But lately, he cannot help but feel as though the feeling, the emotion he keeps cradled within his heart, is shifting. When Silver was younger, Lilia had to leave the house over and over, taking a breather for himself as he quelled his roaring rage, the impetuous youthful general of his mind screaming for him to take the boy out. But now, when he ruffles the young boy’s hair, or opens his arms when he clings to him for a hug, all Lilia feels is a candlelight swell of something warmth — so small and delicate, as though a single breath can blow it out.

And so, with confusion misting his mind and emotions tangling into his chest, Lilia leaves, again and again.

He leaves, travels far and wide, under the guise of missions and quests, or, when he has no further excuse, for his own private purposes. Lilia steps away from the cottage he has slowly begun to consider a home, wraps his heart with powerful armour, tucks away those muddled feelings for later, preferably never. Lilia stays away long enough, feeling the wind against his face, smelling the salt of the seas, feeling the heat of the sun he’s never truly loved beating down on his skin.

And when his tasks are done, or when he cannot stay away any longer, he returns.

Each and every time he comes home, Silver greets him with a smile, arms outstretched for a hug. “I missed you, Papa,” he says so shyly as Lilia lifts him up, mirth trickling into each new reunion, casting the memories in sunny hues. “I’m happy you’re home.”

And what is Lilia to do, then, when his heart seizes at those words? The armour breaks apart, a burst of something strong and hot sweeping through him; he coos in response, praises how good Silver has been, taking care of the house, looking after himself, my, what a mature child he is! But Lilia has never returned the words that Silver always whispers to him whenever he gets sleepy and Lilia tucks him into bed; he turns his head to the side, light locks of hair splayed out over his scratchy pillow, lips parting to murmur, “I love you, Papa.”

Everytime he hears those words—

(And it is never only during their reunions, for Silver always tells him that, brimming with such love that it makes some younger part of him freeze up, locking in place, bile rising through his throat.)

—Lilia has to leave again.

Silver is seven now. He has grown so much in such a short time — thus is the fragility of humankind, Lilia muses to himself. He used to think of it as a blessing when Silver was but a baby, for it would cut short the number of years they had to spend together. But now?

Lilia isn’t sure what to think now.

(Or perhaps it is more like he refuses to admit the truth to himself.)

He swallows down the lump in his throat, sucking in a deep breath. “I trust you to take care of yourself, dear,” he says as brightly as he can manage, fingers pulling away as he reaches for the swinging clasp of his travelling cloak. Lilia adjusts it, ensuring the hood can cover his face — the sunlight has always been a blasted enemy of his, after all — but as he turns to leave…

A tug.

He pauses. Turning his head to glance over his shoulder, Lilia’s eyes meet auroral pupils, wide eyes that gaze up at him as though he hung the stars.

“I love you, Papa,” Silver reminds him, shining so splendidly that it hurts. “Take care, okay?”

His ribs press in against his lungs, digging in tight, each breath shallow and raw.

“I will,” Lilia promises, voice shaky, forcing a smile that does not fit onto his face. “Thank you, Silver.”

And when he leaves again, walks the familiar path away from their home — and when has he begun to truly think of it that way? Lilia does not remember — Lilia’s steps grow faster and faster, breath catching in his throat until he’s running, practically flying, getting away as quickly as he can.

(For what reason does he run?

Is it because he cannot stand the sight of Silver, the boy who resembles the Dawn Knight to such an eerie extent?

Or is it because he’s unable to comprehend the possibility that he is getting attached?)

It is better to leave, again and again.

Until he can wrangle his feelings, until he can pick apart every flicker of doting warmth and every icy shard of contempt, until he can decide for himself that yes, he will leave or no, he will stay, permanently, irreversibly—

Lilia will wander the earth and hide the love that he feels, pushing it away until it becomes bearable enough for him to go home.

[rayssion]

I'm feeling the tingles in my fingertips to write something for solangelo finally, yet I'm just too burnt out to write in general....

(hint: it has so much angst and it's hanahaki based. I'm also having second thoughts of making it percico with Will in the picture, like Nico trying to move on and having his eyes on Will and Percy trying to win him over again, idk guys)

[ritzy-reminiscence]

may i req for some Rocky Rickaby x fem reader headcannons? Romantic pls 💖 (i love your work, your so amazing frfr ‼️‼️)

─♣️─ Lackadaisy : Vivacity

⸝⸝ tl;dr : yep, some more rocky rickaby ! this is just some general romantic headcanons for him, and a bit of jealous rocky :eye:

⸝⸝ notes : first off, thank you anon !! kept this one short and sweet ( compared to my previous posts ) this time ! hope you enjoy <33

Honestly, there's never a dull moment with Rocky ! Always asking for your affections, basking in your attentions, you name it ! Best bet he's always writing poems to show off to you !!

Rocky strikes me as someone who, when he falls for someone, he falls HARD . So he's pretty much whipped for you man, idk what else to tell 'ya ://

I feel like .. he gets jealous pretty easily . Like have you seen him when it comes to Mitzi and Wick ??

He's not jealous in the sense of wanting you to only pay attention to him and nobody else, but what gets him seething with envy is when you start to cast him aside for someone else . You could unconsciously shush him because he's interrupting a conversation between you and a good friend and the next thing you know he's spiraling deeper and deeper into insecurity ( someone hug him, please . )

But when he gets jealous, he would never take it out on you ! Let's say someone is flirting and smiling at you a bit too brightly -- Rocky would never get mad at you for that, but he'll just stare at that someone .. menacingly ...

And once they're gone he just beams at you and then triples his affections, like he totally hasn't done anything to drive the other person off :DD

ALSO !! Cuddle bug Rocky . Do with that what you will .

Bottom line : Rocky wants to be loved . He wants to feel seen and heard . He wouldn't say it out loud, but he genuinely does appreciate you for being one of the few people that doesn't treat him like something you can easily discard .

He'd never force you to show physical affection for him in public, but let me just tell you that he'll turn into a blushing, soppy mess on the floor if you ever so much as lock pinkies with him in a crowded place <33

[impossiblesuitcase]

Two Blue Ribbons

“As we await the upcoming wedding of Emperor Kaito and Ambassador Linh-Blackburn, many are questioning the credibility of their relationship. As we know, the couple claims that their romantic connection began before either of them knew that Linh Cinder was actually Princess Selene. Seriously, is anyone buying this? The emperor just happened to fall in love with the girl that happened to be Princess Selene and—”

MUTE FEED. 

Cinder groaned into her fist. 

A week before her wedding, the public were drunk on anticipation. It was—without exaggeration—the only thing in the newsfeeds, as they all predicted the scale of the celebrations, and the colour of the bride’s dress, and would the handsome celebrity Carswell Thorne be officiating the ceremony as he claimed?

Cinder could handle that kind of speculation, even when it was far-fetched. (And no, Thorne would not be officiating…)

What irritated her was the other rumours—claims that she was still manipulating Kai, or that it was a ploy to conquer Earth in the bloodied footsteps of her aunt. Some said she was marrying him for money. Others that she regretted abdicating the Lunar throne and wished to regain power.

She slumped against the wall of her bare, humid sitting room, ignoring the critical expression of the muted host.

The silence was priceless. Even with the wedding prepared down to the exact millisecond she would walk the aisle, she had not been afforded rest. There was still her ensuing coronation as empress, and her first tour of the Commonwealth, and her first Opening of State Cabinet, and her first Annual Peace Ball, even when that was well over ten months away. Her only silent moments, it seemed, were in sleep.

“And why is the blushing bride looking so glum?”

Cinder lifted her head as Kai entered with his loud but assuring presence.

When it came to him, silence was overrated.

“I can’t blush, so I don’t know which bride you’re talking about,” she feigned. “Try next door.”

That received a pfft. His thin grey button-up and linen slacks were rumbled from a long day of formality, yet he would still look professional if it weren’t for the impish curl of his lips. “No, I’ve definitely got the right one. My soon-to-be wife is sarcastic whenever she can be.”

Cinder smiled and patted the floor next to her. 

Kai cantered over as carefree as a duck in water. Her swirling emotions made her more like an ant in an avalanche. It was palpable in the air, judging by the delicate way he touched her back and settled against her side.

“How do you feel?”

She stared at the blank wall ahead.  “Like I’m forgetting something.”

“Ceremony, reception, catering, outfits.” He listed the items off his fingers. “Anything else?”

When you arrive, do not greet the crowds until the train of your dress has completely left the hover. Pause at the chrysanthemum emblem on the floor until you hear music, then begin to walk—right foot, left, take a step every two seconds. The emperor will repeat his vows first. You must repeat his full name, not just Kai. Don’t call him Kai. “That’s what I’m not sure of.”

He poked her shoulder, sounding pleased. “Well, the honeymoon is three weeks long—just enough time for you to remember when we’re on the other side of the world and it doesn’t matter at all.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I am definitely right. As I am about most things.” 

She sent a challenging look. “Oh?”

“I’m psychic,” he revealed, wiggling his eyebrows.

A dead-pan.

“It’s true! I already sensed you’d be fretting over something, so I shall provide you insurance.” Miming pulling glasses from his pocket and setting them on his nose, Kai cleared his throat and began: “The wedding is completely, truly over-planned. The crew will arrive three days prior. I confirmed all the honeymoon bookings. And I’ve already started unpacking your boxes into our suite.”

Cinder frowned. “I thought we were gonna do that together?”

He lowered his ‘glasses’ to stroke his chin mischievously, “You know, that probably would have been a good idea. Then I could blame you for all the things I broke.”

She jerked away. “You broke my stuff?!”

“No.”

“Then why would you—”

The troublemaker cackled. Ruffled her hair. “I didn’t expect you to be so easy to rile up.”

Why the little—

Her shoulder knocked into his, her pride smarting. “Shut up, I’ve been stressed.”

“The thought of marrying me must be overwhelming.”

“More like embarrassing,” she mumbled.

The laughter set to burst in his chest truncated. His smile tightened as he studied her, scrutiny forming in his eyes.

“So why are you here?” she diverted quickly. “Didn’t you have a meeting with Tashmi-jie?”

The hesitancy lingered, but he appeared to forestall his interrogation. It took him a moment to follow her inquiry. “She wanted to run over the ceremony, but I remembered the one thing we haven’t rehearsed properly yet.” Reaching into his pocket, Kai produced two thick ribbons, midnight blue in colour. “How good are you at tying knots?”

“The ribbons?” Cinder questioned, sceptical, but still took one when handed to her. “Isn’t it, like, taboo?”

Kai posed a finger over his lips and shhhed.

Royal Earthen tradition dictated that the bride and groom would tie a ribbon around each other’s wrists which the officiant would then tie together. It symbolised the unification of the pair as one person, one heart, one purpose. As most traditions went, there were needless superstitions surrounding it, here being that the betrothed couple was not allowed to tie the ribbons together before the ceremony. Doing so would supposedly diminish the significance of the act. They skipped this part at the rehearsal.

Her fingers pulled at the deceptively sturdy silk. “Does a knot require practice?” 

He lifted her hand. “You’d be surprised how difficult the simplest tasks become under the watchful eyes of billions of people.”

She almost grimaced. 

Billions of people would be watching. Judging. Scrutinising. Their wedding would be the most defining, incontestable proof of their love. She wanted the world to know, to witness it, but it was exhausting being watched under a microscope all the time.

Kai cradled her cyborg hand gingerly as he manoeuvred the fabric. Deftly, gently. Too gently.

“It needs to be tighter.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Kai.”

Once he’d let go, she tilted her hand vertically. The ribbon pirouetted down her fingers. “Metal and silk,” she reminded him.

He sighed and started again, tying it firmly. “Can you feel that?”

“Nope. No nerve endings.”

Though it did not slip off this time, Kai was not content. Tugging, tugging, tighter and tighter…and the ribbon’s edge slipped right into the crack of her wrist joint. 

“I do need that hand,” she warned.

His eyes bulged, releasing her hand like he’d dropped a grand piano on it. Cinder just laughed and pulled the ribbon away.

 “Here, I’ll try.” She flipped his palm over, roughly tying a knot like she used to tie cords in her booth.

“Hey, I have actual blood circulation here!”

“Sorry,” she hissed. Alas, a tourniquet didn’t quite send the message of lifelong love. Maybe lifelong imprisonment. 

She untied it and retried, taking great care to move slowly. So slow that the silk lost traction on her metal fingers and flopped into her lap.

“Not so easy, huh?”

Gritting her teeth, Cinder attempted it again. Once. Twice. Thrice. Each time, it glided right past the metal.

“Okay, tie it loose first, and then pull on the ends,” he guided calmly.

She retied it loosely.

“Good,” he commended. “Now pull.”

Inhaling to prepare, she seized both ends, secured in the metal, and yanked. 

The ribbon unravelled entirely and fluttered to the floor.

“You forgot a second loop.”

Cinder threw up her hands. “Nope! I’m done!”

Kai patted her arm consolingly. He picked up the traitorous ribbon, folded it over his knuckles for a moment then shifted in place, stilted against the stiff wall. “So why are we on the floor?”

Cinder settled her head on his shoulder, only catching a glimpse of his nose and jaw from this angle, then looked around the sitting room. “This doesn’t really feel like mine anymore.”

The room was a part of her own quarters, where she’d lived for the past year. Most of her personal belongings had been moved to Kai’s wing, where she would live in a week’s time. With only the furniture, carpet and drapes it came with, this felt like a guest suite. 

“You’ll be in our home soon. You’re going to love it; we’ll play music while we cook dinner and slow dance in the kitchen, everyday.”

“You’ll love it. Not all of us are brilliant dancers.”

“You will, here—” He pocketed the ribbon, grasped her wrists and pulled her upright. “Feed,” he called, ignoring her groan, “play a walt—”

“—most controversial part of this wedding is the ceremony itself. The Ambassador is always preaching about reducing poverty and strengthening our weak economy and yet this wedding is going to cost millions of univs—”

“Mute feed.” His nose curled. “They’re all being ridiculous.”

“People believe them.”

“Not everyone.”

“Enough,” she whispered.

His scowl vanished, replaced with attentiveness and the words he’d held back before, “What’s wrong, love?”

She sighed and plucked the ribbon from his back pocket. Lifted his wrist and tied it. Methodically. Delicately. It was still a little too snug.

“Cinder?”

A glance at the feed, now broadcasting pan shots of the palace. 

He followed her gaze, followed her frown, then bound her up in his arms.

“I’m so happy, Kai. To be getting married to you, you know I am,” she said. “And the last months planning this with you, finally being with you in person, it’s the happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” It was true, even if she hadn’t known until that very spoken oath. “It’s our wedding and our day…but…” Her voice warbled, catching on that blasted conjunction. “I’m getting tired of being watched.”

She sniffed, feeling stupid for pitying herself. They were born into this; prince or emperor, queen or empress, they would be plastered over the tabloids. She would have hundreds of thousands of millions of search results. Their relationship would span over multiple sections of their net profiles, all cited to ‘inside sources’ and grainy paparazzi photos.

Scratch the ant. She was a fly, frantically escaping a trillion prying fly squatters.

“I’m just tired.”

Kai began to rock her, a gentle ocean wave lapping up the sides of the boat. 

“Do you know why I’m marrying you?” he murmured. 

“Oh, tax purposes, mostly,” she testified. “I’m only marrying you to get Earthen citizenship.”

“What did I say about the sarcasm?”

A smile reached her despite her bubbling anxiety. “I don’t need a glamour to play mind tricks on you, my beloved.”

He was rolling his eyes internally, she knew. “I know perfectly well that our relationship causes scandals and rumours and all that. But I don’t care, because you, and my love for you, is more important to me than my reputation. That’s why I’m marrying you. And you’re going to walk down the aisle as the most beautiful woman in the room—”

“That’ll be Winter.”

“The most beautiful woman in the room,” he told her, “and the public won’t matter. It’s not about them. If my cabinet wouldn’t kill me for it, we would elope and have takeaway for our reception. Because what matters is us, and our marriage and our love. That’s all.”

She tucked her head under his chin, ensconced in his warmth, sequestered from the world. Thinking, thinking.

To tie the ribbons together, a third person was needed. A person who wouldn’t really know the ins and outs of their relationship, the intricacies of their love.

“I have an idea.”

His hand was still wrapped with her too-tight attempt. Cinder darted back to the wall, seizing the matching ribbon and held out her wrist. Kai came over and got to work.

Then, she took the end of his ribbon with her free hand, and gestured for him to take hers. He gathered her plan without a word, though, thinking about it, he was supposedly ‘psychic.’ Working together—his hand forming the loop, her hand threading through—a limp but effective knot bound them as one.

Kai gave it a pull and nodded, satisfied with its resilience. “How’d I end up handcuffed to a criminal?” 

“And who was the one that arrested me?” Cinder folded her arms instinctually, drawing him flush to her chest.

He grinned, chin to her nose. “Me. But not before I forced you”—finding her waist, setting her arms horizontal—“to dance!”

Laughter was the musical accompaniment to sloppy flailing and attempts to not trip over the coffee table. He spun her under his arm, sending her staggering right into his heaving chest. 

“You may trip the bride,” she giggled.

“Kiss,” he corrected, and did just so.

The graceless floundering transformed from a waltz to a tango to a conga line. They stopped before irish dancing.

Kai kissed her hair and her sweaty temple and swayed them back and forth. She went to tie her arms around his neck but felt her hands jolt. 

Warm fingers laced through hers. “We’re stuck together.”

“As we should be.” 

They kept dancing, because nothing was stopping them, and they kept loving each other, because no one could stop them.

Perhaps what she was forgetting was that they would be okay.

“I did break your pliers, though.”

“Kai!”

Notes

Pliers are hard to break. Give me your theories on how baby boy stuffed up in the notes.

If you want to be tagged, let me know!

@cindersassasin @hayleblackburn @spherical-empirical @salt-warrior @just2bubbly @gingerale2017 @zephyr-thedragon @holdmysparks @oceanspray5 @icarusignite @kaider-is-my-otp @slmkaider @luna-maximoff-22 @cosmicnovaflare @kaixiety @snozkat @imamirrorball4

[radiantallomancer]

“Alright, Deku, you got the tent set up during your mutterstorm somehow and I’ve gotten the fire started, so I’m gonna throw together some curry now. Already prepped the ingredients before we left, so it ain’t gonna take that long. Wash the rice for me, yeah?”

Izuku smiles back at Katsuki, admiring the look of quiet happiness there. Although Katsuki mostly utilizes his face for various expressions of irritation or battlelust, Izuku finds gentle contentment suits the blond just as well. “Of course, Kacchan. Anything for you.”

—————

Inspired by a conversation about bkdk and Heathers with @samisnotlegend on discord!

“…taking these lyrics from “Meant to Be Yours” outta context and make ‘em bkdk: ‘bring marshmallows, we’ll make s’mores! We can smile and cuddle while the fire roars!’”

[osamusriceballs]

The Accident - Part VII

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: None

Words: ~ 2k

About: You talk to your mysterious friend and finally part from Atsumu.

Part I II -> Next part

"It's me. I'm okay- please don't worry. I'll be back soon."

"Where have you been? I was worried sick; I've tried calling you all night! You just texted me that everything's alright at 4am, but what's going on? Where are you?"

The voice comes out of the phone, quickly and fast as always, and you hold the phone a bit further away from your ear. "Please, I'm okay, I promise!" You can hear a few deep breaths on the other side, probably the attempt to calm down, and then the voice speaks again.

"Where are you right now? I'll come and pick you up, and then you can tell me everything."

"I'm at the—" you hesitate and then look at the name on the towel and read it out loud. "Do you know where that is?"

"Give me a second." You hear typing noises on the other side and then a little gasp. "That's an expensive hotel! One night costs 500 bucks, and the suits are literally thousands of dollars per night!"

"What?!" you're speechless for a few moments, realizing just how much money Atsumu might own—you are in a suite after all and you definitely did not pay for it.

"It will take some time to get there. I'll be there in an hour? I'll send you my location. Is there someone else with you?" Your thoughts drift to Atsumu, and you hum. "Yes. And I need to ask for a favor. Do you have a lawyer? Or do you know someone who maybe knows someone who can help me with a divorce for cheap?"

"A divorce? Who needs a—wait. Are you talking about yourself? Did you get married?" The voice is so shrill and loud that you almost flinch, and you find yourself regretting revealing that fact already. "I'll tell you the details later. Please don't worry about me." You try to sound as calm and soothing as you can, and after a few shocked gasps, you hear silence again on the other hand. "Hello? Are you still there?"

"Yes. I'll come and get you, and then you'll have to tell me everything."

You agree, and after a few more times of you repeating that you'll be fine and that you're being taken care of, you hang up. You take a deep breath, and without thinking too much about it, you quickly undress and go into the shower.

It's like heaven. The warm water feels soothing on your skin, and there are more products in the shower than you have ever used so far, but you find yourself drawn to the pretty bottles and decide to spoil yourself. It's not your water bill after all, and if Atsumu is paying for it, you can go all out and spend a few more minutes in the shower. The towels are fluffy and warm, thanks to the towel warmer, and you find yourself pressing your face against the soft fabric and inhaling the fresh and clean smell. The mirror is foggy by now, you probably showered at too hot a temperature, but the warm water just felt so good on your skin.

A soft knock on the door brings your attention back to reality, and you find yourself stepping closer to the pompous wooden door. "Y/n? I put the clothes in front of the door. Samu and I will wait on the balcony; you can get them anytime."

"Thanks!" you respond and hear footsteps leaving the room and a loud sound that's probably the window closing behind them. You wait a few more moments just to be sure that they are gone, and then you open the door a little bit to take the small pile of clothes.

It's a shirt with the hotel name, surprisingly tasteful due to the minimalistic logo of the expensive establishment, as well as a matching pair of sweatpants as well as a pair of socks. The fabric is soft, and you quickly put on the new clothes, only regretting that you have to wear your old panties, but there is not much you can do about it.

You take one last look at your phone, quickly checking your appearance one last time, wishing you'd have the time to wash your hair too, but you'll do that when you're back in your hotel room. You're just glad that you feel clean and warm now.

You step out of the room, feeling a little better and more alive already, and look around. You find Atsumu and Osamu standing on the balcony, both of them busy in a heated discussion, and you watch them for a few moments from your position after you noticed that they are not looking in your direction yet.

They are undeniably related. You can find similarities in the way they speak, in the way they use they hands when they talk and in the way they stand. They are both very attractive—something that you can freely admire now that they haven't seen you yet.

A notification on your phone informs you that your friend will reach you in a few minutes, and when you look up, you see that the twins have stopped talking and instead watch you through the window in silence. You pause momentarily and then lift your hand to wave at them. Atsumu's eyes take in your new clothes, checking you out from head to toe, and he gives you an approving thumbs up and a grin. Osamu rolls his eyes at Atsumu and simply pushes the door open.

"Hey. I'm glad the clothes fit." He comments, and you look down at yourself at his words. "Yeah, me too. Thanks. I appreciate it a lot; I feel so much better already."

Atsumu also steps into the room again, making sure to bump his shoulder against Osamu's when he passes him, ignoring the curse of the dark-haired male.

"Ya look better already. Feelin' alright again?" His voice is still tinted with the slightest bit of concern, and you smile at his words.

"Yes, thank you. I'm sorry for being so weird before. I was just a bit overwhelmed." Atsumu shakes his head and buries his hands in his pockets. "Don't sweat it. That's normal. Gettin' married like this is a pretty unusual thing after all."

"Right. Uhm. My friend will pick me up soon; I'll get downstairs and wait there. I'll give you my number, and then you can call me as soon as you find out more?" You look at him questioningly, and he is quick to fish for his phone in his back pocket. "Sounds good. I'll wait with ya till yer friend arrives." He watches while you type in your number and quickly save it. "Oh, you don't have to. I'll find the way on my own, don't worry." You shake your head, but he quickly wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you to the door. "Nah, I insist. Where are your shoes?" You let him guide you, his arm around your shoulders feeling somewhat heavy but comforting while you look around for your high heels from last night. Atsumu guides you to the chair next to the door and ushers you to sit on it while he grabs the black shoes from the ground. "Do ya think they'll fit with the socks?" He asks with a frown, and you just shrug your shoulders as a response. "I hope so. I don't want to leave without socks; I don't even want to wear the shoes, to be honest."

His brows furrow while he looks at your feet. "Sorry, I wish we had some other shoes for ya." You quickly shake your head. "It's fine. It's just for the way downstairs. It's okay." He nods and kneels in front of you, and you subconsciously slide back on the chair as far as you can to create some distance between the two of you. "What are you doing?" He takes your left foot and places it on his thigh, and you feel every single muscle in your body tensing at the sudden contact. "Helpin' with yer shoes. Stay still for me."

You're at a loss for words while he slips the shoe on your foot; all you can do is stare at him while he secures it around your ankle. Surprisingly, it fits around your socked foot, and he nods before he lets go of your foot and reaches for the other. It doesn't take him long to get it on your foot too, and you shortly admire how skilled he is with his fingers, and then he places them both on the ground. "There ya go." He hums satisfied and gets on his feet, quickly offering you his hand to stand up. At this point, you just accept it and take his hand, allowing him to lead you to the door.

"Uhm. Bye, Osamu. See you. Maybe." You turn around and wave at the dark-haired twin who had made no attempt to come with you, and he nods acknowledgingly. "See ya."

You follow Atsumu through the door, who seems to be familiar with the hotel because he is quick to lead you to an outrageously big elevator. It's silent on the ride downstairs. You're standing each on different sides of the elevator, leaning against the walls, your bodies no longer touching. You don't really know what to say to him; you're too deep in thought right now, and he seems to feel somewhat similar.

"The exit is right there." He motions to the other end of the hall as soon as you get out of the elevator, and you hum while you follow him to the doors. You're lucky that there are barely people around because you certainly feel a bit underdressed with the clothes from the shop, but Atsumu doesn't even spare a glance to anyone you're passing. The receptionist greets you without batting an eye at your unusual attire; you're fairly certain that you both give a very unusual sight. Atsumu with his formal dress pants and half-opened dress shirt, and you with the hotel shirt and sweatpants and heels from last night. Surely not an everyday sight, but professionalism prevents her from looking longer at you.

It does not take long until you both stand in front of the hotel, just far enough from the entrance not to bother other guests but still close enough to see everyone who enters the building. You both stand there for a few moments in mutual silence, until you look up at him with a faint smile. "Thank you for showing me the way. I'll manage from here on. You can get back to Osamu; it's alright."

He frowns at your words and looks around.

"Can I really leave you here?" He looks a bit worried, and you nod with a tight smile. You really need some time to think about everything. "My friend will pick me up soon. You can go back to Osamu; it's fine, really!"

He hesitates for a second, probably not fully convinced that everything's fine, and the next thing you know is that his big arms surround you and pull you into a hug. You're stiff at first, unsure how you should react, but the comfort and familiarity that he is radiating by now makes it all too easy to melt into his touch and to hug him back. "Y/n. I meant it. I'll take care of ya, okay? Everything's gonna be alright. I'll make sure of that."

"Hmm." You hum against his shoulder, deeply inhaling his comfortable smell, and his grip tightens around you. "And if ya need anything—anything at all—call me. Anytime." You nod, hoping that he can feel your response and your gratitude because you don't trust your voice right now. You know you should probably pull back, but it feels too good to be in his arms, too good to be close to him, so you just stay, and he seems willing to let you.

"Y/n!" You hear someone yelling your name behind you, and you quickly pull yourself out of Atsumu's arms. You turn around and face a familiar face with big brown eyes which flicker from you to Atsumu with a surprised expression.

"Wait—Atsumu Miya? What are you doing here?"

Your jaw drops, and you turn your head back to Atsumu, who looks equally surprised to see your friend.

"You know each other?!"

[wolfywolfy]

I have 40,000+ words of a fanfic I'm not sure I'll ever publish -- but here's an excerpt from Astarion's "Favorite Lines" scene. I'm particularly happy with this chapter so far 😈

[sincerely-sofie]

More funny art of OCs and Whatnottery. Now divided into sections for extra clarity!

Welcome to Wayside:

Winter Came and Went:

Untitled Beauty and the Beast (but with more attempted murder and mistaken identity shenanigans) story:

The Wisewalk:

Starchild (last two are of a "Happy Family" AU I made because the canon story was making me too sad):

Homebound (my Among Us OCs story):

The Creeping Chronicles:

My Pal the Paladin:

A Sincerely-Sofie Lore Meme starring many many projects (the joke is that they're all self-inserts):

[not-poignant]

Just a heads up Mephistopheles has red skin. But I’m so happy to see more content with him!

Hi anon!

Okay so two things, firstly you might want to check out the Forbiddem Realms wiki:

And specifically the source which is canonical to 1E:

Mephistopheles has multiple different forms! :D The blue form exists in different spaces and across different campaigns and you can Google right now and find canonical fanart of blue-skin Mephistopheles! Some of those illustrations are hot as fuck, so live your best life :D If you're happy to see content of him, hopefully that includes the blue form as well.

And since Mephistopheles was never actually in Baldur's Gate 3 I get to choose what forms they are because secondly, I highly recommend you read tags and author's notes thoroughly for Palmarosa for the additional reason that:

Is in the tags! And in the Author's Note of the first chapter:

I knew the DND purists would kind of get up in arms about all kinds of things (and...I was right), so I think this is now like the tenth time I've had to remind people to actually read my tags and author's notes! I don't kind of want to remind folks in every chapter that I will do something I like more if I don't like the canon, or what the point of fanfiction is in the first place. But I'm not trying to write more canon anon, I'm writing fanfiction, and the transformative part is the point.

It doesn't matter if his blue skin was in the Wiki or not, I can do what I like in this story, that is, after all, the spirit of DND and creating new campaigns within an existing structure, and that's precisely why Mephistopheles has so many forms in the first place! Heck, I could've made him green :D

There's a lot of things that aren't canon compliant in this story, from Astarion being able to taste food properly, to Mephistopheles being based on 1E instead of later version/s (I mean he's not Molikroth here either), to the House of Hope having many many more rooms than present in the map, and a great deal more besides.

I know that one version of Mephistopheles has red skin, I just like the one with blue more!

[potassium-pilot]

I am asking this genuinely because I don't know what the general opinion is on this...