#there might be more to this moment eventually but for now a small snippet of a scene

[whatgaviiformes]

i'm absolutely windswept

I started Thunderteers in May of 2019. I remember very distinctly being out to dinner with Hubs, coordinating the AU concept almost entirely for a long, epic first story. We were at a Chili's and I had my usual indecisive platter of appetizers as my meal. As of today there's only been 3 chapters of what mapped out that day. Some of it made it to paper. I've never been great at those long epics - I love reading them, but my writing brain is most solid with the 1K-6K word length.

So I started building the world with fic. I wrote about Virgil playing the violin, and how he made music. I explored Gordon's accident, and what it could've happened in place of a hydrofoil. I reached for Military!Bros instead of my usual FishTank, and explored the truth behind legends. I forced myself to make and break OCs, spent way too much time researching when songs were created, recipes of the time, if certain animals were classified the same way, and what name a city may have had in 1774.

Other things I decided not to research at all.

Above all that, before I posted a new story or fic, I asked myself if the imagery was there, and was it something I was proud of? Because I knew - the only way I could get others to set sail with me, was to make sure I was taking you on the journey. Not if it was historically accurate, but does this feel like our boys, and are they interacting with the environment in a way that feels like it would still be them? Is it possible to still see Gordon? Still see Scott?

That was my first AU.

Naturally, in asking myself this, I've had different images in my head all this time, and I was lucky enough this month to have the chance to ask the amazing @chenria to bring one of them to life for me. You can find the post below:

Sailor Gordon by Chenria.

Go like it, reblog it, send her support, consider joining her patreon if you can. She knocked it out of the park, and in so doing - inspired me along the way.

If you decide to read Thunderteers, just know - it's not always beautiful.

But this one - it's all love and heart. I've written the snippet for Windswept as a thank you to chenria's amazing work, to everyone who puts up with my reblogging posts for the age of sail (#ships ships ships) or who tag me in things to see, or have Wellerman living rent free in their heads and let me play along. Thanks to those that have read the story, maybe cried along, or sent me words of encouragement.

Thank you for letting me experiment with language and story, and sometimes - when I get really lucky- for the words I've written to matter to you.

*****

Windswept (~500 words)

As far as clouds go, Gordon is among the strangest. The wind tugs at his clothing, hanging loose and informally on his silhouette, and at his hair where he stands aloft amidst the sails. The seabirds close to shore weave their dance between the ropes above, circling him curiously. Even though his form is strange to them, he’s not unwelcome in their home in the air. If anything, he’s just a part of the flying clouds that make up the rigging of their ship.

The gulls’ calls sound like laughter, and he smiles with them. The birds will accompany the ship for a time, darting towards the quick meal at the bow where the front of the ship often disturbs the sea life below. If the voyage is to be a lucky one, they’ll grace the wood of the ship with a gift or two that’ll be left to wash away only with the next rain.

Gordon can feel the sway of the ship stronger from above; though with the Thunderbird still anchored close to shore, the waves are gentle as they lap against her firm hull. The movement is a tease for the voyage ahead, as Gordon has always found himself more comfortable in their journeys out to sea than he’s ever felt in his tentative steps on land. The ship has watched him grow and come of age, from awkward limbs racing up the rigging, to strong shoulders heaving her lines and helming her wheel. She’s given him the freedom to roam, to explore lands and seas unknown, and even with the thrill of adventure, Gordon feels most safe in the comfort of her embrace. If that isn’t a home, he doesn’t know what else is.

He knows her in the early morn - the way the sunrise paints cotton and how the mist tingles at the fuzz on his arms at the start of his shift. He knows the echo of their shanties within her oak beams, and the squeak of her joy when the creatures of the sea ride along with her bow waves upon them really catching the wind and when the tang of citrus remains on his tongue from breaking fast.

He knows her in the rain, the smell of wood and cotton when burdened with wet from above as well as below, the crackle of lightning in its brief and staggered illumination of her flags. He knows her in the cold, when the puff of his breath is visible and the wind cuts into his skin. Among whales, massive and elegant as they groan their song into her hull.

He knows her in the evening – Virgil and John’s cooking and their different nuances for flavor and spice, the vibrato of Virgil’s violin paired with the warm timbre of the Scott’s cello pulsing along her foundations. The way she creaks below Alan’s eager footsteps.  He knows the soft glow around flame-lit lanterns in the darkest of night and the hush of melodies uttered in multiple languages up towards twinkling stars. The way his hammock rocks him to sleep with her movement.

He knows her in both fair winds and motionless skies, in the brightest of sunlit days and the most cloud-covered of nights. Through doldrums, archipelagos, and the far reaches of the seas, and along coastlines, he knows her.  

And his soul trembles just as she does, her unfurled sails shuddering in anticipation of catching the wind.

TBC..?

[trashpandato]

Music

It’s a beautiful early fall day in National City. The sun is still warm, but it’s not as oppressively hot as a few weeks ago, and Kara can tell that the air is holding a bit more moisture these days. The leaves on the trees are turning yellow and red, and Lena’s fingers feel cold when they slip into Kara’s hand.

They’re out for a walk along the harbour after Kara insisted that Lena should get out of her office more on such a nice day. And Kara doesn’t want to boast, but when Lena tells her that this was a “wonderful idea” and squeezes her hand gratefully, Kara has to agree. She does have some really spectacular ideas sometimes.

The walkway near the water is busy that afternoon. There are young families, kids on the tiniest bicycles Kara has ever seen, and more than a few folks who’ve escaped the nearby office towers to drink their afternoon coffee outside.

It’s exactly what Kara and Lena are doing, too, sipping on their still hot lattes, when all of a sudden, Lena comes to an abrupt stop, staring toward a bench a little further ahead.

Lena’s body language and sudden change in demeanour sets off every single alarm bell for Kara.

“What? What’s going on?”

But Lena doesn’t respond. Instead, she lets go of Kara’s hand and walks toward the bench. Kara has to use a burst of extra speed to catch up to her.

She uses her senses to scan their surroundings but nothing seems suspicious to her. She can hear the squealing of a few kids behind them, snippets of conversations between people who are milling about, as well as the gentle humming coming from a woman on the bench that seems to be the focus of Lena’s attention. The woman is cradling an infant against her chest, clearly singing to her child, and Lena keeps her voice soft and low when she approaches her.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Lena says, and Kara can hear the tremors in her voice that indicate how important this interaction is to her. “I, um, I heard the melody you are humming, and I was wondering if you could tell me what song that is?”

The woman looks at Lena then. She’s maybe a little confused by this stranger’s question, but a small smile crosses her features.

“It’s called The Gartan Mother’s Lullaby. It’s her favourite,” she nods at her baby. 

There’s a strong familiar lilt in the woman’s voice when she answers and Kara immediately knows she’s Irish.

“Thank you,” Lena whispers. “Sorry again for interrupting.”

The woman waves at them, as if to say that it’s not a problem, but Lena has already turned around and is walking back in the direction they came from. 

Kara smiles apologetically at the woman before she bids her goodbye and runs after Lena.

They don’t speak for a few moments. Kara can see how affected Lena is, knows that offering something as small as holding her hand might be too much right now. So she simply walks next to her and tries to show Lena that she’s not alone.

Eventually, Lena slows down and steps towards the railing by the water. There are a couple of kayaks nearby, and a few ducks, but Kara only has eyes for Lena.

“My mom used to sing it to me,” Lena confesses, staring ahead. “I didn’t, I remember singing it to myself the first few weeks at the Luthor mansion. But I never knew all of the words. And over time, I forgot the melody, too.”

Kara doesn’t say anything, then. She knows the pain of fading memories, of forgetting the smells and sounds of home. But she moves a little closer to Lena and places her hand low on Lena’s back. When she feels Lena lean into the touch, she knows they’ll be okay.

Later that evening, when they’re curled up in bed and Lena is half asleep with her head on Kara’s chest, Kara starts humming the song. For a brief moment, Lena stiffens and Kara can tell she’s holding her breath, but then she relaxes into Kara’s embrace and lets her eyes drift shut as she listens to Kara’s attempt to remember the melody she hastily learned that afternoon. When Kara gets to the end, she feels Lena press the softest kiss against her neck.

“Thank you.”

Kara only holds her tighter in response.

[anonymous-rendezvous]

He Comforts You - Shu 💜

Shu Yamino x GN!Reader

✦ — Written by Mod I ✨. Beta Read and Edited by Mod S 👿. ⏌

✧ — Comfort & Care Masterlist | 💜 You comfort him

✦ — Contains: Established Relationship, fluff, & comfort

✧ — Word count: 515 | Ao3

Snippets of time showing how you and your partner care for each other.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

From the second you’d woken up, it had become pretty obvious that it was going to be a low-energy day. Thankfully, no plans had been made for today and you could try to rest as much as possible. How this had all led you to stand in your kitchen looking down at the counter, you had no clue. However, trying to remember why the hell you’d come in here… your mind had totally blanked, thoughts clouded with static. Giving up on trying to remember, you decided to make your way back to the bedroom.

However, as you get closer to the bedroom, you can hear your boyfriend talking. Now standing outside of it, you try to recall if he had a stream to do today, but come up blank. Trying to be as quiet as possible, you push the door open and peek inside.

Almost immediately, Shu catches the movement out of the corner of his eye. “Oh hey, babe.” Turning his head towards you, he smiles and gestures for you to enter the room. “Not streaming, if you’re worried about that. We’re just playing for fun.” Amethyst eyes flicker back to the screen and a bashful giggle falls from his lips. “They all say hi.”

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips and you give a small wave before realizing they can’t see you. This causes Shu to laugh harder as you immediately hide your face in your hands. As the sorcerer explains what happened, you shuffle closer to him. Once you reach his side, you give his hoodie a light tug. His eyes meet yours and it’s then that he seems to realize what’s happening. With quick movements, he excuses himself for a second before muting his mic and giving you his full attention. “Blue day?” He asks, tone gentle. When you nod, he continues, “What can I do to help?”

“Can I–” you hesitate, worried that this might be too inconvenient for him, your gaze falling to the floor. A hand wrapping around yours breaks your line of thought as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Um, can I sit in your lap while you play? I think your body heat would really help me right now.”

With zero hesitation, Shu moves his mic out of the way before completely turning his chair around so you have enough space to climb into his lap. And you waste no time doing so. Once you are settled, face buried against his shoulder, he shifts back around to face his computer. He pulls his mic just close enough to pick up his voice and unmutes.

As he continued to play more rounds with his friends, whenever he died or they waited for a new round to start, one of his hands always found its way back to drawing soothing circles along your back or stroking over the back of your head.

Eventually, you feel yourself drift off, and in your last conscious moment, you feel his lips press against the crown of your head. Their softness blessing you with sweet dreams.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Likes are nice and we do appreciate them. However, comments/feedback is what really motivates us to continue writing. Even just a keyboard smash or emojis are a joy to see!

We do not allow our stories to be translated or reposted/shared anywhere. The only places our stories should be found are on Ao3 or Tumblr. Nowhere else.

[sssammich]

collateral pt2

author's note: this is a continuation of the 'captive prompt' fic snippet. this story has now taken a life of its own but i'm not sure what the direction is until we get there. consider it a slow burn, angst with a happy ending, with an introduction of a rarepair. endgame supercorp...eventually.

thanks for reading. send me prompts

part 1

--

Kara heard the starting swell of the music from the live band, the notes from the trumpet flowing out onto where she found herself now: a restricted garden area of the estate, muted slightly with the now closed door behind her. She rushed to the metal railing overlooking the gardens and gripped the top of it, fruitlessly shaking it in her grasp if only to release some of the stifled restlessness inside of her. 

As the music continued playing, Kara knew this as the moment that Lena danced with Jack for the first time as husband and wife. How they swayed together in the middle of the dance floor, her floor-length dress swishing from side to side. Her hand on his shoulder, his hand on her waist. The two of them looking into each other’s eyes and smiled. They were a perfect snapshot of a happy, perfect couple on their happy, perfect day.

It was a scene that she didn’t have the strength to witness for herself. She was sure the inevitable wedding photos and videos would remind her, but she’d rather not hurt herself any more than she absolutely had to.

She hastily wiped the tears from her face, shutting her eyes closed to stop the tears from descending down her face and dropping onto her bridesmaid’s dress. She took a deep breath through her nose before exhaling out of her mouth. God, how she wished she had another drink before escaping. Or a smoke. Lena smoked when she was nervous or stressed. She’d even taken a drag just before she walked down the aisle. Kara should have pocketed it or something for this very occasion.

She knew she would need to go back in there soon, but the allure of leaving entirely and starting fresh elsewhere just to give her heart a fighting chance felt more and more appealing by the second.

“If you glare at that poor rosebush any longer, it might just catch on fire.”

Startled by the sound, Kara jumped slightly back from where she stood, her hip hitting the railing as her teary vision found Andrea, one of Lena’s longtime friends from their boarding school days if she recalled correctly, standing there with an arm across her chest while the other rested on it as she held a lit cigarette between two long fingers.

“I wasn’t g-glaring.” She shut her mouth, mad at herself for stuttering. “What are you doing here?”

Andrea tilted her head and held out the hand holding her burning cigarette. What else, she gestured. 

She watched the red embers from the tip of the cigarette. Then, “Do you have another one?”

That seemed to earn her a curious arched brow, but Kara only shrugged. Seemingly satisfied, or perhaps not simply not caring, Andrea opened her other hand to reveal the pack of cigarettes and her small gold lighter.

“Not what I would have expected from you, Pulitzer.”

“My name’s not Pulitzer,” she said, her tone defensive even as she took a cigarette and carefully rolled it between her fingers. “And you don’t know me.”

“No, can’t say that I do.”

Andrea deftly opened her lighter with a flick, the golden flame lit up between them as Kara, novice that she was, tried to light her cigarette. Kara placed the butt of the cigarette between her lips and puckered before she inhaled and let the smoke fill her lungs as best she could. Inevitably, unsurprisingly, that one pull was enough for her to cough and barely cover her mouth as she turned away to clear her airways of smoke.

“Did know that, though.”

She wanted to glare away the smirk on the woman’s face. Determined, she took another hit and let the warmth take over, if only to focus her mind. She turned her head and exhaled away the smoke from the corner of her mouth before quickly doing it again.

“You know you can’t get drunk smoking cigarettes.”

She huffed, the smoke coming out through her nostrils as she made a face at the other woman. 

Andrea only smiled before she put her hand up, thumb over the pack of cigarettes and lighter to hold them in place, as a show of surrender. “Relax. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

Then, as if demonstrating, Andrea brought her own cigarette to her mouth, the light colored filter sat against the rouge of her lips and inhaled. She stared expectantly at Kara as the smoke settled momentarily in her lungs before eventually the smoke wisps came through the side of her mouth. 

Kara watched her, fascinated, even as she let her own cigarette continue to burn unsmoked between her fingers. They stood there in silence with one another, Kara slowing herself down with each drag, the smoke a putrid smell to her senses but it was something to focus on. She looked at the wall straight ahead of her, every now and again glancing at her unexpected companion. Woven between the wisps of smoke between them was what she could only assume was Andrea’s perfume. Something surprisingly fresh, floral. Not something Kara would have guessed for the other woman. Kara might have considered something warmer, darker.

“So which one?” Andrea asked aloud, breaking the silence between them, just as she finished her cigarette, dropping it by her feet so she could squash it with her shoe.

Kara scrunched her face. “Which one what?”

“Which one are you in love with?”

“I—” Her brows jumped to her hairline in surprise before her jaw dropped as she tried to find her voice.

“Lena, right?”

“I’m not—”

Andrea shook her head even as she waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not judging. It doesn’t matter, either way. But it’s her, isn’t it?”

Kara’s face scrunched as she thought about her options. She could lie. She’d been doing it for years, after all. But she was tired. And, at this point, it might do her some good to be honest even if it was just with one other person. 

She looked away before nodding her head, ashamed of herself. Yet the confession lifted something up inside of her; she felt lighter, even just for a moment. 

Andrea hummed as she wrapped her arms around herself. “There are worse people to pick, if it’s any consolation.”

Kara scoffed. “It’s not. But thanks.”

Andrea then gripped the remainder of Kara’s cigarette and plucked it out of her hand.

“Hey!”

“I won’t be responsible for your nicotine addiction. Let’s go back inside. If you really want to nurse a broken heart, that’s what the open bar is for.”

Kara watched as Andrea snuffed out her cigarette with the same shoe she used earlier and clutched at Kara’s now free hand, dragging her back through the doors. She could protest—should, really—but instead, powerless and resigned, she let herself be pulled back into the fray unaware of how she gripped the other woman’s hand tightly in hers like a lifeline.

When Kara reentered the grand hall, she winced at the cacophony of sounds and smells and sights. She winced slightly, adjusting her glasses with her free hand when she realized that her other hand was still firmly held in Andrea’s. She should let go, and eventually, she did. But if she let her joined hands linger for just a beat longer, Andrea said nothing about it. 

She stepped forward and turned her body slightly towards the other woman. “Thanks. For earlier. And if you could—” 

“I won’t tell. Don’t worry.” 

She nodded, but then paused. “Why not?” 

“What do you mean? Did you want me to?” 

“No! I mean—I just don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me right now.” 

“Would you rather I kick a girl while she’s down?” 

She pouted. “Is this just pity?” 

“Ah, querida, you’ll know if it’s pity.” 

“Then what is this? What are you doing?” 

Andrea eyed her intently, then made a point to scan the room until she found what she was looking for. Curiously, Kara followed her gaze and it landed on the wedded couple talking to some random group of grandparents several tables away. 

“Helping. I’m helping.” 

She was just about to ask why when they heard the clink of the utensils against glass, urging for the newlywed to kiss. 

Kara watched helplessly as Jack dipped Lena and kissed her, the grand hall filled with cheers and applause. When she turned to Andrea, the other woman had already been staring at her, as if to answer her unspoken question: that’s why. 

“Come on. You need liquor.”

[caramelpenguin]

S3 EP6 (thoughts + theories)

I want to get all the insane predictions out so I can look back on how much I clowned.🤡

These are ideas based on the moments that were in the trailer/teasers/stills. Or things that I feel might be addressed before the end...

Hillerska closing down🏫

We aren't directly told what Felice said in her interview. It's left ambiguous. So why wouldn't they tell us? Sure, there's a chance that she just praised the school but....

we got that very small snippet of the forest ridge boys yelling at each other. Could this be because they heard that Hillerska was going to shut down?

Simon (and his family) might move away 👋

they have the money now ig. this could be a reason why the ending, as ive seen around, has occasionally been described as 'open'.

this could be the context behind the shot of Linda's head on Simon's shoulder.

or maybe the 3 of them are doing smthn related to micke?

Abdication or King Wille? And August...👑

I think one of the reasons for August's storyline this season was for us to understand him more as a character so that if he becomes King, we know that he'll actually try or that he may not have been as bad as we thought. (my opinion of August isn't necessary here).

we really see how much the monarchy consumes Wille this season. Though I don't know how we'd approach the topic of abdication in just one episode.

wille has said that one of the reasons he wants to remain Crown Prince is bcos of Erik. Knowing what we now know, i'm intrigued as to what will happen.

will they acknowledge more of August's eating disorder?

August and Sara🤔

I think felice will (eventually) be fine with it. I don't know about Simon.

Things will work out, i'm sure.

Frederika and Stella💵

....they'll kiss in ep6. something will happen between them, anyway.

Shot of the 4 girls hugging

frederika has realises she likes stella by this point??

Roussea?🐎

maybe Roussea will get a slight mention in a conversation with August. Or maybe not. Who knowwwss

Wilmon screaming in the car🚗

is this Sara's car? things need to be okay by this point, right? is it after the lake scene??

Wilmon stare down👀

how? will ? this? fit? in?

is it after the graduation ceremony but before the neon party and the lake scene? does the shot of wille (with simon's hands around his neck) come after this?

is the lake scene not the final scene? is this scene actually the next day during the graduation?

does simon tell wille he's going to move away?

The Neon Party + Lake Scene 💧

the neon party is where they reconcile.

BUT i dont think it'll be a full reconcile. Simon's line 'Can't we just forget everything that's happened? Just for tonight?' makes sense to be here.

the lake scene with the swimming could happen because they both leave the party early, i dunno.

is this the last time they're able to hang out (bcos simon is moving away and bcos Hillerska will shut down)?

but we've all SEEN that it looks sad, which doesnt look all that great for endgame, and we've also been told that this is (most likely) the final scene. so. get tissues ready.

(am i crazy or is there a tiny smile on simons face in this scene? from that edmar promo we got? )

swimming happens after the sadness right? bcos (apart from the tears) they dont look wet.

if its the final scene idk what the hopes r for wilmon endgame icl

MUSIC (+Wille's birthday present)🎶

we know that 'Alice' by Rhys will play at some point. Doesn't mean it'll be a wilmon scene. it could be sara and august OR frederika and stella (?)

normally, there's a song in ep4 that's repeated in the final moments of the season. ep 4 in s3 doesn't end with a song and (from the one check I've done), i can't really hear any of the other songs used in that episode as the final song of the season. then again, i could be wrong

ELIAS SONG?? they could play 'revolution' again to make it a full circle (dont think this will happen tho). they might use a new song. i just rlly hope we'll hear an Elias song and...i feel like we will.

THE TRAILER SONG? I really pray this will be in the episode. I pray i pray i pray i-

we'll hear Simon's new song. I don't know how or when (especially if this is simon's gift to wille) but...c'mon

initially, i didn't think Redlight would appear in YR. Omar has a career outside of the show, but i do agree that the lyrics fit wilmon quite well. also, if we're gonna hear Simon's new song then I don't know how the script would work around Simon singing another song. He told Wille that his present isn't yet finished (which im sure is the song simon is currently working on), tho ig we could argue that he may sing a brand new song.

BUT then i realised that simon doesn't have to sing this song. redlight could just be part of the soundtrack ( it seems that everyone got to that conclusion before me). and the way that it's being promoted this week has me suspicious. I don't wanna get my hopes up, and maybe Omar is just being clever and promoting it during the week of YR hype, so i dont think redlight will be in s3. BUT I WILL BE VERY HAPPY IF IM WRONG❤️

ig we'll find out when the playlist gets updated

Football Field Scene

to my knowledge, we haven't got proof that they filmed there apart from that pic from Lisa (and are we sure this pic is from s3 filming?)

it would be AMAZING if they returned to this setting. ICONIC.

but idk how why they'd return here and how it would fit

it might not be a wilmon scene (could be simon + rosh + ayub, but i think theres a higher chance of it being a wilmon scene than the trio)

question- lisa said it was a wrap with a pic from the football field. which COULD mean that the last scene they filmed was there (tho it might not be the actual final scene) - was this where edmar couldn't stop crying?

💜WILMON ENDGAME?💜

they better or im going to riot

no but srsly, i dont think we'll go down a 'la la land' route. worst comes to worst, it'll be a positive open ending e.g. 'you were amazing. you'll be wonderful. we'll meet again with more freedom.' it'll be even better if there's a time skip here hahahha

like the end of ep5 gave me no hope cos idk how they're gonna get back together in one episode. but anything is possible.

arguably, the promo we've got since then leans towards endgame (?), but i dont think they'd reveal they're gonna be endgame if there wwen't gonna be more issues.

EXTRA

theres so much to cover in the final episode!! so i dont think everything will be acknowledged/addressed. things will be left ambiguous to keep the viewers thinking.

imagine if the break up at the end of ep5 wasnt that huge. that theyre still together (with tension) at the start of ep6, then they kidna ignore their disagreement. this culminates until the end, where they break up ( but very unlikely)

the future letters were there to show august's past. but could there be more to it? could we get a time skip? (again, unlikely imo. but would be sweet if done well)

a reference to the heart simon drew? maybe? probably not...

will simon give wille his orange jumper back? id love to see this on our screens but im sure we wont.

will sara's necklace make a comeback?

where does wille's 'what if I don't want to?' line come in? and the queen's line...

the shot of wille in the library (with that book in clear sight) hasn't yet appeared, right?

simon talking to sara by micke's house....hmmm. i would love a simon and micke interaction

volleyball scene + running into the lake happen as a connection to graduation?

wille with those sunglasses is a moment with felice?

do we hear anything more abt wille's birthday wish?

EXTRA .2

there are plenty of moments that happen that we don't see as viewers. so that jumper simon wears at the start of ep 2 looks like wille's. and if it is, then we didnt see the moment simon stole it wille gave it to him.

and when simon mentioned a mental health foundation, it implied that they may have had a discussion abt wille's anxiety before.

the piano scene in ep2 could have been a piano lesson that wille was giving simon, which probably means a lot more of these happened without us knowing

this makes me wonder how much wille knows about micke??

simon told august that sara's with her dad and all that- so does wille also know?

WHEN I FIRST WATCHED AND FINISHED S1 AND S2 OF YOUNG ROYALS, i knew wilmon would be together by the end of s3. like i was 100% convinced the show would end with them happy bcos that's what it had leaned towards the entire time. the vibe of it just screamed wilmon endgame to me.

i really hope past me was right, bcos the s3 promo really had me wondering. and then ep5 had me proper questioning. but netflix (and lisa) will have to pay for so much therapy if they arent endgame sooo🤷‍♀️

livelovelaugh wilmon ig

edit: ive just listened to omar's interview and now im qquuiiitteee sure redlight wont be in ep6🤷‍♀️

edit 2: will anyone else find out that it was august who posted the video?? will this prevent him from taking the throne??

[thepinklink]

I,, don’t really have a reason to hold this back and I’m too impatient to do it just in case so here’s another Rescue Ranch AU snippet

@skyloftian-nutcase it isn’t much but here, maybe it will help ease your misery :’) also @telemna-hyelle you wanted to know who I killed? Well, read on and find out :)

TW: Mentions of death/war, general trauma :’)

Numb.

That is the only word to describe what Warriors feels as he rides through the village he once called home. It’s now little more than debris and ashes, shrouded the burned and collapsing shells of houses and stores. He wants to urge Royal into a gallop, and get to his house as fast as possible, but he knows that won’t do. Royal is unafraid as he picks his way carefully through the wreckage. He’s served to faithfully, Warriors can’t bring himself to make the horse sacrifice care for speed. He might get hurt. That, and a part of Warriors knows his family is dead. Granny and his half siblings, Wind and Aryll…he knows they can’t have made it through whatever hell befell their home. He won’t be satisfied until he knows for sure, until he sees their house and…and them…and that’s why he doesn’t urge Royal faster. The longer he stays away, the longer he can hold onto the shred of false hope that says they could still be alive.

It’s foolish hope. And he knows he must squash it, because he has to know. Give them a proper burial, if he can. Honor them in whatever way he can manage, after failing them so badly.

The small seaside house comes into view and sure enough—it matches all the others. Half-destroyed, still smoking, a little. Warriors dismounts Royal, and somehow his legs hold him up. Heavy, mindless steps carry him towards the wreckage. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe. Behind him, Royal whinnies. Warriors spins around to face him—that whinny means someone is there and usually “someone” is a monster. Royal is standing there, ears and eyes open off Warriors’ left. He sees a flash of bright yellow and sea blue out of the corner of his eye and his gaze snaps towards it.

Wind, his little half-brother, stands frozen a few yards away. He must have been standing behind the far side of the house. That wall was mostly intact, which explains why Warriors didn’t see him.

They stand there for a solid six seconds, just staring at each other. Warriors doesn’t dare move. What if this is a dream, or a hallucination, and moving breaks it. He’s stuck in time. His breath is stolen from his lungs.

Wind takes a step forward, and then his second step launches him into a sprint and he barrels towards Warriors with more speed than an angry lizalfos. Warriors is unable to do more than fall to his knees and catch Wind in his arms, wrapping his little brother in a hug so tight his arms ache. He is unable to stop the tears from falling, especially when he hears Wind start to sob. He knows he’s supposed to be strong for him, but Wind will just have to forgive him for it later because in that moment Warriors has no strength for anything else.

They eventually run out of tears, and just sit there on the ground in some degree of shock. The silence carries unspoken terror, of everything they’ve seen, and the only freshly broken grief that they were alone.

“I thought you were dead,” Wind whispers after a long time.

A dozen replies drift through Warriors’ head. “I thought you were too.” “But I’m not. I came back for you.” “I feel dead.” But when he opens his mouth to say something, no words come out. He settled for squeezing Wind even tighter.

“…Grandma and Aryll didn’t make it.”

Ice replaces the blood in Warriors’ body. Did he watch it happen? Hylia, please say he didn’t have to watch.

“I just finished burying them.”

Goddesses. He’s only 14. Why? Why?

Yet more tears blur his vision, and he presses his face into Wind’s shock of yellow hair.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

The words become too wracked with sobs to distinguish them. Wind is silent the entire time. Warriors is ashamed of the way it seems more like Wind is comforting him than the other way around, but four years of ignoring it all finally bubbles to the surface and he is helpless to stop it.

It feels like they stay that way for hours before Warriors finally, finally runs completely out of tears to cry. He allows himself a few minutes to collect himself, before giving Wind one last squeeze and rising unsteadily to his feet. Wind grabs his hand, and he grips it without the intention of ever letting it go.

“We’ll pay our respects to Grandma and Aryll.” He says. “And then we’re getting the hell out of here. They wouldn’t want us to stay.”

Wind nods, and the brothers make their way to the pair of graves on the far side of the house, facing the ocean. Warriors doesn’t remember his legs ever being this stiff and achey. Regardless, they spend another hour gathering wildflowers and seashells to decorate the graves with. The sun is setting by the time they find themselves standing in front of the duel mounds, staring down at the little messy bouquets and colorful shells. They’re both completely silent, shocked and numb and exhausted.

A chilly breeze directs Warriors’ gaze up to the sky.

“…Let’s go. It’s getting dark.”

Wind doesn’t say anything, but he also doesn’t resist when Warriors starts walking away from the graves and, still holding hands, gently pulls Wind with him.

They walk silently back to wear Royal still stands in front of the house, having moved only a few yards further in order to graze. Warriors decides it will be more comfortable for all parties if they ride bareback, and removes his old and worn military-issued saddle off Royal’s back, abandoning it on the ground a few feet away without a second glance. He mounts first, and then helps Wind up, settling his little brother in front of him. With a softy click of his tongue and a squeeze of his heels, Royal starts walking. Warriors turns him northeast, away from the sea.

They’ve only traveled a few yards when Wind lets out an ear splitting wail, laden with grief and sheer exhaustion. Warriors lets him, even though his instincts say noise will attract monsters. He lets Wind scream and cry until be can’t anymore, and he slumps against Warriors, fast asleep.

Warriors sighs gently through his nose, feeling his own anguish swirling in his chest, threatening to escape in a similar manner. He forces it all down, down, down as far as it will go, locking it there with a promise to keep Wind safe.

As long as Wind needs him to be his pillar, he will not shed another tear.

[merlyn-bane]

For Foelu prompts: Either baby’s first Force shenanigans or sassy Kai-Tal with any of her dads.

Who's ready for ~1k of hurt/comfort??? 😇😇😇

I went with Baby's First Force Use, though I'm not sure that 'shenanigan' is the word 😅😅 I hope you enjoy it, though, @snowywinterevenings!!

[Requests for Foelu missing scenes, future snippets, and extra vignettes are STILL OPEN. Please submit any requests you might have to my ask box. They will all eventually be cross posted on AO3 as well 🥰🥰]

~~~~~

Force aptitudes have a tendency to manifest differently for all Force sensitives, and at different times. There are general milestones that a being can be expected to hit, of course, but these things often tend to happen on their own timeline and attempting to force them or speed them along often does far more harm than good.

Of the three children, Luke’s abilities begin to show themselves first—though how much of that is merely due to the more tangible nature of them, Obi-Wan couldn’t say. It’s certainly hard to miss a plush animal rotating in the air above his crib, at any rate. It becomes increasingly clear as they develop that Leia is almost preternaturally perceptive; sensitive to things going on around her both physically and within the Force and aware of things that she shouldn’t be, to the point that Anakin often swears up and down that his daughter reads his mind by the time she’s six months old. Even Obi-Wan can admit that, on occasion, the intensity of Leia’s gaze can be…disconcerting.

The emergence of Kai-Tal’s Force abilities is nothing so easy or so subtle as that. 

Obi-Wan is woken suddenly in the small hours of the morning when his daughter is about nine months old, still mostly insensate even as he bolts upright. Fingers touch Obi-Wan’s arm and he jerks away from the contact so hard that he manages to fall out of the bed, eyes still closed and his chest heaving through each labored breath as color flashes behind his eyelids and screams ring in his ears. The scenes are almost entirely incoherent, but the horror of it all—

“Obi-Wan!”

Obi-Wan jerks again as hands close around his shoulders, gentle but firm enough that he doesn’t manage to jerk away this time. His name is called again—how many times have they tried to get him to respond, now? He can only imagine that it is no small number, from the clear worry in their voice—and Obi-Wan groans as he slowly comes around, his eyes cracking open to reveal a very blurry Helix.

“Obi-Wan, what happened?” Helix asks him, urgent, releasing his shoulders only to take his face between his palms. “Are you alright? What was that? A nightmare, or—?”

A shrill cry pierces the air and Obi-Wan is on his feet and bursting out of the bedroom before he even has time to fully process the realization that it had not been, in fact, a nightmare—or even his own. His partners are of course right on his heels but Obi-Wan barely notices as he all but slams into the nursery.

His baby is screaming and sobbing in her crib, her face all scrunched up and red and her arms flailing about wildly. Obi-Wan scoops her up and tucks her against his chest immediately and sinks to the floor with her that way, leaning back against the crib and resisting the urge to clutch her tighter. “Shhh, shhh, shhh,” he soothes, rubbing her back gently and looking up to see all five of her buir’e crammed into the doorframe and staring at them with wide, worried eyes. 

He wants to offer them answers, he does—desperately—but it feels like he’s still struggling to pull in enough air, himself. 

After another moment he forces himself to calm enough to actually be of any use to his daughter, wrapping his Force presence around her own and blanketing her in as much warmth and reassurance as he can manage as he starts rocking them back and forth slightly, closing his eye again and focusing on breathing through his nose even as the images she’d Seen continue to play themselves out behind his eyelids. 

It takes everything in him not to flinch at the flashes of a red ‘saber and yellow eyes, of smoke and blasterfire and—

Obi-Wan shakes himself out of it and wrenches himself back to center, kissing the side of Kai-Tal’s head as she finally begins to quiet. “I believe,” he says, haltingly, his voice hoarse, “that Kai-Tal has just experienced her first vision.” Obi-Wan swallows past the lump in his throat. Force knows he'd never wanted to pass down the precognition he'd suffered from as a child. He supposes he can only be grateful that she will have access to more assistance than he had, especially once he'd become a padawan. “She—I. I believe it may have been of a future that we may have…very narrowly avoided. I will—I will have to take her to Mace. And the—and the Seers.”

“Okay,” Cody whispers, approaching them slowly and kneeling down in front of Obi-Wan so that they’re at eye-level. He reaches out with one hand to cup the back of Kai-Tal’s head in his palm, and Obi-Wan feels the child relax further against him at the presence of her buir. “Does that have to happen right now? Do you think she’s going to have another one?”

“I—most likely not.” Obi-Wan swallows again. “But it’s—it’s important that everything is recorded quickly, before—before any of the details are lost.”

Cody nods, and rests his other hand on Obi-Wan’s knee, thumb stroking the skin there gently. “Okay. She projected it all to you, didn’t she?” Obi-Wan nods somewhat dumbly, and Cody gives him a small, reassuring smile. “So you’ve got it all up there. And I know you, you aren’t going to forget any of it. Especially if it’s important.” Cody gives it a moment for that to sink in before he speaks again, tilting his head a little and his voice achingly gentle. “She looks like she’s going to be alright for now, so why don’t you come back to bed and we can go see whoever we need to in the morning, okay? You can bring her with you and then we’ll all get a little more rest together, how does that sound?” Obi-Wan opens his mouth, ready to protest even though he isn’t sure what he’s about to say, but Cody beats him to it. “One of us can keep watch, cyare. We’ll look after both of you. Don’t worry.”

Obi-Wan gives his partner a wobbly smile. “Okay.”

[dysco-lymonade]

Clexa #7

7. Visiting them at their place of work.

It’s like you’re in my head, Anon. I’m thinking of posting on this AU as a series of snippets to ease myself back into the game.

Lexa tugs her jacket tighter around her shoulders as she faces the cool midnight breeze of downtown polis. She has two blocks to figure out what she’s going to talk to Clarke about tonight. She can only small talk about the weather so many times before the blonde thinks she’s got as much depth as a puddle.

Lexa had just barely managed to get her latest assignment submitted before the 11:59pm cut-off time, and her one and only motivation was seeing the corner store clerk on her way home.

She picks up her pace as she sees the neon store sign up ahead. The mantra of ‘don’t fuck this up, be cool, be brave, be suave,’ running through her mind on a loop. She pushes her way through the door, ready to plaster on her most casual grin as she makes eye contact with the cashier, only to falter in her steps.

Instead of seeing Clarke, she holds the gaze of a floppy-haired frat boy, who looks all-too-pleased to see her walking through the door.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Lextra Woods.”

“Bite me, Collins.”

“God, I would love to.” He retorts with a smarmy grin.

Lexa rolls her eyes and moves on to the drink coolers. Of course, Finn fucking Collins works here too. Finn fucking Collins, the bane of her existence. Beta Fish Chi fucking- whatever frat president Finn fucking Collins. The boy had been making her life an absolute living hell for the better part of the semester. Every time she would cozy up in her favorite corner of the student library to work on her assignments, in would walk (read: stampede) Finn fucking Collins and his gaggle of pledges. Lexa wasn’t even convinced he was part of an actual fraternity, but rather, just trying to have every guy at Polis U begging to be his friend.

She scoffs as she yanks a bottle of water from the cooler.

“Rough night?” She hears from behind her, ready to turn on a dime and give Finn fucking Collins what for.

Only she turns around and is met with the cool blue gaze of none other than Clarke Griffin. She damn near drops the water bottle.

“Oh- uh, yeah. You could say that.” She mentally slams her head into the glass door of the drink cooler. “Better now, though!” She pulls what she hopes is a charming smile onto her face. In reality, Lexa is pretty sure she looks like a serial killer.

“So… Lextra, huh? Interesting name.” Clarke flirts, actually goddamn flirts, with that mouthwatering bite of her bottom lip.

“Lexa… actually. Collins is total tool. Thinks everyone deserves a nickname.”

“Don’t I know it; he won’t stop calling me ‘Princess’ and I want to vomit every time he says it.” Clarke rolls her eyes and moves towards a rack of potato chip bags to presumably reorganize them.

“How utterly condescending of him.” Lexa picks at the label of the water bottle for a moment, contemplating asking, but eventually goes for it. “I really haven’t given you my name after all this time?”

Clarke shakes her head in the negative. “Nope.” She pops the ‘p’, of course she does. “I’ve been fiddling with a few possibilities. Heather seemed too uptight, Brittany too lackluster, I knew it had to be something more unique.” She winks. Actually goddamn winks, and Lexa damn near passes out.

“I would say thank you, but I didn’t pick my name.” Way to be suave, Woods, get it together. “I’m glad I ran into you, actually.” There she is. “I wanted to ask you something. I haven’t seen you on campus, but I’m assuming since we seem to be the same age, that you must go to Polis U. Otherwise why would you work so close?” Stop rambling, get to the point! “Anyway. There’s this fundraiser. It’s more of a bar-crawl, honestly, but it’s to support my program. You buy a wrist band, and the proceeds go to the Law department… I know, bar-hopping for the law… kind of silly…” GET TO THE POINT “Anyway, I wanted to see if you might want to come along with me?”

By the time Lexa is finished rambling, Clarke’s eyebrows have pretty much reached her hairline. But the soft smile on her face, and subtle tilt of her head give Lexa pause. Maybe she didn’t totally fuck this up.

“I did go to Polis.” Oh, did she graduate already? “But I had to take a leave of absence.” Interesting… “And I can’t actually go with you.” Clarke bites her lip, but not in a flirty way. Lexa tilts her head, clearing asking the blonde to continue. “Look, Lexa…” Oh god, this isn’t good. Abort. ABORT. “No, no! It’s not you.” Oh god, I’m going to hurl. “Fuck. That sounds terrible but it’s NOT! Listen, come here for a minute?” Clarke starts making her way toward the back room of the store.

“Clarke, it’s fine. Seriously, you don’t have to expl-“

Before Lexa can finish, Clarke has yanked the right leg of her jeans up to expose her ankle.

Her ankle, currently sporting a thick black band with what appears to be a large battery pack attached to it.

“Uh, Clarke I’m not sure I understand.”

“I’m on house arrest. Well, house and work arrest, I guess.”

Lexa blinks once, not fully grasping the situation.

“I got into some trouble, nothing serious. I didn’t hurt anyone or anything. I just. I can’t go anywhere other than my house or work… for now. I have an appeal hearing in a few weeks.”

“Oh my god. I thought you were just feeding me a line.” Lexa chuckles and leans against the wall. “So, I’m crushing on a criminal? That’s what you’re telling me?”

Clarke looks up at her with a devilish smile. “Crushing?”

Oh fuck.

Lexa takes pause. The cats out of the bag. Just go with it Woods.

“Well yeah, hasn’t it been obvious?”

“You mean, like how you’ve never given me your name, or any type of way to contact you?” She lifts an eyebrow in question and Lexa basically falls to her knees.

Lexa takes a moment to scratch the back of her neck, in what she hopes is a cool demeanor. “I wasn’t sure you were interested. You flirt a lot with, you know, everyone.” She shrugs her shoulders and scuffs the toe of her shoe on the floor, breaking eye contact.

“Tips.” Clarke says simply. “They only pay me minimum wage here, you know, being a hardened criminal and all. I gotta pay the bills somehow.” She chuckles and suddenly Lexa feels the other girl’s hand on her bicep. “Lex,” Lexa would normally scowl at the nickname, but it sounds so sweet coming from the blonde’s raspy voice that she’s decidedly changed her outlook on nicknames. She meets Clarke’s eyes and sees sincerity. “I really would love to go out for a drink with you some time. Maybe just give me a few weeks? Or more, depending on the outcome of my hearing? And in the meantime, can I have your number?”

[randoimago]

Snippet for a Denji x Fem!Reader Oneshot

Fandom: Chainsaw Man

Character(s): Denji

Warning: Slightly suggestive content (nothing happens, but Denji is Denji so there’s a bit of suggestiveness), She/Her pronouns for Reader

Note(s): This is just a small piece of a oneshot I want to write eventually. Of course it came to me at like 2am and I’m just now writing down what I remember so it might not be that good. Here it is anyway!!

He felt frozen as she stared at his face, not emotionless but more like she was gauging his reaction as well as figuring out her own feelings towards the matter. Her hands felt gentle as they lay on his chest. She straddled his lap, holding her own weight despite the fact he is strong enough to hold her.

Denji couldn’t help swallowing the lump that formed in his throat as she moved her hands, one arm wrapping around his neck while the other held the back of his head. She was moving forward and he felt his hands clench at his sides, not wanting to touch her without permission.

His eyes flashed to her lips before back to her eyes. He didn’t want to get his hopes up as she moved closer, but he couldn’t help as his eyes fluttered closed and his mouth opened slightly. The last kiss Denji had left a bad taste in his mouth, but no alcohol has been involved in this interaction.

He felt her shift slightly and wondered if she was finding a better angle. Maybe he should move his head for her? His eyes slowly opened to see what she was doing, only to stare as she had leaned up to press a kiss to his forehead instead of his lips, where he had hoped they would be. Denji felt his throat dry as she laid her head on his, his face laying just above her chest.

"You can hold me,” she says and he hesitates. Denji had only been thinking about all the firsts he could have when it came to his teenage lust. But this, this was gentle and soft. Being held so gently, so caringly, is a first for him that he never thought of having. Holding someone back is another first. One, that after his hesitation, he gladly went to fulfill as his arms wrapped around the girl still on his lap. A thought that he tried to push away as he didn’t want it to ruin this moment.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

What's the more depressed Buck fic have you posted snippets for it??

I haven’t, I’m not sure I’m ever going to fully write this one out because it might be dramatic to the point of trashiness hshsddhdh, but, yeah, what it says on the tin, Buck but with the depression sliders turned up, and flipping the ‘passively suicidal’ dial to occasionally active. Also he and Eddie are like even closer and more codependent and Buck sleeps in Eddie’s bed somewhat frequently and they kiss sometimes without even internally clocking that as something potentially romantic. Like they’ll be dating other people and still sleep next to each other and kiss sometimes and it doesn’t even occur to them that that might be not the best thing to do. They eventually get together actually at Hen and Karen’s wedding but even then don’t consider all the other sleeping together and kissing as part of that. It was just a thing they did, it’s fine.

I only have one half written scene for this, I’ll put it under a cut because it deals with self harm and past attempts, it takes place uhh I could never decide if it’s sometime in season two or after lawsuit arc (which I’m not sure would play out the same in this au, just like timeline wise). Sometime fairly early in their time together anyway.

Buck has a beer in his hand when Eddie notices, a detail that sticks in his head later.

“Shit!” He says it loud enough that Buck jumps a little, bottle almost sliding through his fingers. “Buck, is that- did you get hurt?”

“Huh?” He doesn’t think he did, they hadn’t been on any particularly strenuous or dangerous calls in the last shift, and it’s been a whole day since then so he thinks he would have felt it by now.

“You’re bleeding, man,” Eddie says with a worried frown, gesturing down at his leg.

Buck looks and he doesn’t realize what he’s going to find, what it means, until he sees red soaking through the right inner thigh of his sweatpants, and things would have gone easier, probably, Eddie would have to know if he’d said something like shit, that’s weird, I’ll go check it out. Except he doesn’t say that, he panics; he slaps a hand over the fuzzy line and snaps up to look at Eddie like he’s done something wrong. Eddie’s not an idiot. Buck sees the moment he puts two and two together, how wide his eyes get.

“I-“ Buck chokes, any and all excuses shriveling up before he can find them, so he says “I’ll just-“ and flees to the bathroom.

His leg is a bit of a mess. The fabric of the sweat pants peels away from his skin a little painfully with how much blood there is. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to cut this deep, it had just been awhile since he’d given in to the impulse and he tends to over do it after time spent holding back. He breaths steadily through his nose as he looks around the bathroom, hesitating over towels he doesn’t want to ruin.

There’s a knock. “Buck?” Eddie sounds kind of small and scared, and it makes Buck’s guts twist uncomfortably. Fuck. “Buck, I- Can I come in? I have the first aid kit, I just- I want to make sure you’re okay.”

[tender wound care, a little bit of talking about Buck’s self harm, Eddie very worried and mad as an extension of that worry and trying to hold all that in and Buck fucking guilty about making Eddie feel like this but just a little bit relieved that someone knows]

As Buck reaches for the ice pack the back of his hand drags across the outside of Eddie’s wrist, and though he’s seen the scar there a thousand times it’s the first time he’s felt the puckered skin. He can’t help the way his hand twists, fingers circling, holding, feeling. Eddie blinks at him, looks down at where they’re connected.

“It’s a bullet wound,” he says, voice sticking a little, rasping out of his mouth.

“I know,” Buck says quickly.

“Buck.” Eddie’s eyes dart back and forth between Buck’s own. “Buck, have you…”

He’s not sure if he should be truthful, he showed too much of the ugly underside of himself tonight already, but the moment's hesitation is long enough for Eddie to drag in a ragged inhale. Buck closes his eyes, drops his chin to his chest. “Twice.” It’s quiet enough in the bathroom that Buck thinks Eddie might be holding that inhale, trapping the air in his lungs. “Or… I don’t know, maybe three- I don’t know if the motorcycle counts.” He opens his eyes, laughing a little without much humor. “I guess if I don’t know if it counts, it probably counts, yeah?”

He is breathing, turns out. Buck can see Eddie’s chest move in and out, so he must be. His mouth is clamped shut and his eyes are frightened again and Buck feels a little sick because of it. “When?” It’s just a whisper, and then Eddie’s eyebrows come together. “I mean- you don’t have to- you don’t have to tell me, Buck, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t…”

Buck raises an eyebrow, because he’s sitting on the man’s toilet with his boxers shoved into his groin so Eddie can clean the mess of his thigh. It’s a little late to be shy. He sighs, scrubs a hand over his eyes, and then turns that arm to show off the scar running away from his elbow, a story he’s laughed about before. “I didn’t fall from the balcony. I jumped off the roof.” Eddie’s eyes stutter shut, but Buck can’t stop now. “I looked up- I looked up how high you have to be. What’s fatal. Thought I had a good chance, and- and mom and dad weren’t there, figured even if I didn’t- even if it wasn’t immediate, I’d be… dead by the time they got home. But a neighbor saw me do it.”

[He left a note on the counter that he thinks his parent might have just thrown away, they certainly never brought it up, and kind of brushed the whole thing under the rug. They never took him to any suggested follow up therapy or anything. When he was roaming the world in his early twenties he’d sometimes get antidepressants off friends but like those don’t really work if you just take one every once in awhile. When he got the job at the fire station he finally had insurance and could get an actual prescription but the first kind he tried really didn’t agree with him and he ended up taking a bunch a once but he called Hen as he started feeling sick so she and Bobby came and found him in time (this is when Chimney is out from the rebar and after the disastrous therapy session and things are up and down with Abby so even aside from the chemical imbalance things are rough) and he has to stay in the psychiatric ward for a few days and he worried he wouldn’t have a job after but Bobby and Hen are there to pick him up and they take him out to breakfast and they care about him, Bobby lets him sleep on his couch for awhile, and things have been,like, okay since, he’s doing all right, he promises Eddie it’s not going to go that far again, that Hen and Bobby keep an eye on him and he guesses Eddie will now too. Eddie hugs him very tight and promises he will. He sleeps in Eddie’s bed for the first time that night.]

[dracocheesecake]

First and Fighting Words

Summary: Another snippet taken from the Daddy!Kai AU (AU where he and Oogway were never ambushed and continued along their path as warlords). Kai now has a new calf, but there seems to be a dispute over her first words.

General Oogway had been prompted to make another visit to his friend and said friend’s growing family; Kai had two calves now, the newest being a baby girl of eight months old.

Oogway looked at her now, swaddled in green silken blankets to keep her comfortable in the early spring’s remaining chill. While her older brother had been a solid copy of his father, this one looked like her mother: same black fur, and a little tuft of curls on her noggin that might grow like her mother's as well. Her eyes, though, were like her fathers; these were glued to Oogway, having never once left him since the moment he came into their sight.

Oogway wondered (privately) if the calf ever blinked. This was the first time he had seen her, the eight months’ since her birth having been eaten up by a skirmish near the outskirts of one of his more rural territories that had taken longer than expected, and the rest of the weeks had been needed just to get here; that particular winter had been a rough one, especially spent on the roads- but at least the Spring was promising.

The portico provided a nice view onto the grounds of the estate, and the wind blew in blossoms of various pastel colors that scattered over the table. Zan, Kai’s wife, was standing at the rail, looking out over the gardens while Kai held their daughter, already bragging about all of her ‘accomplishments’.

Oogway nodded sagely after the ramble had gone on a while and plucked a blossom petal out of his tea before taking a sip. He smacked, and then said: “How precocious. This one's even fatter than her brother was.”

Zan covered her smile with her fan, but her shoulders were shaking, and occasionally a small chortle escaped. Kai snorted, frowning.

“She's not fat,” he said, “she's plump. She's a baby, she's supposed to be.” One of his hooves came up, tickling her round little tummy. Dai Lu giggled and unraveled her chubby arms from the swaddling to grab at her father's hand.

Oogway smiled. “She looks like a lavishly wrapped bean bun.”

“She does not!” Kai snapped. “She looks like her mother!”

Zan turned and raised her brows at him. “I look like a bean bun?”

“What? No! I-”

Both his wife and his friend started laughing, and then Dai Lu squealed hysterically alongside, and Kai found himself fighting to keep his pout in place.

“She doesn't look like a bean bun!” He stated stubbornly. He poked the baby’s nose. “You. Stop laughing! You don’t look like a bean bun!”

That only made her laugh more, and then Kai broke. A cackle of his own burst free before he could stop it, and eventually he gave up trying to.

“Well,” Kai said, trying to come to his child’s defense even still, “she’s a very smart bean bun. She’s already made some progress on her first steps.”

Oogway tilted his head. “Oh? Well, she certainly has the legs for it. Maybe all that chub is actually muscle. ”

“Oogway, I swear-”

“We're already expecting her first words,” Zan said, before her husband could finish his threat, “It'll probably be ‘mama'.”

Kai snorted. “Nah, she's going to say ‘daddy’, like her brother did.”

Zan glared at him. There was a sudden tension in the air, not as friendly. “No,” she said, with more firmness than Oogway felt necessary, “she'll say ‘momma’.”

There was a pause. The tension began to grow and simmer. Kai's head turned slowly towards her. There was a smile on his face, a pleasant one that didn't meet his eyes.

“No,” he said again, “she's going to say ‘daddy’.”

Zan narrowed her eyes. Her hoof stomped the ground, once. “No,” she said again, “‘momma’.”

Kai was now returning her glare. Dai Lu cooed, babbling, tugging on Kai's mane, but he didn't notice. He disentangled her and then plopped her down into Oogway's hands, his eyes never once leaving his wife.

“Oogway, hold this,” he said, and then got up to go stand before Zan, glaring down at her with his arms crossed. She was saying something, poking his chest, something about ‘i carried her for nine months’, and then there was another exchange, which devolved into:

“No, momma!”

“No, daddy!”

“Momma!”

“Daddy!”

“Momma!”

“Daddy!”

“Momma!”

“Oogway, you tell her-”

“Don’t you dare bring Oogway into this! You always try to bring Oogway into everything! Oogway this, Oogway that- why didn’t you just marry Oogway?!”

Apparently this was only a continuation of some sort of argument that had been going on for awhile, something Kai hadn’t written about in his letters. Oogway held the little calf at arm's length, raising his brows in some amusement- all that he could glean from such an uncomfortable situation.

“Your parents are crazy, Bean Bun,” Oogway said with a chuckle, “I feel sorry for you.”

Dai Lu giggled, chubby arms waving towards Oogway, tiny feet kicking in her swaddling.

“Oogwaa!” She squealed.

Oogway's mouth fell open. When he looked up, Kai and Zan's were doing the same. There was an eternity of pause, and both stared for its duration; then they rushed over.

“What did she say?” Kai asked, crouching down with his hands on his knees, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Did she say what I think she said?” Zan said, laughing despite herself.

“Oogwaa!” The calf cooed, reaching for the tortoise’s face.

Oogway felt tears welling in his eyes and immediately hugged her close. “I think I have a favorite, now.” He said, trying to keep his voice from shaking, but failing miserably. The little calf cuddled into him, babbling.

Zan laughed, putting her hands on her hips. “Well, I guess that’s what we get,” she said, “there’s a lesson in irony here, somewhere, I’m sure.”

“One cannot force the wind to blow in their direction,” Oogway said sagely, gently bouncing the calf.

Kai rolled his eyes and took her out of Oogway’s arms. “Alright, no more philosophy for you. You’re going to turn her mind into mush with that nonsense.”

“Oogwaa!” Dai Lu cried, reaching for Oogway with little pouty noises. Kai snorted and poked her belly.

“Ok, now say ‘dada’. If you can say ‘Oogway’, you can say ‘dada’.”

His daughter looked up at him, pouting. But then, slowly, she began to smile again.

“Mama!”

"...Here, Oogway, you can hold her."

[theprissythumbelina]

Snippet Time!

I feel like I haven't posted anything in forever, and since I mentioned him on one of my polls I thought I might post this for reads and comments.

As a bit of context, Kel comes into Mortal Sparks as a detective and former companion of Nicolette's mother. He helps Nicolette and Alyss move through the big city and eventually flee the continent on a ship. Kel has been haunted through his life by the kidnapping and murder of most of his family, which he believes was tied to the exotic slave trade. Despite his efforts, the three youngest members of his family have been missing for over 20 years.

This snippet is from his childhood in the rural mountains of Clard Bute.

@thetruearchmagos @teacupsandstarlight if you're up for a bit of not-light reading?

"Happy birthday!"

Owen groaned as he was shaken so hard his head flopped off the pillow. 

"Happy birthday!" a chipper voice repeated, a soft thump landing next to his head. Owen curled tighter in his quilt. Small hands patted his cheek repeatedly.

"You think we should get the water, Pat?" Conner asked, somewhere above. 

"Gonna be late if we don't," Patty grumbled. 

Owen fumbled to his left, snagging Riley and pulling her in with a squeal. "Gonna get the baby wet," he mumbled, tickling her until she flopped off the bed, still giggling. He pulled himself up and rubbed his eyes. 

"I'll pay that price," Conner loomed over him, wielding a cup threateningly. Owen could see it was empty from the bed. He stuck his tongue out. 

"That's not how a man acts," Patty scolded from the door. She tried to pick Riley up from the floor and was promptly tickled in return. "Get up, Owen. Kel made breakfast."

"Get up, Owen," Conner mimicked. 

"Get up, Owen!" Riley added helpfully. "Up, Owen!"

"I'm going to eat," Patty sniffed. She left, and Owen pushed himself up. He pulled a shirt over his longjohns, stumbling as Riley tangled herself in his legs. 

"Can you get rid of her?" he pleaded to Conner. 

His older brother swept Riley up in a bear hug. 

"Com'on, blubberbug, breakfast's waiting." He walked her awkwardly out to the kitchen as she tried to wiggle over his shoulder. Owen pulled on his boots and shuffled after them. 

"Morning, birthday boy!" Kel crowed from the stove. Patty was already grumpily spooning oatmeal into her bowl. Owen's eyes caught on a small pile of chokecherries at Kel's elbow. Kel caught his look and grinned. 

"Ready to eat?" He held out a bowl and sprinkled the chokecherries dramatically on top. "Only the best for our new man of the house."

Owen wrinkled his nose. "I'm twelve," he complained. "'Sides, that's Noah."

"And what am I, chopped liver?" Kel teased. "I get you wains out of bed, I feed you, I clean your nasty clothes -" he paused to pull Riley's hair out of her oatmeal, twisting it into a hair-tie. "And it ain't no picnic." 

"Love you, Kel," Patty announced obediently, Owen and Conner a beat behind. Kel waved it away affectionately.

"Get on to school, now. You'll be late." Owen crammed more chokecherries in his mouth in between gulping down oatmeal. He grabbed his books, packed and ready by the door, and trooped out with Conner, Patty, and Riley. 

"Not coming, Kel?" Patty turned before the door shut. Kel shook his head.

"Gotta call Mom, you ken? She probably lost track of the days. She'll want to be here tonight." 

He said it with such easy confidence, Owen almost believed him. Conner muttered something, but shook his head when Owen leaned closer. He tugged at Patty's arm, and she let the door slam shut. 

"He's gonna be behind next time he does come," she complained as they stomped down the frosted dirt road. Owen gazed up at the lightening sky, hoping they'd have an early snow for his birthday. 

"He's not going back," Conner snapped. "He's gonna go with Noah next year, and I'll be looking after you lot. And once you get to 15, you'll be looking after Owen and Rils and I'll be working too."

Patty was silent for a moment. She stepped over the pinecone Owen kicked her way, still frowning. 

"But I like school. I want to be a nurse, you have to go to school past 15 for that."

"Yeah, and I wanted to be a printer. But someone has got to take care of the littles."

"Kel takes care of us just fine," she protested. "Why can´t he stay home? He's been doing it since Mom left."

"Daithaine ort, Pat, 'cause he's gotta work. You think Noah makes enough for 5 of us? You think we can live off berries and rabbits forever? What about our clothes, Pat? You'll be fine, you got Mom's and 'Kayla's dresses, but what about Owen?"

Owen hunched his shoulders at his name. Patty had a stubborn look on her face, like she was glaring at John Balacky all over again. Conner went on. 

"His boot were Dad's, then they were Noah's, then they were Kel's, then they were mine. You think they're gonna last much longer?"

Owen could hear Noah's words as Conner ranted. A three-room cabin was not enough space to avoid eavesdropping even on a quiet conversation. He'd seen the slump of Kel's shoulders through the door slit, heard a mumbled agreement as Noah ran his hand over his face. He had looked older than nineteen, in the lamplight. Owen had heard a different variation a few days later, as Conner tried to make his own stand. Kel had put a hand on his shoulder, but Conner shook it off and stomped into the bedroom he shared with Owen. 

Noah had gone to bed a few moments later, pausing at the door as Conner cried quietly with his face toward the wall. His footsteps moved on after a few seconds, leaving only Kel to quietly prepare the kitchen for the morning. 

 Owen had barely seen his oldest brother for the last two years, and never in daylight. He rose before the rest, second only to Kel, who got up first to warm the stove. He got back home late too, smelling like sap and cold and sweat. Kel alone waited up for him most nights, though the sound of movement sometimes stirred the younger kids to say goodnight. 

Owen blinked as Patty stomped her foot, now in a full-fledged argument with Conner. He buried his fingers deeper in his pockets, wondering if it was worth the effort to break them up. He yawned and thought better of it. They were still arguing as he pushed open the wire gate to the schoolhouse. 

Kel was waiting for them as soon as the school bell rang. He leaned on the wire fence, grinning cheekily at the older girls standing in the schoolyard. Mary Balacky in particular took notice, her face turned toward him even as she chatted with her friends. Her red bow bounced slightly on the top of her head as she nodded happily, her eyes darting to Kel. Owen wrinkled his nose as Patty snorted. John Balacky stuck his tongue out at Patty as she and Owen pushed past, half-hidden behind his sister's skirt. 

"Where'd Conner get off too?" Kel asked cheerfully, glancing at Patty and Owen before eyeing the girls again. He had a pack slung over one shoulder that was suspiciously lumpy. 

"Ms. K wanted to talk with him," Patty said snottily. 

"She said he wasn't in trouble," Owen piped up. 

"Probably she wants to give him another award for good behavior," Kel reached over and tugged at Patty's curls. "Not like little Miss Right Hook here."

"Jonny started it," Patty insisted, swatting at Kel's arm. 

"And you ended it just like I showed you, huh? Right in the kisser. Pow!" 

Patty grinned. 

"What's that?" Owen pointed to the bag. 

"Nothing for right now. Gotta wait for the celebration, alright?"

Conner stomped out of the school, glowering at the younger kids in his way. They scattered like sparrows as he reached the gate. 

"There he is," Kel greeted him. "You get another gold star?" 

Conner resettled his bag on his shoulder. "She wanted to know if this was my last year in school." He shrugged. "I told her I didn't know."

Kel grimaced, making an aborted attempt to pat Conner's shoulder. "Well," he cleared his throat, "Let's get going, wains."

A chorus of "Bye, Kel!" followed them away from the school. Kel twisted to give one last wave before settling to walk up the mountain, his arm draped over Owen's shoulder. Halfway to the house, Owen gathered the courage to speak.

"Kel?" He hesitated. 

Kel tightened his arm supportively. 

"What's the craic?" 

Owen felt his newfound courage fade. "What if…" he tried, but lapsed into silence. Kel gave him small smile. 

"What if it doesn't work?" he finished for Owen. Owen nodded, cheeks heating. 

"Well," Kel dragged the word out, "If it doesn't, we gotta feed you to the fairies, you know." 

Owen blinked at him. "The fairies?"

"Yeah, you´ve seen the ring down by the kill. You know, we used to have another brother, but it didn't work for him, so he had to go into the ring."

Owen stared up at him. Kel snorted. 

"Geez, If I told you I wrote gullible on the roof you'd look up, wouldn't you?"

"Uh," Owen muttered. 

"It's gonna work, buddy. And if it doesn't, you'll still be our annoying littlest brother. 'Sides, you don't remember your teething years. You've got some strong chompers."

Kel poked at his mouth playfully. "Open up now, let's see those sharp canines. I've still got a scar from when I got too close to your dinner."

Owen pushed him away. Kel chuckled and slung his arm back over Owen's shoulder. "You're gonna be fine, I promise. Scout's honor."

Owen nodded, but he burrowed a light tighter under Kel's arm anyway. 

At the house, he and Patty did their homework while Conner helped Riley with hers, and Kel chopped firewood behind the house until dinnertime. 

Owen looked up when the door opened, expecting to see Kel. Instead, Noah pushed his way in, dropping his knapsack in the line of bags by the door. Owen jumped out of his seat and rushed into Noah's arms. 

Noah chuckled, wrapping Owen in a bear hug. "Easy there, bud," he rumbled. Patty and Riley also joined the clump, squishing Owen between his siblings. 

"I didn't know if you were gonna be here," Owen beamed up at Noah. 

"Course I was. I wouldn't miss your birthday."

"Missed mine," Conner muttered from the table. Noah looked up, a dark expression clouding his face, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted by Kel pushing past. 

"None of that," Kel told Conner pointedly, "This is a birthday and we're gonna be happy with each other, okay?"

Conner shrugged, but followed him back out for another armful of firewood. 

With the stew ready and the shadows stretching over their cottage, Owen sat in the middle of his family as they prayed and sang and ate. As he tipped the last of the stew into his mouth, Kel stood up and fetched his bag, setting it down in front of Owen and taking his bowl. Owen pulled back the top of the bag and lifted out a pair of dark leather boots, solid and sturdy, with only a few scratches on the toe. He breathed in the smell of clean leather, with no scent of his brothers. These boots were his and his alone. He grinned up at Noah, who was watching him with a tired smile. 

"You'll need to pad them out with your socks still," he told Owen, "but we figured your old ones were about ready to kick the can. These should last you at least ten years, if you care for them right."

"I will," Owen promised. He stood and hugged Noah, then Kel. 

"You want another bowl?" Kel asked. "There's a little left." 

Owen shook his head. "Its almost time, right? We could visit Kayla and Dad, before…"

Noah got to his feet. "Good idea. Let's go visit Kayla. The bonfire is close to her anyway."

The kitchen was suddenly a bustle of activity as everyone fetched coats and boots. Kel fussed over Riley, pushing his own gloves over her mittens and wrapping a second scarf over her head. He delayed so long that even Noah rolled his eyes and pushed them all outside. 

All six followed a small path through the trees, into a small clearing. Owen blinked in the darkness of the trees, but he followed his brother's sure footsteps into the lighter area of the clearing. Puffs of air hung around their heads as the family gathered next to two headstones. Owen hung away from the second headstone. It had always made him feel weird, that there was no grave under it. It was like talking to empty air. But, the loggers never found any remains to give them. Their mother had insisted on the headstone. 

Kel cleared his throat. "Hey, Kayla. Hey, Dad. It's Owen's birthday, his twelfth birthday. We, uh, we wanted to come and all be together -  well almost all, but," He took a deep breath. "We wanted to come and remember that, we're still a family. And we always will be. You both should have been here tonight, and -"

He stumbled to a stop. Noah took over. "You aren't forgotten. You never will be. Each of us carries you in our hearts. Tonight, in this life or the next, we are together, as family."

Patty nudged Owen. "Say something," she hissed. 

"Uh, Dad, Kayla, I miss you. We miss you. But I promise, I'm gonna make you proud, and I'm gonna, uh, take my place in the family. We're looking out for each other."

They stood in silence for a long moment. Kel shifted first, gazing at the sky. 

"Moon's almost up." he said. "Let's get to the fire."

On the other end of the clearing, Kel had piled logs and branches almost up to Owen's chest. The logs had already been doused with gasoline, and a thick swath of freshly tiled dirt created a barrier between the bonfire and any dry grass or pine needles. Noah struck a match and tossed it at the base of the logs. It caught flame with a bright flare that settled into a steady, warm blaze. 

Owen fiddled under his coat, clutching his amulet. He hadn't taken it off in nearly six years. His heart was already pounding away next to the amulet, heating the red stone. Owen heard a thump as Noah shed his heavy overcoat. To his right, Kel unwrapped his own scarf and added it on top of Riley's numerous layers, followed by his own coat. Conner had already stripped to his longjohns, and Patty was pulling off her boots. 

"It's best if you get the clothes off before it starts," Noah advised him gently, pulling off his shirt. "You don't want to rip anything." 

Owen nodded nervously. He had always been like Riley until now, waiting in cast off layers for the moon to finally cast light over the clearing. He tugged at the laces of his boots, his ears attuned to the soft sounds of clothes falling to the ground around him. Owen was down to his skivvies, shivering, when a low groan made him look up. 

The moon had risen. It loomed behind the mountains, thin wisps of clouds curling around and under its glow. Full, and huge, it stretched up, up, and at last pulled free of the horizon. Kel's head dropped back to his shoulders as he groaned again. Noah fell into a crouch. Conner stretched his arms forward. Patty threw her head back and let out a high, mournful cry, that slipped into a wild howl as she shuddered and folded, her forelimbs lengthening, her hair spreading to cover her entire body in dark brown fur. She threw back her muzzle and howled again. This time, Kel joined in, his voice dark and melodic. Noah and Conner joined, Conner an octave above both his brothers. 

Owen's throat ached to join in, like he had dreamed each full moon. But he clung to the amulet, his hand like a vise. If he took it off, he'd have no excuse. He hesitated. The voices dwindled off. A cold nudge to his elbow brought him back to reality, and he looked up at Kel's amber eyes. He was a huge werewolf, larger than a pony, but even a smaller werewolf like Patty could never be confused for a true wolf. It was the eyes, and the legs, with their strangely long paws and bent limbs. Kel nudged him again, his eyes gentle. 

Swallowing, Owen pulled the amulet over his head, and tossed it into the fire. For the first time, he felt the moon steal over his skin. It itched like crazy, like his skin was crawling, moving. He scratched at thick, dark fur that coated his arms, his legs, his chest. He cried out as his fingers cracked and twitched, becoming longer, thicker, built for running and clawing. He ran his tongue around a lengthening mouth, sharpening teeth, and finally, finally, settled in a crouch and tipped his head back to the moon, letting loose a howl. 

His siblings joined in joyously, howling and yipping, their voices bouncing off the mountains and echoing back like a pack of a hundred. Owen pulled in air through his nose for the first time, marking the scent of each of his pack, his family. The fire in front of him snagged in his nostrils, sharp and acrid, but below that was the scent of the trees, clean, and the earth, and a deer, stinking of fear as it bounded away. Owen ached to chase it. 

As if he had read Owen's mind, Noah rose to all four feet, summoning his pack with a low grumble. Owen bounded up, his tail betraying his excitement. Patty and Conner panted and yipped, circling Noah impatiently. Noah held them back until Kel straightened from his crouch, Riley steady on his shoulders. 

With a huff, Noah bounded forward, Patty and Conner on his heels, Owen and Kel bringing up the rear. They raced down the mountain, the scent of the deer's panic like a flare. Owen stretched his new limbs, feeling the blood pound freely through his veins. He matched pace with Conner, their shoulders' brushing in perfect unison. Patty yipped as she broke off to the right. Conner steered Owen to the left, surrounding the deer. They were so close now, he could hear the deer's heart pound. In the distance, another voice lifted to the moon. Wilder, older, and burdened by sorrow, but still celebrating a new member of the pack. 

[damedechance]

playgirl

Read on Ao3 | Listen to the Playlist

Elucien NSFW Fanfic

Status: Complete (6/6) | Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4, Pt 5, Pt 6

Under the anonymous screen name witch_hazel, Elain Archeron has been moderating the chatroom of rising OnlyFans creator, swiper-no-swiping (Lucien) for a little less than a year. When he comes to Velaris from out of town, they agree to meet up, and the unspoken attraction between them reaches a boiling point.

Heyyyy guys. It is finished! See below for a silly lil fake tweet I made using pics from pinterest, followed by a silly lil snippet <3 ttyl

A bathroom. Perfect.

Elain fell back against the door, both to catch her breath and to keep the door shut in case anyone walked in to find her absolutely losing her shit. As she waited for her heart rate to approach a more normal pace, she scanned the bathroom to make sure that it was empty.

It was incredibly nice, as far as public restrooms went. It was perfectly clean, and the sink to her immediate right was set in a gorgeous, black marble counter. She set her empty glass down there before she looked at the rest of the room. The stalls were each completely closed off in their separate rooms with a full door, instead of short, metal partitions, and on the opposite wall…

There was a urinal. Elain had somehow found her way into the men’s room.

Immediately, she reached behind herself to lock the door, but she didn’t feel it latch. When she turned around to look at it, she found that the lock was broken.

Elain stared dumbfounded at the door for a moment, before looking back down to her hands.

Now that she had actually given herself a moment to breathe, her attempt to find some privacy so that she could sext Lucien seemed even more ridiculous. Her reflection stared back at her from her screen, and she could see that her eyes were wide, and her hair had become somewhat undone. She looked absolutely mad.

So tell me what they look like, Elain.

“Fuck it,” Elain muttered. Imagining Lucien’s voice asking about her panties was enough to get her right back on track, no matter how ludicrous it was. She whirled around and headed straight for the first toilet, and shut the door behind her. At least the stall locked, even if the door to the entrance didn’t.

The entire bathroom might have been small, but once she was in the stall, Elain felt absolutely claustrophobic. The walls went from the floor to the ceiling, completely enclosing the space, and it was so cramped that she hardly had the room to turn around. But eventually, Elain managed. She propped up one foot–clad in a very expensive heel–on the toilet lid, and opened up her phone camera.

When she was done, Elain smoothly stepped out of the stall, and set her phone down beside the sink while she calmly, very normally washed her hands. Her screen remained unlocked, and right there in her text thread with Lucien were two new messages.

Elain: fine, you were right

Elain: if only you were here to call me out on the lie [Picture Attached]

Elain was wearing a white lace thong, for the record.

[ladytanithia]

Writing WIP Wednesday (10/18)

I shared a different snippet of this chapter a while back, and I'm about to post it sometime today, so it almost doesn't qualify as a WIP anymore (unless you're counting the whole unfinished story). This is from Chapter 27 of Out of the Ashes.

Tagging my talented writer friends: @dirty-bosmer @gwilin-stay-winnin @mareenavee @skyrim-forever @thana-topsy @thechaosdragoness @thequeenofthewinter

Teldryn insisted on keeping his helmet on until Geldis had delivered their snack and Miranja had closed the door and locked it. She felt rather honored being given the key, even if only for a few moments. She sat down and laid the key on the table between them as he removed the helmet and fluffed out his sweaty hair with his fingers.

“Is it just me, or does Raven Rock feel weird now?” Miranja asked, taking a sip from the bottle Geldis had already uncorked for her.

“Raven Rock’s always been rather uncomfortable for me,” Teldryn admitted. “I’ve always felt something like an outlander myself here, despite being a Dunmer. In all the time I’ve been here, you’re the only one who’s seen my face. People don’t come right out and voice their suspicion, but they don’t go out of their way to talk to me, either.”

“Isn’t that lonely, Tel?”

“Yes, but I’ve felt it necessary. Especially knowing there are still MT assassins on Solstheim looking for you.”

“Which is about the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of,” Miranja growled, shaking her head. “I visited the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary ONE TIME, helped myself to one of their sexy leather uniforms and one of their not-so-sexy mage uniforms, never took a single contract from them, and never went back. Yet the MT thinks I’m a member, and how they even got that information is beyond me.”

“Well, whether they’re misinformed or not, they still come here. As long as you’re living here, it’s not safe for me to reveal my identity.”

“I’m sorry, Tel. Perhaps I’ve overstayed my welcome here. I have plenty of properties in Skyrim I could move to.”

“Or, as I think you mentioned once, I could move to one of them. Or ask your steward if he’d be willing to sell his old cottage in Riverwood. Maybe we could both move to Skyrim.”

They looked at one another for a long moment, just considering their possibilities.

“I’ve made arrangements here, set up trade between Raven Rock and Skaal Village, rented some untainted land for a small crop to share, things like that. I’d have to either end that arrangement or find someone who can maintain it if I leave. I know that Argis has started a relationship with Bralsa and she nearly lives at Severin Manor now, but I don’t know if Argis would want to stay here if I left. He does have the advantage with the Skaal of being a full-blooded Nord, so they trust him.”

“If I left, you wouldn’t have to.” Tel stuffed a large chunk of cheese into his mouth.

“We don’t have to make this decision today,” Miranja said, taking a swig from her mead bottle. “But I will talk to Argis, probably tomorrow, and see how attached he is to Solstheim – and to Bralsa. I’d be happy to leave him in charge of the manor, maybe even sign it over to him eventually if I don’t see myself doing anything more than visiting here. Right now, though, my brain hurts. I might even forego dinner tonight and just go to bed early. Tomorrow is the first of the month, and I’ll need to accompany Argis to Skaal Village for our monthly trade.”

“Well, if nothing else, I can say that my curiosity has been well and fully satisfied.”

“And?”

“And I understand for myself why you’re so well-loved here – and in Skyrim. I can’t say you don’t have a dishonest bone in your body, but I can say that you do have a conscience about it when you do have to be dishonest. You care about people probably more than is good for you, you’re talented, and you’re unapologetic about sharing pleasure with whoever you choose. I’m very glad to have gotten to know you, Miranja.”

Miranja had looked down at the table modestly as Tel had listed off the things he appreciated about her. Now she looked up at him and smiled sincerely. “I’m glad to have gotten to know you better, too, Tel. Even if that isn’t really your name, I still feel like I’ve gotten to know the real you. I’d like to keep you in my life, one way or another.”

“Count on it, my dear.”

Once they’d eaten and drunk their fill, Tel stood with Miranja to hug and kiss her tenderly before escorting her to the door.

“I’ll see you soon, probably tomorrow afternoon,” Miranja promised.

“You know where to find me,” Tel replied with a wink and a crooked, saucy smile.

[hekateinhell]

Would you ever write more about trans!Armand and his three boyfs having fun? 🥺 Yes I might be a bit hinting on something but... you know... you write it so well... 🥺

I would! I just don't know when, things shift around on my fic writing to-do list so much 😭

but I feel bad because I did say I was gonna write it months ago and then I DIDN'T so here's a snippet from what I have languishing in the google gocs that's set in the same AU! mostly armand ruminating on his changing body and the challenges it brings in the bedroom (nsfw) this is supposed to be leading to the gangbang eventually:

He shuts the bedroom door gently and deposits the little white bag on the bed. Armand still hasn't fully settled into the new place – it's home, but it's fragile, tentative – he needs to be careful. 

He starts from the bottom up. Stripping socks, pants, underwear. There's always been a peculiar distinction to him between outside clothes and inside clothes. Everything has to change, even the underwear. Next is the sweater, then the undershirt. 

Finally comes the binder. 

Black and sturdy, it binds all the way down to his belly button, compressing his chest entirely. 

He's lucky, he supposes. Armand's chest – like most of him – had always been on the smaller end of the spectrum. Each side is large enough that Lestat's palms can cover them completely and not much more. 

Still, he craves the illusion of total flatness that a binder provides, and as much as it's nice to shed it and allow his body to relax fully, it always hits him with an initial sense of loss. 

Armand hasn't quite figured out which size and brand works best, and a quality binder is a rather expensive purchase. This one, one of two he has, is a bit too tight and always leaves his chest and sides sore from where it has been pressing down into his tender skin. If anyone else were home, Armand might curl up and ask for a quick massage that would inevitably lead to kissing and fooling around. Later, perhaps. 

Besides, it's good that he has the place to himself, a rare moment of privacy that's hard to come by when four men share a one-bedroom apartment. 

He rubs at his chest absentmindedly for a moment before turning to the dresser. Slips on a fresh pair of briefs and then wonders why he did it – they're about to come off again in a minute. Skips the neatly folded t-shirts in his drawer in favor of the ratty gray sweatshirt stuffed into Daniel's drawer. 

The length hits Armand precisely above his knees, the fabric slipping off to expose his shoulder. He loves wearing their things: Daniel's sweatshirts, Lestat's band tees, Louis's collared shirts – he would wear their pants too if they didn't just fall off him entirely. 

Armand never asks, and nobody seems to mind. 

There's something extraordinarily soothing about disappearing into his lovers' clothes, the feel of each material holding a different association, drowning in their scents whenever he craves that particular comfort. 

Comfort that Armand could use. 

He takes a deep breath and drops onto the bed before reaching into the bag, pulling out the boxed set of dilators, holding it at arm's length, turning it over gingerly as if it has already personally offended him.  

Better to get this over with. 

Made quick work of the packing and did a cursory review of the instructions – nothing that the sweet salesperson hadn't already gone over with him while Armand had stood there, awkwardly shifting his weight from one side to the other, trying his hardest not to blush and failing spectacularly. 

Five purple cylinders, each with a different length and girth, starting small and gradually increasing in both measures. 

Armand's heartbeat picks up, and his throat feels achingly dry. 

It's not arousal; in fact, he's the opposite of turned on right now. His body knows this is going to be uncomfortable to start with, at best. Interesting how drastically his pain threshold drops when it wasn't tied directly to intimacy, to someone he loves inflicting it on him. And not in a bad way, no, it's just that he'd begged for sex before, even when it physically hurt — he'd delighted in the aches and the stings and in attributing each one to a particular lover. 

But this? Using these tools regularly on himself in the hope that he could retrain his front hole to regain its elasticity? 

It's been a while since anyone had managed to work more than two fingers inside before insisting he was 'too tight, there's no give'; Armand would 'get hurt.' 

Simply put, this was a source of intimacy Armand isn't yet willing to concede. He is stubborn, if nothing else. It's not enough to have his hole touched or for Lestat, Louis, or Daniel to rub against him and press their tip to his hole to ensure some cum made it in. 

[maidenofartemis]

Starry Night

Feliz año nuevo everyone, although I am a few days late. This was a request that I took from @and-claudia, I just kept getting too nervous to post. 😅

I hope you all enjoy, if you notice any errors please let me know as english is my second language. 😊

Lunch time was a fairly boring affair that day for the members of the Hellfire Club, it came with the usual teasing from the basketball team, sneers from some of the cheerleaders, and teachers assigning exorbitant amounts of work close to the weekend. 

Only for the peace to be shattered as a heavy book was slammed on the lunch table and startling all of the boys that had been eating. 

“Did any of you hear that the Voyager 2 is soon to complete its journey in the Uraniun system and will soon be heading to the Neptunian system as we speak?” (Y/N) asked excitedly, pulling out pages from her backpack and showing the various notes that she had on the aforementioned subject. 

While Eddie watched his girlfriend adoringly, he listened as attentively as he could to her ramblings about the possibilities that came with learning more about the planetary systems that were so far away from their own. Since they first got to know one another, it was apparent to not just Eddie but to the entire group that (Y/N) had a deep fascination for learning anything about the stars, planets, and anything that related to space. 

It was small snippets of facts and the occasional mention of something related to astronomy in the beginning, before she eventually became comfortable to ask the group if they would ever mind her talking about her favorite subject. The moment everyone gave their approval was like the floodgates had been left open and she frequently would bring up the topic about her absolute favorite subject. 

Soon enough, the bell rang signaling the end of lunch. 

Eddie teasingly bowed to (Y/N) and offered to take her backpack, “It would be the greatest honor if you would give me the chance to walk you back to your class m’lady.” 

“Then I shall bestow the honor, my beloved knight” she giggled. “But we must make haste, I would not dare make you late to your next class.” 

“For you, my love, I would be late to every one of my classes.” 

Letting Eddie lead her towards her next class, (Y/N) held onto him and gently bumped her hip against him. 

“Hey sunshine?” Eddie asked. 

“Yeah, moon pie.” 

“Want to go on a date with me tomorrow?” 

She looked up at him with a furrowed brow, “Moon pie, you do know that we’re dating, right?” 

“I know that, I just wanted to know if you’re free tomorrow night for a date.” 

“Oh, well yeah.” She said, “I don’t work tomorrow and should be free all of tomorrow.” 

“Great! Then I’ll pick you up at 7, be dressed in your most cozy outfit.” 

With a quick kiss, Eddie dropped her off at her class and walked away with a skip in his step. 

——

The following evening, Eddie knocked on his girlfriend’s at precisely 7 o’clock. A bouquet of flowers that he had picked while on his drive to her house, held gingerly in his hands. 

“Ready to be swept off your feet?” 

She giggled as she accepted the bouquet, “Again? The amount of times that you sweep me off my feet, I might as well let you carry me all the time.” 

“If I had the strength for it, then I would carry you everywhere and have you with me all the time.” 

Her face warmed in embarrassment, “Okay, okay. Where are you taking me?” 

“That’s for me to know and you to make a guess, because I am going to cover your eyes with a bandanna and you will find out when we get there.” 

She looked at him skeptically, “You better drive us there carefully. I will wind up with motion sickness if I can’t see where we are going.” 

“I have a feeling that it will be worth it, just watch!” 

Turning around, she let him begin tying it around her eyes. 

“I won’t be able to watch anything! But I trust you moon pie, now take me!” 

“That’s for another night, this will be something else!” 

Eddie guided her carefully out the door and into his van (which later he realized sounded a little bit sketchy) before carefully driving them further and further away from Hawkins. The occasional moments of silence filled with the music riffs from his favorite groups. 

After a bit of a drive, he finally pulled to a stop and softly tapped on her thigh, “You can take the bandanna off sweetheart.” 

When she did, (Y/N) let out a soft gasp and tearily smiled. 

She could see that he had set up a couple of pallets, some fluffy pillows and what looked like a cozy blanket. He had driven them to the hills a fair distance from Hawkins, making the night sky clearer for them to see.  

“I figured that my very own star, should have the best view of the stars that she talks about so often” Eddie said sheepishly. 

Giddily she pulled Eddie closer and kissed him softly, pouring as much of her love into the kiss as she could. 

“Thanks moon pie,” she whispered. “I think this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, really.” 

Eddie took that moment to step out of the van and walk around to open her door, “Come on sunshine.” 

Once more she let her boyfriend lead her and he lovingly fluffed up the pillows and bundled the blanket around her. 

“Tonight’s your night, sunshine” Eddie smiled. “Tell me, what are we watching?” 

(Y/N) grinned, “Well moon pie. We should have a clear view of the northern celestial hemisphere…..”

And as Eddie listened with a dreamy sigh, he could practically picture many more starry nights like these in the future but maybe one day, with a curly haired cherub listening intently beside him.