#this is about a CR fic

[jeffersonbarnes]

I love fandom and everything it comes with so it absolutely breaks my heart when I forget the name of an amazing fic so now I can never find it again and I’m afraid it might be deleted and no one knows which one I’m talking about and it’s very specific tags and kinks and-

Umm anyway I FUCKING love fandom and everything it comes with.

[average-hua-cheng-fan]

another reason i think that xie lian felt an instant connection on the ox cart is because he and hua cheng both grew up in xianle.

there are maybe 4 people still alive that grew up in that culture. based on my own experience, you can pick up on things like accent, cadence, references, and humor that suggest a person is from the same place as you without consciously noticing it. that sense of comfort and similarity probably played into their instant chemistry.

[quinn-of-aebradore]

I am just stuck on the visual of Essek sitting anxiously at home, knowing that Caleb is in danger and trying not to Send to him, trying to let him do what he needs to.

And then he feels, so deep in his bones, a wave of dunamis only matched by that of the time nap in Aeor, and knows something has gone terribly wrong.

So he tries to Send. To reach out to his husband and make sure he’s okay.

And all he gets is static.

[essektheylyss]

how do people stan a character without being unreasonably gleeful when they're threatened. could not be me.

[awaytobeunshaken]

Orym grunts as Ashton’s fingers dig under his armor, lifting him off the ground and pinning him against a nearby tree. “This needs to fucking stop. Every damn fight we’re in anymore it’s like you’re fucking trying to get yourself killed.”

“I’m just… trying… to keep… everyone safe.”

“No, I’m trying to keep everyone safe.” And Ashton increases the pressure on Orym’s chest just a little. “And that’s a lot harder when the guy who’s supposed to be helping me with that has a fucking death wish.” They let Orym go, not fully releasing their hold until his feet are touching the ground, but not bothering to be gentle about the descent either.

“I dont… have…” he starts, rubbing the spot on his chest where Ashton’s knuckles had dug in. “You know what’s at stake here. I’m not trying to get killed. But I swore I would see this through, and I don’t think we can afford to hold back anymore.”

“You’re so fucking selfish.” Orym opens his mouth to protest but Ashton continues, “You know what it’s like to lose people. How can you be so casual about doing that to someone else?”

Orym stands to his full three foot three and drives a fist into Ashton’s thigh. “Fuck you. I lost everything that day. This isn’t the same and you know it.”

Ashton keeps his gaze fixed at his own eye level. “Yeah, and you’re so fucking sure of that, aren’t you?”

“Ash?” Orym swallows and looks up. “What…”

“Forget it. It’s not like I expect this to go anywhere, or need it to. But ‘seeing this through’ is gonna be a lot fucking harder if you’re not there with us. However you wanna take that.”

[socallmedaisy]

Laudna has been quiet since they were shown to guest rooms in the Castle for the night. Imogen recognises the silence; it usually means Laudna is lost in her own thoughts, or maybe today it's memories of this place, only now she has no way of knowing exactly what Laudna is thinking about. 

She's glad of that, truly, but there are times like this when she misses it, just a little. 

They're sharing a bed like they always do, Imogen curled into Laudna, Laudna bent towards her like a flower reaching for the light, their hands joined loosely between them, the tips of Laudna's fingers caught up in Imogen's. Fearne is breathing deep and steady in the other bed—none of them had said anything, but when the guards had shown them to two guest rooms, the three of them had walked purposefully into one of them and shut the door behind them before anyone else could follow—and Imogen inches her head forward, squeezes Laudna's fingers until Laudna's eyes flicker open to look at her. 

(It's the biggest tell she's not really asleep; when she is, her eyes are open.)

Imogen glances towards Fearne's bed, then taps a finger against her own temple and arches an eyebrow in a question, and waits for Laudna to nod her consent before she joins their minds together. 

Are you alright? Imogen tries to keep her thoughts gentle, like maybe Laudna will startle. She bites her lip and then asks the second part of her question, the one that's been rolling around in the pit of her stomach since they were getting ready for bed in silence. Since she was mean to a man who had done nothing other than share his name with a boy Laudna used to know. Did I do something? 

What? Laudna's thought comes back at once, not quite as gentle. No, I—

Imogen forces herself to wait, watches Laudna shake her head imperceptibly against the pillow. 

Laudna frowns. It's just this place. And—

And what? Imogen asks, anxiety twisting in her chest, when no more words come. 

I don't like being here. But I don't think I hate it. And I certainly don't hate the de Rolos. But she does. And sometimes I'm not sure how much of what I'm feeling about this place is me and how much of it is… not me. Laudna meets her eyes again, unblinking and then looks away quickly, like she's ashamed. Imogen hates it, instantly. 

It must be hard to come back to the place where— Imogen swallows, To come back here, after everything that happened. I don't think you have to have your feelings all neatly sorted out. I'm not sure anyone could given the circumstances. 

She swallows the urge to say she's not sure how she feels about this place either, how last time she was here and Laudna wasn't and it was one of the worst times of her life. 

Laudna doesn't say anything, but she does tighten her grip on Imogen's fingers, and after a second she dips her head forward so she can press her mouth against the tips of them. It makes Imogen shiver. 

I thought that's what we could do later, Laudna says eventually, and for a second Imogen is so focused on Laudna kissing her fingers she thinks Laudna means something else entirely. Go to try to find the good parts of Whitestone, if I can remember any. I thought it might help. She shifts on the bed, her knees bumping up against Imogen's. 

Finally, Laudna glances up at her, through her lashes. Imogen releases a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. 

But then after what happened with Andrew I'm not sure I should let you loose on anyone else I remember or who might remember me. There's a spark in Laudna's eye when she says it, her sing song lilt back in Imogen's head, and Imogen huffs out a breath, embarrassed. 

Can you blame me for defending you? If I ever meet that kid—

Darling, Laudna cuts in, leaning forward quickly, you realise you don't have to make up for every bad thing that ever happened to me? I already have you. That's enough. 

Imogen swallows, hard, and tangles her fingers more tightly with Laudna's. I wish you wouldn't say stuff like that when we're sharing a room. She wonders if her thought might have sounded breathless in Laudna's head. She hopes it did, hopes Laudna knows exactly how it makes Imogen feel when she says things like that. 

Laudna's eyes flick over towards the other bed again. Fearne can't hear us—

I know, but it makes me want to kiss you so bad. 

For half a second, she can't believe she said it, but then Imogen watches Laudna's pale cheeks grow a shade darker and she's glad she did. 

Oh, Laudna thinks. She shifts again, and it brings her even closer, her lips inches from Imogen's. Imogen watches Laudna's eyes flick down then back up to meet Imogen's gaze.  Maybe just once couldn't hurt. 

Imogen silences the voice that says it's a bad idea and darts forward to close the space between them at once, her fingers nudging Laudna's chin up to meet her. She presses her lips to Laudna's softly, almost afraid to move, but not wanting it to end, her forehead coming to rest against Laudna's before she breaks the contact. 

They stay there, savouring the closeness. 

I'm glad you're here, Laudna says in her head, and the thought is soft like a secret. Always, but especially today. 

Imogen presses her forehead a little closer and nods against Laudna's cold skin. I'm glad you're here too. 

[staticrevelations]

imogen corruption arc where she scours old tomes and dark rituals to find out how to banish delilah and then tether laudna's soul back into her body and, either then or at the time of imogen's death, tethers her own soul to laudna's like delilah did so they can spend the rest of laudna's long, undead life together

[glossolali]

more heroforges from my SWM cyberpunk h/c fic! part of my winter's crest gift exchange fic for @wanderingbasilisk aka wandie bc they gave me scifi/android/cyberpunk brain rot and so i gave them 6k of said brain rot lol

pls enjoy 🙏💜

[fjorests-of-wildemount]

Ashton wonders what it would be like to kiss Orym right up until the moment they do it. They know from past partners it's kinda weird, and a little uncomfortable because their lips don't quite give like they're supposed to. They scrape their lower lip with their own teeth and shudder at the sensation. Think about how soft and pillowy Dorian's lips must be in comparison and sets it aside.

They always hurt, but when Orym puts his hands on them sometimes, that ache turns almost sweet. Ashton can tell the difference between pain and want, and Orym's small hands break through the noise enough that Ashton's started to dream about it. They should put a stop to it, probably, because Orym has no clue the kind of feelings he's causing. Probably better to just say it hurts too much and walk away, but then Orym's face would do that thing where he gets all disappointed and that's a completely different kind of hurt. So they let him . . . They never ask for it, but Orym always seems to know what they need.

Ashton is thinking about kissing Orym but it's the wrong time, the kind of desperate irrational desire that surges through their impulse control when they panic. Orym's conscious but covered in blood--his own, someone else's, it's probably too much for one halfling, right?--and Ashton's hands shake around the cork on the potion bottle. What the fuck are they even doing here, why did they get involved in this mess, they're on the wrong fucking continent and Orym's going to die--

"Hey," Orym manages, feverish green eyes staring unfocused at Ashton. "Breathe. I'm okay."

Ashton's going to burst into tears so instead they muffle a sob against Orym's bruised lips. Orym freezes for a moment, but then goes soft and pliant under Ashton. This touch . . . Their body sings. It's a good touch.

Orym gently breaks away but doesn't go far. He leans his forehead gently against Ashton's and cups their cheek.

"Let's talk after, okay?" Orym says. Ashton can taste the healing potion on their own lips and nods.

"That's a fucking promise, yeah?"

Orym brushes another faint kiss across their lips. "Promise."

[aq2003]

fishing boat percy

[utilitycaster]

no one would have had the spell slots after the battle anyway but. Fearne's gonna have to prep Greater Restoration for tomorrow I guess.

[fia-bonkginya]

Wrayne doesn’t bother finishing her sentence. She can hear the transmission cut out, and she knows that Cerrit can’t hear her anymore. So she takes a moment, just one, to close her eyes and breathe, before Kir speaks up, his voice much quieter than usual.

“Mom? Why’d you stop talking?”

She swallows, opens her eyes, and looks at her children. Kir’s eyes are wide, frightened and confused, and Maya is still clutching that strange orb like it holds the answers to all of life’s problems, and maybe it does. “Sometimes,” Wrayne says, “when there’s powerful magic where you are, it can stop other kinds of magic from working. Your father is in a place with a lot of magic right now, and that magic got so strong that it broke his sending stone.”

Kir nods, and Wrayne can see Maya’s eyes narrow a bit as she processes that, trying to decide if she believes it. And Wrayne isn’t lying- that is a simplified version of the truth, or at least what she believes the truth is. “Do you think he’s really coming home?” Maya asks, voice small, hands still tight around the orb.

Wrayne kneels down in front of them, puts one hand on Kir’s cheek and the other on Maya’s shoulder. “He promised that he’d try. So we’re going to be patient, and we’re going to trust him, and we’re going to hold onto our hope, alright?”

Both children nod, their eyes shining with tears that she’s sure will be shed in the coming days. 

~~

Later, after both children have fallen into an uneasy sleep, Wrayne grabs a piece of parchment paper and sits down at the kitchen table to do some math.

She writes down her own top speed, and how many miles she can cover in a day before needing to rest. And then she thinks for a second, about how far and fast she could really fly, if there was danger behind her and maybe ahead of her, if she was trying to reach her family before that danger did, and she scribbles out those numbers and writes two more, higher this time. And then she thinks again, about Cerrit’s training, of all his years flying and fighting through the city of Avalir, and she scribbles again, makes them just a little bit higher.

Next, she moves through the home, checking on the children for a moment, making sure that they’re still asleep, until she finds a map of Exandria. She lays it out on the table, and then she draws an X over Domunas, where Cerrit was, and another over her own location. 

And then Wrayne starts drawing a line.

She curves it, over islands and coastlines, knowing that even Cerrit will need to pause to rest. And when she’s done, she measures it, and she goes back to those two numbers that she wrote, and she calculates. 

Three weeks.

Maybe four, if he’s injured or didn’t have time to plan out a route like she did and has to backtrack, or...

Three weeks, maybe four.

Wrayne drops her quill and sits back in her chair, letting out all of the breath in her lungs in a long exhale. Three weeks, maybe four. She doesn’t know what the coming days will look like, doesn’t fully understand yet what the children needed to run from, what Cerrit is trying to run from. But she will hold onto these numbers. They will be her strength, they will give her what she needs to make sure the three of them, her and Maya and Kir, are ready for Cerrit when he returns.

Because he has to return.

Three weeks, maybe four.

She can endure.

[professorthaddeus]

honestly, i thought imogen would be furious.

i thought she would be screaming and ruthless in that way that she gets when it’s laudna on the line, i thought she would demand that laudna be brought back, that they fix this and choose her

but instead she just kept blubbering apologies, and she was quiet and sad and broken and drained, and i wonder if part of the reason why she didn’t even put up a word of protest when fearne chose orym was because she felt that in some way, she deserved this. it’s her fault.

but isn’t that horrible? laudna’s death is not just a consequence for imogen, her life means so much more, imogen would never leave a choice like that up to something as petty as her own guilt—but still, imogen stayed quiet. and if they can’t fix this, they have to fix this, that’s going to be another thing to live with

[redjademilktea]

I've had this draft sitting around for a few months, but Marisha saying Laudna wants a "simple cottage core lesbian life" with Imogen in the lasted 4 Sided Dive made me want to go back and polish this up a bit!! For context, my partner asked me to write something small and imodna related with the word "baking" as a prompt. Just a quick writing exercise as a break from dissertation work. So I came up with this!!

----

"Okay one egg or two?"

"Two. And remember to add them in with the rest of the wet ingredients, not with the dry."

"You're supposed to separate- shit."

Imogen looked at the mess of ingredients, cooking utensils, and mixing bowls sprawled out on the counter in front of her. She didn't think learning this particular recipe would be walk in the park, per se. But she certainly didn't expect... well this - standing here with Laudna in their little cottage kitchen with the remnants of three (soon to be four) attempts at making a passable cookie batter splattered across various surfaces. "Start me off with somethin' easy," she had said when agreeing to baking lessons earlier in the day, "you really liked those cookies that Lord Eshertoss would bake for us, right? We can start with those." She let out a sigh at the memory.

Laudna now stood behind Imogen, peering over her shoulder at her... creation.

"Oh, you might be able to- hmmm." Laudna said as she tested the batter's flavor with her pinky. Suddenly, her eyes went wide as *something* seemed to hit her. Imogen cringed slightly as she awaited the verdict.

"Imogen, darling, you did add two *teaspoons* of vanilla, not tablespoons, correct?"

"Is there a difference?"

"A bit of one, yes," Laudna said with a low chuckle.

"Sorry Laudna," Imogen sighed. She moved to rub her eyes before quickly realizing her damn hands - just like everything else in the kitchen, really - were coated in that sad excuse for a cookie batter. She frustratedly began Prestidigitationing them clean before pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to quell an oncoming headache. Before she could get too anxious about the prospect of starting over *one more fucking time*, she felt thin arms wrap around her from behind.

"Imogen, darling, it's alright," Laudna hummed, "I always felt Eshteross was too, well, *extravagant* with his recipe writing. It can make it hard to follow at times." Laudna gestured with one of her hands wildly to emphasize the point in a way that Imogen couldn't help but smile at. "Honestly, do we really need to know what he was eating for breakfast or what life lessons his mother taught him as a child right before telling us to brown the butter?"

"You criticizin' his recipe writing, Laudna?" Imogen asked, already feeling the tension behind her eyes melting away.

"Well, yes, but I don't think he's open to any feedback at the moment."

Imogen let out a small gasp before turning her head to meet Laudna's eyes. "Laudna!" Imogen gave her a stern look in an attempt at mock consternation, but quickly relented into a fond gaze as soon as she caught sight of the way Laudna was leaning her head onto Imogen's shoulder.

"Well all I'm saying is, I love a good set of flowery prose, but there's a time and place. And a recipe certainly isn't the place! Besides, I've always said you were *very* capable. If it's giving you trouble, the recipe is obviously worded poorly!"

Imogen laughed more fully this time. Gods, Laudna could make her feel better about anything, even if it meant defending her honor and recipe following abilities to a dead man. She took a deep breath, taking in the subtle, earthy smell of fallen leaves to help ground her. She opened her eyes to Laudna's warm grin before planting a soft kiss on her lips.

"Thanks baby. Alright, one more time from the top okay with you?"

"Of course darling, just remind me to pick up more eggs from the market tomorrow. We may need to... restock soon."

[essektheylyss]

Open, non-exhaustive list of content I would read/watch in a heartbeat about the political situation in Rexxentrum post-Solstice:

One-shot or mini-arc of the Nein going full National Treasure level heist on the Cerberus Assembly records management department before a Ludinus simulacrum can reach the burn boxes

Faux Trump aide exposé-style novel of Athesias Uludan compiling and publishing The Dirt in the aftermath as part of his apology/comeback tour

Colville-run Dirty Dozen one-shot or EXU of Oliver Schreiber dragging some particularly unruly ex-Scourgers out of semi-retirement (read: house arrest) to take Ludinus out once and for all in exchange for full indemnity

Found documents a la Midst appendices of the Cobalt Soul documentation and evidence compiled about the incident

The Archmage: An Autobiography by Martinet Ludinus Da'leth (discovered and published posthumously) [1500 pages and riddled with exaggeration and inaccuracies, the last 20% has clearly been written by AI a simulacrum]

Lorekeeper rundown Youtube video from Dani Carr

Yet another novel: Wildemount's most (in)famous and (un)reliable documentarian smelled a story (Taryon's version)

Literally just a main campaign episode of the Nein infodumping to Allura at a war council meeting with the Hells present. I need this information so badly. I am fucking begging.

This sounds like it runs the gamut in level in terms of seriousness but I would like it stated for the record that I would unhinge my jaw to consume any item on this list.

[ratinayellowbandana]

"next to my darling"

hand slipped. wrote more laudna introspection. spiced it up and set it during the end of c3:e91. bon appetite. i might have a problem.

~~~

The stone settles acrid on Laudna’s tongue, and she licks her lips to expel the taste. Her skin burns with shallow scrapes that smart and snarl with moon-dusted fury. Ichor clings, thick and viscous, to hair pulled loose from its tie. It flutters in her eyes, but she cannot bring herself to lift her arms and brush it away. Her limbs are molten, bruised, and aching. She presses on. 

Because her eyes still sting with the flash-bright of a guiding bolt with the wrong-right target. Because her ears ring with the piercing screams of not one but two of her murderers that echoed deafeningly off red rock and redder eardrums. Because she holds a clump of wires in one fist and Imogen’s trembling hand in the other.