Tonight's mood:

In need of an all day tease and denial thing at the hands of a demon femme.

Where she's woken up before me because I had a hell of a day the day before and am tired. Her kisses are gentle, yet firm and one of the few things that can coax me out of a deep sleep. I'm still bleary eyed when she pulls the leather cuffs from the nightstand and holds my gaze as she fastens them around my wrists then attaches them with rope to the anchor points bolted to the bed.

And then her kisses are gone and she's just out of reach, but then I can see what she's wearing: her favorite lingerie set that she knows I adore on her, lacey and sheer in all the right places in a way that leaves me aching for her.

Running her hands over herself, the show is as much for her as it is for me, as a sleepy whine escapes my throat as I tug against the restraints, needing to reach out and touch her on instinct.

"Uh-uh, no touching handsome, just watch" Her voice is the softest torture to my ears because she's soooo beautiful, so perfect, she knows me so well, knows I need what she has planned, knows I'll do anything to be good for her, but my need to touch her is so strong, and I know when she's like this I'll be thoroughly wrung out by the end of the night before she curls into my side again.

She waits until I nod my understanding with a quiet "yes Ma'am" before she resumes her show as I take her in greedily, losing myself in her motions until her fingers dip under the lacey fabric of her panties and she lets out the sweetest moan, shuddering as she pleasures herself, all sense of teasing tossed aside and I can't help but let out another whine, my hips bucking, clit aching at the absence of any stimulation, of watching her fill herself with her fingers wishing it was me filling her, knowing it should be me filling her.

It's an exercise in quiet futility, the closer she gets to her release, the more I tug on my restraints, whining and whimpering softly, not enough to distract her and make her stop, but enough that she knows I'm already so needy for her. More moans spill from her lips and her breath hitches, my body tensing with hers, and then she finally finds her release and even though my body relaxes with her, there's none of the bliss that's gracing her features, only lingering, throbbing need.

She leans forward and kisses me, still breathless, before she undoes my restraints and moves out of my grasp with a smile on her lips.

Throughout the day she teases me, orders me around, and I'm all too happy to lean into it, to sink into it because I've been carrying on, trudging along for a while and I'm eager to put that weight aside for a time.

She's got my chin gingerly between her thumb and forefinger, while I edge myself me over and over for her, I've lost count how many, wave after wave of building pressure never quite peaking, pushing all thoughts out until I'm a panting, whining, whimpering mess for her, but it feels so good to be good for her, too good to stop edging, too good to dare to cum, and she knows it.

Humping her leg after being given permission only for her to look down with a dismissive "that's enough now, pup."

Clinging to her and shuddering as I stop, burying my face in her thigh and nodding, muttering a thank you.

Then later in the evening, a while after I've made us dinner, we're in bed where this day started and there's a glimmer of hope in my eyes, she'd asked me to hard pack after dinner...surely this time she'd let me cum?

It doesn't take much to make me empty headed again, she's in my lap, grinding against my bulge and kissing my neck 'til I'm dizzy with her. Just her, Her, HER in a loop in my mind. So much so that I don't even realize the static noise floating around my ears is made up of my whines and whimpers and frantic pleas of "please, Ma'am" and "baby, please" and I couldn't even tell you what I was begging for.

She murmurs something I vaguely catch as her saying I've been such a good boy, so helpful, so useful, so perfect for her and she knows those words tug at my head, my heart, my entire being, she's going to use me to make her feel good, and don't I want that? To be even more useful, just for her?

I move to touch her, to help guide her hips as she rides me and feel her hand around my throat, her quiet tsk of disappointment piercing and stopping my movements.

"Toys don't touch, baby." She accentuates the word "Toys" with an intoxicating squeeze of my throat before she starts riding as my palms plant themselves on the bed, fingers digging into and gripping the blankets.

She's driving me out of my mind, the pressure of my strap hitting just right and her moans sending tingles down my spine the closer she gets to another orgasm and my pleas start again and I bury my face in her chest, trying to resist the urge, and she lets me, because I've come too far, I can't disappoint her and it's getting so hard holding out when she feels like solace and sounds like heaven, perfection incarnate.

She never says it though, never gives permission, even after she cums, even after she yawns and peels herself out of her outfit. Not even as she kisses me, and can surely see the sticky, wet, glistening mess clinging to my thighs.

"This was fun, pup, you were such a good boy for me. We should do this again." She smiles, seemingly unaware or ignoring my desperate state, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it, didn't want it again.

It wouldn't be forever either, I trust her to know me well enough to give me that release when I'm good and ready, when she's good and ready.

She knows I needed a break, and she is more than happy to give me one.

cis het men & minors dni

You have an oc who’s Sir Gareth’s child? I am intrigued 😮

Aww thank you so much!! I'm glad you're intrigued, because I'm about to ramble about her a little

So, disclaimer-- I'm no King Arthur expert. Far from it, really. I plan to read more of those stories for research soon, but what I've come up with in this universe could make every single Arthurian fan shudder collectively in horror at how I'm abusing the source material. I'm absolutely positive someone will end up feeling that way about my fairy tale retellings at this point, honestly. So feel free to take my thoughts with a grain of salt, and know that I mean no insult to the original stories

(OH and just for the record, this is set in my fairy tale world! I decided King Arthur counts as a fairy tale, so I'm encorporating them into my series. Here's hoping I do it pretty well!)

Anyways! Sir Gareth's daughter is Risha Beaumains. She doesn't spend too much time in the court with her family, but prefers to sail the high seas with her best friend, Jack Archer, as his first mate. Yes, she is a pirate. No, her family doesn't not technically condone this, but they aren't really stopping her, either

She, along with her other best friend Alec, helped start Jack's crew back in the day. When they're hanging out, the three of them have exactly one brain cell between them, and it's anyone's guess who it belongs to at any given moment

I'm pretty excited about her as a character-- I feel like she has the potential to be the kind of character I love. I'm kinda picky about liking female characters a lot of the time, and some of the ones I love the most are ones that are just human, you know? (Elizabeth McCord is a perfect example of this in my mind) My goal is to do that with Risha. And also give her a good sense of humor because that's very important to me

I've only actually written her a little so far, but she's going to have a bigger role in the next book I'm gonna write! I'm looking forward to writing her and her future boyfriend best friend since childhood Alec, they have such a fun dynamic (in my head, anyways)

Thinking too much about AFTG again and I know we rag on Neil for being oblivious but I don’t think Andrew understands for most of the story that Neil likes him back

(FYI I haven’t read all the extra content, Nora may have said something about Andrew’s mindset that contradicts this, I don’t care it’s my literary analysis and I control my interpretation and the only canon that exists is what’s in the books. Also I’m Jewish, and the number one rule is anything can be true so long as you can back it up textually)

You’ve got the whole “I’m not your answer and you sure as fuck aren’t mine” line. By this point two things have happened recently: Neil has become outwardly more emotionally and physically vulnerable, and Neil has shown more interest in spending time with Andrew as well as interest in Andrew in general. And Andrew’s response to this seems to be the assumption that Neil is having a crisis he isn’t sharing and seems to have decided that Andrew is the answer to fixing that crisis. To be fair he is having a crisis, Andrew is just an unrelated benefit.

Which makes sense, most of his relationships are based, at least in Andrew’s mind, on him providing a service in exchange for someone’s presence in his life due to his belief that people will not be around him otherwise. So if Neil is looking at him in an open, appreciative, and interested way he seems to assume it’s because Neil, the terrified guy on the run from something, has found himself enjoying the stability Andrew provides and is seeing being near Andrew as a solution to his problems. That maybe Neil has tricked himself into thinking he has feelings for Andrew because he likes having someone take care of him and that’s the reason, and we see from Andrew stopping the kiss when Neil is upset that he does not consider being interested in someone while emotionally vulnerable to be real consent, therefore if Neil is interested in him due to being upset and afraid that is not Neil actually being interested. He also is clearly very agitated by this first kiss, seeming to see himself as a predator who lost control and harmed Neil by taking advantage of him.

He also continues to do nice things for Neil after getting back, despite initially seeming to express frustration, disinterest, and distaste for Neil. Giving him keys to the car, buying him a new charger, giving Neil the shotgun seat. Andrew’s habit of feeling the need to incentivize the people he cares for to stay with him, as well as what appears to naturally be his love language of giving gifts and acts of service as a replacement for verbally sharing emotions. I’m not saying that when he’s doing nice things it’s for personal gain, but I think part of him feels good doing it and part of him believes this is all he has to offer this person. He got back and didn’t say nice things to Neil because he can’t, but he can quietly take care of Neil in a way that says “please stay with me, I want you to be ok” that he verbally can’t. He knows Neil values the ability to leave upsetting situations, that Neil reacted positively the last time Andrew gave him keys, gives Neil a way to charge his phone ie have a lifeline to safety and Andrew when needed, and he’s saying that he still implicitly trusts Neil with things that are important to him. And of course shotgun means “I want you to be the person who is nearest to me”. He similarly starts making a habit of sitting next to Neil when the team is together. Andrew very much is a cat, he’s going to swat at you but also glue himself to your side

There’s also the various moments where Andrew states out loud that he has an attraction and growing emotional attachment to Neil that he has already written off as impossible. He calls Neil a pipe dream, says he knows nothing will come of having an interest in Neil without having made any attempts to see if Neil is interested. If you follow up a confession of interest with a statement that nothing will happen, you can’t be hurt by rejection because you didn’t give the person a chance to reject you.

And it doesn’t seem like it’s because Andrew is purposely avoiding attachments to people. Most of the effort he puts into his life is in his relationships, specifically into giving people reasons to stay near him. He makes the deals with Kevin and Aaron, he could have gone to a school with a more competitive Exy program but went to one where Nicky and Aaron could come and be on the team and in fact made that a requirement, he proves to Kevin that he made the right choice in making Andrew his shield by attacking anyone who hurts Kevin and putting a target on his own back. Before the start of the books we know he went out of his way to connect with Renee and do things for her that meant a lot to her, things that again seem to represent “I am doing her a favor, therefore she will be more likely to stay.” And anything else could be written off as born again Christian charity rather than acknowledge she has love and care for him.

He doesn’t see an attempt at connecting with Neil to be useless because he has no interest in building relationships with people, if there’s anything Andrew is passionate about it’s building and maintaining relationships with people. He sees it as obviously useless because there’s no way Neil would legitimately want to be with Andrew in the same way that Andrew wants him, that it is impossible to consider Neil reciprocating the way he’s feeling because all he wants is Neil himself and he doesn’t think anyone could just want him and think it’s enough.

Neil says he allowed himself to be abused by the Raven’s for two weeks on the chance he could help Andrew, that he wants to care for Andrew even without any personal benefit, and that is when Andrew calls him a pipe dream. Neil has just said that he, the guy who previously was so terrified for his own safety that he put it above all else, would willingly sacrifice his safety for Andrew. When Neil says this Andrew covers his mouth to make him stop talking, which to me suggests that this revelation was an absolute gut punch to him, that what happened to Neil was not only for his sake but accomplished nothing. Andrew’s reaction to Neil saying this is to say that Neil was supposed to be a side effect of the drugs. Meaning what Neil just said made him feel so strongly for Neil that he previously assumed it could not possibly be something he naturally has the capacity to feel.

(And he stills says that he doesn’t think he could ever have from Neil what he wants. So yeah Neil isn’t the only one who can hear a heartfelt confession and come to the conclusion that the other person is completely uninterested)

Also the whole “there is no this” conversation they loop through a few times. Again, Andrew loves building relationships, but they all are ticking clocks in his head, most of them graduation unless he can come up with something to convince them to stay. And then Neil keeps trying to say that there exists a relationship between them that has not been carefully negotiated with a clear end date, which is probably terrifying to a guy who doesn’t think he can trust anyone unless he is providing them something that makes him more useful around than not.

What Neil is proposing is that Andrew has intrinsic value and his presence is all Neil wants, and that probably seems terrifying and untrue. If Neil isn’t getting a tangible benefit that outweighs any perceived inconveniences, and if there is no point where they “re-up” their contract, then at any moment Neil could change his mind and take this thing away from Andrew. He’s had people he loved decide he’s not worth it, he knows it can happen and how terrible it is to experience. He willingly dealt with Drake and harmed himself to keep Cass, and he still lost her because he in and of himself wasn’t enough to be kept and loved because he wasn’t easy enough to love, he was broken, he was damaged. There can’t be a non transactional relationship between them because Andrew can’t see himself being enough and thinks losing it would be too painful to willingly risk

(Nicky, Kevin, and Aaron also seem to have this same view as Neil in their own way of Andrew’s inherent worth to them. Nicky really deserves more recognition for clawing his way to happiness then willingly giving it all up and upending his life and doing things repeatedly that make him unhappy because he cares so much for Aaron and Andrew, aligning himself against possible friends who could make him happy because he will always choose supporting Andrew over himself. And you have Aaron showing that he will fight Andrew tooth and nail if it means they can have a good and lasting relationship, and we see Kevin form genuine love and affection for Andrew outside of their deal, but again Andrew seems to view the relationships at the time as transactional or obligatory on their ends)

Or my favorite, the scene where Andrew makes a comment about Neil’s “neck fetish.” Neil has kissed his neck only about two times by that point, and both times it has elicited what is clearly a pleasurable response from Andrew. But Andrew can’t accept the idea that Neil is doing something with no benefit to himself and only a benefit to Andrew, that he is choosing to take time away from his own immediate pleasure to do something solely for Andrew’s enjoyment of the moment

Neil responds to the comment by saying “You like it, I like that you like it.” Neil is saying that he cares enough about Andrew to have paid attention to what pleases him and wants to take the time when they’re together to make Andrew feel good in a way that Andrew makes him feel good, that he knows Andrew has trauma with physical touch on most of his body but this is a way he can reciprocate that has no negative connotations for Andrew and serves solely to make him feel good. And Andrew does not or cannot let himself see it that way because it’s too vulnerable.

The sex is supposed to be transactional, this is what Andrew has to offer to make Neil stay with him, uninterrupted time of Andrew making him feel good and asking for nothing in return. Neil is breaking the rules, he’s making it reciprocated, if he is making Andrew feel good then Andrew doesn’t have that safety net of being the one with something to offer. So it has to be something that secretly benefits Neil, it has to be that Neil is getting something out of it or Andrew is back to not having anything special that he offers to make Neil stay with him. If it’s just Neil sitting back while Andrew gets him off then Andrew is automatically the most convenient sexual partner for Neil and he won’t look for someone else. If it’s reciprocal, then it stops being a favor Andrew is doing and takes effort on Neil’s end, as well as means the sex includes Andrew knowing what it’s like to be loved and cared for, which means he will feel it’s absence when Neil inevitably leaves because Andrew isn’t convenient enough.

It honestly seems like the turning point is his conversation with Aaron about breaking their deal, Aaron making him choose their deal or Neil. Because it A. Forces Andrew to see that Aaron intends to stay in his life without the deal, meaning that yes one of the most important people in Andrew’s world loves him without a contract. And B. It forces Andrew into a position where he has to take a leap of faith that Neil isn’t going to just walk away, that Neil sees Andrew the way Andrew sees him. And I wonder if Aaron brought up the conversation he had with Neil, that Neil said he didn’t think Andrew would fight for him, and he realized that Neil not only has been thinking about him the way he was thinking about Neil, but that he had this person in his life that he cared about and he was acting in a way that made that person not feel valued and it could probably cause the very thing he wants to avoid by pushing him away.

So you finally get the very end of the last book where Andrew doesn’t deny it when Neil says Andrew likes him, which is for him incredibly vulnerable. He’s shown that he will always protect Neil without their deal of protection, and Neil has shown that he sees everything about Andrew that other people don’t like and he loves Andrew anyway.

Because the story is from Neil’s point of view we see his internal growth as he learns to recognize and accept love and care from others but Andrew has been doing the same, realizing and trusting that Kevin and his family will still be there even if he has nothing tangible to offer, and accepting that someone could genuinely know and understand him, all the things that make him inconvenient, and still want him with no extra incentive because even as broken as he sees himself to be he still has value to others and he can trust Neil in the way he wants Neil to trust him

I've been writing my own sci-fi universe on and off after new Trek disappointed me, and has continued to disappoint me. If I had to sum it up it would be Star Trek but more overtly communist and also military sci-fi. I've mainly been inspired by things I've read/played/watched, which has mainly been made by white or western creators, so I wanted to ask if you had any recommendations for sci-fi made by POC creators to broaden my horizons.

omg of course!!! (with the caveat that unfortunately non-Western scifi specifically is a bit of a blindspot for me, so most of these will be Western authors of colour)

Babel-17 by Samuel R. Delany

Dawn by Octavia E. Butler

Binti by Nnedi Okorafor (& i recommend reading the complete trilogy - imo it works best read together as one whole)

The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson

Stories of Your Life and Others by Ted Chiang

New Suns: Original Speculative Fiction by People of Color ed. by Nisi Shawl

How Long 'til Black Future Month? by N.K. Jemisin

I'm Waiting for You and Other Stories by Kim Bo-Young

And 2 that i personally haven't read yet but i think NEED to be mentioned, especially if we're talking space stories:

Ninefox Gambit by Yoon Ha Lee (also military scifi!)

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

also, short story anthologies!!! if you're looking for new authors or want to explore works from a specific culture/place, they're a great way to do that. here's a couple from my own reading list for this year:

Palestine + 100: Stories from a Century after the Nakba

Africa Risen: A New Era of Speculative Fiction

Readymade Bodhisattva: The Kaya Anthology of South Korean Science Fiction

Sinopticon: A Celebration of Chinese Science Fiction

& finally, i don't really watch a lot of tv/movies, but i do wanna wholeheartedly recommend:

Everything Everywhere All At Once

Janelle Monáe's Dirty Computer (free on youtube and an absolutely top tier example of afrofuturism)

Nope

They Cloned Tyrone

Sorry, I can’t, I’m just too cute today 💕 (Patreon)

A little rant about leaks because I'm lowkey dreading them. And I'd appreciate it if you'd read it (and if not... 👁👁).

I find the jjk fandom's (though it's true for others too) reliance on leaks very off-putting. I know people want to look forward to something in the middle of the week and talk about it, but this just feels disrespectful, while also being at the cost of other people getting to enjoy it as they want to whether you care about getting spoiled or not.

So many people just don't tag leaks and spoilers properly (forget places where tagging doesn't even make a difference). Seeing things trending with the context of previous chapters explains everything. Not to mention people mis-tagging spoilers and leaks interchangeably (you can remove leak tags after the chapter is officially published but not spoiler tags!!) And no, you're not subtle with your 'out of context spoilers' to someone who has all previous context.

But what boggles my mind is why would you want someone to shout the punchline of a joke in your face before any of the setup has been done. You'll have a bunch of deepfried 2 pixel screenshot of screenshot quality manga panels of crucial moments with none of the build up and pacing. Paired with the most lacklustre explainations of what's happening (the phrasing of which can be biased to the leaker's opinions). Translating isn't easy. To convey what exactly something means from one language to another in an effective and in the intended way isn't easy (shoutout to fan translators tho y'all are amazing thank you for your time and effort)

And whether you care about the story or not, heck even if you think the mangaka themself doesn't care about it, it is just so disrespectful to the content that you're consuming. Making comics and manga isn't easy (churning them weakly is insane imo esp when a lot of mangaka aren't even full time artists) so why wouldn't you allow yourself to consume their story the way they've themself laid it out. Where one panel comes after the other. Where one expression has context in the next page. Where a dialogue has weight only when placed with another dialogue. Give the creator(s) this little grace too, because whether you like a story or not, there is still a huge amount of effort and skill, by multiple people, going into it.

And I personally love interacting with the fandoms I'm in, literally sometimes the only source of joy I have (yes ik leave me alone) is interacting with other fans and having my mind blown over their art and writing and theories. And I'd rather not be spoiled unless I'm myself seeking them out or just reading the actual chapter. So this involves me either spoiling it for myself before someone else does it, or spoiler dodging for 5 OUT OF 7 DAYS A WEEK EVERY WEEK.

I'm not even saying you should only look for official sources or whatever because I know not everyone has access to legal places to read (tho the shounen jump app is there for those interested, but yeah i get it for other publications), but there are better ways to read/hate-readyour fav/least fav manga out there without ruining it for someone else. The wait is juuust a couple of days more. There is absolutely no dearth of fan made content that can't help you last another few days, maybe your new fav fan creator is right around a little wait (ahem check my bs out if you'd like ahem ahem).

I just want to be able to interact with the fandom for more than just 2 days a week, and I don't like my accounts dying because i dissapear 5 days either, and is that a such a bad thing? I come online to have fun, not run an obstacle race y'know?

I wish my brain would shut up about the timelines of tv shows because they are never 100% consistent, or anywhere near

but also when is this season of 911 taking place because chris is canonically 13 which means 2024 but surely it's not that long after the bridge collapse in 6x18?????????

okay thinking about them was the only thing that got me through work today so i'm gonna just. talk about rinne and hinata (discussion of setsubun and suicide attempts under the cut)

i was rereading night club recently and completely forgot that they mentioned setsubun festival, which i also recently read for a fic idea that i'm gonna be incorporating these ideas into hopefully, and it got me thinking about hinata.

the twins have always been outcasts and hinata makes a note of the fact that nobody ever played with them growing up so they had to make up their own games to play on their own. they are also frequently mistaken for one other which understandably gives hinata at least extreme identity issues, calling him and yuta "deformities" and "mutations" for being twins. it all culminates in the rooftop scene in setsubun where he mentions that even if he gets hurt, yuta will be fine and yuta can continue living on without him, how hinata tried to "disappear" over and over again which...can be interpreted as either suicide attempts or just simply fading into the background to allow yuta to shine.

and then his whole breakdown was filmed and disseminated to the entire student body of yumenosaki. regardless of if he knew or not, i cannot imagine that he wanted something so personal, so private aired to everyone he knows so they can see it. mika makes a comment in night club that afterwards everyone became really protective of 2wink as a whole which...to some extent, just stifled hinata and made it harder for him to talk about his feelings and when he was hurt. i'm mostly speculating here since i haven't read too many 2wink stories but like. would you want everyone you know to see your most vulnerable moments like that?

so then enters rinne, a new guy on the block who has no knowledge of setsubun, of your videotaped suicide attempt, and who your boss is telling you to work with. his unit is focused on not judging people for who they are despite having crafted a villainous mask during the mdm. they hadn't touched 2wink at all and rinne was more than willing to work with hinata on their joint live, giving hinata a nickname even that he loved because it felt like someone was actually trying to be his friend again.

and most importantly, rinne listens to hinata, lets him vent and talk about things that he hasnt been able to because of how everyone else views him. rinne's taken on that mantle of big brother to give hinata a space to just be himself.

and i think this extends to the other new characters too, especially his roommates niki and hiiro. i do think that was a deliberate choice, to put him in a room with two guys who didnt know about setsubun and would just treat him like their other kouhais/classmates. it also helps that niki and hiiro dont judge very easily so they just treat him like a normal kid which he's longed for his entire life.

6, 23, and 64 for the tav asks!!

Tav Asks

6. What is your Tav's origin story?

Galinndan and Shandri met in their adventuring years, eventually building their own home in the middle of the woods, starting a family short after. The first of the children ended up being triplets, much to the surprise of both their parents. Alyona, Leyla, and Stella were thick as thieves growing up, caring after their younger sister Aisling and as well as the youngest, their brother Naeris.

All of Leyla's siblings seemed to have a knack for defending themselves—Alyona and Stella both became rangers like their mother, Aisling found joy and power in music, and Naeris was a dedicated follower of Mielikki. But Leyla? Leyla struggled. She was a terrible shot, her music didn't carry the same weight as Aisling's, and while she had an academic interest in the gods, she could never figure out one to devote herself to. Her father Galinndan tried his best to teach her the ways of the druids, and while she understood them, it never manifested as druidic magic like she was hoping.

Until she started receiving visits from someone in her dreams.

This friendly visitor never wore the same face, always appearing as different forest animals, though Leyla always knew it was them. This visitor eventually helped her connect with the druidic magic she'd been trying to find for so long. Though her father knew immediately that the source of her power was different from his own. (Mechanically speaking, Galinndan is a Land druid and Leyla was a Dreams druid, which is a 5e subclass!)

Leyla's new magic became a sore spot between her and her father. While they were pleased she had finally starting showing signs of magic, Galinndan didn't trust the source of it. While Leyla insisted she had learned it on her own, she and her father were often at odds with each other as a result of his distrust. And when Leyla received a vision warning her of danger if they were to remain in their secluded area of the woods, her family was forced to make a choice. They stayed, Leyla left.

She travelled for weeks, studying the stars along the way. Leyla only stopped into towns briefly when she needed supplies or desired a real bed to sleep in. She grew closer with her dream visitor during her travels, bringing joy to every town she stopped in, healing wounds when she could. She started to read more now that she had unlimited access to books, something she'd never experienced before but something she found she really enjoyed.

Eventually Leyla found herself in Silverymoon. She hadn't intended to stay long, but fate had other ideas for her. While attending a ball, she met Traven, a cleric of Ioun that captured her heart. She eventually decided to stay in the city, both to be with him and to study everything Silverymoon had to offer. It was here Leyla was captured into the Nautiloid. She still isn't sure if Traven survived. After her capture, Leyla lost her connection with her dream visitor, instead having to rely on the magic she had learned through books.

23. What is your Tav’s favorite moment they’ve had with their lover?

It's hard to pick, honestly. (Especially not being 100% certain on Leyla's romances lol.) But her intended romances are Gale and Halsin, so I'll pick one for each!

Her moment with Gale is an easy one. Even though the romance bugged in my first playthrough of the game when I'd intended to romance him, the scene where he creates the starry scene is so sweet, especially for Leyla. She had always loved the stars, and after travelling through the Underdark into the Shadow Curse, she was really starting to miss them. To have him create that scene for her... She almost cried, honestly. It was such a thoughtful gesture from him.

For Halsin, I imagine the two of them spend a lot of time talking about druid things together. Leyla missed her druidic magic, even though being a wizard might have suited her more. Eventually the subject of her dream visitor came up, and he was able to help her identify who it might be! She won't know until the tadpole stops interfering, probably, but it was nice to have some answers on who they might be after all this time.

64. What Tarot Card best represents your Tav?

Hmmmm a difficult one. She's gone through a lot of growth in her journey, so her original card is much different than the current... but overall? And this is a little on the nose, but probably The Star! It's a card that's deeply connected with hope, which Leyla had often clung to in her darkest moments. It's a reminder for herself that she's going to be okay. I love that the reversed Star also represents how Leyla acts when struggling, as well. She often feels like the entire world is against her, and just really... unsure. No hope or faith that everything will be okay.

The High Priestess is probably the runner up though! It signifies intuition/inner voice, which also feels very Leyla. Actually the more I read on this, the more I consider it? This question is way harder than I was anticipating...

If you've made it this far, thank you! I have so many thoughts about Leyla, so this was a joy. I probably wrote way too much about her backstory, but I'd been itching to do it anyways....

Listen, I understand that canon Nancy is straight. And I know that there's lots of headcanoning and fic writing with her bi and I thoroughly enjoy that

But I would just like to say that I relate a lot to Nancy as a lesbian who dated guys before she knew she was a lesbian (and as an anxious over-achiever in school, but that's unrelated)

I mean, I can definitely relate to the whole a guy you're dating says I love you first and you say it back because you're supposed to and he's standing there looking at you and you've convinced yourself that romantic love is what you're feeling because you're dating and like his company so obviously it's not platonic love

And Nancy's whole our relationship is bullshit, loving you is bullshit, everything is bullshit drunken speech and then her brushing it off after and being like that wasn't a big deal but still not being able to say she loved Steve definitely reminds me of comphet having me dating a guy and thinking I was into him but not knowing why I'd randomly feel uncomfortable and the point when the relationship gets more serious suddenly my brain would be like oh no, do we even like him? Do we even like guys? And then immediately backtrack and be like of course I do, I'm just being dramatic or of course I do, I'm just not into him anymore so better end things while having no idea the real reason was that I was into guys at all

And with the guys she dated we have Steve who was King Steve and everyone talked about and dreamed of getting with and was the hot and popular conventional choice like when you just decide you don't know you're gay and just decide to have a crush on someone known to be appealing to other girls to have something to talk about when the subject of guys comes up

And then there was Steve again when he apologized and tried to fix things after the end of season one and Nancy just wanted to pretend things were normal so she got back with him and pretended until she couldn't anymore and they broke up

And then there was Jonathan, the guy friend that she was close friends with who already had a thing for her and who she had shared experiences with. AKA every guy I dated and was sure I was so into because I was so sure I must be into guys so if I was then obviously the ones I liked spending time with the most must be ones I wanted to date and not just spend time with platonically. And the way she moves on so fast and the way she would have switched to Jonathan if he had asked during the time she waited before she got back with Steve feels like having a boyfriend because you feel like you should and especially with the added context of Nancy's trauma after season 1 where she was just trying to get by and pretend things were normal but it wasn't working

And then there was season 4 when she was still dating Jonathan and into him, but deciding not to go visit him when she was going to and then her seeming into Steve again but only after he was making it clear he was still into her. And to me, it felt like she wasn't really into either so much as she felt like she should be and again her interest was sparked based on who was showing interest to her

And I feel like that wording is coming off judgier about her than I'm intending it to, but I don't really know how to word it better? Like I don't think it was a conscious thing she was doing at all or that she was aware she was doing it, I think just on a subconscious level that throughout the show she's tended to gravitate to guys who have the combination of being in proximity during everything and who are clearly into her and going after her like there's that combination first and then she likes having them around so she goes along with whatever dynamic they seem to be going for if that makes more sense? Which wow I have been there several times while totally oblivious to what I was doing so girl, same

And then there was Nancy's friendship with Barb which we didn't get to see a lot of but they were obviously very close and a little on the codependent side and it seemed like it was always just them until the Steve thing interfered which is also gay girl culture (and Barb's apprehension and jealousy around Steve and kind of rolling her eyes at Nancy acting different to impress Steve is less about Nancy but also a pillar of queer girl friendships where neither of you realizes that you're gay yet, but you just feel really strongly about the other and get jealous)

And comphet is a hard enough thing to tackle in modern times, it would be even more difficult to try to sort out in the 80s

And I am by no means saying that Nancy is a lesbian and doesn't actually have feelings for Jonathan and didn't actually have feelings for Steve. I'm well aware the representation I'm seeing was not even remotely intentional. I'm just saying I can relate for non-heterosexual reasons that the writers didn't intend to come into play and I'm strongly thinking of playing around with the idea and her figuring that out in a fic

Stuck at a red light and I could count 16 cranes all making new condos and apartments. Maybe a few of them are offices but they looked like apartments.

Filled me with a new sense of dread

Absolutely. Jade would draw on them, too, and they'd both have So. Much. Fun. They'd also draw their fursonas, and of course joke about Jade being a part dog, so she's in a way her own fursona in real life. Dave draws her in his signature style. Jade ends up drawing furry!Dave, too, not just Akwete, as a payback. All in good faith, obviously, they're just fooling around and they both know it.

And when their kids are born (or adopted), they are not only allowed but encouraged to add their own creative touches to the ever growing collection of plant pots and probably even more random knickknakcs.

They have one of the tackiest houses out of all the people they know, being outranked by 2-3 at best, but it's colorful and full of joy and good memories.

Something they have both always wanted.

honestly tbh tbh just my onion but i really think tumblr (and the internet as a whole but i really wanna focus on tumblr here) has a huge problem with parasocial relationships. not like in the idolization sense like dream stans or swifties or whatever but like. a lot of people really quickly forget that other peoples' lives, their public image, their struggles, and their personal victories are not commodities that anyone is entitled to recontextualize, appropriate, spit up and chew out. remember that "alex from target" meme or whatever? remember how fucked up it was that this kid got so much more attention than he asked for, just cause random strangers were attracted to him? literally its the same on tumblr sometimes, but less viral and for a variety of reasons. maybe theyre attractive. maybe theyre funny. maybe they start an important conversation. doesnt matter. people on here wont care if theyre a real person or not, they just care if their username is attached to funny posts, or their selfies are popular, or they're connected to a current issue. its just. fucking content. people arent people here theyre just content to consume. like im sorry but popular users arent the same as memes or the blorbos from your shows. theyre people, too. and sometimes? the attention a lot of people give them get makes them really fucking uncomfortable

Long before the events of Gust, a certain scalian lived a quiet life in the valley of Dalen, forging away in the depths of the mountain. Cut away from all scalians, he lives a life of peace and joy on the ground. But if the wind calls him home, is his heart strong enough to resist? His name was Oblivia, and these are his memories.

           Fractured Memories | Broken and Whole

 Through the parted clouds, scalians fly amongst the birds overlooking the infinite mountain ridge of Dalen. Oblivia lies on one of the hills, eyes glued to the sky. The long grasses wrap around him, mingling with the darker green of his feathers. Lyra lies next to him, dressed in a simple brown uniform. The image of a winged stag is embroidered on her chest, the wings hidden underneath the thick braid keeping her brown hairs out of the way. Her boots lie metres away, hurled away in a burst of energy. Nothing like dew-clad grass between your toes, she said.         She turns to her side, letting her gaze rest on Oblivia’s dark eyes matching the faint traces of soot on his face. There she finds calm eyes. Not the eyes of one focussed on the scalians and their graceful yet erratic movements through the sky, but those of one staring beyond the scalians, beyond the clouds.         “Does it not make you bitter? That you cannot join them up there?” she asks, her voice barely loud enough to overpower the wind.         Oblivia chuckles, keeping his eyes on the stars hidden behind the veil of daylight.         “It used to, back when I was little,” he replies. “But now that I’ve found something that makes me happy, what is there to miss?”         Lyra turns around, lying on her back.         “You’ll be up there one day. I’m sure of it.”         “Not until Rām blesses me with ordinary feathers, or until Sōdan carries me into the sky himself.”         Lyra climbs up to her feet and takes a deep breath, savouring the mountain air. The valleys in front of her seem endless, crawling past the mountains and over the horizon, where they might as well go on forever. She stretches out her arms to her side, closing her eyes and thinking herself a crane soaring over the sky.

  ⁂ [the story continues below the cut]

The booming voice of Iles, Dalen’s grand smith, echoes through the chamber, forcing the eroded walls into submission.         “Get those rocks smouldering, boy. We’ve got a massive order form uphill.”         Oblivia puts down his hammer and takes off his goggles. The room shakes alongside Iles’ uneven footsteps. She is carrying a crate so large even her muscles groan. Oblivia hurries forward and together they place the crate on the floor near the furnace.         Iles grins, stretching her arms and cracking her bones.         “If you get the ovens started, I’ll go collect a few more of these beauties from the storage.”         Oblivia nods and cracks open the crate. Inside lie dull bars of iron that have lost their shine a long time ago.         “Steel? Didn’t the Eisu recently order a big batch of ore to work scalian weapons with? Thought they would want you smithing those.”         “That old commission?” Iles asks, who has already made her way back to the hallway. “Haven’t heard from them in month. Come to think of it, don’t think I’ve seen a bird at the top layer in months.” She shrugs and vanishes into the darkness of Dalen’s caverns before Oblivia can ask any more questions.

  ⁂

Groups of humans gather outside, turning the grassy pathways that spiral around the mountain brown. Oblivia runs past the armoured knights and sweating couriers, holding a sword wrapped in linen against his chest. With each step he grows more tired as the faces turn into a blur, the crowd of people becoming one. He stumbles towards the closest officer, who eyes the panting scalian with a frown.         “Yes?”         “Do you know where Lyra is? Lyra Swiftwind?” he says.         The officer only shakes his head and walks to the nearby man fumbling with his blade.         The crowds had been growing the past few days, from a few people to a sizable group, and from a sizable group to an army.         Oblivia groans and runs up to the next platform, preferring to run on the grass next to the stone paths, talons leaving dotted trails in the dirt. At every platform he asks around, and at every platform is brushed off. At last, he reaches the top of the mountain, where a statue of a winged deer stands in the centre of a pond, surrounded by pine trees hiding the mountains behind them. He walks up to the edge of the water and lays the sword in the grass. One cautious talon is dipped in the water, and only when the water is deemed cold enough does he get in completely. The water bites into him, the cold putting a stop to his shivering skin.         The cracking of branches causes him to look back. A gust of wind flies past, shaking through the trees and through his spirit. His hand reaches for his chest, but the wind simply blows through it. Dark eyes widen as they look to the sky. A large shadow looms above the clouds, a slithering shape moving upwards until it is so high that the shadow simply vanishes.         A voice calls out from the edge of the summit.         “I knew I’d find you here.”         He looks down to find Lyra standing between the trees, a slim blade hanging from her belt. Above him, the shadow has vanished, leaving nothing but clouds turning orange in the sunlight.         “You there?”         “Did you see that?”         Lyra frowns as she sits down near the edge of the pond. Oblivia stares at the sky, his attention slowly dwindling back down to Lyra.         “You’re carrying a sword,” he says.         “We’ve all been called to fight. Every single person who can hold a blade has been given one. We even have a few groups of syskan and sorien hanging around.”         Oblivia gets out of the water and sits down next to Lyra.         “It doesn’t make sense,” he says. “The empress hasn’t been seen outside her castle in years. Who are you fighting against?”         “I’ve heard rumours. The earth has been shaking a lot recently, they say the ka’tah are to blame.”         “Ka’tah? Those vagrants? How could they have anything to do with it.”         Lyra shrugs. “There’s no way they will actually reach us, if they are to blame. And any group launching an attack on Dalen it’s them who should be afraid, not us. I’m just uneasy about everyone leaving Dalen behind. We have our advantage here, not out there in the plains.”         She rests her fingers on the sword, tracing the fuller.         “I’ve also heard something else,” she continues, speaking more softly. “That the scalians are leaving this world.”         She turns to Oblivia, who seems as confused by this remark as she is.         “You don’t have to hide that from me, you know that right? We can figure something out”         Oblivia’s hands turn to fists, tense, shaking.         “I haven’t been to Maerladdra in years, you know that. But this feels like they are running away, which sounds exactly like something they would do.”         Oblivia bends forward and cleans his goggles in the spring lake.         “When will you move out?” he asks.         “A few days, probably. I’ve only been called to action today. It’s all happening so fast.”         Oblivia nods, unwilling to meet Lyra’s eyes.         “That is enough time, barely.”         “What are you—” Lyra begins but is cut off when Oblivia takes her hand and squeezes it gently.         “Wait for me,” he says, getting up and running away from the clearing. “I’ll find answers.”         Lyra reaches out with her hand, but Oblivia has already vanished down the hill.         “What has gotten into him,” she mumbles, turning to the sword left behind in the grass. Inside the linen she finds a two-handed blade, the silver metal shimmering with the light of a summer day. Dark green symbols have been etched into the metal. Although broken is written in Dalish characters, while the Breiðyrian characters on the other side read whole once more.

  ⁂

Oblivia sprints down the mountain as fast as his shaking talons can carry him. He dashes right and enters the caves of Dalen, past lively marketplaces and crystalfly-lit hallways. He stops at a humble wooden doorway built into the wall. The door has no decorations except a humble sound reading rrenhwasu breiðyri. The Breiðyrian consulate. He knocks and opens the door, expecting no response.         The room is deserted, the bookcases empty. He runs to the desk standing near the back and rummages through the drawers, finding nothing but spiderwebs.         “Someone must know,” he says to the displaced spider. “Someone must. It doesn’t make sense. . .”         Outside the winds begin to howl, battering against the mountain. Oblivia’s eyes linger on the empty cup of tea left on the desk.         “Someone does know.”

 ⁂

Within the hour he is ready to leave, having packed supplies for two days and found a horse-cat to carry him south. Nobody bats at an eye at his departure, for scalians departing is a common occurrence those days. He travels south, out of the valley and into rougher mountains. He sleeps while riding, trusting his steed to follow his instructions. At dawn he reaches the edge of the Breiðyrian mountain range. If he where to press on he would find Maerladdra, the Scalians’ secluded capital, but that is not what he came for. He takes the reins in his hand and leads his horse-cat past the edge of the mountains, heading south. There the mountains grow taller and steeper, forgoing slopes covered in grass and trees in favour of near vertical ridges. When the sun has passed her zenith and began her course down to the earth once again does he spot his destination. A tree stands on top of one of the tallest mountains, its golden leaves bathing in the sunlight. A small shrine has been built near the top, but apart from that, there are no stairs leading upwards, no way for a human to get up, no way for him to get up.         He leaves his ride at the bottom of the mountain, giving it a few handful of leaves produced from his bag to eat. The mountain looms over him, casting its shadow over him and shrouding him in darkness. But the image of Lyra heading out to fight a war against a foe they do not know keeps him on his talons. If he could figure out the cause of the earthquakes, or where the scalians have gone, or why the Dalish are so keen on heading out to war, maybe there was a way to prevent any conflict.         His ascend to the mountain is treacherous. With every edge he reaches, another slope challenges him further. The rocks leave cuts on his skin, the mud colours his feathers. Twice does he nearly fall down, only barely managing to hook his talons on a lone root. But he keeps going, he has to keep going.         After what seems like hours, he reaches the lowest platform of the shrine: an extended wooden platform made for scalians to land.  From here the ascend is mockingly easy, requiring only a few sets of stairs until he reaches the summit, where the tree still glisters in the sunlight. A scalian dressed in a sleeveless red dress stands next to a wooden sculpture at the root of the tree, humming in the wind. She turns around and bows towards Oblivia, the golden chains decorating her red feathers a stark contrast to Oblivia’s dusty clothes and muddy hair. Clouds have begun to gather all around them, reaching as far as Rinth in the south and Dalen in the north.         “Welcome home.”         Upon her words, the winds pick up, blowing so strong that she could lift off right there and then. Oblivia opens his mouth, but she beckons him to remain silent.         “Sit, it is not hard to imagine why you have come.”         Oblivia sits down, flustered. The woman takes an empty cup from the sculpture and hands it to Oblivia. The cup is cold as ice, the water inside it perfectly clear. She then steps back towards the tree. Her movements are slow and graceful, her steps so light she appears to float above the ground. She holds out one of her hands above her and remains in this position for a while, rooting her spirit in the tree. Oblivia shuffles around uneasily. He has never visited a shrine before, but he does not have the time for a performance.         “Vordi, I’m sorry but I don’t have time. I’ve travelled from Dalen and—”         The sound of cracking branches causes him to stop. Three leaves break free from the tree and dwindle down, avoiding the brooding storm’s heavy gusts. They land in the woman’s hand who carefully clasps them between her claws. She walks back to Oblivia and sits down opposite to him, placing the leaves in his cup.         “Have you mastered your spirit?”         Oblivia shakes his head. The woman smiles and takes the cup from him, holding the cup between her claws.         “Then, what is it you want to ask?”         Questions flood his mind. Questions about the growing army, the vagrants that are blamed for the earthquakes. Any of those questions would yield answers he could help the Dalish with. But he only manages to ask a small question, a question that has nestled itself firmly in the back of his mind.         “Will Lyra be okay?”         A fleeting smile surfaces on her face. She closes her eyes and focusses her spirit on the cup. It only takes seconds for the water to boil. She hands the cup back to Oblivia, who drinks the tea in a single gulp, eager, a burnt throat the least of his worries. When the boiled skyleaves touch the air in the empty cup they begin to simmer, causing golden smoke to blow out of the cup.         “Focus,” she says, no longer visible behind the smoke.         Oblivia clutches the cup, the stone shaking against his nails. The wind blows through the smoke, casting images in the mist. He sees fires bursting from the ground. Lyra stands amidst the flames, putting her hand into the flames, speaking to a group of figures huddled around her. Oblivia reaches forward, the steam hissing against his feathers. Behind Lyra, mountains are pulled into the sky, as the figures standing around Lyra go up in smoke. Before he can see more the golden fog disperses into the wind. A tear falls down from his cheek. His breaths are short, rushed. The woman takes the cup and places it back near the tree.         “Hold on tight,” she says, taking a seat in front of the tree. Oblivia shoots her a puzzled glance, but the woman only closes her eyes, humming softly.         Beneath the mountain the ground is ripped apart. Cracks like thunder shoot through the sky. Oblivia rushes to the edge only to see the base of the mountain being pulled out of the ground and into the sky. Above him a slimmer of gold and green scales rush past the clouds, resulting in an opening in the clouds, a tempest from the storm, a way through.         He turns back to the woman, who is still humming, seemingly oblivious to the mountain shaking as it is pulled free from the earth.         “You knew?” he shouts at her, forming fists not out of stress, but out of anger.         “I’ve been waiting for you, Oblivia. Our time on the surface has come to an end, for now.”         Oblivia bites his lip, tears streaming down his face. He stands near the edge, powerless to the mountain being carried up into the air, through the tempest, which seals itself shut the moment it is through.

-x-

Taglist for Gust :

@ink-fireplace-coffee / @write-the-stars-and-shadows / @henrike-does-writing-sometimes / @ladywithalamp / @chazzawrites / @writingonesdreams / @generalblizzarddreamer​ / @peepos-prose​ / @writing-is-a-martial-art​ / @dahliaornelas​ / @ofbloodandflowers​ / @magic-is-something-we-create​ / @ettawritesnstudies​ / @47crayons​ / @marchisalion​ / @thelaughingstag​ / @writing-with-l​ / @strangerays​ / @snowinks​ / @the-orangeauthor​ / @waysofink​ / @houndmouthed​

(Inspo)

Tiresias has been walking for what's probably days before she finally stumbles across someone. She knows, instantly, that whoever this is is not Harmonian nor of this world. Frankly, she's quite sure she'd stumbled upon a Changeling, but the blind oracle doesn't speak on it.

Especially since you can usually see the futures of Changelings. She has, anyway, in her long time upon this world. But this one's future is fuzzy and muddled, and while pricks at her similar to the Snake's when she latches to that thread of his, its much kinder.

Tiresias doesn't speak on it.

"Miss, are ya alright?" The Changeling asks, and briefly, the prophet's face falls flat under her hood. That was.. such a bad accent. But the younger one was trying, so Tiresias didn't speak of it.

"I've left from a Snake's burrow, kit." She speaks, voice soft. "While Umbra has done his best to guide me, it's been my own threads of fate that have led me here."

"A snake?" The one in front of her seems startled. "Then why not jus'-"

"He is larger, and has his body coiled around our home." The oracle cuts her off. "Had I stayed a moment longer, he'd have sung his fangs into me, kit."

She turns her head back to the kingdom of Devos. "My home.. is nothing more than a burrow now. With the gates of orange and yellow scales guarding it, threatening to turn inwards."

The Changeling is quiet before offering, "I've gotta place where ya can stay, if ya need to."

Tiresias ponders it for a moment before nodding. "A sansuctary so cold no snake will dare to enter. I gladly accept."

"Ah'm Dapple, miss.."

"Tiresias." With that, the Cat follows her. "Tiresias the blind prophet, younger performer."

"Prophet.." Dapple seems to realize quickly. "Wait, so yer a' oracle? Ya can see th' future?!"

"The stream is mine to dive in."

"Can.. ya see mine?" The Changeling is hesitant. "See th' happy endin' ah want?"

The oracle is quiet as she mulls that over. Dapple was an unusual case. Her threads were there, but her future and past were so fuzzy that she couldn't really make out much.

But pain and suffering was prevalent in the past, and more seemed to come.

"Your stream is unique. It starts from a waterfall, raging and violent, and tapers to a river that bends and twists." She pauses. "From there, I cannot say. Fate is a fickle thing, and she may change at any moment."

"But a happy ending, you ask.."

The air is tense before she hums.

"I see it possible."

With that, they continue their trek.

My horrible bastard brain: haha what if you tried to make the line "time for your medicine" poignant

Me: bet

Me, 80k worth of words later: this was a mistake (tm)