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delulustateofmind · 11 days

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Marriage-Life (One-shot)

A/n: Thank you all for all the love on the Between Worlds series! I promise an update next week. This is just something I thought about while on my walk with my dog :) SUPER FLUFFY!

**Also, it is unedited so fair warning, like a rough draft!**

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Collections of domestic life with Azriel, married/mated for fifty years.

Warnings: Fluff & crack at times, drinking, some intimate moments. Pet names (Sweetness, My Love, Baby)

Azriel the spymaster was your mate, the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Balancing life with a spymaster was no easy feat. Azriel’s frequent absence on risky missions tested the boundaries of your marriage at times. Yet, amidst the challenges, you found solace in the ways he made up for his prolonged departures.

Like sleepless nights in bed after a long mission…

As you settled in settled into bed, with Azriel lying on your chest, his breathing growing heavy as his eyes were closing. A question tugged at your lips. “Would you…’ you began, hesitating for a moment. ‘Yes, I would love you if you were a worm,’ Azriel hummed, his warm breath grazing your skin.

“Love me if I was a snail” You finished, feeling Azriel’s smirk form against your chest. He gave a soft nip on your breast. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he opened his eyes to look up at you. The hazel eyes looked up at you with amusement you could see his smirk turn smug.

“Oh sweetness, that changes things” he drawled as he sat up a little, pushing himself up to see your face. You bit your lip trying not to giggle as he continued.

“I mean, are you a normal snail? Like could I tell you apart from all of the other little snails?” Azriel began, his deep voice filled with a teasing tone. His hand roaming your bonds, fingers caressing your curves.

You stifle a laugh as his fingers find ticklish spots, “I would be a cute snail, one that you could distinguish from the others”

“A very cute snail…but the fact remains. You would still be a snail” Azriel hummed as he ran his fingers across your curves again. His gaze goes down to your body and back to your lips and then your eyes with a playful grin. A grin that only you ever saw. “I would feel so guilty if I stepped on you by mistake. Can’t have that, can we?”

Giving him a playful pout, you look at him innocently. “Are you saying…that you wouldn’t love me if I was a snail?” you whisper to him in a soft gaze, as you notice his movements. Azriel grinned again, pushing himself onto his elbows against you as he moved closer to you. His wings continued to drape across the both of you.

“What I’m saying is I would always have to worry about stepping on you if you were a snail. Which would make being married to you quite the headache.” His hand once rested on the curve of your waist, moved its way to your collarbone then your jawline, and finally to your chin. Tilting your head as he brings himself closer to whisper on your lips. “How about you stay fae my love, maybe in another universe we could be snails together. But this one, I would love to be fae with you.” A gentle kiss was planted on your lips, which led to you both having a very sleepless night.

****

Azriel never really had much of a sweet tooth, in fact, he typically stayed away from sweets until he met you. When you both got married, you would try out a new cafe once a month, sometimes going to the same one if their seasonal menu changed.

“Let’s get ice cream today, it’s starting to get so warm out.” You whined as you slipped on a sundress. Azriel in the middle of brushing his teeth as he shrugged and gave the confirming nod.

One of the best things about Azriel was that he always tried to match your outfits. If you wore a blue ribbon in your hair, he would wear a blue button-up shirt. If you wore a floral sundress, he would find a shirt that matched one of the colors. Today wearing a blue floral sundress, he opted for a light blue button-down and khaki slacks. One of which, he never owned any colorful clothing or anything other than his leathers and a few formal outfits until you two met.

Once you were both ready, Azriel took you on a flight down to the Palace of Hoof and Leaf. A district is known for its food. Once landed, you both walked hand in hand. Shadows trailing the both of you as you walked. Azriel’s huge hand compared to yours as he guided you to a cafe.

“Feyre mentioned this place the other day” he began as he guided you through the busy streets. His wings were tightly tucked in. “I guess they make the ice cream look cute, like little bears and pigs” he gave you a warm smile as you trailed next to him, giving him a confirming squeeze with your hand.

The streets were packed today, the market was selling spices, the smell of delicious food filled the air, and merchants trying to gather attention as people walked past. It wasn't until after a few blocks away, that you noticed a cute pastel pink building that had “Ice Cream” written in a beautiful cursive font on the window. You moved your hand from his, moving it towards his bicep as you both walked to the front doors. When you grasped his muscle, he flexed. The pastel-pink building exuded a quaint charm, its exterior adorned with delicate floral motifs that seemed to dance in the sunlight. Inside, the decor was equally inviting, with plush cushions and paintings on flowers on the walls. Along with cute stuffed animals on shelves around the parlor. A beautiful fae girl led you both to a table and placed a menu in front of you both. Azreil looked at you. “Order anything you want. I will just share with you”

The menu was filled with a tempting array of ice cream parfaits, each more enticing than the last. Ranging from little animal-themed ones to flower ones You ended up ordering the panda, and right when you ordered you noticed there was a drink menu that showed an adorable foam cat latte. You order it as well obviously. Azriel smirks as he looks at you with a smile. People in the ice cream parlor glanced over. A smile from the threatening looks of the spymaster was quite rare.

You both talked about what other errands you both needed to run, a market trip was due. Luckily Azriel won’t have a mission for a while but will be training with the Valkyrie and having to go to Hewn City soon. As you both talked, you very impatiently waited for the dessert, Azriel held your hand across the table. He was rubbing his finger across the top of your hand.

“I appreciate you” He whispered so softly that you almost didn’t catch it. You give him a warm smile “I appreciate you too and everything you do.”

After what seemed like forever!

The ice cream and latte finally arrived, you looked at the ice cream with a pout and looked at him.

“I don’t think I can eat it, it’s too cute” you pout as you look down at the panda ice cream staring up at you. Azriel had already taken the latte and was about to sip it. As he raised a brow.

“Shall I eat it for you” he teased, flashing a playful grin as he took a sip of the cute cat latte. Something about this intimidating creature sipping a cute cat latte caused your heart to flutter. A blush made its way across your face, even after fifty years of marriage, he still makes you have butterflies in your tummy. You reluctantly used your tiny spoon that was given to you, to poke the face of the little panda ice cream ball on top. Tasting the ice cream, it was a cookies and cream flavor. So cute and so delicious. Azriel teased you by claiming you’re murdering him. You would flash him a playful glare which would cause him to laugh. It was moments like these, that you enjoyed being married to him.

***

Drunken nights, meant drunken mates.

Azriel arrived at Rita’s to find his mate giggling drunk next to Feyre who was being led away by Rhysand. Azriel’s mate however was still sipping on her drink as he walked over.

“Sorry, I have a mate,” you slurred, raising a hand to Azriel’s face as he approached.

“Oh, do you? Is he handsome?” He teased in a low voice, taking a seat next to you. His wing brushing against your shoulder.

“The most handsome man in the whole world, let me tell you if he caught you right now, you would be catching his hands” You drawled with a drunken grin as you sipped the rest of your cocktail.

Azriel covered his mouth covering a laugh, “Is that so? So he’s like super powerful.” He teased, his tone holding amusement. One of his shadows trailing around your arm.

You notice it and giggle, “Yeah, my mate has these little shadow things too” You point at the shadow and show it to him. He laughs a bit harder and leans closer to you. You almost immediately recognize him.

“Hello! My mate!” You giggle as you lean your head on his shoulder. His arm slipped around your waist. “When did you get here, there was such a strange man here” you giggle as he holds you close, placing his chin on top of your head.

“Just now, how about we head home? Hm?” He hums as he plays with a strand of your hair, leaning back a little to slide a hand under your chin to tilt your face to his to see your drunken smile with a red flush on your cheeks.

“Can we walk a little?” You smile up at him as you slur a little.

“Can you even walk?” He teases in a low tone, “If you can then sure”

He pays the tab and walks with you out. A hand firmly on your waist to stop you from stumbling when you both walk the streets of Velaris. If anyone even looks at you stumble they’re met with the glare of the spymaster. You notice a pigeon leaving his arms and make your toward it.

Tears stream down your face.

Oh fuc- Azriel almost thought you were about to throw up but here you are giving the pigeons coins while crying.

“Baby please, he’s homeless” You give Azriel a longing look as big alligator tears stream down your face.

“The pigeon?” Azreil covers his mouth from laughing, there’s no way his mate is crying about a bird on the street. This is one of her more normal moments.

“Yes, and he’s so poor. I mean he had no pockets!” you slurred as your voice cracked feeling so bad for the poor pigeon.

“I’m sure he’s fine love, please leave the pigeon alone,” he says quietly as he pulls you up. Perhaps, winnowing home would be for the best.

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar #acotar azriel #shadowsinger #pls I need this man

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disneyprincemuke · 10 days

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build me up * ls2

two hit men, one target: each other. the problem? you're soulmates.

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!reader

trope: soulmates destined to kill each other

wc: 1.2k

(f1 masterlist) | (falling in reverse)

logan’s not a murderer per se. well, he kinda is. but with a purpose; he’s not just going around killing people for no reason.

there’s always a reason.

but when he’d been assigned to take down an assassin of some sort, he almost hesitated. because it was you and well, the bias is very simply explainable: you’re very beautiful.

he’s a hitman — not a robot. he can still find people attractive.

he’d been contracted to take out the person sneaking up on the big people he’s working for. naturally, they’d want you taken out.

he’s followed you around for a couple of hours now, trying to find a perfect time to lunge at you and make it quick. there wouldn’t be much to admire seeing when the world is still very much monochrome in his eyes.

he wondered, watching you devour your dinner just an hour ago, if there was somebody that would mourn your death. not in a psychopathic manner, just in a sense that he’s also all alone.

ever since he’d taken the genius career path to be a hitman of some sorts, it’d been easier to be by himself. nobody to look after, and nobody in danger from the things he’s gotten himself into.

his want to eventually meet his soulmate and see the world in colour would have to wait. it might even need to be scratched off from his list completely.

when he comes home to an empty apartment, nobody in it but his dog happily wagging its tail up at him, he gets the urge to drop everything to pursue the life he wanted. a nice home somewhere discreet with his soulmate and maybe kids.

his picture perfect future gets the best of him sometimes. he’s got his letter of resignation collecting dust in the bottom of his email drafts but whenever he comes close to hitting send, there’s hesitation.

because what if he doesn’t actually ever find his soulmate? does that mean that he would have to go about life in black and white all by himself?

so logan doesn’t ever send the email out. he will just have to eventually find the time to deal with the inevitable loneliness looming over him.

it’s not an easy lifestyle: trying to be a hitman for a big corporation and desire for normalcy.

logan follows behind you, slowly and quite a distance, into an alleyway. he keeps a hand against the cold material of the gun stowed away underneath his jacket — for comfort — and to finish you off fast.

your sigh echoes in the empty alleyway as your footsteps come to a slow halt. you kick the ground slightly and drop your head, starting to dig for something in your bag.

and that’s his cue.

but just as he launches to get you, he finds himself frozen when he hears a click. there’s a barrel of a gun pointed right at him with your back still turned to him.

instinctively, he draws his gun out, pointed right back at you. and he finds himself in a situation.

“do you think i’m stupid?” you mutter with sarcasm. “i know when i’m being followed.”

you whirl around and logan almost drops to his knees. he finds the boring black and white motif that he once thought he would never get rid of, slowly fading away. he can decipher the warm glow of the orange lights in the alleyway and the colour of your skin and the colour of your hair.

you don’t mask your shock very well. you flinch and your hand falters when the bright green of logan’s eyes greet you when you turned and locked eyes with him.

your gaze softens as you try to figure out what’s happening. only then it hits you that this man who has a gun pointed right at you is your soulmate.

you steady your arm immediately and tighten your grip on the gun. “i noticed you the minute i stepped out of the restaurant,” you say lowly, “why are you following me?”

logan lifts both of his hands in surrender, his gun pointed into the air. “are you just going to ignore what happened?”

the colour of your eyes mesmerises logan. to hell with his task, there’s a more pressing matter: he can see colours.

colours that seemed like a mere myth, growing up with parents who would describe it to him all the time with the biggest smiles. he wonders now if his eyes are as beautiful as his mother would tell him when he was growing up.

if he cared to ask you, you would say they’re the best thing to be greeted with. but that’s not important.

just like every other kid, growing up, he always thought what it would be like to meet his soulmate and watch the world transition to something he’s only ever heard his friends talk about growing up.

it wasn’t until the reality of losing a soulmate struck him when he was 19, when he lost his mother. and eventually watched his father grieve, and then lost him too.

and friends of friends bear stories of losing their soulmates, describing it as the most devastating feeling. he decided at 20 that he wouldn’t be on the receiving end of that pain.

so logan distracted himself training at some shooting range down the street. some burly man liked what he saw and recruited him.

and now here he is.

“i’m not fucking around with you.” you keep your guard up walking towards him and logan doesn’t move another inch. “i know you’re not here to mug me, so what gives?”

logan’s eyes trail down to the gun barrel now pressed against his chest. he lifts his eyes with a small smile. “would it help if i said i think you’re pretty?”

you dig the barrel into his chest. logan stumbles a step back. “i will kill you without thinking twice.”

“okay!” logan whines. “i was… i’m being paid to kill you.” he watches the annoyance on your face grow. “but please, acknowledge what just happened.”

you look up at him, trying to figure out if he’d just make an attempt for your life either way. you snap your head at the item still in his hand and he follows your stare. “i’ll unarm it,” he offers. “please, let’s just talk.”

“one wrong move, i’ll shoot you in the leg,” you threaten, gesturing your head towards the ground.

you weren’t shy of falling victim to great love stories of meeting your soulmate. you watched your best friend and her soulmate tear each other to the brink of insanity trying to make it work, evidently throwing in your face how it’s all just an illusion, and gave up on it.

the story of how you landed a job as an assassin is a long story, deriving from your childhood and your parents’ businesses growing up. all there is to know is that you’ve been here almost your entire life, courtesy of your parents.

given the brutality of all of your lines of businesses, you often think about how they managed to make their marriage work.

seeing colour has always been emphasised in yout society. it’s a magical moment, you’ve heard people say. but nobody ever tells you what to do when you’re meant to kill the other.

and you’re curious… you’re thinking, what now?

frankly, logan is thinking the same thing.

gen taglist: @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @localwhoore @namgification

series taglist: @vicurious28 @c-losur3 @lozzamez3 @haikyuu-carat @bicchaan @ @cinnamongirlontv

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 fanfiction #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke fir

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monstersdownthepath · 11 days

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A collection of Fey entities

A little different from my usual "a collection of..." posts. Making statblocks isn't my forte, surprisingly; I can, but ADHD Hellbrain kicks in and typically prevents me from actually finishing them, my energy and motivation running out typically by the time I need to select feats. A few of the creatures on this list are victims of that very phenomenon, but rather than letting them languish in my drafts forever, I figure I can share what I DO have in the form of lore and some basic ideas.

So, here's a bunch of fairies!

One of them I was going to write down, the Harvest Lords, are a concept I've developed too much for me to put here; they're a group of Archfey with proper domains and Boons, and thus will get their own post. Eventually.

Warnings: There are unsanitary themes in the Brughyorb Gremlin spot, as well as Totagoda. The final entry (Rotten Crick) deals with themes of animal death and allusions to animal torture, dealing specifically with sea life.

Brughyorb Gremlins (CR 1/2 Chaotic Evil Small Fey) are small, round, filthy creatures that are almost all mouth and stomach, resembling fleshy cauldrons when they fully open their mouths and scamper about on their arms and legs, and are thus also known as Cauldron Gremlins, Burplings, and Bowlbellies. Their grinding teeth and powerful jaws are best suited for plant matter (wood is a delicacy to them), but they won't hesitate to feed on whatever carrion they manage to find, even though the majority of what they eat isn't actually digested.

Brughyorb Gremlins hold most of what they shovel into their maws in the first of their two stomachs, where their pungent gut juices fester and melt their food into noxious sludge so malodorous it's actually acidic. Slow and unbalanced even when they're empty, they lay in waiting for an innocent passerby to cross whatever hiding spot they've holed up in before leaping out with a wet shriek, and when their victim inhales in order to scream in surprise, the gremlins unleash a horrific belch directly into the victim's face. Overwhelming nausea is the most common result of such a sensory assault (though especially unlucky ones may catch the fatal Filth Fever), victims disoriented not only by the scare, but their entire world becoming overtaken by an indescribably vile stink, preventing them from fighting back as the gremlin takes whatever it wants from them and scampers off into the shadows, cackling with terrible glee.

Though they're larger than most gremlins, Brughyorb Gremlins are just as cowardly and prone to fleeing whenever someone even moderately well-armed comes along. If a foe proves especially dangerous and their burps aren't cutting it, they'll loose the contents of their stomachs to form slick, acidic pools that carry an eye-watering reek with them to trip up and potentially even kill their pursuers, either immediately through acid damage or eventually through disease. Being directly disgorged upon is an experience so profoundly unpleasant that most beings subjected to it immediately switch careers into something that will prevent this incident from ever happening again... though the fact a Brughyorb's stench is nearly impossible to scrub away and lingers for many weeks means the horrible little beasts can easily track the scent of their past victims in order to get them again.

Despite their foulness, their gut juice is an alchemical reagent highly prized by alchemists for its ability to break down and, with a bit of tinkering, ferment just about any organic matter, making them highly desirable for anyone hoping to create not just powerful acids, but potent fertilizers, fermented foods, or alcohol. Alchemists desiring the gremlin's gut juice, of course, rarely risk seeking it out themselves.

----

Tintink Gremlins (CR 1 Chaotic Evil Tiny Fey) are also known as Nail Gremlins, Sharpener Pixies, Hammerlings, Nailbiters, Sharpies, and other such names. While most fey fear the touch of iron, Tintink Gremlins collect the substance in earnest despite being just as vulnerable to it as any other fey. Contact with cold iron burns and pains them, but rather than shrinking away from it, they revel in it, with many of them boldly wearing sharpened points of cold iron for the specific purpose of terrorizing and bullying other fairies, as well as protecting themselves from being bullied or terrorized by others.

Tintinks are obsessed with the collection and the sharpening of metal pins, tacks, screws, caltrops, and especially nails, pilfering such items from workshops, lumberyards, factories, and even homes. Loose items are of course the easiest for them to get, their tiny backpacks and leather aprons full to bursting with stacks of nails they sweep off workbenches, but they're also prone to using hammers, crowbars, and pliers sized for their tiny hands to wrench fasteners from whatever surface they're embedded in. Their hoarding slowly but surely destroys furniture, floors, rafters, and eventually entire structures one stolen screw at a time, fleeing only when the infested building collapses entirely.

Even when they're not destroying buildings, Tintinks are horrid menaces. Their wretched claws, coarse palms, and rough tongues can shave metal with the ease of a whetstone, and they use these to sharpen whatever points they get ahold of until they can pierce the thick leather of most common shoes or gloves... and they lay them out in preparation to do exactly that, cackling in wicked glee whenever someone impales their feet or hands on their sharps collections.

They are quite dangerous for a gremlin, capable of causing terrible wounds and even deaths if they're sufficiently motivated, but they are easily caught and removed by those who can take advantage of their fairy quirks. Their obsession with sharpening borders on an irresistible compulsion, and many Tintinks have been caught and exterminated by fey hunters leaving out piles of dull nails, bent forks, and chipped knives, which the gremlins cannot help but sit down among and work on, leaving them vulnerable to ambush.

----

Steraba (CR 2 Neutral Good Diminutive Fey) are also known as Honey Fairies, Porridge Pixies, Mice Fey, and other such names. They resemble miniature humanoids with mouse-like features such as dewy eyes, rounded ears, long tails, paws, or combinations thereof (sometimes to the point they're just anthropomorphic mice), scarcely larger than the pests they resemble. Despite their appearance, Steraba are not pests themselves and are in fact one of many helpful fey known as House Spirits, and can be a genuinely helpful force in one's home... if one forgives their tendency to pilfer easily-missed items left in their field of vision.

Steraba make their homes in mouseholes inside occupied buildings, living among families of mice (never rats, they despise rats) which they take great pains to keep safe, healthy, and out of sight of the mortals with whom they share a space. Their lives are spent going on frequent, exciting 'raids' with their mice families (whom they can both communicate with and easily train), scampering unseen through homes like a spy trying to avoid being spotted by guards as they run missions such as 'read the next chapter of a book,' 'steal the button,' 'get to the grain stores,' 'slay the attic spider,' 'push out the rats,' and other such objectives. Between missions, they engage in surprisingly elaborate crafting projects; anything inedible they steal is used to decorate their tiny homes, if not by itself, then as part of a greater project. Unknowing families may have entire miniature art galleries in their walls!

Like most House Spirits, Steraba dislike being seen or acknowledged, and spending too long looking at one or talking about its existence aloud with one's family or neighbors is a sure way to drive it off completely. Even more than this, harming a mouse is a grave insult to the Mouse Pixies, who may respond by pilfering valuable or treasured items with Mage Hand, performing acts of vandalism with Prestidigitation and mundane tools, and even causing painful or humiliating household accidents against repeat and grievous offenders. Treating the mice with the calmness and respect one would treat a neighbor, however, will see a household blessed by the tiny pixies who use their talents--magical and mundane--to slay more harmful pests, drive off more malevolent fey, and provide just as well for their "big families" as they do the "small families." A Steraba can magically turn a single grain into a whole loaf of hot bread or a bowl of nutritious porridge that's filling even for a Medium-sized creature, letting them stretch the most meager of food stores for days or weeks on end, and can conjure small amounts of honey, sugar, and jam each day to assure the meals are never boring. A Steraba who has lived in a home for many years and established a positive relationship with its big family may even begin gifting the mortals with pieces of art it has made, which act as good luck charms so long as the owner takes care to say it was a 'gift from my neighbor' if they are ever asked where the trinket came from.

----

The Filoxenia (CR 11 Neutral Medium Fey) are humanoid fey with golden skin and hair like stalks of wheat, so rare that it was believed there was only one for quite some time. These are fey many cautionary tales are spoken of, fey for whom the Laws of Sacred Hospitality are absolutes and generosity is the holiest of virtues. These fey take on the shapes of beggars, wanderers, and vagrants of various ancestries as they travel the world in the search of kindness, visiting the lowest muckrakers in their hovels, to the meager homes of farmers, to the mansions of nobles and royals to test their treatment of visitors. How, exactly, they perform their tests always varies, but it almost always begins with a simple request: Shelter, just for one night, and a meal of whatever the host can provide, just enough to let them see the next dawn.

The Filoxenia cannot be identified while they're in disguise, their own magic thwarting magical attempts to pierce it; the most reliable way to tell that you've encountered one is the gentle smell of honey and wheat which accompanies them, a scent they take pains to hide with mud and dusty clothes or, in rare cases, perfumes, but which they can never completely cover. Even if you know, however, it is in your best interest to play along and not allow it to sway your decision! Treating your new guest as you would any other is part of the test.

These fey exist to test mortals in their proficiency with and knowledge of the Laws of Sacred Hospitality, and each one has different means of both testing and rendering judgment. More lawful Filoxenia typically treat their task with the utmost of seriousness, and have a mental checklist they gradually move down during their stay in a mortal's home where failing even one step fails the whole test. More chaotic Filoxenia are much more likely to act as unruly guests, assessing the patience of their host, making gradually more unreasonable requests to see just how far the host is willing to go and rendering their judgment based on the host's breaking point; too soon (strict) or too late (lenient) and they fail.

The reward for passing their test is often simple but always beneficial; they may arrange for a parcel of valuable gems to be delivered to the host, repair flaws in their home, or magically enchant a tool or piece of furniture the host owns in a way which will always be useful to them. Impressing the fey may cause them to perform feats such as keeping the host's food stores full for a year and a day, blessing the host with a boon of good luck and health, grant them a useful magical item, blessing their livestock with health and virility, or introducing a helpful House Spirit into the home... but for all their potential blessings, their curses are the stuff of legends and horror stories.

Providing the bare minimum of hospitality is one thing (which earns the stingy host naught but a bowl of gruel or perhaps a new pair of socks for their trouble), but treating the Filoxenia poorly or, most damnably, rejecting their plea for mercy and assistance at one's doorstep? Such a host would be lucky if the worst thing that happened to them was the death of their livestock. An especially offended Filoxenia, such as one physically harmed by the host, can go as far as to curse an entire household to experience grave misfortune which, eventually, will lead to the death of all within in no more than a year.

----

Totagoda, the Uninvited Guest (CR 13 Chaotic Evil Large Fey) is a unique fey entity, an object of both scorn and amusement in the First World and a downright blight in the Universe whenever he deigns to enter it. He is a wild combination of a bloated toad and a gluttonous goat, standing on his back two legs as a man does, with three bulbous eyes always surveying the area as he searches for his next meal, the remains of which are added to the breathtaking tapestry of reeking stains over his clothing and skin.

Totagoda is a gluttonous, wretched beast of a fey, his primary modus operandi involving taking the shape of beggars, wanderers, and vagrants, hoping to gain invitation into the home of unsuspecting mortals who do not realize just what's standing at the door. Unfortunately, as one may surmise from his title, he is quite liberal with determining what qualifies as an 'invitation' into someone's home, with even strained conversation or simply holding a door open for too long becoming cause for him to push past his unfortunate host and slip inside. Only slamming the door in his face and refusing to speak will cause him to move on. Once inside, he takes a seat at the kitchen table and bullies his hosts into providing for him, often relying on the victim's fear or good manners (or both) to prevent them from seeking aid even as he wolfs down whatever food (or anything close to food) they can provide.

Victims of the Uninvited Guest quickly find themselves eaten out of house and home as his loud demands for food grow ever more violent and unreasonable, his monstrous form gradually revealing itself as he gorges himself. By the point he's revealed as a true and literal monster, it's far too late for his host, with him threatening their belongings, their health, or their very lives if they don't comply, the foul fey holding their treasured belongings or even their family members hostage to force their hand. When all the food in the house is exhausted, victims are forced into the marketplaces where they're expected to spend all their remaining money on a further banquet for the fey. Victims who can give no more may find themselves ensorcelled and forced to provide against their will, butchering their livestock, pets, or their unfortunate neighbors to feed Totagoda, until eventually he grows bored with the current fare and snaps up his host whole and alive with his massive tongue, moving on and leaving any surviving family members nothing but a destroyed home and horrific memories.

Sending out invitations to a party or celebration when Totagoda is stalking an area is a dangerous affair, because no matter the intended celebration, one can be assured it will end in tragedy and horror; many malevolent fey have, in fact, wielded the Uninvited Guest as a weapon by gifting him invitations to the party of a rival or hated enemy. When feeling especially peckish and shameless, he will use the public nature of taverns, restaurants, markets, and other such spaces where food may be found to barge in and begin stuffing his face, using threats, charming magic, or outright mystic domination against the owners, forcing them to ignore his crimes until they become too great to rationalize even with his spellwork clouding their minds. He prefers the 'thrill' of forcing his way into the homes of helpless mortals who cannot seek aid to feed him, using public eateries as a last resort, as he despises the concept of experiencing consequences (which is why he flees the First World as much as possible; he has made many enemies among Archfey and Eldest). Despite his considerable power and unnatural resilience, Totagoda is a coward and a bully, and at the first sign of any trouble (even trouble he could easily deal with) he is more likely to flee than fight, flinging his disease-ridden, acidic dung and unleashing nauseating belches at any pursuers until he can finally escape.

----

That Old and Rotten Crick, (CR 15 Neutral Evil Medium Fey), also known as Rotten Old Crick (and variants thereof), the Devil Fisherman, the Demon Angler, the Barnacle, Captain Hook, and a thousand other names with varying levels of fear or vitriol, is among one of the strangest denizens of the First World. Appearance-wise, he is a humanoid being, though not a hint of true flesh can be seen through the coverall-clothing of an angler that he wears; what isn't covered by clothes is studded with barnacles or coral growth. His vest is adorned by countless hooks, flies, whatever equipment he wishes to keep on hand rather than in his beaten up but magical tacklebox (the Artifact known as the Tomb of Karaphas), and extra parts for his Artifact-level fishing rod and primary weapon, the Tidepool Reaper. His face (if he has one) perpetually hidden in the shadow of his fishing cap, and he speaks with the smooth cadence of a devil and maniacal purpose of a daemon.

Nearly an Archfey in terms of power, Rotten Crick does not seek influence and remains outside of whatever political nonsense the others have going on... though his actions have a great many Archfey and even one of the Eldest furious with his very existence. Rotten Crick, you see, despises all life in the sea, especially the lives of any creature which could be called a 'fish.' His absolute hatred for all sealife has earned him a many enemies among waterway guardians and sea-dwelling fey, but just as many allies, though not for the reasons one may think; many stories circulate across many worlds of a mysterious angler approaching a fisherman or sailor with promises of rods, reels, baits, hooks, and nets which will assuredly catch enough fish to feed not only them, but their families and the families of their neighbors as well. Indeed, Rotten Crick has no animosity towards most mortal life, and is actually quite amicable, willing to help any down-on-their-luck man on the coast fish enough to live, or even make a business! There are rare stories of him going out of his way to save fishermen whose lives are endangered by the sea... but it is all for the singular goal of eliminating as many fish as possible and inspiring others to do the same. He will sit with other mortal anglers for many hours, fishing alongside them and making occasional, casual conversation, but anyone who knows what they're dealing with is advised to keep it casual, because any extended conversation with him will gradually turn towards alarmingly enthusiastic diatribes on how terribly fish suffer when hooked and dragged from the water, or disturbingly thorough explanations of the many deaths caused by sea beasts all over the world, in order to justify their torture and extermination.

He doesn't even eat any of his catches, enraged by the very idea of putting a fish in his body. If there is no one nearby to gift them to, he either abandons them on the shore to rot or, if feeling especially spiteful, slices them apart with fillet knives and hooks and leaves the disassembled bodies for the birds. He holds no love for creatures he calls "betrayers," which includes dolphins, whales, and seals, such unfortunates earning swift and terrible ends by his hands. Intelligent sea beings, especially merfolk, are in danger of torturous disassembly while still alive, as he draws sadistic joy from hearing their cries.

Why, precisely, he harbors such irrational hatred for sealife is something he has never explained to anyone who's asked, and likely never will. At the very least, any grand and far-reaching plans he may actually have to depopulate the seas of Golarion are slow going, if they're happening at all, held back by the sadism and hatred which drives him; it has been explained to him many times (primarily by daemons) that he could efficiently depopulate the seas by way of pollution, poison, and industrial expansion, but his hate is so great that he seems to prefer the more visceral, personal approach.

#original concepts

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soberpluto · 14 days

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Know Your Soul Purpose With Your Big 3

It's been so much time since I've been here, but it's amazing to be back! Now, here's a topic I was wondering about today...

All our configurations hold divine meaning, in that before we are born, our souls chose the type of experiences we needed to undergo as part of our next visit on Earth. What makes us "us" is perfect in design. And what we're "made of" can be neatly seen in our birth charts. No birth nor birth chart happen by chance.

While it’s accurate that specific karmic work (which is part of our life's mission) is indicated by studying the positions of Saturn, its aspects, planets falling in water houses and the configuration of lunar nodes, I feel we can also find great part our soul's purpose (our main lessons) by analyzing our Big 3. This is equal to drawing a picture of the blueprint of our unique navigation system, our compasses through our human experience.

To make a draft of your soul's blueprint, take these steps!

Look at your chart to know your Ascendant, Sun and Moon signs and chart ruler(s). If your rising sign has two rulers, take them both into account. In my case, I always use whole sign system.

Identify the houses of your placements.

Start drafting your Ascendant, Sun and Moon signs' significations using the tables below, including both positive and negative traits. If we're moving through life based mostly on our positive qualities, it's very likely we're on the right track. Conversely, living constantly under the influence of our negative traits marks potential blockages to get where we need to be.

Add to your blueprint areas in which you naturally express your placement's traits (houses). This is important because you will know where your mission will be accomplished more easily or naturally.

Have fun!

If you're having a bit of trouble to come up with yours, take my own example...

I am proud of myself when I present to the world as passionate, powerful, magnetic, and intuitive (positive Scorpio rising qualities). I realize that when I become vengeful, jealous, obsessive and/or mournful (negative Scorpio rising qualities), I am attracting unnecessarily challenging circumstances that hinder my lessons in my life. My personality (rising sign) projects most in my physical appearance image and identity, in my close communities and in the pursuit of my dreams (Chart Rulers in 1st and 11th house). I feel my life has meaning when I act as a nurturing, sensitive, creative and empathetic person (positive traits of Cancer sun), but when I become needy, emotionally instable, insecure and/or manipulating with others (negative traits of Cancer sun), I realize that I am blocking myself from living in my fullest potential. The area where my conscious self (Sun sign) shines most is in my path towards higher learning, distant travelling, truth seeking, legal affairs and spirituality (Sun in 9th house). I feel safe and fulfilled when I can be brave, independent, assertive and passionate (positive Moon in Aries traits). But, when I realize that I'm repeatedly reacting in a violent, selfish, impulsive and/or inconstant way (negative Moon in Aries traits), I know that am blocking my ability to be peaceful within myself and move ahead in life. My emotional needs (Moon sign) are best taken care of through my habits, health care, daily routine, service to others, jobs, and pets (Moon in the 6th house).

Now, what information can you derive from this description? What does this tell about my purpose in this life?

Naturally, I am pulled to creative, healing and spiritual work. I studied Industrial Design in college, but I've expanded my career in other directions, including developing and managing intermittently art and esoteric online businesses while also holding an office job in Change Management. I am also the eternal student, self-learning and passionate about higher knowledge. I like to share my insights with others and help them find their own truth, their own awakening. I am drawn to intense (and sometimes not so positive) experiences and relationships, and have drastically changed my own image, jobs and spiritual views along the years. I've certainly went through a lot of turmoil, but also have gained significant life lessons and valuable wisdom thanks to the way I approach life. I cannot help to be deeply emotional, empathetic, passionate, excitable, idealistic and inspired, for the good and the bad! Even though it's not been an easy road, I realize that little by little my purpose is being fulfilled... and I hope you all do!

What about you? Let me know what you find out about yourself!

Thanks for reading! 😘🖤

Written by @soberpluto

#astrology observations #astrology notes #astrology community #astrology #astrology signs #big 3 #soul purpose #soul mission #karmic lessons #lessons #karma

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nostalgink · 2 months

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Due to some past trauma from previous fandoms, I'm not particularly one to engage in fandom related discourse anymore, but when you not only name-drop me, but continue to perpetuate lies about not only me, but also my friends.... that's when I'd rather "clear my name" than allow for a nasty rumor to circulate when I know it's out there.

I want to go through everything that went down in order as best as possible. Even though I’ve spent so much time on this receipt post, truly this issue was something very small, the root of the issue lies with CookieRuby herself, given she decided to continue to create and perpetuate lies and rumors about myself and others. I know she will most likely continue to make up whatever she wants to have happened to obtain pity from those who do not know the context, but I thought that if she was going to do so regardless, I might as well let everyone know mine and my friends’ side of things. Because sadly I got some very worried and confused messages wondering if the statements were truthful. Hopefully this reassures most that they are in fact not.

I also would like to say while I am deeply upset that someone would lie about me like this and continue to emotionally manipulate, then double down on it all… I still do want to say that if you know people who act as such to please help them get the help they need. The timeline of this basically showcases us interacting at 3 points ever, but its obvious in her own obsessive world she has created, it has been brewing with her much longer. Which all of this is genuinely concerning and I hope she gets help. Despite my anger.

In the beginning

I believe I knew about them prior to them joining the old Darkwing Duck RP server I used to be active in back in 2022. If you know me, I follow practically every artist in the fandom. Especially as the fandom loses traction and there are less and less of us actively creating works. So naturally I followed. I even found her oc interesting. I mean why wouldn’t I? Magentus, while more of an oc now than he was in the past, at the end of the day still is my sona so to speak. I love seeing others put themselves into their own work in their own ways. Unfortunately once I got to know them, their attitude towards others when it came to their oc soured my interest.

In a lot of her posts, she makes claims towards my friends and I (as well as I suppose vague unknown other “harrassers” prior to us. I only put it in air quotes because the amount of lying she does, ironic I know, makes me question the validity of anything she says.) that we actively hated and made fun of her for disliking Drakepad. As you can see in the screenshots provided, that is exactly the oppposite.

I also want to mention the screenshots here are an anonymous friend’s server that I used to be active in. In the screenshots provided by Soy, it refers to their old server. Though I believe there is a point in our screenshots where one is referenced in another. (I am currently not looking at them, so I can recall which is referenced in which.) I wanted to make sure there was no confusion with that. These were provided to me by Drake. I could not find them on my own. This was her asking about playing her oc initally. and some stuff I didn't screenshot previously I think?

On Soy’s Side of things

Initially I had another draft of this whole rant, but because of these screenshots I got so peeved that I spiraled into a mad disorganized rage due to the ridiculousness of all of this. So I thought it would be best to rework my words into a more composed response. Personally I had read the first set of messages after they had happened, but when it comes to the discord screenshots, these were new to me. We were all suspicious of her potentially using an alt account on tumblr to ask as a “friend”. Because while I cannot say the same for my friends, I had online friends when I was young who pulled very similar stunts to continue to emotionally manipulate me into remaining their friend and under their thumb. I do not fuck with that sort of behavior anymore. And to note from Soy they said that they had joined their old dead DWD server and immediately dmed them. The obsessive manner of her continuing whatever game she thinks this is is a genuine concern and big alarm sounding that she needs to talk to someone. She is older than me, but I have already dealt with extremely similar people in my preteens, so it’s sad to see someone being so immature like this. (I hit the 30 post limit so the screenshots will be in the reblogs for anything missing)

responses to tumblr posts

Starting with the post that finally prompted this response, I want to cover my personal opinion of each thing mentioned. Unfortunately as you will see, I do not have proof for my own ponytown run in personally, but if you read all of the messages provided, you can probably tell who’s more truthful considering it’s a 1-0 with me having evidence and her none. You’ll notice she remains vague when she can, which is most of the time.

First we need to all heavily note that this was a supposed dream. She is her character Hannah in her dream, alongside Drake. Soy, an anon, and myself appear as “hooded people” in her dream and do an incantation on her in order to curse her to not be with Drake. I suppose this causes a curse that forces Drakepad to be real in her dream? Then we say quotes she is claiming we said. I will get to that in a moment. This is a summary so that if she deletes the post linked, you still have me explaining it. (I wrote this last night, unfortunately as of right now while I was acquiring links she did in fact delete the post. Likely because of my warning post from the other day. So she is stalking my account still.) Then her own oddly crafted happy ending where the spell is broken and she gets her ending of support.

Now I’ll cover the “quotes”

“Drakepad is the only true ship”

You will here her claim people saying this to her often. In reference to my friends, such claims have been proven false. We supported her opinion despite our own. Even comforting her and letting her know its awful for anyone to try and pressure her over such a simple difference in taste. Also adding the fact we supported her oc x canon even though she could not RP it in the old server.

“Darkwing DENIED YOU” with her claiming it is something I said to her in Ponytown.

I will go more in depth in exactly what I said in ponytown further down, but I never once said this. She insisted that my opinion was that her oc x canon was not valid. I was Negaduck in game, then I specifically swapped to my Magentus pony and stated how hypocritical it would be for me to say such a thing. Then proceeded to let her know, though I was annoyed, that it’s alright for her to not ship something she does not like, but continuing to bring up that you hate a ship to people you know don’t mind it or even ship it themselves is rude. Then she proceeded to do something I can only describe as something I am seasoned to as the son of an emotionally inmature mother. Again I will elaborate in the ponytown section.

“She gaved me PTSD by her DrakePad hate. And with her tumblr post who HURTED my friends saying we “FORCED” Drakepad on our server she lied.” Which was aparently what Soy said.

I cannot speak to how soy feels completely on this, but I know they did not develop post traumatic stress disorder from this. Nor have they said this quote if you could not guess. I believe the friend was the one in the screenshots between them and soy on discord I shared above. Again, I do not trust that these are her actual friends. This is not to say she couldn’t potentially have friends who agree with her, I just don’t trust her truthfulness especially with said discord dms. But you as the reader can make your own opinion on that. From what I was told by Soy, they joined (I believe after they realized they couldn’t do oc x canon with our Darkwing in the old server, which was his choice to make.) and asked if they could do darkwing x hannah. Soy and others kindly let her know that they were working on a drakepad relationship, but saw no problem in doing dw x lp x hannah. She accepted I think? But regardless then returned to our server to both brag about how someone finally let her, but soon ranted about how uncomfortable poly stuff made them. Some of this is word of mouth, but you can see other parts referenced back above.

“You deserve no friends.” by an anon

Again, I question the validity of this claim, but assuming someone actually said this to her this is horrible to say to someone. Back in 2020 I dealt with prosh*ppers in a problematic fandom harrasing me because I outwardly was against their adult x minor ship. Unfortunately if you know what fandom I mean. (keep guesses to yourself, I don’t want to bring it up in public.) You know it’s very popular unfortunately. I was sent death threats and people telling me how unworthy of friends, love, or anything they could throw at me. I would never say this to another nor condone saying this to another. Even if CookieRuby is in the wrong here. Everyone deserves the chance to have friends and flourish as a person. I’m angry but I’d never wish such a thing. And while I’m at it I would like to suggest to you as the reader that if you are considering doing such a thing don’t. Block her, move on. It’s not worth it. I’m only here right now to give context, then I’m done. I do not want anyone going after her. I’m just here to show my receipts, not to harrass her. I’d just prove her point if I did that. I’m not that sort of person.

And I was shown her speaking about her inferiority complex. I do not have one, so I cannot speak to how true this is, but considering this was March 2023...it seems despite her admitting this, she has obviously continued to lie about people. So I don’t know if she has that complex, but she is a chronic liar at the very least so there’s that I guess.

Ponytown run ins

The provided screenshots below are from before what I’ll be describing to you. I had to re-listen to a voice note I sent after this. It’s all I have besides the discord message of me realizing it was her. I do not want to attach it just because I keep my voice to myself most times. I’m shy gang.

Starting off I was just finishing my Magentus pony. For a while they had a color palette I had just chose myself without reference and I was finally giving them their reference colors. I was returning to the darkwing rock circle I was hoping to start a darkwing pony hangout at, when I saw a Darkwing pony approach. Now, I don’t know if this was coincidence of perhaps she knows about the hangout from my story. Considering she has alts, she probably was checking my story, but that is speculation. I immediately am eager to friend them because of their pony. But of course the first words from her are “why do you have me blocked?” my mood immediately changes as it hit me that someone had told me prior she had an account. Likely due to the incident in the other ponytown screenshots. I ask to confirm if it’s her and she says yes.

So I simply put that she cause discomfort to my friends and I and that I use the block liberally. During this I am scrambling to try and block her on ponytown too, but unfortunately my block list is too full because I have been blocking Dream SMP ponies left and right. So I decide maybe here is where I can put my foot down on things. I also mentioned a side thing about how the old server I was in had a policy about posting over people, but she seemed to focus on this more. (I do not recall if this was enforced at the time, but still it was focused on way more than the main issue I was bringing up.) I mentioned how she’d post over others. I told her that it wasn’t my main point and to forget that and move onto the main issue. I explain to her as adult as I can back to her Drakepad issue that “You were being rude to people because you could get your ship. We tried to be nice and I just blocked you because I didn’t want to deal with that [anymore].” and the only thing she got from that was me saying “rude” I suppose so she responded saying “oh so I’m the toxic one?” and boy have I heard this one get pulled on me before. It’s giving emotional manipulation. I calmly reply “That is not what I said.” I said something else that I couldn’t recall, though likely just me restating what happened, then she said “well I guess I’m sorry-” I was on a call at this time with my boyfriend while he was on break as this went down, so I began speaking to him irl. I guess I did not respond to her in time because she continued with the classic backhanded comment of “Since everyone wants me to apologize anyway” or something to that effect. It was in that way that someone who does this wants you to just accept the apology even though it was not a meaningful one. She does not have to apologize, no one is making her, but that was her attitude about it. I thought I’d just end it off there with a joke to myself so I didn’t lose it. I went “I have a mother, I can be emotionally manipulated at home, I don’t need this game from you. Bye.” and logged off. Honestly there is when it actually got personal. Somewhere in the middle she insisted what I had mentioned earlier with us hating oc x canon and drakepad and all that and that statement from earlier still follows.

I even have a later note worrying there would be a post on her tumblr, but I checked once and there was nothing so I thought maybe she had gotten over herself…..we are here now so nope. Also this was 2/2/2024 for timeline’s sake.

I was transcribing from a voice note, so if it seems like there are any holes in that ask me, I’ll try to fill in what I missed.

Misc

Lastly here are things I did not know how to organize into the rant. As well as some people making mention to their experiences with her in reply to my Instagram story. I swore I would get all I could and I meant it.

And anyways thank you to those who actually took the time to read all of this mess. I don’t know how I did drama back in the day this has truly been so exhausting to write, but it was important that I did. Honestly despite my anger this is really dumb to have to make, but I do not like being lied about. I especially don’t like my friends also being lied about. And again just block her and do not engage. I do not condone harassment of any kind. I am going to go sleep as I finish writing this. This was a tiring experience. She’ll probably continue but now I am satisfied knowing we’re all on the same page.

#jack flaps #callout post #receipts #drama tag :/#darkwing duck #ducktales #oc

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sergeifyodorov · 3 months

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hmm i was scrolling through Twitter earlier and as the designated leafs blog in my mind, what are your thoughts on fraser minten? like he’s so interesting to me because in the narrative i’ve created of him he was tavares’ fifth child but then was our balanced by knies being better, but then wjc happened and he still couldn’t crack it. now he’s on the blades (one of the best whl teams i think??) very interesting

NARRATIVELY he's definitely The Tavares Child -- okayyyy so. Sew. this New Generation of leafs (imho starting at Knies and including Easton Cowan as well as minten) kind of... each parallel a member of the Core: Knies is Auston's child (Arizona boy, big strong forward), Cowan is Mitch's child (London Knight, small winger with endless energy) and Minten is JT's child (Captain anywhere he goes, known for maturity and intelligence)... william child + morgan child ->

anyHWAY the real life scouting report under the cut (not too long i don't think)

Minten's a high second-rounder, which is the type of player that's generally designated as an "upper maybe" NHLer -- by which I mean odds-on he'll get NHL games (as Mints has) but it's less likely he'll become a serious full-time player (although many a second-rounder can and does do so!) The most interesting thing about his draft position was that the Leafs, under Kyle Dubas, traded DOWN to get him -- we had a low first-rounder, then traded it to Chicago to get rid of the Mrazek contract and got the pick that would become Mints in return. Many a source says that Kyle wanted Mints anyway and would have taken him with the first-round pick.

The general consensus is that Mints tops out as a middle-six centre, a 3C on a good team or a 2C on a worse one (or a 1C on the Boston Bruins.) His ceiling is probably about 40 or 50 points, maybe more depending on how much power-play usage he gets.

However, it's also noted (and was pretty obvious to me, even watching him at the WJC -- which I'll get to in a second!) that his real value is not and will likely never be in point production. He's a natural centre, good-to-great at faceoffs (a skill that he learned in part from JT!!) and very good defensively. Because he's still a kid, plays a bit physically and tends to be involved in the play at both ends, he probably takes a few too many undisciplined stick infractions, but these things of course can be straightened out with time and wisdom. Also, he's a touch of a personality hire: he was the youngest A on the all-timer Kamloops Blazers last year and was pretty much immediately named C after the Leafs sent him home this year; he was named captain of the CANADIAN WORLD JUNIORS team with zero other experience playing for Canada on the national level. He plays the piano! He's smart, polite, doesn't cause a fuss, wise beyond his years. Takes a guy far.

Anyway, the WJC: just an absolute hackjob by the coach and one of those years that really demonstrates that Hockey Canada still thinks it can get ahead by being Canada (the ol' throw bodies at the wall shtick) and not, like, because of its actual quality of development. I think bowing out when they did was a bit unlucky, but they absolutely were NOT primed to win it all -- especially because the coach basically seemed to have no concept of... line construction? or anything of the sort? Like he just tossed players together from a hat once (1) and decided they were just going to play out the tourney like that -- no real concept of "x is the playmaker, y is the shooter, z is the forechecker" or "these three are the transition line that take d-zone draws and use their speed to create rush chances/o-zone draws" or even something so simple as "this defensively-minded, slower centre is perhaps not the best match for the winger notorious for being opportunistic and shooty." Also, not to put too fine a point on it but a player can have a bad WJC and it doesn't mean anything, or a good WJC and it also doesn't mean anything -- Jesse Puljujarvi rose his draft stock by a good chunk in 2016 by having a FANTASTIC WJC, and he's currently on an AHL tryout. It's a small sample size, mostly played with teammates they barely know and against competition about a half-step up from what they're used to. Weird statlines happen.

Back to MINTS because we're still talking about him. Yess currently he's on the Blades -- traded from the Blazers because the Blazers are garbage and they want to Do Right By The Player and put him on a competitive team (done for two reasons: one, because it can be demoralizing to be the best player on a bad team, and two, because being on a good team in juniors often means you get actually good-for-your-development linemates and usage). He was generally not expected to make the Leafs at ALL this season (I mean, 20-year-old second-rounder, right?) and cracking the roster out of camp, even though he only got three games and has a rather blank statline is SUPER impressive. I'm pretty sure this is his last year of CHL eligibility, after which he'll probably either get put on the Marlies for a year to keep cooking or he'll make the Leafs again and stick around. Either way, he's slid twice I think so we burn a year of his ELC.

and my opinion of the boy? I love him. Let's go baby leafs baby leafs forevar

#asks #fraser minten

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lungs4sale · 4 months

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my fav hannigram fanfics

png by @pngsforyou

1. Impasto by jiggityjams

“You’re not going to try to discourage me, Will?” Another glance, a pursing of lips. “... No. I can see the determination in your face. You know what you want and you have the means to obtain it. Most clients think they know what they want- until they hear how long it will take and how much that work will cost. We’ll work out some numbers, of course, and draft a contract. If you’re willing to be patient with the piece then I’m willing to give it my best go.” A small, pleased smile spread across the psychiatrist’s face. “I think this is the start of a beautiful partnership, Will. I look forward to working with you.” Or the one where Hannibal has found a lost treasure and Will has given up on police work and has turned his talents to restoring oil paintings.

this is a different au where will quits the fbi and becomes a painter (if im not wrong). abigail is alive and works for him. i read this awhile ago and i remember loving it because of how sarcastic will was. one of my notes was: will was so desperate to open up (not sure why but this man is so touch starved and craved for affection in the show so i guess it's canon accurate). i also have a soft spot for fics with abigail in it because she deserves the world.

2. Five Times Hannibal Visits Will and One Time He's Already Home (or: Coffee Cake) by bones_2_be

When Will tells Hannibal to leave at the end of Digestivo, he goes. And then, a few years later, he shows back up. They have long conversations, drink a lot of wine, at the end of it all they find something that works.

i just finished reading this 2 days ago and it was an experience. i loved how well paced it was. the writing really matched the same vibe of the show. both hannibal and will were written quite accurately to how i feel they would react in the show itself. the way both of them interacted in this fic was realistic and how i wish i could erase my mind of this fic so i could experience it again for the first time.

3. each according to its kind by chaparral_crown

Will does the only reasonable thing that someone fresh out of a mental hospital with no support system does - he leaves, and goes on a road trip to the Pacific Northwest.

this fic is THE hannigram fic, fight with the wall. kidding. this is more of a character study of will (hannibal doesn't even show until halfway through). the writing is top tier and just like the fic before it really does match the vibe of the show. i personally am not a big fan of smut (i don't mind it, i just prefer plot over that) and this book barely had any in it which is a godsend.

4. ...And This One is Just Right by Sabi

When an injured BSHCI escapee breaks into Dr. Graham's vet clinic, it doesn't end cleanly. Surely it couldn't happen again? Or again?

will is a vet in this universe and i'm not sure why but i pictured him younger? it's only 4 chapters if im not wrong and it's a fun read! the characterisation of will is not as accurate to the show but to be fair it is a different universe and i still love this fic dearly.

pngs by @saizun

i'll post more because i want to create an archive here. i don't really like how ao3 looks so i'm going to do it on tumblr instead. if you have any hannigram recs plsplsplspls let me know because i'm literally begging for scraps sire. also merry christmas to those celebrating!

#hannigram #hannibal nbc #ao3 fanfic #ao3 recs #will graham #hannibal #alana bloom #abigail hobbs #plasticghostbot's ao3 recs #hannibal lecter #each according to its kind #...and this one is just right #Five Times Hannibal Visits Will and One Time He's Already Home (or: Coffee Cake)#impasto #beverly katz #i love hannigram sosososo much #hannigram ao3

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fruit-salad-ship · 24 days

Text

I took a run at the Viking/Druid AU. This one’s a ‘married for political rest, hate each other at the start, then learn to appreciate.’

Story draft under cut

This particular group of Vikings might be a bit of an off shoot, they were led by peachs family for a fair few generations sucessfully, a notoriously violent lot, theyve come to be knows for their brutality. BUT that was peachs mother, the generation before, and the world needs a calmer head sometimes, so when peach was handed the reigns, her mother dead in battle as she'd always wanted to go, the weight of the village was suddenly on her shoulders. sure she'd prepared for this, but she thought she had more time to goof off and be young and free. alas, this shift fored peach to grow up, to watch her people die through her bad choices at times, to see them hungry or sick, and have to learn on the job how to avoid this, or fix it. Older generations have tried to overthrow her, but she proves she is the best fighter, if not the biggest, certeinly the fiercest, and smartest. She is tall and muscular, but her real edge is in her ability to be five steps ahead. She keeps a calm head unless shes in a besrker rage, something she doesnt do unless she ABSOLUTLEY has to. Triggered by a cocktail of plants, a tonic of strength essentially. the recipy was taught to her by her mother, and her mother before her, and so on, back many generations, and is unique to the family tree, a secret to them only. Peach goes and forages for the plants and parts often. so a few years later, with several mutinies squashed, a village of now healthy, fed, happy people, who trust her leadership, and believe that the young blood in this case has done well, is an accomplishment. Grey is her captain of the troops, hes vital, her confidant, her child hood friend, a guy whos very level and reasonable, traits she has been TRYING to get people to adapt to, and reduce how much bloodshed her people have brought to others.

They still raid and fight, but they pick and choose more wisely, taking from those who have more troops and more to lose, pinching from farmers and villagers is a cowards fight, they have pitchforks, and nothing worth taking. but kings? lords? princes? ohhhhhoho, they got shit they can stand to lose, their lives included. so they target bigger fish. arguably their trade with local hunters is also quite key, being good on the waters means fishing is their lifeblood, and many neighbouring villages have built a tentative truce with the viking settlement in order to trade and barter. it is...hard to work with, as her people are prone to fighting, but peach manages to delegate and calm raised tempers with a surprising level of reason. This same reason extends to the druid population. Her faimly have...perhaps been known to slaughter them upon sight. She has seen it, she had watched her blood strike down witchcraft in a heartbeat through fear, and peach does not wish to extend that fear further.

that being said, she is kind of terrified of druids.

low key tho

so when the druid council arrange a meeting with her, no weapons, no threats, a simple plea for peace, she is open to hearing it. Peach and her council go to discuss, and a peace can be arranged if there is a show of trust. Notably, marriage. A viking leader, to a Druid patron of the gods. if this can be done then surely they can trust in an alliance together. Peach is SO not here for it. She however is overruled by the council, they all agree this is a very reasonable arrangement, and peach is left taking one for the team, so to speak. and its honestly something that puts her in a foul state of mind from the get go

she has no clue who shes being married off to, and goes home sulking, telling grey everything over drink, and he is roaring with laughter. the towns most unapproachable, inhospitable woman has finally been shackled down. he cant even believe it, and does not give a rest to the pokes and prods of his taunting. A fortnight passes and no news, nothing from the druids save for a charm of favorable winds for their ships that arrives by raven. Sure enough the ships do prosper, the winds are behind them, and the fish are plentiful. Peach begrudgingly watches her village flourish, and dreads the next step, one she alone has to venture forward with, one she is honestly mortified about. She toughs it out, and soldiers on. And then the letter to the ceremony arrives. She is to meet her betrothed in a week, and the first meeting will be within the druid community, where peach will come with no more than two escorts to agree to terms, and collect the person in question to return home with. There is no exit clause, this means peace for their people once and for all.

and that long long hike to the heart of the woods where the druids exist is...hell. Shes got real nerves, doesnt even get like this for battles, in fact she states on several ocasions that she'd rather be in the thick of a war in the mud and the dirt and the blood than in the calm of the woods. its almost too calm, lets her mind wander to what kind of awful person shes been tied to for the rest of her life. she pictures an old crone, a witch of the woods, a crusty old being, and shudders, while her two companions make jokes that she'll have to have horrible weird druid sex with an old person. and shes there trying not to throw up.

the druids welcome them in with more hospitality than expected, this is of course a negotiation for peace, and peach activley hands in all her weapons, right off the bat with no arguing. she has to berate the other two ONCE, and no more, to do the same. So theyre in a community of 75-100, all of which follow this weird and wild magic, all somehow touched into natures way, and the vikings are just there, strangers in a foreign land, and people are very wary of them. They are taken to the leaders, sat, offered food and drink, to which peach is feeling too sick to really partake in all that much, picks at best, but her attention is toward the new setup of what is to be rules on how their people interact with each other. No more unnecessary deaths. The work of it all nearly lets her mind slip from the end result, her people will no longer hunt druids, offer trade, military aid and services should need be, and for all forward purposes consider them allies, unless violent action is taken against them, in return they will gain access to medicine and the occasional charms to aid the villagers, magic to bolster their people. It is a truce. A good one. A better one than peach was expecting to get. their negotiations go on into the early hours, and finally the leader of the druids says its late, and peach must be eager to meet his daughter. She pauses, looks up, processes, and then recalls the arrangement. she had NO idea this man she talked with was to be family, she'd have tried to be a little more impressive and imposing, but perhaps her subdued and calm approach was fine. they walk to a rather lovely building, draped with vines and hidden deep into the mossy dirt, he sighs, and looks at peach. a warning is given, his daughter was...not, thrilled about this situation. she may be fierce in her actions and words.

peach is left to knock the door, her brides father not entering, simply waiting a few paces back, calling in a name, a pet name from the sounds of it, and from inside peach can hear the light footsteps of someone. the door opens, plum sticks her head out, glares past peach to her father, shouts 'NO' and slams the door. Peach cant help but laugh.

he sighs, waves a weary hand, and turns to go stating taht peach best get acquainted with his daughter, this is out of his hands. and so peach tries again, calls in to at least ask her name, and gets no response. just told to go away. their conversation starts on a hostile point, and peach sits against the door and tries to reason with her. plum is every bit as stuborn and hard headed as peach is, but shes really throwing a fit about this. peach ends up just as mad, as if this is ideal for either of them?! but its not about them, its about their people, and moving forward with a sense of peace. surely as a druid, of all things, plum could reason with the notion of peace? and thats when the door opens, peach tumbles back, lands looking up, met with a VERY mean glare, plum saying she has no idea what druids should or shoudlnt reason with, that shes just some bloodthirsty idiot with nothing between her ears. harsh but fair. the girls row. and fight, and argue, and get to understanding that they couldnt be more further apart. this goes on for hour, until it becomes a fight, and peach is trying, TRYING not to take the bait, shes twice as big as this little druid and not about to break the truce on the first night. plum however does not care, and eventually peach has to defend herself. it is a close quarters, brutal little spat, and they both end up scraped and bruised.

by the morning peach is ready to go home, black eye and bites and scrapes adorned, the truce is made, plum has been appeased by her father and a whole host of others, she is in NO WAY happy about this, but has come to the bitter conclusion that its for the good of her people. the travel back is mind numbing. plum stops to look at things all the time, shes never really ventured out of her territory for fear of vikings. they have to slow down, get caught in rain, get their path crossed by a bear. the two with peach go to attack it, she tells them to back down, leave it be, and plum at the VERY least appreciates that she lets it pass unbothered. by the time theyre back at the village its all hands on deck to get ready for the festivities, everyones happy to see them, but peach suggests she'll hold a meeting tomorrow once rested and settled, to introduce her...betrothed (she is still mad about it) and inform everyone of the events. natrually some of the older vikings are not happy with plum there, they eye her with hatred, and skulk away. peach doesnt notice, those old farts are always angry, theyre old, its what they do, but plum gets a bad read off them. peach and plum go back to the girls new home together, a longhouse with fair space and one too many weapons. Plum is mildly interested in some of the strange trinkets peach has stolen, but doesnt ask, she is given a bed, a space her own, away from peach, and shown around enough to feel at home. it is very much laced with snide jabs and comments from both sides. things plum does notice: peach makes her own beserker tonic, and seems to be mid-way making a batch now. peach of course doesnt reveal what is in it, nor what its for, it is none of plums concern, and plum pulls the 'well ill be your wife soon enough you may as well tell me now.' card. peach hates it. doesnt cave.

it is another restless night for the girls, they bicker and fight about every little thing. plum kicks her shoes off anywhere, peach never remembers to throw a log on the fire in time, plums constantly tripping over things shes used and not put away, peach cant stand the smell of the tea plum drinks, a home blend. By the time the meeting in the village comes the next day, peach is hardly awake, grouchy, and fed up. but the information of a truce is given, plum is introduced, and the village sets about trying to come to term with the change. Grey is the life saver, he is very calm, and offers to show plum around, giving peach a break. one that she spends the entire time sleeping through. grey and plum actually get on fine, she finds him much less irritating, and perhaps even nice, if she can put aside his murderous skills. she learns the village, the people, the trades, the buildings, she pets the animals, she sees some of them trying to farm, others hauling in fishing nets from the boats. all in all, plum is quietly surprised the vikings have this level of civilisation built, tales and stories would suggest theyre all mindless brutes who do nothing but kill and steal. she is at LEAST pleasently surprised.

she gets home to peach fast asleep by the fire, on a number of furs, and proceeds to dump a jug on water on her, for the fun of it.

the 'i have to marry you, i dont have to like you' comments they share are laced with seething disdain, peach goes to fish, plum goes to forage, they dont see each other unti the next day, and its over a very hostile breakfast. Eventually peach is thankful to leave to fight, and plum is left home to her own devices. This raises issues. While peach is out doing her thing, the older villagers start to fuck with plum, and she has to recall the truce, and not to hit back. they say some horrible things to her, perhaps even get in her face, but it never gets physical, so she leaves it be. She can tough this out for her people, the village will get use to her, shes just new. peach and her raiders get home a week or so later, they haul in goods stolen, and peach has cleared her mind of rage, and tried to be the bigger person...not literally, she already is, but she has returned, and gets home, and doesnt say a word about the tea smell, instead pulling a rather pretty broach from her pocket that looks like a branch of blossom in golds, inlaid with some kind of pinkish gemstone. A peace offering. Plums right, she does have to marry her but he doesnt have to like her, but maybe if they just, got along this could all be a little less shit. Plum says nothing, sees peach is battered and hurt and tired, her body is on the rebound off beserker tonic, so she needs rest. She slinks off, runs herself a bath, and tries to soak her aches out. plum sits and looks at the broach and doesnt say much, rolls over and goes to sleep by the fire. peach finds her curled up, pulls a blanket over her, and goes to her own bed to try and do better tomorrow. well that doesnt quite work out. the next two weeks the girls are slowly at each others throats more and more, its becoming obvious to everyone.

they foil each others fun, ruin each others things, have spite for one and other that extends to their personal space and privacy. Grey watches them both get run ragged by the endless torment they throw at each other. And then finally, the wedding arrives. The dreaded day. it is traditional viking style, with a few tweaks to include the druid nature of one of the brides, and honestly everyones just there to feast and drink afterwards, something the two new wives hardly do. well. peach drinks. a lot and plum throws berries at her for the boring bits. they go home, sleep at opposite ends of the house, and try to just get on with this. its for their people, both say to themselves in the quiet of night. every time peach has to host to other leaders plum is subtly spiteful, makes her look bad tbh, which is fine, but after one particular disaster of a meeting with a local leader who could have been a useful allie, peach sees them off and turns to plum to remind her, NOW she is fucking with pech's people, and another reminder, they are now HER people, shes the chief's wife, she is one of this village too, and shes shooting her own in the foot because shes a spiteful witch. peach is furious, she needed to barter that better, this is less than ideal. plum finally sees that perhaps she went too far. this isnt just a dig at peach, and she hates to say it, but peach is right. these are now her people. and most of them, save for a few, have been nothing but agreeable towards her, some even nice. plum sits up, peach is asleep turned away, ad the druid has time to do something good for once. she sits up and starts to do what she does best.

peach awakens the next day to a myriad of smells she does not know, and finds plum still awake, concocting a whole host of small bottled items. plums things are sprawled out, she hardly notices peach, and when she does, she doesnt say anything, feeling a little bad for the day before. peach asks, has to, its taking up half the house, and plum says shes working. thats as good as peach will get, she knows that, she leaves, goes to help with building a new barn, and doesnt go home until late that day. this goes on for two more days, before peach wakes to the house quiet, no plum, no things out, the chaos has subsided, its cleaned up, mostly. herbs hang and dry neatly, a huge mortar and pestle sits clear of debris, theres a bowl of petals drying, some jars of unusual powders all lined up, its like...plums settled in. her things have places, and has become part of this setting. weeks of not getting along or finding her place here, and finally it seems to be happening. Peach doesnt find her in the yard out front, not the woods when she goes to check the perimeter, nor alogn the lakes edge where plum goes walking. No. Peach finds her in the village, she spots the drift of her curls and peaks out to see what shes doing. Going around offering help, she found the man with the bad cough, the kid with terrible itchy skin, the mother who cant sleep, the man with no luck, even the cow with a funny limp. Plum has made a fix for most of the ailments. She is not the bitter twisted little shit peach has been presented with now, she is calm and kind and open, and seems to radiate true druid energy while doing this kind of work, she is a different person. Peach doesnt say a word, but they clock each other, theres no smile shared, no look of taunt or smugness, they just...they know. they know that plum took on board that these are also her people.

and dare peach say it, shes thankful for her, for once. The villagers repair, thrive even, but some still do not care for her meddling. Peach catches her back at home, coming in late, hands full of splinters, a fresh batch of jerky brought in from the drying racks, she traded a few bits for actual apples too, nice ones from a farmer that came through! She's in a surprisingly good mood, but there is still caution coming home. She doesnt want to cause any more arguments. She tells plum about the apples, to help herself, and leaves her alone to go soak her hands and try to get the splinters out. it is a slow process, but methodical, she quite likes the joy of excavating a big splinter, getting a good sharp blade and sitting in the bath to start this process. She has since become numb to plums tea, she actually has even started to like the smell perhaps, its certainly not nice, but its definitely a smell of home to her now. It shocks her when plum comes to sit with her, the first time ever. Neither talk immediately, peach is trying to catch the wood i her hand and pull it free, so her focus is mostly taken up, and plum is poking at the fire with a stick, sipping her drink, not really paying much attention. its quiet company. after a while, Peach syas she's grateful, her people benefited from plums skills today, she got a lot of people telling her that druid magic helped them with this and that. plums short 'mm' back is enough. they continue in quiet, peach getting slowly more frustrated by one stubborn splinter, going to cut into her hand to get it out, until plum notices and stops her, wordless, takes the knife, finds the problem, and carfully pries it out. takes two goes, and the chip comes free. there is a BRIEF moment where she still holds peachs hand, and looks at her like shes looking for something in her gaze, before giving the knife back and going back to the fire.

this quiet existence is a nice change to the arguments. for weeks after they bicker less, but still of course snap and disagree over so much, but certainly have less quarrels, and come together to put on an air of power should people visit for talks of trade or alliance. peach gifts plum a shawl that was her mothers mothers, a hand woven thing that holds a lot of meaning, and displays her families mark clearly, its not a huge deal, but it kind of is. the girls play it down, but peach is quietly happy to see plum wears it when the chill in the morning air is too much, or when shes wandering the village working. their marriage was not conventional, nor chosen, but they are finding a midground. even if they annoy eachother endlessly. its for their people, not them. but with time the things that bugged them start to hold less weight. Plum can no longer find irritation with peach not putting things away because shes changed, she does actually return items to where they belong. The endless weapons have their own storage, she doesnt leave them lying around. There is never a leak in the roof she cannot fix, and for such a merciless killer (plum thinks, shes never seen her fight) peach holds a calm note to all decision making, and typically never puts her own wants above others in terms of whats good for the masses. She has very little, and gives what she can, but somehow it comes around, and she is never left wanting. Her good nature, and speed to help her own pays back. Plum sees she is not all harsh edges. Peach however has also come to herms with plums temperament. The woman knows when plums going to kick off in a meeting and always manages to calm the situation. plums need to create went from an annoying clutter in the house to something peach finds joy in looking over now.

theres even a quiet love for plums cooking, which is arguably better than she thought it'd be, somehow she expected druits to chew on twigs and berries, but no, plum can and does make many nice things, and so they can take turns and give each other breaks from that task. peach even likes when plum is busy weaving and shes carving some wood and they sit quiet;y by the fire together. its...calm company. quiet. Is peach horny 24-7? yes, but again, shes had to put that aside and ignore it, this is not a marriage of joy, its one of peace.

the scalding tone of 'oh, so you survived then.' every time peach gets back from a trip has become welcoming, plum does not care, she knows, but at least she acknowledges her entering the home now. its something.

it is on one of these late nights, when peach gets in from a volatile battle, the village hit with a violent downpour, the people are struggling to pull the ships in, everyones out to lash them to post and stop the waters taking them, even plum is out helping as best they can to calm animals and settle people. when peach is away, plum acts in her stead, she is the wife, she has to. so shes out, in this miserable weather, and while everyones busy trying not to lose ships, peach notices she cant see plum. not anywhere. with things under control she goes looking. plum however has seen a bunch of goat bolt, a pen left open, a crack of thunder spooking them, and chases them down. cant lose a flock like that, she can get them. but it was a trick. those old vikings, ones who saw peachs mother rule with her bloody iron fist, do not care for this new alliance, and have been compelled to kill plum and break the truce, they dont like this peace with witchcraft users, they liked things the old way. Plum is busy trying to get these goats to come to her, a quiet whisper to them that they understand, to calm, to come to her, and they do. She only turns in time to see three villagers coming at her with an uneasy look, plum says its ok, shes got the goats, asks if they others wrangled the boats? and they dont answer, she takes a step back when she spots theyre armed, and starts considering the peace pact, the tentative nature of this situation. they attack her, and she can retaliate, but it'd scare the villagers, potentially break the peace, peace she'd finally managed to come to terms with herself. she tries to talk them down, reason with them, but they spew old world hate, words plums not heard in the mouths of men for a while, they want the druids gone, they dont trust nor like them.

she winds up a low powered warning spell, firest it at the floor and tries to spook them, but theyve fought druids before, and dont fear her small show of strength, shes pulling punches , big time, and they keep advancing. So she charges up an even bigger hit, warning them, telling them, urging them not to risk the peace, and they dont hear it. In the raging weather, they dont hear the person running in, the three villagers swing weapons, and plum fires a defencive spell. Both hit, but not as they had wanted. between them both peach stands, she has redirected the spell, pointing plum upwards, and taking a fair brunt of whatever she cast, and her other hand wields a weapon blocking the one at the front who swung first. Chief is back and pissed, she barely stepped off the boat, she didnt even get to see the villagers, she didnt have a moment to rest, and now her own are beign traiterous bastards to the peace. She tells everyone to step down, cool off, this is not worth it. She will let the three leave with their lives if they stop now. They made an attempt on her wife, she will not allow them to stay, but in any other situation, theyd be put to death for it. She is giving them a chance to pack, and leave by morning. they dont hear her. Plum is completely preoccupied with the spell she fired off, it was a harsh one, one thats settled under peachs skin, not a direct hit but plenty enough to graze her, she can see her words are a bluff to some degree, shes tried, she was hurt when she got back, now shes more hurt because of her. The men do not back down, calling her a coward in the shadow of her mothers wake, and so peach is forced to fight. and boy does she fight. harder than ever, with a brutality plum has never seen on her. She is fast, and precise, and despite injury plum thought would slow her, peach fells three and is still standing.

she however is now very much out of momentum, she looks plum over, shes fine, the goats are fine, the boats are tied, and she drops as soon as the relief hits. plum is left trying to turn her from drowing in the rain, goats chewing on her hair, being shooed away, plum eventually being found and helped, they get peach in her home and she for the first time ever, tends to the injuries. She is exhausted, the effects of the spell that grazed her are very much settled, and her injuries from the battle are painful but not fatal. Peach will live, but she really pushed herself. plums wondering how she has druid resistance, the spell she cast shoudl have done a lot more damage than this. She doesnt know the tonics peach has ingested all her life have built her tolerance to some things, and she doesnt know peachs family are old school druid killers, all dead now, but peach technically is her natrual enemy. not that plum knows that. peach groggy with pain awakes inside, warm under so many furs and throws, the fire crackles, she can squint out details in the low light, and plums there, asleep next to her, the cold cloth in her hand fallen but still held to her head. Its a very surreal moment. peach is convinced she died, this is not her wife.

she shifts and in that shift plum startles awake, seeing peach now somewhat awake, if not a little hazy. they have their first civil ish conversation after nearly half a year of marriage.

there is a quiet thank you in plums actions, not her words, she wipes blood from peachs skin as they talk, a soothing that chief didnt think she'd ever want, nor need, yet here it was like being cradled, her body cried out for contact, this long with nothing but hostility, this was a welcomed change in her sorry state. plum does tell her she was stupid to redirect magic like that, it was dangerous, and peach can only think of the peace brokered, how fragile it is, now scared people would be if a death was caused by a druid and not her. No one will question it if she cut them down in defence of her wife, thats a reasonable motive for deaths, she warned them, she gave them a chance, they didnt take it. on their head be it. for the first night ever, peach settles on her side, and plum does not go to her own bed, she stays by the fire and lies down and they drift off together. This whole thing does not stop the girls arguing, but their bickering seems mostly laced with concern, or reason. they grow mildly closer by the day, its slow, tentative process, but plums starting to see the joy in her big strong wife, who is surprisingly calm and patient, and peach cant help but notice how intelligent and beautiful the druid is, convinced she might be going mad but accepting it. Its not like anything would happen between them anyway, this whole thing was for the people, not for love of any kind. She is resigned in the thought that she gets to watch plum fuss over a potion or incantation, and sit quietly and see how the light hits her just so when shes by the window grinding up herbs, wiping her brow and ending up with all manner of colours on her face.

it is quiet admiration from a distance, on both parts, too resigned by the situation to act on anything, even when they catch the other looking. even when plum helps peach with a minor injury, or when peach brings home "too many flowers" for a dye, and just happens to leave them for plum on the table. They have a quiet language between them, and their bickering really does mask it day to day. Eventually however theres a new person in town. Another druid brought in by hunters, they found her wandering hurt, and with the new alliance, they offered help as agreed. chief and her wife are overjoyed at this show of hospitality, her people are learning! its a big step, and so with some digging, they find this druid has no allegiance in this area, and had no clue about the treaty. She is weary and seems to drift directly towards peach, who to most holds a very calm reassuring presence, so this is not unusual. They welcome her in, ask if she has any family, she is put up in a small hut, given a job, shows their ways, and once healed seems happy to be part of things here. Plum wakes often to find this new woman with her wife talking, she watches from the house as peach and the druid chat while working, seems like shes always close to her, and certainly is quick to help should anything go wrong with Peach. Plum saw her patch up a cut, and pull a splinter, and hang fish to dry, all simply to spend time. Seems no matter where peach geos, somewhere close, that new druid hangs by. eventually plum catches peach alone at home, night a welcomed break, and tells her to keep an eye on that one, shes got an odd feel to her. peach just laughs, says she sounds jealous if anything, in a mocking kind of teasing tone. The accusation causes an argument, and they end up sleeping on opposite sides of the house in angry heaps of furs.

this continues, the closer the druid gets, the more peach pulls back from her duties, plum picks the slack up, starts to notice peach doesnt come home for longer, is less talkative and interested in plums day to day goings on. This was a marriage of peace, of politics, not of love. so why does she feel awful seeing this? then one day peach goes missing. no one can find her, plum has to take on the role of leader, and calm everyone, reassure them they will find her, and oddly, the other druid is gone too. whispers start to spread. People really like plum now, shes helped so many, proven shes good natured, and cares for them, and start to worry if this is some scandal. Plum reassures them its probably nothing, and sets about working out where peach has gone. she puts an appointed council in charge and gathers her things and does what she does best, using magic and logic to track the path peach last took. it winds plum into the forest and grey catches up to see if she needs help, something she is fine with, theyve grown to be good friends. they wander deeper into the woods, noticing a path, keeping on it. The druid might manouver these forests with ease but if peach is with her, then she will be as haphazard as youd expect of any viking going on a nature trail.

they come to some kind of clearing after a while of travel, signs of a struggle, theres blood, its not animal, its human, and the trail seems to lead further up, a small mountainous peak ahead. they amble up, following the blood drops into a rather discrete cave half way up, slinking further in. Plum feels no natural life here, everything in this area is dark and twisted, the energy here is...disturbed. uncomfortable even. they peak around a rocky outcrop as the muttering of a person is overheard, finding the druid at some kind of alter surrounded by bones of many kinds. sat on her knees behind the other druid, peach, her gear pulled down to reveal her top half streaked in red, blood? no doubt, the druid also seems to have slapped on the same markings with hands, as if she adorned them both with warpaint. her mutterings are so low plum cant catch the incantations, but nothing like this is ever good, and the energy is all off, whatever god she's pulling from, its not a decent one. Plum goes to cast a block, to stop whatever happening, but its not strong enough, bounces off, and also alerts the other druid. So here they stand, Grey tries to be the valiant fighter, and he is good sure, but magic like this trumps anything a sword or axe can do. He is knocked back, not by a spell, no, peach has gotten up, turned to face them, and is brandishing her weapon. her eyes are not her own, the bloody markings all over her skin look like theyre hot from burning, she gets between her wife, grey, and this new druid, and takes a stance to defend the new witch.

if peach fought like a demon before, this took it to a literal point. plum can tell somethings residing in her body, a vessel for something, the runes drawn on her seem to hint at that too, and greys struggling to keep up with her at all, hes getting hurt. an almighty fight plays out, mostly of plum casting double time to not only try to knock the other druid down but defend and bolster grey enough to stand up to whatever peach has become. its exhausting, but quickly they realise grey is not a threat, the real problem is plum, and both attackers go for her, target the caster specifically. this works well, but plum gets to pull one some big-bollock kind of spells shes never got to use before, tells grey to run out of direct sight, and he does, before she casts. the cave is flooded with light, searing, cleansing light, her druidic hail mary, and its fantastic, downs the druid, and dislodges whatever is in her wife, but that things stubborn, got its claws in her. Plum cant think to do anything when shes grabbed and thrown down hard, peach now on top of her, it is not her face, or expression, or eyes, thats not her, but shes in there, plum can sense it, shes hesitating. where peach didnt before, she seems to be now. Plum cant think of anything else to do, so frustrated with seeing what was a good woman in this state. she gets free for a second of peachs grip, lunges forward and kisses her. one last spell, a cleansing one, needs direct contact, these kinds of spells dont tend to work so well without thre being real oomph behind them, a real tether to the afflicted. Plum can move away and cup her wifes face, peach has comepltly stopped, focus flickering from fierce and full of hate to a far softer one. plums little 'come back to us. come back to me.' that no one hears, pulls, and pulls, and drags whatever evil was in there kicking and screaming out.

they can leave there, and leave with their chief dazed, and a little confused, but alive. Greys got under her arm, plums taken the journal from their dead foes body, a coded druidic shes slowly figuring out, unravelling the truth of what happened. Peach was charmed, heavily, from day one, and lured away thanks to that deeply ingrained charm to be a willing receptical for some kind of evil spirit. to bring it into the human world. the druid she killed was essentially a cultist, and a good one at that

very nasty, very devious, knew about the druidic treaty and took advantage of it

it is once peach is home, her people calmed now shes been found, the situation explained, in a way that was careful not to put fear of druids back in them. plum handles it very well, and can go home to her wife, who she now realises she quite enjoys, and sits with her quiet as ever by the fire. she gets peach to try and rehydrate, gives her some of her tea, with WAY too much honey in it, but peach likes it that way, and tries to get her to rest. Peach is so confused, she doesnt recall the last week, her actions werent her own, whatever happened she totally lost herself. plum fills the blanks in, and gets to the point where she cant NOT tell her wife, a woma nshe was bound to in marriage out of oath, not love, that in fact she saw her with this other druid and felt... sad. a flash of peachs old teasing comes back 'jealous much?' and plum laughs, smacks her arm gently, not too hard, peach took some serious damage, but they seem to be acting like normal.

for the first night ever, peach curls up in her bed, in so much pain, trying to find comfort, and plum comes in and crawls over, she could hear peach in the dark struggling, and joins her, a small incantation to repair, like a gentle healing aura, the best she can do for her wife right now. She gets in as the big spoon, and peach feels relief from her touch, the magic helps her sleep, helsp the pain slip away, and they can recover in peace.

they still bicker nd argue, peach has a slow but steady recovery back to full health, but something always resided in her after, something that kept her up at night, something that made her see things in the darkest shadows. Whatever spirit was put in her, plum suspects it left somethign behind. None the less peach leds her people with patience and care, and plum, despite her awareness of peachs new problem, finds ways to improve her situation, and the situations of all the villagers. They are her people too, after all. the wives slowly find new ways to love each other. plum likes the water, so peach takes her out to swim, knows a clear calm river in the wood thats perfect for it. they girls get to drink together on long windy nights, and talk about their families, about each other, about what they like, dont like, where they love being, where they'd want to go and see. they find beauty in each other. It doesnt take too long before they finally find themselves FINALLY getting intimate, as most married couples do

#viking au #fruit salad #brainrot #doodle

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writingquestionsanswered · 10 months

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How do I make my writing less.. like I'm rambling? I speak and type in a way that is very much rambling but I want my writing (even if it's just a fanfic) to be more on topic ig?

How to Ramble Less in Your Writing

1 - Have a plan - Planning doesn't have to mean figuring out every last detail--creating scene lists, outlines, and timelines. It can mean that, and if that would help you, do it! But mainly "having a plan" in writing just means that you know the general plot. Who is this story about? What is the conflict? Why does the protagonist want to resolve the conflict? How will they go about it? What obstacles do they face along the way? Who or what placed those obstacles there? How will the character, their situation, or their world have changed by the end of the story? At the very least, having a beginning to end summary is a great way to format the answers to these questions and give you a plan to follow.

2 - Balance Exposition, Dialogue, and Action - If you find yourself rambling a lot in your story, you might be doing too much exposition, aka "explaining things." Remember that scenes (and your story in general) should be a balance of exposition, dialogue (conversation), and action (things happening). When you balance these things out in your story, you will find that you probably ramble less.

3 - Ramble First, Edit Later - Rambling in your writing isn't always a bad thing. For some writers, that's just part of the first draft process. It's sort of a "throw everything at the wall and see what sticks" method of writing, but it works really well for some writers. Some of the best stories in the world were written that way. The key is to go back and edit what's there so you can take out the things that "didn't stick" and clean up the things that did.

4 - Start With a Mind Map - If you find yourself having difficulty staying on topic in your story, try doing a mind map before you start writing and let all those rambling thoughts come out in an organized way. This can help you see all those seemingly random connections your brain is making between elements in your story, which is what sends you off on these rambling paths in the first place. Not only does this let your brain get all those random connections out of its system before you start writing, it also gives you the ability to look at what's there and see if there's anything worth working into something more relevant and cohesive to the story.

5 - Break It Up Into Smaller Parts - Another thing you can try is to break your writing up into smaller parts, which has the effect of putting up barriers that keep you from rambling too far off course. Try to focus on writing a scene... know what you want to accomplish in the scene before you start writing. Figure out the beginning point, the midpoint, and the end point. Then, plot the path between each point. If you still find yourself rambling, break it up by point. Write from the beginning to the midpoint. Then from the midpoint to the end point. Breaking it into smaller parts forces your brain to focus on that smaller part rather than giving it the opportunity to run off into the wild.

Happy writing! ♥

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ultimateloserboy · 6 months

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(finally posting this really old draft hi fluffybird nation are you dead yet?)

personally im a firm believer that fluffybird will never use the terms boyfriend or husband, because they’re already best friends. i think theyll stick with that title not because of denial, but because in their heads “best friend” is synonymous with partner. maybe its just the aro-spec in me, but the term best friend can easily mean partner if you want it to, because partners are just best friends with added bonuses. i think they would have this mindset too, and yes i might be arospec truthing.

but even outside of my own projection, i do feel like this is implied canonically, especially with red guys habit of denial. in family he denies being friends with the other two, saying hed hardly call them that, i think the term “friend” on its own is synonymous with family to him. he wouldnt call them family, and he wouldnt call them friends. and in death when he denies being ducks best friend, he acts like the title is bigger than it is. they act like lego batman and lego joker arguing about being enemies. its easy to assume the term best friend was meant to be romantic here, so i believe friendship, or at least the word itself, is viewed differently from the puppets perspective.

i think this fits perfectly with the whole childrens-show vibe the show is supposed to give, because friendship in kids tv shows is definitely more special than people see it in real life. (people other than me but i digress-) despite the fact that this show is much more mature than an ACTUAL kids show, i dont think itd be out of character for the main three to use more “childish” terms for the world around them and the feelings they have. the way the world is presented is mature, BUT with a coat of false innocence and fake childlike wonder, and i believe using the term “friendship” to mean more complex forms of love is perfectly on brand with that. does this make any damn sense?? im so bad at getting things out but i tried.

anyway them saying “i like looking at you” instead of “i love you” also works with this

#dhmis #dhmis fandom #dhmis duck #duck guy #dhmis red guy #duck dhmis #red guy #fluffybird #dont hug me im scared #red guy x duck #dhmis tv show

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starscelly · 1 month

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here’s my thing with 42455….. this is actually too long. many thoughts below 👇

we already have Seen roope be obsessed with miro for YEARS. he’s such a bitch (affectionate) but then it comes to miro and he’s like. he’s in such good shape ^.^ he’s so good both ways ^.^ he’s the best d in the world ^.^ he’s the most attractive finn on our team ^.^ he’s so good at so many things ^.^ he’s too nice ^.^ and you get miro's half hearted media answers in response. NOW you add harls into the equation who is dropping CRAZY affectionate quotes abt miro. he is not afflicted by the finnish mafia repressing emotions gene. he is very american about it. loudly proclaiming his love (for his game), how he amazes and dazzles and shocks etc etc literally groaning (positive) when asked about it. harls who literally like. chases miro down during breaks around the bench to yap at him and make him giggle.

now. miro is. the least interesting person to do media ever SORRY sorry he is very "get pucks in deep" core. you dont get as delicious quotes. what DOES he do? he giggles!!! he giggles and he expresses!!!!!!! which. yes he throws out a laugh or a fun expression for all of his teammates every once in a while. but he is ALWAYS laughing at harls and/or roope. he is always yapping BACK to them rather than just being yapped at and nodding. its subtle but the affection back is there!!!!! and his praise for both of their games cannot be understated and you know how he wouldnt shut up abt roope when he got drafted to dallas but . etc etc. you get the point.

this creates inch resting dynamics!!! 2 me!!!!! miro gets two (2) giant boyfriends who are utterly obsessed with him. now roope and harls.... they're not d partners and theyre not ridiculously fated finns. what can we Inspect here. other than some very cute fun celly moments (i need to give a nod to them!!!! roope is good at cellys this cannot be ignored) you get roope kind of. not brushing harls off but just. ultimately being unbothered by him? there's shots of them chatting on ice where roope barely looks at him whereas harls is doing his big wet sopping eyes shtick aggressively in roope's direction. this is also just an Accurate Vibe for them based on fandom interpretations of their personalities So.

the thing is, it doesnt read to me as annoyance or jealousy or anything. its really a. "miro has a little pet now. guess i will try my best to like it." and he is being Endeared Against His Will (see: my celly point again). combine this with miro's giggling at harls like he is a little court jester dancing for his entertainment. you get something very fun. very silly. two bitches and their weird little boyfriend that they love sooooo much but think is soooo absurd and will be so mean (affectionate) to him. and harls OBVIOUSLY loves his cunty ass boyfriends. very much "they dont bite ^.^" as they actively bite him. you know. and he’s such a dick to everyone else he Needs to be put in his place… basically roope and harls are HUUUUGE bitches to each other but in a silly way. like they very much probably would Not care abt each other without the addition of miro but bc they do have a miro they can have this <3

and then you add in how the dynamic would completely change in the bedro- [gunshots]

#YES IM TALKING ABT THEM AGAIN SORRRYYYY #this is so much nonsense but im not going back to read any of it. peace and love #42455 #yap yap yapping

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runawaymun · 4 months

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WTH I need to know more about this??? SHSBDBHA (If you want to share, of course)

alksdglasdgh

okay so long story short, my hisfic novel that I'm currently querying agents for was almost left unfinished. I almost gave up on it.

The main character, in my grand fantasy of 'if this ever went to film' (as one naturally does), would be played by Alex Kingston.

A few years ago (five, six?), when I was on the verge of giving up and throwing the whole thing out, my best friend and (now) platonic partner bought me tickets to comic con, and tickets for a signing with Alex Kingston, and I thought -- what the hell, I'll bring a printed out copy of the manuscript and ask her to sign it, and then I can look at it and maybe it'll motivate me to finish the damn thing. I did not go with the intention of giving it to her. It never crossed my mind.

I was a huge bundle of nerves obviously. We strategically positioned ourselves in the back of the line in the hopes that we wouldn't be rushed along, since there would be nobody waiting to have their stuff signed after us. I slid the manuscript on the table and she just kind of looked at it, paused, and then looked again, and then looked up at me in disbelief

(it was a THICCC bundle of pages, all neatly typed up etc.)

And I had to sort of awkwardly, very nervously explain that she was one of my favorite actresses, and that I was writing a book, and that I had always envisioned that if it ever got to film, I'd want her to play the main character, and could she please sign it? It would mean so much.

She lit up and went "Wait, can I have this?"

And I was like LSDLAKHGLKASDHG IT'SD A ROUGH DRAFT???? IT'S NOT DONE??????

and she was like "My husband's a writer, I know how it goes. There! I have something to read on the way back!"

And she put it in her purse, wholesale.

Anyway it was mortifying and exhilarating, and boy did it motivate me to finish editing the damn thing, because Alex fucking Kingston is walking around in the world somewhere with the rough draft and I just can't let it exist like that in its only form. I feel like I owe it to her now to finish it and get it published. She's the whole reason I didn't give up on writing.

Also she is INCREDIBLY sweet IRL. Big mom energy. I love her. Also same Comic Con, John Barrowman got loose from his security detail and agent and was just running about the con somewhere saying hi to fans. William Shatner was also there, and loudly, flatly denying requests for handshakes. It was wild. Matt Smith was there too, and you always knew where he was because there would be a public outcry of screaming, squealing fangirls whenever anybody caught sight of him.

#this sounds fake but I can promise you it really did happen #i still freak out about it anytime I think about it years later #anyway if I ever become some kind of published author y'all can thank Alex Fucking Kingston #Alex Kingston #MORTIFYING that she may have read that draft #I don't know if she did or not #it haunts me

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factorialsotherfandoms · 29 days

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Well Saga clicked the like button and she's already seen most of this, but... A little bit of first draft of some xcomau Pac and Mike backstory (from the period between escaping prison and being recruited by the army). I say little bit. I'm not supposed to be working on this fic at all, but its a sizable middle chunk.

He is conscious, just about, and curled around Mike. The air is thinner, now, but still tainted green; he keeps his hoodie tight over his mouth, and keeps fabric stretched over Mike's slack face. It won't stop the poison, but with less in the air hopefully it means they will outlast it.

It will disperse. It has to disperse. A bit of time. All gases disperse with time. It's making him dizzy now - it's easier to breathe up here on the third floor than it was on the street, at least - and sick, and his vision is fading, but give it time. Just a little time.

It burns, but it is not as though he has not been burnt before.

Pac just… He just needs to hold on… And protect Mike. Keep Mike safe, that is all…

The world is darkness and silence, and then it is tinted some colour Pac cannot quite pin down, and there are loud footsteps and louder voices. They speak Portuguese, and yet… Pac cannot quite manage to understand it.

He presses himself tighter over Mike. Mike's breathing is worse, but he's still breathing.

How long has it been? It's easier to see now, but how long has it been?

And then there's another loud sound.

Pac barely understands what is happening, except that he is being pulled away from Mike. He kicks and he fights, but he has always been too weak, and the toxins have sapped his strength. Despite his best efforts, his hoodie is being peeled from his face, and something pressed to his face.

And then they let go.

Confused - terrified - he holds his breath and throws himself over Mike. Someone swears as the thing falls, only for it to be back a few moments later.

They do not take him away from Mike this time, though. As long as he has Mike, as long as he has Mike, then they're going to be okay… He just…

Pac clings to Mike across their bond, pulling the blur of drugged oblivion close and protecting him. Wrapping him in his own reality, in his own mind, even as Pac's desperate nails dig so deep into the unconscious Mike's arm that he bleeds.

And yet, Pac still does not breathe, frozen and eyes wild as he watches a figure reaches around his head, pulling a strap -

Oh. It's a proper mask. A gas mask.

That's…

Pac nearly rips it from his own face - Pac is conscious, Pac can breathe, Mike needs it, Mike need it, he needs it so, so much more than him - stopped only by hands grabbing his. He struggles and fights, until a second pair of hands place another gas mask in his hands. He ignores whatever the two figures say, grabbing it himself and expertly affixing it to Mike's face.

All that practice is good for something, it seems.

Only then can he relax a little, still huddled over Mike's unconscious body, still clinging to the drugged haze where Mike's thoughts should be, but relaxed a little.

Mike is still breathing, still there, wrapped in his mind; it should be a little easier, now that charcoal steals the poison from the air.

"Hi, we're sorry for scaring you," one figure - a police officer, a woman - says. "We weren't expecting to see anyone this close to the impact."

Not anyone alive, she doesn't say.

Or maybe outside the bodies have been vaporised too.

Pac wouldn't know, not when they followed their first instincts - ran and scrambled and hid just like the rats that they are.

"Is your friend…?"

She's treating him like a terrified child. Pac will take it, over many other options.

"He's breathing," Pac tells her, only to find himself coughing every could of words as his body adjusts back to the oxygen. "It's… thank you- for the masks; we'll give them- back, when its gone."

The other figure is a man, also a cop, and he waves a placating gesture, the woman looks curiously at them.

"If you don't mind, how did you survive it? You must have been pretty close here."

"There's three poisons," Pac is very sure of that. This time as he talks, he forces his breathing to remain deep, and even, and everything his instincts scream against. "One knocks you out, one is paralytic, the third does… it made more of those things. From people. I'm not… the mechanisms… Mike recognised the taste of the paralytic fast, so we didn't bother trying to get away. Covered up best we could, and got indoors. Sealed up. Hid. Its not… not perfect. But the dose isn't as bad. He's still breathing. He… shouldn't die. The gas particles… he shouldn't die. But… We got off the street, so we didn't get the third one. They're good at chasing, and following screaming, but not finding you if you're quiet and still. We're not a danger to you, I promise, we're no danger to you!"

It's as the cops glance at one another that Pac realises that that is not information most people would know. He and Mike do - similar chemicals are common in less ethical security systems - but…

Fuck, fuck he's being looked at now. Mike's still out of it, and he himself is still not all there. How can he…

"Sorry, er, sorry. I'm-" fuck what was the name on that id. Doesn't matter. "Department of biochem. Used to be. But…" he gestures at his leg. "Didn't have lifts, and still can't walk somedays. Mikey quit with me when they couldn't guarantee ground floor labs."

It doesn't seem to make the two any less curious, though something in their expressions shifts.

"We've got a medical post set up nearby," the woman says. "We can escort you-"

"I'm not leaving Mike," Pac cuts across her, the one thing that really matters. He says it, clings to Mike's sleeve, breathes a moment. Still here. Still here. Mike is still here. "And, I don't… I just woke up from it. I don't think i can stand."

His eyes flitter between the pair.

"We can carry you to the truck downstairs. One of the medics will take you from there," the gentleman says.

He doesn't trust it. Pac does not trust it. It's easy - too easy. THis pair wear police uniforms. They don't know who he is, the fake ID exists in the government databases, but it's too fucking easy. They shouldn't, he shouldn't… Are they recognised? Do they realise? He can't… What if they hurt Mike while he can't defend himself? You beat people if you catch them running, right?

It's risky, so risky, if he could just… Just pick Mike up, then they could run. Avoid these cops, and disappear back into the now ruined city.

But… his body is still riddled with pain, and breathing is still a struggle, and Mike probably needs actual medical attention. He… shouldn't stop breathing. If the paralytic was going to take his lungs, it would have already. But… if it does… its a weird one. It might. And if it does, he needs a hospital. Needs help until his liver breaks all the poison down. Pac… its a weird poison. They should probably both be near help, just in case. The full symptoms aren't known. With how quickly they set in if they aren't dead yet it's not likely, but with so many unknowns… They should try be near a doctor.

It's just…

They can escape again. If they need to, they can escape again.

Still torn, but desperate and with Mike unable to help form a decision, Pac nods. The woman helps him up, while he watches the man scoop Mike into his arms. He's gentle enough, though, even careful with his spine; the only grounds that Pac can find to object is the screaming desperation to have his soulmate in his arms.

It's hard, staying conscious with the poisons inside his body.

He makes it half way down the first flight of stairs before his legs crumple, and the woman swings him into her arms.

He makes it to seeing Mike placed next to him in the truck before he passes out again.

#qsmp draft fanfic #qsmp pac #qsmp mike #fanfic snips #curly and saga there are some edits from what I showed you last night #because of course I edited this a bit instead of working on anything I'm supposed to work on #this is like... idk the end of the third to last or fourth to last scene?#qsmp au #qsmp x xcom

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