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randomwriteronline · 1 year

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"Do you have rice at home?"

What a weird question. Emmet turned to Briosa and nodded, an eyebrow crooked up to make a confused expression.

Why?, he signed.

She shrugged over the back of her seat: "You know," she replied vaguely, not answering, and added: "Do you have butter, shredded cheese?"

Emmet nodded again, more puzzled.

"Mushrooms?"

He shook his head. She clicked her tongue.

"Zucchini?"

That he did have, yes.

Briosa hummed loudly.

"Do you have broth cubes?" she asked. Her hand rose from beneath her chin and made a gesture as if holding something small between her index and thumb: "Like the uh, the ones that you put in boiling water and it makes stock broth?"

Did he have those?

He shook his head, struggling to find the right signs: Broth... Powder.

"Oh, that's still fine."

You... Need? Thing?, he asked. The vagueness was tiring him out more than the already long day had.

Briosa hummed for a long while.

"Are you hungry?" she didn't answer.

Emmet raised a hand to give an exhausted half-half gesture.

"Same," she replied - which was strange, because according to Briosa she was never hungry. She turned off the last computer still on: "Let's go."

Home sounded awful. Home sounded empty and soulless. Home sounded like Crustle yelling because he had missed feeding time by 1 minute and already trying to rip open the food cabinet to forcefully get his supper like a big cement baby, and that did make him chuckle a little and give him the strength to be on his way.

His head pulsed a bit. Mawile must have been as tired as him, because Briosa held her in her arms like a little kid as they walked down the street at a pace that was clearly not up to the shorter man's standards.

Emmet yawned. Goodness. So tired.

Briosa skipped a little at his side.

"There's some foods you absolutely cannot eat at dinner," she began unprompted, but her squeaky voice was a welcome distraction from the noisy quiet, "Not because there's some actual rule - technically there is but I call bullshit on that, it's all food - but because they're so heavy on the stomach that if you do eat them you'll be dreaming of green Raticate and pink Donphants like you got five shots of ketamine before bed."

His head snapped to face her with eyes wide from vague concern.

"I don't actually know if that's what ketamine does, I've never had it," she added, oblivious to his look.

"That's not how you pronounce that," Emmet managed to deadpan.

Mawile translated him sleepily.

Briosa turned to face him, the corners of her otherwise perfectly straight mouth pointed downwards and her forehead creased in puzzlement: "Pronounce what?"

"Ketamine," he replied - the last syllable making a 'meen' sound.

"Ketamine?" she repeated - the last sillable making a 'mine' sound, like the possessive pronoun or the place where miners work.

"Keh-tah-meen," he sounded out carefully so that she could easily read his lips.

Her brows furrowed over her crooked nose: "Ketameen?" she said correctly with a tinge of disgust. Being treated with a nod, she scoffed: "That sounds stupid. It's not a 'meen'-ending word, it sounds too stupid. It could be if it ended in 'a' but otherwise it sounds way too silly for me. I'm gonna keep calling it ketamine."

"That's wrong."

"Well, it sounds better."

Whatever makes her happy.

Emmet blinked heavily.

"Why are we talking about ketamine?" he muttered. The streetlights were too bright.

"We aren't," Briosa replied as soon as Mawile had translated him in sign. "I'm just trying to keep you awake and you derailed the conversation with what is the right way to pronounce ketamine."

"I am awake," he mumbled back.

"Are you?"

He showed her his tongue - immediately covering it with his hand. An awfully unprofessional thing to do: Briosa wasn't Elesa, even though her name ended with the same syllable, and as far as he knew they weren't quite considerable friends.

How had he even thought of confusing them enough for a mistake in etiquette like that? They were nothing alike, in looks and sound.

The substitute didn’t seem that bothered, proceding without a care: “Is it ok if I ask you for some food for my lads while I’m at yours? I’ll pay you back. It’s just because otherwise they’re gonna eat at 2 AM.”

Emmet nodded without really paying attention; only when the words swam from his ears into his brain and began being digested did he narrow his eyes and stop right where he stood.

He turned and looked behind himself.

Briosa only noticed his sudden stillness after a dozen or so steps, when Mawile pointed her back to the flabbergasted man in the middle of the street.

“You good?” she asked.

He pointed to the direction from which they had come silently, in deep thought. He blinked, then finally turned back to her.

“This isn’t the way to your house,” he noted.

“It’s not.”

The matter-of-fact tone didn't help.

"Why aren't you? On the way home?"

"I'm following you."

"Why are you following me?"

"I'm going to your house."

"You're coming to my house?"

"I'm coming to your house."

"Why are you coming to your- my house?"

"To cook you rice with zucchini."

"Why?"

"For dinner."

Emmet took a moment to pause and ruminate on all that.

"Did we agree on, on that? That you were... Coming to my house to cook?" he asked, because he genuinely didn't remember if they had.

"No."

Ah. Made sense.

A slow roundhouse kick that was probably meant as gentle (and while it did not send him hurtling across the street, it was still imbued with a discreet amount of strength that made him wobble on his unsteady knees) hit him with the back of the foot square in the ass and propelled him forward a little bit.

"Come on, let's go," the man (when had she gotten back at his side?) egged him on, much like a father dragging his noisy tired child out of the supermarket by an arm with as much vague kindness as possible: "You're sleeping on your feet like a Rapidash and you need to get some food in you."

He was too tired to complain or make a comment about that first part, and could not argue with the second.

He was really hungry.

Excadrill seemed perplexed when Briosa snuck under his arm as soon as the door was opened and made a beeline towards the kitchen, but Emmet just waved a hand, letting her know all was fine.

“She’s helping,” he told her with a yawn: “Said she’ll make dinner.”

The Steel mole looked back at the room the small vaguely antropomorphized Electrode had disappeared inside of, not very certain whether or not leaving someone like that in the vicinity of gas outlets, fire, sharpened blades and various more or less dangerous tools at her whims’ disposal; but she did consider, turning once more to the man trying to slip his shoes off while Archeops was nibbling at his wrist to shake him out of his tardiness, that was a risk she was willing to take if it meant her ward would eat before collapsing into uneasy sleep.

Footsteps stampeded heavily all the way back out of the kitchen, and Briosa appeared from the doorframe.

"I don't know where anything is," she said very flatly.

The light that came from the room hit the side of her frame, almost painting a yellow line where it landed, making her look something akin to incomprehensible in the dim sorroundings.

Emmet managed to blink slowly.

"I did find the refrigerated foods and knife and the tap water," she continued as if to reassure him she wasn't a complete cretin, "But I don't know where anything else is and I thought maybe I shouldn't slam open all the cabinets of some house that's not mine to find the rice jar."

Her boss raised a finger in the air to ask her to wait a moment; he stood slowly, heavily, and wobbled on his socked feet over to her.

He didn't have a rice jar, but he did have a box of rice, as well as a rice cooker. He provided Briosa with a pot, some oil and a plate at her request: she struggled to pour the grains into her small palm six, eight times, each fistiful dropped in the plate, cursing softly in what seemed like gibberish, and he watched her absolutely transfixed by the motion and sound similar to rain.

Something vaguely pinchy pulling at his leg snapped him out of it.

"Durant," he assumed as he croaked without looking, leaning down a big to pet lightly something vaguely metallic but not at all like his Bug's carapace, "I'll get dinner. Hold on."

A tongue clicked loudly while he reached for the pantry under the silverware that held the Pokémon food, and a large blackish mass delicately helped him get the bags out. Mawile's large mouth was a little clumsy, since the stem connecting it to the back of her head was quite thin, so Emmet ended up reciprocating her help to save her some of the strain.

Above himself he could hear the gas sparking into fire on the stove.

He nudged Briosa with an elbow to get her attention while remaining crouched - it was a little surreal to be looking up at her as he signed: Zucchini?

"Water," she replied. "I need to boil it. Also I think we forgot the broth powder."

Why boil?

"For the rice."

Sitting on his knees so he could peek over the counter, he pointed at the rice cooker; she looked at it, then turned back to him with a completely blank expression.

Rice cooker, he explained.

"Ah," she replied, and made no motion towards it.

For cooking rice, he continued.

"Yeah, I figured." Briosa checked around the station for a moment more: "Hm, yep, we missed the broth powder."

His brows furrowed: Why powder?

"For the rice. You gotta boil the rice in broth to cook it."

Emmet blinked: Rice cooker, he repeated.

Briosa blinked: "Hm," she noted.

Her boss pointed back to the utensil.

Use rice cooker.

"I don't know how to use that."

I teach you.

"That's gonna take longer than just letting me boil the rice," she waved her hand, her stoat fingers grazing his nose with a certain resolution to the movement that told him not to worry: "I know what I'm doing. You do what you gotta and try not to fall asleep. If you need me to do something or you gotta tell me something just punt your elbow on my shoulder."

Might hurt.

Briosa smiled, toothy grin not nearly as terrifying as usual: "You're a wet noodle when fully awake," she laughed, sounding like a repeatedly squeezed rubber Ducklett: "You won't hurt me."

Then she turned to wash the zucchini a bit in the sink, humming something. Mawile slowly dragged a bag out of the kitchen, struggling a bit; Emmet carefully placed the powdered broth next to the stove where it could be easily seen and raised the other end of the heavy sack to help the little Fairy bring it all the way over to the livingroom, others following behind them in mid air, held floating in the air by Chandelure's helpful Psychic - to keep it away from Crustle’s impatient grabby claws as well.

It took him a hot moment to realize he would have needed seven more bowls (the other twelve already fetched by their respective owners, thankfully); he then also realized that other than Mawile, the six guests were not actually there.

Briosa was chopping a zucchini very slowly and heavily when he came in to ask her for her team, which sat in their Pokéballs on their counter a little closer to the kitchen door. Emmet saw it fit to collect them without bothering her, noting distractedly that she seemed to be singing and deciding, against his will, to listen in.

“... Amministra-zio-ne, e liquida-zio-ne, rateizza-zio-ni anti-previden-zial - misura came-ra-le, calcolo dell’IR-PES, scarico dell’I-VA, misura cata-stal...”

The tempo of her chopping increased to a horrendous degree immediately after as she vocalized quietly; Emmet watched her cut through the vegetable with admirable technique and fury for a moment more before deciding he did not want to have her turn around a little too fast and get that blade flying right in his eye socket, and went right back to the livingroom where his brother’s Bug was starting to scream his little bulbous eyes off in hunger.

Knowing full well how big, bulky, destructive and aggressive ‘the lads’ could be in battle, he was somewhat surprised to see their politeness outside of their Pokéball when he first released them. Their sizes did cause bit of a stirrup, especially among those who hadn't seen them before, and Emolga's heavily deformed scarred grin certainly did not put anybody at ease - but Seismitoad croaked very gently, as a kind greeting, and Bisharp bowed in an incredibly courteous manner; Klinklang did seem a little more than uneasy at the sight of Heatmor, trying to scoot behind Excadrill and to drag the much more relaxed Durant with it, but the Fire type seemed just as scared of the hunk of metal as he hid behind the only lady of the team.

Speaking of Conkeldurr - the poor girl was trying her hardest to shrink in her shoulders as soon as she noticed where she was, eyeing co-workers and new curious faces with a sheepish kind of apprehension, large rough hands playing with one another.

"Hello," Emmet welcomed them too tired to stop Boldore from running into the newcomers repeatedly. "I live here. You eat here tonight."

Cryogonal made a horrifying sound not too far from Candelure' worst cough.

He gave her a thumbs up: "Yes."

It struck him very suddenly that roughly three out of six out of Briosa’s team effectively could have been considered full ass human people by size, and that while one of them was indeed an enormous bulbous frog he should have probably just let Conkeldurr and Bisharp sit on the couch.

It also struck him that Cryogonal (from whom Haxorus was inching away) was a pure Ice type.

“We don’t...” he muttered, turning around to check on the bags. He stared at them for a second or so before remembering the rest of his thought: “Have Ice type food. Food for Ice types. Uh...”

Mawile’s little hands moved quickly to tell him something.

He blinked a couple times, trying to understand before giving in, pointing at his hand: “I cannot - three finger sign, I’m not. Fluent.”

The little Steel Fairy nodded apologetically and chittered as she repeated, slower so that he could try the signs out himself to properly translate them: No problem. C eat nothing or anything. C eat wood if want. No worry.

The chittering was probably so that Cryogonal could listen in herself and assure Emmet of the veracity of the statement with another ghastly shriek.

Which she did.

That got her another thumbs up.

It took a while, to properly get everybody their bowl of dinner, and he had to be helped a couple of times - mostly by Mawile, who seemed the most well-versed in reading written symbols.

He was so, so tired.

In the end they had managed to split the food around more or less evenly: both Durant and Excadrill had graciously declined the portion of Steel-specific food that should have been mixed with their other ones so that Bisharp and Mawile could have it, since they had nothing for Dark or Fairy types, and Emolga was more than fine getting only Flying-specific (Archeops wasn’t necessarily keen on that, but very wisely had not argued with the rat that looked like he had been through a shredder and survived) since Eelektross’ size demanded quite a bowl for him; Seismitoad had at one point striked up a conversation with his fellow Ground type regarding, Emmet imagined, which types of dirt tasted better, whereas Heatmor was still snout-deep in his can of beans, apparently eating them one at a time to better savor them, as normal Fire-specific food didn’t account for his digestive troubles.

Even Cryogonal had managed to snack around without causing an excess in panic. Gurdurr seemed to be the only one a little embarassed, glancing every now and then to the much bigger Fighting type in the same manner an elementary-schooler glances at a substitute teacher he may or may not have a puppy crush on.

It was relatively quiet, in the end. A lot of crunching and munching, and unintelligible words, but it was quiet.

Emmet shook himself a little when small teeth gently bit down on his arm: Mawile looked up at him with a slight concern, her little hands pulling at his pants to make him sit down properly instead of squatting on his toes.

“Hm?” he asked her - or, well, tried to - as he felt his head strangely light.

The Fairy insisted he take a seat first before explaining: No sleep yet! Rice not ready. Ready soon. Stay awake.

“I am Emmet. I am awake.”

Before no.

“Yes I was.”

Mawile pointed at Boldore: Called you, she explained. Food stolen. You asleep! No answer. Crab say shut up.

At that, he looked up to the three Bugs.

Durant and Galvantula both followed his gaze: Crustle turned his bulbous eyes in two completely different directions to try and feign ignorance.

That clearly did not work, as a perfectly straight finger pointed right at him.

“Bad boy.” his trainer’s brother decreted. Crustle (who by law knew any word he could have said could have been used against him) chirped out an indignated whine in protest. “No. Give Boldore some of yours.”

Bugs cannot quite huff, though the crustacean definitely did try; with no other option, he haughtily shoved what still remained in his bowl to the block of rock he had stolen the lunch from in the first place, who made a crumbling sound similar to a piqued ‘thank you’ and very slowly helped himself to the rest of his supper while the other retreated in his cement house as though he were the offended party here.

Well, that was solved.

Emmet rubbed one eye with his hand to shake the sleep dust off of it.

A three-fingered paw pulled at his shirt again: “I am awake,” he reassured Mawile, “I am not falling asleep.”

She did not particularly care about his blatant lies at the moment - not as much as she cared about getting him off the floor, at least, as evidenced by how she tried to pull him onto the couch despite her obvious size disadvantage. Bisharp, noting her struggle, quickly put aside his own bowl and rose to his feet, metal arms outstretched to catch the man in them.

“No thanks,” Emmet stopped him. “Can do it myself.”

Alright, he thought, time to stand up.

After a whole minute he had not moved an inch.

Bisharp, with as extreme a tenderness as a creature composed partially by sawblades could muster, gently slipped his hands under Emmet’s arms, lifted him into the air as one might lift a cat, and sat him on the couch.

“Thanks.” the human peeped.

Seeing the Dark type bow a little in response while Archeops blatantly laughed at him gave him some weird new kind of mortification to feel.

Maybe if he focused on the incomprehensible sounds somewhat reminscent of words coming from the kitchen, he would manage to trick himself into not thinking about having had to be picked up like a bag of cement because his joints didn’t respond.

From the door connecting the two rooms he could see Briosa perfectly still before the stove: a vacant look seemed to dwell in her eyes as her lips moved quickly, and perhaps most concerningly she was holding a kitchen knife in her right hand, bits and pieces of zucchini still stuck to the blade, with a grip that could have concievably crushed a piece of wood into shavings or caused a small enough pumpkin to explode under the pressure.

Not a very reassuring sight.

But it did immediately cancel his embarassment.

“... E il carica-to-re svuo-te-rà, sul-le aliquote della-li-bertà...”

Very suddenly, she began banging her fists against her hips in asynchrony, large knife very much still grasped tight in her palm, as if her body was a drumset and she were playing it after getting a dose of pure sugar injected in her veins.

“Ed il so-cio scompa-ri-rà, sul-le aliquote della-li-bertà...” she continued unperturbed by neither her own choreography nor the possibility of accidentally stabbing herself for that matter.

The rest of the chorus turned a little garbled from her furious headbanging, the movement so violent and so spread out through her entire frame (her torso and pelvis were oscillating in tandem back and forth to lend more strength to the motion, making her look a little like one of those bird-shaped toys that are constantly quickly dipping their beaks in the water, rising out of it, then diving back in for another sip) that it made him fear for a moment she would slam her head on the counter and either knock herself out or destroy it completely, with a higher chance of the latter.

Emmet turned back to Mawile, who had climbed the couch to sit next to him.

“She is always like this?”

She followed his finger with her gaze as he pointed to the kitchen.

Then she nodded.

“Man.”

No like silence, the Fairy explained.

"Aaah. So she talks."

The little beast waited a moment, then waved a hand in the air in a sort-of-yes-sort-of-no kind of gesture: Talk, no really. No hear voice. Feel mouth move, remember how voice sound. But no hear.

Emmet tilted his head: "She can't hear her own voice?"

Mawile nodded.

He clicked his tongue in thoughtful aknowledgement and blinked.

That was such a weird concept, not being able to hear yourself. It was the sort of obvious thing one never ponders on at all: so he had always assumed she could, without really thinking about it enough to question whether or not that was possible. And even if he had found himself reflecting on it in a sudden burst of curiosity, he would have probably still rationalized that she could, maybe by feeling the vibrations in her neck as she spoke.

But that would have meant keeping her hands on her throat all the time, he reasoned, and it would have been really bothersome for someone as prone to action as she was.

He wondered, suddenly, if she knew how squeaky she sounded.

Probably not.

"Could she hear herself?" he asked. "Somehow?"

Yes!, Mawile nodded enthusiastically.

Emmet blinked again. From what she had told him, he hadn't expected that could have been a possibility.

Headphone! Microphone!, the Fairy continued without needing any prompting. Ear implant! But no wear for long. Hurt ear. Or yell!

"Yell?"

If loud enough! Like before!

Did that mean she had been yelling?

This whole time?

Oh, Emmet suddenly thought: yes, actually, she must have been. The kitchen was a room that in some strange way never let any noise escape it; no matter how much the oil could have sizzled or how agonizingly the blender could have screamed, their agony remained hushed into silence between those walls. It was very nice, by all means - he still remembered having to retreat in his closet to escape the noise of his uncle in the kitchen so it couldn’t make him feel like there were Stunfisks flapping around in his veins - but it brought along the slight side-effect that if they had to set a timer that wasn't the oven's (which turned the machine off as soon as it was done) they would have to put it in the livingroom, or they'd never hear it.

For him to be able to listen to her, Briosa must have been belting the hell out of her incomprehensible song like tomorrow wasn't planning on being a thing.

“Verrry loud,” he commented, slowly.

Mawile nodded, whirring her tongue to imitate him as she signed: Verrry loud.

Some minor inconvenience must have happened, because Briosa shouted something irritated, possibly profanity of some kind.

Emmet leaned his head on the back pillows.

Now she was singing again.

“Al-me-no-fi-no-a-do-mat-ti-na-ti-pro-me - tto-che, sarò la fa-ccia, di-cui-hai-più bisogno...”

This one was much calmer. More melodic. The way she pronounced the words had a strange cadence, quick yet slow - it was hard to explain. He blinked, feeling drowsy all the way into his marrow.

“Me-glio-non-di-re-nien-te-aspet-tando-il-mat-ti-no, sor-rido, se-pen-so-al-no-me-che-tu mi-darai do-ma-ni...”

Huh. This verse had a completely different rhythm. Weird.

Maybe the author was part of some avantgarde musical genre he didn’t know.

He felt something lukewarm pulling his forehead back and realized his eyes were closed. When had that happened? Chandelure chimed at him something that sounded like ‘don’t fall asleep yet, you still have to eat’.

Ah.

So it wasn’t the song’s fault for having different-sounding verses.

He mouthed that he wasn’t asleep, voice barely leaving his mouth. He hadn’t even noticed he’d dozed off.

“... che, orati-mangida-den, tro, piccolo-pianeta-spen, to, come-una bri-ciolaal-ven-toe-un-bu-co-ne-roe-un-oc-chio-blu,” Briosa was continuing.

He wondered how much of it he’d missed.

“E, so-no-po-co-più-di-un-jamais-vu, tra tutte queste persone, nella-mia-testa-io-gioco-a-tabù, perdo-se-dico-il tuo no - me...”

A pinch at his leg.

Ow, he murmured, furrowing his brow; Durant chittered worriedly at him, nudging him to spur him into action. His eyelids felt horribly sandy against his sclera as he rubbed them with as much vigor as possible to shake any tiredness away.

He was not tired. He was not sleeping.

His knees popped when he straightened them to tense his legs.

He was not about to fall into a nap again.

“Io ti terrò la mano, tu tienimi l’anima...”

He bent down to grasp his feet.

“E pure se non sai chi sono non lasciarla mai...”

Maybe, if he went to check on Briosa, he would avoid knocking himself out on the couch for the next five hours.

He stood as though he were made of lead.

Following her saccharine voice, he slowly began wobbling towards the kitchen.

“Ve - di, ci sono, dei-ri, cordi, che-mi de - vi, sei grande, ma-ti, chiamo-an, cora ba - by,” (oh, a word he recognized) “Ho gl’occhi rossi ma non te ne accorgi, ti guardo mentre dormi, ma solo ieri-”

Her nose stuck out so much when you looked at her from the side. It jutted out from her forehead out of nowhere, somewhere a little above her eyes and almost right below her eyebrows, and then it came right down like a straight wall. It wasn’t perfectly straight, because there was a dent where it had likely been broken and incorrectly healed; so more than a wall it was like a waterfall interrupted in the middle by a rock. Despite the contrast with the rest of her more graceful features, it fit everything about her like a glove. Emmet’s nose showed no signs of harm and pointed outwards instead, like half the head of an arrow. What weird things to notice in the split second between two verses of a hook.

“-C’e-ri, nei giorni ne-ri, quelli che piove troppo fo-rte per stare in pie-di,” she sang: “E fottevamo anche la morte volando legge-ri, m’hai chiesto dimmi cosa te-mi, in che cosa cre-di, la mia risposta sei tu.”

She hummed loudly, thin lips pursed tight, tilting her head with the melody.

“La mia risposta sei tu...” she repeated while stirring the mass of rice in what little broth was left.

Emmet stared.

She had a nice voice.

When she turned to the door - maybe to call for him - she had a startle and flattened herself closer to the floor, little eyes blown wide and hand grasping the counter. She looked like she had a heart attack.

They simply stared at each other for a moment, before Emmet remembered she couldn’t have heard him come in and likely had shat her pants.

Whoops.

Briosa was quicker: “Hello!” she grinned apologetically. “I was really really loud, wasn’t I.”

Her boss shook his head, smiling back: No problem. You sing nice.

Expression losing any mortification, she flipped her wooden spoon to tap her chin with it a few times as though she were thanking a deeply captivated audience - giving a ‘youch’ and a ‘porca puttana bastarda’ when the heat carried by the utensil scalded her a little.

He wasn’t sure what that second thing meant, but it made him chuckle.

Briosa turned back to the pot and twisted her mouth: “Ok, since it’s almost ready, do you want me to put...” she rocked in place for a moment, hand waving a little, “A sensible person’s idea of a good amount of cheese and butter, or my idea of a good amount of cheese and butter?”

Second, he signed.

“Gotcha.” and she got her big knife back in hand and grabbed the brick of definitely softer butter like she was going to squeeze it between her fingers and annihilate it completely: “Drown it in dairy it is.”

Emmet wheezed weakly.

He fetched a couple plates and forks to set on the table, slowly, so slowly. By the time he found the glasses and started checking for a bottle that still had some water before pikcing one and putting in the sink to fill it, the rice had completely dried up, and Briosa was stirring it with butter and shredded cheese with such a focused gaze and furiously quick hand that an inattentive onlooker might have thought she was busy making merengues instead.

(They had tried exactly once, and in the end they’d both ended up with aching wrists and a bunch of half whipped egg clears despite their best efforts. In the end they had made sweet white omelettes that weren’t as bad as they could have turned out to be.)

“You wanna lick the spoon?”

Before he could even register the question he had already clamped the wooden utensil in his mouth.

Clearly the correct course of action: that tasted great.

Must have been all the cheese.

Now he was salivating.

“This’ll kill you,” Briosa assured him with a calm tone. “If you’re not gonna be sleeping after this I might have to punch a hole in your head.”

He gave her thumbs up. A good last meal either way.

They ate in silence, fairly quickly. Had he really not noticed how hungry he was up until now? Dragons. He shouldn’t skip meals. But maybe it was just because this rice specifically tasted so good. Why, he couldn’t really tell. It was just rice and zucchini. Drowned in dairy, but still rice and zucchini. It wasn’t even that hard to make. He probably could have made it on his own.

Maybe it was because he’d fasted the whole day.

He stood and fetched a second portion. Briosa was eyeing the pot like a Braviary waiting for the right moment to strike a Basculin.

When he motioned for her to hand him her plate she shook her head: “I’m not hungry,” she claimed, though he never quite believed her when she said that, even when she sounded so honest - maybe she was trying to convince herself, but as to why he couldn’t tell, “It’s just gluttony. Keep that in a tupper or something, I made a lot for that especially. And!”

Her index waved a little in the air, possibly to distract her boss from how she was standing to wash her dish and everything before he might object: “And, when you warm it, do it in a pan. With some oil. Gets all crunchy like popcorn. Good shit, let me tell you.”

Emmet nodded. You know a lot, he signed back once both his hands were free.

“My dad always fries his rice instead of putting it in the microwave.”

I see. It was very good.

She smiled at him weirdly.

“You gotta do it like this,” and she signed ‘very’ back at him - though her index and middle fingers paused for a moment after parting, dipping just a second towards the floor before she finished the sign.

He tilted his head: he’d been fairly sure he’d learned how to sign that correctly. Nevertheless, he imitated her.

“There you go!” she grinned. “It’s too weird when you say it with no gemination.”

Twin?, he asked, even more confused.

She spelled the word quickly: “Gemination - doubling letters in a word to make a longer or stronger sound. Like rubble or throttle or bottle. In this case it’s over-gemination because no letter in ‘very’ is doubled but that doesn’t matter. You geminate it. It doesn’t feel right if you don’t.”

How do you know?

“Know what?”

Gemination.

“Ah. Your mouth.”

He pointed at it, surprised. It likely looked a little comical, since he had taken a rather big bite at that moment.

Briosa smiled a little wider: he watched her clearly mouth the word twice, slowly.

“The eh sound opens it a little wider than the ee sound,” she explained, and mouthed it again. “The R by itself has a shwah sound, a sort of ‘uh’ - that’s really weak, so it gets replaced easily by a different one. If you stall it after an eh sound, the lips remain in a similar position, and you can see how they flatten more once the ee sound comes along.”

He looked more carefully as she repeated the motion once more before gulping down his last forkful and imitating her, trying to feel the sounds on his lips. Huh! That was true. He could tell the different shapes made by the vowels. Curious.

Verrry interesting, he signed. The stalling made her grin. Where did you learn?

“Phonetics class in college I had to take to meet the right amount of credits. I actually chose it mostly because the professor was deaf too, so.”

Emmet clicked his tongue, understanding; Briosa clicked it back in affirmation.

Who knows where they’d picked that up from.

He leaned his strangely heavy head on his crossed arms, splaying himself on the table with a sigh. He felt comfortably warm, at ease; he grumbled a protest when a smaller hand slipped his empty plate and dirty silverware away to wash it in the sink, but didn’t quite manage to coax himself to stand up fast enough to stop her from doing his dishes. He did manage to seize the still half full pot before her, emptying its contents into a glass container and managing to hold onto it long enough to squirt some dishsoap in it - not to clean it, because Briosa twisted his arm behind his back without breaking a sweat (without hurting him either) forcing him to hand it over to her.

You should not clean, he pouted once he had both his hands free again: My house. I’m host. You’re guest. I clean.

“I invited myself over though.”

And cooked.

“And ate also.” and she kicked his hip gently to get him out of the kitchen: “Get your pijamas on while I’m busy, you’re going straight to bed once I’m done.”

You’re not my dad.

She stared directly into his eyes with a face so blank it almost made him laugh.

“Do you want me to adopt you,” she said like it was a threat.

Emmet’s entire body began shaking to contain a giggle. He shook his head.

“Then wash your teeth and put on your jammies.”

He wheezed in her face.

She snorted back.

“But seriously,” she chuckled, “Go get changed. The rice is gonna hit soon and you’re not gonna be able to move a muscle for the next three hours otherwise.”

Alright, fair.

He didn’t notice it, but the Pokémon chatting about in the livingroom were all greatly relieved to see him stumble into his room giggling to himself like a kid.

Flannel felt good on his arms. It was soft, warm, loose... It seemed like forever since he had last worn those pijamas. They were awfully comfortable. He had to make an effort to change into them more often when he came back home. They were much better than a dirty button up and dress pants.

(He hadn’t called before eating. He should have called now.)

(One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty.)

“If you’re naked stick out your leg!”

The sound of Briosa’s voice shouting from the corridor made him almost throw the Xtransceiver into high heaven, fumbling to catch it so that it didn’t shatter on the floor and hastily closing the call before she could hear the ringing and ask about it.

The fact that she was deaf dawned on him a second too late, but that was done.

(And he hadn’t replied, anyways.)

He settled the gadget on the nightstand, trying to pull himself out of the spiral he’d almost been sucked in; without even thinking he proceeded to stick his leg out through the doorway.

There was a beat of silence; then: “I said naked!”

Emmet cawed out a laugh.

His head peeked through as well. Briosa looked at him, face plain, coat in her arms and hat in hand.

“I thought you’d passed out,” she noted.

Nope, he signed back. Still awake.

“Not for long!”

Sounds evil.

Her brows furrowed: “What’s that mean?”

You sound like you’ll knock me out.

She thought it over a moment before squeaking a chuckle.

It would be verrry easy, he shrugged.

“It would!”

He accompanied her back to the livingroom. The various bags of food had been transported away, the bowls had disappeared back into their cupboard, Crustle still refused to grace the room with his handsome face, and Gurdurr hurriedly scuttled away from Conkeldurr despite having barely come close enough to graze her, deathly embarassed by his crush and round nose redder than usual; Cryogonal shrieked something in his general direction as greeting.

He gave her thumbs up.

“Alright my beautiful death machines,” Briosa called with a tone so affectionate it felt as though her mouth was dripping cotton candy: “We’re goin’ back home! Time for the circus trick.”

She patted her belt a few times, looking for her set of Pokéball. Emmet helpfully pointed them to her from where he’d laid them on the table; Mawile took that as an opportunity to gently bite her shirt as she collected the spheres to rapidly sign something at her and direct her attention over to Heatmor, who was fidgeting rather nervously with his yellow claws.

Once he had her undivided attention, he pulled the sweetest pair of Baby-Doll Eyes he could muster, wiggling demurely as though whining.

Briosa smiled: “Go on, give her a snuggle,” she allowed.

In a second the Fire type wrapped Durant in a tight hug, rubbing his snout on her with a concert of thrilled chirps; the Steel Bug for her part clacked her mandibles rather happily as though to remind him they were going to see each other tomorrow at work anyways.

The beasts who hadn’t visited the station in quite some time eyed the exchange with genuinely dumbfounded gazes.

It probably felt a little like beholding a glitch in nature itself.

A brief whistle tore Heatmor from his friend; he waved her bye one last time before a reddish ray sucked him right back into one of the six balls being juggled by his trainer, followed suit by each of his associates while Mawile latched herself onto her aidee’s elbow.

Emmet followed the trajectory of the flying spheres without trying to keep up with their increasing speed, head heavier than lead lolling back and forth until all six were caught with a fluid graceful motion between the fingers of the Substitute, the little Fairy swinging from her arm leaping onto her head and landing perfectly balanced - thanks to her main maw acting as counterweight - right on her buzzed mousy hair with a little flourish, like an olimpic gymnast.

He weakly waved his hands in a silent applause. Mawile bowed deeply, proud; Briosa curtsied and thanked him by grazing all ten fingertips to her chin.

Must teach me, he signed as he forgot to stifle a yawn.

“Maybe when you’re not falling asleep on your feet.”

Agreed.

Galvantula gently nuzzled her leg.

“Ye, ye, I’m leaving him to y’all now,” she assured the Bug. She saluted the rest of the beasts as she slipped her coat back on hurriedly and helped her aide back down into one of her pockets: “Thank you for not mauling me!”

A chorus of noises she couldn’t hear bid her farewell.

Socked feet accompanied her to the door. Emmet stalled for a moment before opening it; his fingers drummed on the knob under eyes of rotten green waiting patiently for him to send them on their way.

Instead he turned towards her, hands a little sluggish as he signed: Thank you. For rice. And company. Elesa does this, usually. When she can.

“That’s nice to know.” Briosa noted.

Not always. She comes, not always. I mean that. Always nice, when she comes. But doesn’t come always.

“Yeah, I imagined you meant that.”

Sorry. Verrry tired.

“I can see that.”

I am... Bothering?

“Not at all! You just kinda look like you’re melting. You should go sleep.”

Will do.

Briosa smiled. It was the most angular smile he’d seen on her yet, and it fit her like a glove. It made him think like the smile that made Elesa’s eyes too small and her face too round. It was sweet.

“Next time I’ll make you a soup,” she said. “And if I remember them I’ll sing you some songs from old cartoons to keep you awake.”

He liked the idea of a next time.

He gave her an ok; she tilted her hat at him.

“Goodnight.”

Goodnight.

Then he closed the door behind her; tucked his and his brother’s partners to bed; turned off the lights; crawled under the covers.

He slept well.

#pokémon #submas emmet #too many pokemon to tag... its both the twins teams + briosas as well #briosa pokemon #random writing #MAN this has been in my wips for a LONG while idk how or why i powered through tonight to finish it but im glad #feat. Sulle Aliquote Della Libertà (by nanowar of steel) and Ricordi (by pinguini tattici nucleari) aka the songs briosa sings #ricordi is such a submas song to me (stripped of any romantic undertone in there)#its written from the persective of someone whose loved one suffers from alzheimer #and the verses briosa sings are the ones that i feel are most connected to ingo and emmets situation #(tho first one is more abt elesa n briosa being there for emmet - 'at least until tomorrow morning i promise ill be the face you need most')#theyre written weirdly bc i was trying to recreate the songs rhythm btw you should look for the proper lyrics. its a great song trust me #sulle aliquote della libertà is there only because of the dramatic comedic timing #it has no special meaning its a song abt how to commit tax evasion gdhsgdhjsgaj #also! the spoon thing. my mom always asks if someone wants to lick the spoon/licks it herself after she makes rice. its tastey #i NEED to reiterate that briosa doesnt Know she and emmet are friends at this point #so in her mind shes doing this for her boss who shes come to know better and enjoy and who she knows is Going Through It #elesa asked her to look after him as in 'make sure he doesnt work himself to death'#and briosa went 'got it chief' and overachieved spectacularly #emmet: mmm. briosa never says im her friend. maybe she thinks its obvious #briosa (who made him dinner n kept him company n ensured he took care of himself): this is a normal boss-employee dynamic

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see-arcane · 1 month

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In which Jonathan and Mina learn that Dracula is just where the supernatural perils start...

Another commission piece! This one was a request to draw up something for one of my miscellaneous Harker Horror WIPs other than The Vampyres. I landed on The Harker Records, featuring what would be the dramatic opening shot of the award-winning first season that would still be strangled to death before season 2 for a tax write-off <3 In the meantime, feel free to check out my Ko-Fi if you want a picture of your own or to drop a dollar in the jar.

And if you have a minute, see if you can spy all the classic horror literary references lurking on the table and in the dark 👁️

#I am unreasonably proud of all the props scattered on the table #it took forever to land on recognizable icons to fill up that space augh #anyway #my art #my writing #dracula #jonathan harker #mina harker #horror #The Harker Records

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cgsf · 6 months

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StandingInANiceDress (siand) Archive

°°°°°°

All links are archive links meant to circumvent deletion. As they are prone to rewriting their work, I'll try to include the most up to date versions.

°°°°°°

ONE-SHOTS

"As the Lights Go Down" (E) 62,890

"Darling, Dearest, Dead" (E) 42,218

"Everything Under the Moon" (T) 19,892

"Hot Mess" (E) 20,458

"I get filthy when that liquor get into me" (E) 26,367

"In a Straight Line Down" (T) 40,315

"Infatuation" (T) 10,501

"Lost and Found" (E) 37,741

"Morning Finds You" (M) 51,619

"Numbers" (T) 11,150

"Peculiar / Interesting" (E) 14,400

"Someday When You Leave Me" (M) 25,804

"Sugar and Spice" (E) 39,781

"they call kids like us vicious and carved out of stone" (M) 20,506

"this story's got dust on every page" (T) 33,829

"'Til You Make It" (E) 46,088

"Traces" (E) 44,844

"What Stays and What Fades Away (you can't choose)" (E) 39,111

"You Look Like Bad News (i gotta have you)" (E) 38,954

MULTI-CHAPTER

"Among the Famous Living Dead" (E) 103,483

"Be Nice to Me" (E) 92,351

"Between Men and Lions" (E) 102,164

"Controlled Burn" (E) 53,933

"Cut to the Bone" (E) 112,437

"Dead Things" (E) 89,100

"Don't Take the Money" (E) 53,469

"Fight Fires in Your Best Clothes" (E) 67,631

"For Your Eyes Only" (E) 113,297

"Helen of Troy" (E) 150,258

"Nothing Safe is Worth the Drive" (E) 55,151

"Playing God" (E) 63,747

"Sinking Ships" (E) 106,646

"Stars and Their Meanings" (E) 58,376

"When the Sun Goes Down" (E) 105,193

SERIES

"Down by Contact" (E) 596,619 WIP

"Down by Contact" (E) 117,483

"Hail Mary" (E) 81,011

"Blood Sport" (E) 149,192

"Black Monday" (E) 248,933 WIP

"Down in Flames" (E) 141,827

"so, hey, let's be friends." (E) 29,573

"how this one ends." (E) 49,349

"if it's torture." (E) 62,905

"Honor or Death" (E) 113,148 WIP

"Honor or Death" (E) 60,072

"Spoils of War" (E) 53,076 WIP

"The Standing Dead" (E) 244,721

"The Standing Dead" (E) 166,660

"Tinderbox" (E) 78,061

"Tax Evasion" (E) 210,780

"Tax Evasion" (E) 139,924

"Make Your Bones" (E) 168,764

"Heat Lightning" (E) 128,358

#standing in a nice dress #siand #fanfiction #teen wolf fics #StandingInANiceDress #sterek #sterek fics #sterek recs

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y-rhywbeth2 · 6 months

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Gods & Clergy: Jergal

Bone Man's turn!

Clergy: Death and Taxes.

Jergal: He's either a sad alien insect man or a master manipulator and a villain who will end us all, and I don't trust him. At least he's a cute bug.

Backstory: The Dead Three and Cyric had to get it from somewhere. Also why do you need two backstories??

"Each being has an eternal resting place that is chosen for them at the moment of creation. Life is a process of seeking that place and eternal rest. Existence is but a brief aberration in an eternity of death. Power, success, and joy are as transitory as weakness, failure, and misery. Only death is absolute, and then only at its appointed hour. Seek to bring order to the chaos of life, for in death there is finality and a fixedness of state. Be ready for death for it is at hand and uncompromising. Life should be prolonged only when it serves the greater cause of the death of the world. Undeath is not an escape or a reward; it is simply the duty of a chosen few who serve the Lord of the End of Everything." - Jergal's dogma

Jergal is the god of Fatalism, and former god of Tyranny, Strife, Death and the Dead. He has two backstories given for him, and is the root cause of just so. Much. Mess.

What there is to know about his followers is rather short, so let's get that out of the way first.

Amongst the living, Jergal only has a handful of worshippers. Many don't even remember his existence. However, a significant amount of his clergy still remain, continuing as undead. Primarily mummies of lawful evil and lawful neutral alignments. Strictly speaking, as a servant of Kelemvor, Jergal is not supposed to be employing undead. Jergal has neatly settled this conflict of interests by simply totally omitting it from all his reports so that Kelemvor never finds out.

His clergy are known as the Scriveners of Doom, and his specialty priests who worship him to the exclusion of other gods are the Doomscribes.

It was Jergal who came to the priests of the human ancestors of Netheril, and led them to build their empire under his design. Once Netheril fell, and Jergal fell from power, he only really saw a following in highly militaristic, regimented societies.

What few temples remain are just stone mausoleums and dusty crypts - although they do have a nifty ambient side effect where they drain the life out of plants and animals and cause people to rapidly age if they stay there.

The priest in charge of the temple is the First Scrivener of Doom, and there is no other rank or title. The priesthood consist of a mix of clerics and monks.

His mummified priests pass eternity, sat at a desk in the crypts while Jergal whispers in their ear; passing to them the names, deaths and fates of mortals as they go, for the scribes to write down. They will be there, doing this until the end of the world, so the story goes. These undead are largely pacifistic, and will ignore intruders unless they are fated to die in this encounter. If the intruders attempt to disturb their work then they will attempt to drive them off, and only attempt to kill them if this doesn't work.

From the perspective of the Jergali faith, everything has an appointed time to die, and it makes no difference what you do or what precautions you take. You will die when you are meant to die, no sooner and no later.

The few living worshippers he has perform much the same task as the undead, but they have day jobs as scribes, funerary workers and morticians. As scribes they keep records of births, deaths and taxes for their employers.

Priests wear plain grey robes and long white gloves. They always have a bag on their person, containing scrolls, ink, quills and a sealed human skull containing the ash and bone mixture used in the Sealing (which also happens to be their holy symbol). Priests also shave all hair on their heads.

The Jergali priesthood has no patience for grandiose holy days or rituals. They have one holy day and one very small ritual called the Sealing; every time a person's name, death and fate is inscribed the scribe they sprinkle a little ash and powdered bone over the wet ink to blot it. If one of them must kill somebody, they usually harvest the bones to make more powder.

Their one holy day is the 30th of Nightal - the end of the year. They celebrate this by spending all night reading the names of everybody who died that past year, culminating in everybody declaring "One Year Closer!" (to the end of the world) and then they burn all the records, ready to start again.

Back when Jergal was important, his priests could be hired to create undead work crews for things like construction jobs. The Companions of the Pallid Mask were an order who specialised in combating and commanding the undead, and were tasked with destroying undead existing outside of service to Jergal.

The Hand of Jergal were a militant order who hunted down members of other faiths who resurrected the dead without paying tribute to Jergal or those who violated tombs and graves that were under the protection of the church.

Doomscribes:

There is a chance that a Doomscribe will become a mummy upon death. The priest has no say in this, it is purely up to Jergal and whether or not he feels he still requires their services.

They can tell by looking at a person which plane their soul is destined to go to upon death. They can also send the souls of the undead to their destined afterlife.

They're resistant to paralysis and to the life draining effects of undead like spectres and vampires.

They can use magic to make it seem like they're dead, and inflict fatigue and weakness on others.

They can chose to see the world the way some undead do: as a black void with points of light where living beings are, allowing them to detect the presence of the living.

They can paralyse the living with a touch, and while they are paralysed read their mind to discover what faith the target belongs to and how true to that faith they have been. The accomplishments of which they are proud, the things that bring them shame. How well the individual has used its strengths through its life, or if it has been ruled by its flaws.

They can also just create a portal to the Negative Energy Plane (also known as the Plane of Death - a world of absolute nothingness and entropy).

Lord of the End of Everything; Scribe of the Doomed; Seneschal of the Crystal Spire; the Pitiless One; Doom of Four Claws; Chi’kraltaar, the Sand Slayer; The Silent Slayer, Bringer of Strife and Embodiment of Death; The Forgotten One

Or just Jergal.

As of 1496 DR he is also now known as: Withers; Bone Man; That Sorry Excuse For a Skeleton, and Jerky.

Insofar as anyone can tell, the one and only thing Jergal cares about is the end of the universe. He finds life to be a momentary, meaningless thing that precedes the eternity of death and takes no interest in the living except to record their fates.

Scholars who've studied Jergal often note that his behaviour is not unlike somebody who is aware of their oncoming death, and has accepted it and is focusing on getting their final affairs in order.

He has an overly formal, archaic method of speech. His tone is always flat and emotionless, and his voice is dry and seems to have an echoing disembodied quality. Every word out of his mouth is cynical and fatalistic. Mortals find his presence upsetting, and being close to him seems to drain the energy out of them.

Jergal is loyal to the office of God of the Dead, apparently it's something inherent to his very being. However he couldn't give less of a damn about whichever individual holds that office, and if he thinks that they're not up to the task he has no problems undermining them. That means Cyric specifically, and Jergal holds Cyric's Chaotic Stupid/Evil behaviours in utter contempt. He seems happy enough with Kelemvor so far.

In fact the only other being Jergal's ever been known to show fondness for is the ancient Netherese Sun God Amaunator, who had a love of order that Jergal appreciated. He also has a dislike for Velsharoon, patron god of necromancy, who undermines the natural order of death and actively works to combat the other god's efforts.

Jergal's duty is to keep records of all the petitioners (dead souls) who pass into the City of Judgement to be placed into their afterlives.

In life Jergal was a member of a species called the Spellweavers, six armed insectoid aliens with colonies spread across the worlds. When seen in his true form, Jergal appears much as he was - a mummified humanoid that appears much like a human-sized praying mantis. His skin is grey and stretched tightly across his frame. He has "bulbous, yellow, lifeless eyes and insectoid mandibles." His body is covered in a black cloak that seems to fully absorb all light that touches it (because it's a portal to the Negative Energy plane) and he wears long white gloves over his "elongated, claw-like hands and forearms" and he's always carrying a quill and a heavy scroll written in a language nobody understands.

Jergal can read a person's entire life and future simply by looking at them, and there are no magical protections capable of preventing this. The experience is described as "something cold and inhuman slithering across the mind and burrowing into every memory." If Jergal writes a person's name on his scroll he can force their eventual fate to happen immediately, forcing them to leave to their appointed afterlife from whence they will never be able to return.

His touch can cause fatigue and weakness in the living.

When he manifests on Toril, he can chose to take the form of any undead creature or take the form of an ancient and wizened human man. When a mortal who has extended their life through unnatural means dies, Jergal often causes the sound of a book snapping shut to sound in the vicinity. Because even he has his petty little joys.

His divine servants and messengers include vultures and undead - although those last ones he's using a little less with Kelemvor in charge... he still uses them though. It's amazing what never goes on the reports.

Jergal has two backstories; in both he was one of the last of his kind, and entirely alone. One has him live to see his people's civilisation (Eril) on Toril destroyed, and later to feel his entire people be wiped out as he is bound and helpless for centuries. The other has him be born after all his people are ashes (Spell weaver reproduction is odd, and their offspring are born fully grown with the shared memories of their parents and ancestors).

In the version where Jergal was not a newborn, he woke up after centuries of being trapped beneath a desert, buried in sand; alone, undead and a new quasi-deity - and screaming. He went on a years long homicidal rampage, killing anything within reach that left such an impression on the locals their descendants remember it over 30 thousand years later.

In both versions, his people destroyed themselves in a ritual that attempted to elevate their entire race to godhood, which backfires and kills almost all of them, leaving a fledgling spark of divinity in the survivors (including Jergal) in the latter version this is how he is born. The disaster itself is referred to as the Disjunction.

In both versions, Jergal is a master manipulator and tyrant with an insane body count who terrifies mortals. Roll the Dead Three into a single god and there he is. Even though he isn't exactly widely known, he's still the source of several periods of ancient strife and generational trauma.

The primary tactics of the ancestral spell weavers, when working towards their goals, was to subjugate other mortals that can be subjugated and made to serve, while handing civilisations that threaten them power with which to destroy themselves from within. Jergal was not an exception, and he had a hand in many of Faerûn's ancient societies. He manipulated useful people and civilisations until they had accomplished whatever goal he set for them, and then once he was finished with them he destroyed them.

After the loss of his people, Jergal's first ambition was to use the Code of Revision - ritual instructions left by the spell weavers in case the spell went wrong, in order to reset time to before the Ascension went wrong. Unfortunately for him, the backlash had scattered the magical gems which stored the information.

To accomplish this, he planned to nurture the divine spark in him into full strength by accumulating worship. He began appearing to early humans living in villages along the Narrow Sea, terrifying them into worshipping him, building a cult and leading his priests to rule their villages. They grew into the kingdom of Netheril, and Jergal began to teach them necromancy.

In one version of the story, Jergal's ascension to full godhood erases his mortal desires as he becomes God of Fatalism, Tyranny, Death and the Dead, and he abandons ideas of restoring his people in favour of godly concerns like embodying his portfolios, gathering more worshippers and growing in power.

Netheril's growing magical power and hyperfocus on dark magic under the leadership of an evil deity was kind of concerning to nearby civilisations. The elves of Eaerlann started teaching the humans alternative (less evil and destructive) magics, so that the early Netherese mages had more avenues of power and study and would be less under the control of Jergal's cult. Jergal's response to this was to bring an army of orcs down on them (which backfired when Netheril allied with the Eaerlanni to fight them off) and then, thoroughly annoyed, to leave dark magic in the elves' midst. That was a little more successful, but also caught the attention of a nearby lich king of the sarrukh (ancient lizardfolk). In one version he catches onto Jergal because a rival nation of sarrukh was responsible for the death of most of Eril, and Jergal did his usual thing of wiping them off the map with his machinations in response.

This dude disguised himself as a human (under the name of Arthindol, called "the Terraseer" for his knwoledge by the Netherese) and began to sabotage Jergal from within the empire, sharing more lore with the mages and guiding them even further away from Jergal's control.

Other people who got on Jergal's nerves were the neighbouring dwarves of the kingdom of Delzoun. So he manipulated a lich into setting up shop nearby, and left the dwarves with generations of war against the undead, to keep them busy so they'd keep their nose out of his business. They first pissed him off before his ascension to true godhood, when the dwarves accidentally dug too deep and discovered his lair in the ruins of Eril. They unknowing stole one of the gems that Jergal required to unlock the Code of Revision and Jergal hunted them across the mountains, back to their homes, killing in a bloody, vengeful rage before he was eventually beaten back by the dwarven hero Delzoun (who died in the process).

In the version where godhood didn't erase his mortal desires, Jergal eventually realised that some of the gems he needed were lost forever he was forced to change his original method of saving his people and embraces his position as the Netherese God of the Dead (and the other stuff).

In -939 DR, Jergal had a new plan, where he would chose six mortals, guide them to great heights of magic and then have them perform a ritual which would transfer his memories, essence and divinity into them (this is part of how spell weavers reproduce, it's very odd). To these six chosen he promises a share of his godhood. The first candidate was a baby Karsus, and when he was old enough Jergal had five more promising children apprenticed to him. In one version of the story one of them - Tharlaguant Bale "the Spellslayer" - is the guy who will be Bhaal. (In another Bale is a separate individual, and the future Lord of Murder is a man called Arabhal - chief assassin and spymaster for one of the Netherese flying cities. In both versions, he is one of Jergal's mortal pawns.)

In one version Arthindol manages to poison Karsus with hubris, and when the ritual should've come to pass in -339 DR, Karsus' Folly instead causes a backlash that destroys the ritual, Jergal's plans, Netheril entire, several other empires, the Weave, Mystryl... yeah, it's a mess. In that version, Jergal embraces the nihilistic aspects of his portfolio and enters a depressed period.

In another Arthindol manages to convince one of the six - Telamont - into turning away from Jergal, who is then forced to seek a replacement. Said replacement is a young peasant girl called Mystra with great magical potential (she's also a chosen of Mystryl, but he doesn't know that). Karsus' idea to make himself the new god of magic is actually part of Jergal's plans in this version (Karsus is unaware of this) and Jergal plans to redirect Karsus' Folly to trigger the Ascension. Unfortunately, Mystra was only young girl and hadn't been trained to handle this level of magic, and she couldn't take in her fragment of Jergal's divinity. In a panic, she instead grasps the essence of the now dead Mystryl (who sacrificed herself to save the Weave) and becomes the second incarnation of the Goddess of Magic. Karsus dies, leaving behind some of Jergal as the god we know. Collectively, Jergal, Karsus, Bale, Nakasr, Arlochar, Elah-Nydra and Mystra (the second one, not the current one) are known - to the few who are aware of them - as the Lost Gods.

Somewhere out in the world, Bane and Bhaal team up and eventually run into Myrkul, who is looking for more power because being crown-prince isn't good enough for him. The three adventure together, seeking divinity. Ancient gods are slain, horrors are unleashed, a king is assassinated... and then they find their way to Jergal's throne in the planes.

Again, there are two versions of what's happening here: Version One: Jergal is genuinely emotionally exhausted and has grown tired of the world and his duties. He willingly abdicates to the Dead Three, ready to fade into the shadows and await the end of the world and of himself.

Version Two: Jergal has been steering Bane and Bhaal through visions imparted on them through their nightmares, and every step the three took getting to him - and their idiocy as the Dead Three - are simply further steps in his 30,000+ year old master plan to reverse the Disjunction.

#Where is my insect man Larian? WHERE??#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 withers #withers #long post

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lover-of-mine · 3 months

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Wait, okay, so I was going through my wips last night and I found something that would later evolve into the death and taxes fic and the Gracie fic. It's just the general structure based on the space the show put between Buck and Eddie after the cemetery and that made me think about how we all wrote fics about bridging that gap during the hiatus and at first glance it seems like the show is ignoring the space they put between them. BUT I was looking at my reasoning for that space and they didn't fix it. A major part of the impact of the space comes from the way recovery and mixed feelings do A LOT of work to make sure BuckandEddie exist outside of the uniform. We have Buck just showing up at the house, we have Eddie and Chris chilling in the loft, we have the poker date, but after the cemetery they are still being besties, sitting too close on the engine, teasing Chim with the wedding march, but we no longer see them together outside of work, Buck isn't even with Eddie when they're at the hospital after the bridge. And I was thinking back to 7x01, they are still confined to work. Even the scene at the house, we don't see them interact. We know Eddie is there, but the situation is about Christopher. Buck didn't tell Eddie he broke up with his girlfriend. Eddie didn't talk to Buck about Chris having a date. Sure, we have a scene where they are talking, but it's about Christopher, they always push things aside over what's best for Chris and they are working. Buck asks Eddie to hang out and Eddie rejects the idea in favor of his girlfriend. We had the cemetery work as a breakup and then we had Buck being single and trying to start closing the gap and being shut off by Eddie. Very gently, but still shut off. And it got me curious if they even realize what they are doing. This whole we're fine with this one aspect of our relationship without actually addressing there might be a problem between them. Because it's kinda crazy the way the show is making a point that girlfriends are in their way. From Eddie's reactions to Natalia to the way Buck takes a second to control his expression when he thinks Eddie might've broken up with Marisol. I know I always say the show won't let them talk because there is no way of letting them talk without addressing how they feel about each other, but why would the girlfriends be a problem if they didn't have a problem with the other dating someone else? If they keep this up they might actually have to say the words. The whole "I don't want you to date anyone else" thing. Buck doesn't realize he already rejected Eddie and Eddie is trying to move on scenario canon when?????

#im literally sitting here like #wait a damn minute #911 #911 spoilers #buddie #buddie thoughts

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xenosaurus · 1 year

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I have a page for my worldbuilding projects that’s a huge WIP, but in the mean time, here’s a list of the ones I can remember off the top of my head! I’ve done my best to split these by genre, although some obviously fit in multiple categories. You can also browse through my "original stuff" tag for things that haven't made it as far as a concrete project, if you can tolerate the mess.

UPDATE: Tumblr changed their tag system, so I had to fix the links. They SHOULD be working, but chronological links don’t cooperate with mobile, so I’ve made them general links. Please add /chrono to the url if you can, a few of these are very weird out of order (looking at you, Boar’s Blood).

Urban Fantasy

Witchmouth General; comedy about a hospital in a city that is mostly monsters and aliens

Freedom Over Gold; a comedy-drama about a trio of homunculi killing their masters

Immortality and Tax Fraud; a comedy about gods who possess people and the hosts that are still resisting them (slightly NSFW)

Mundane Motherhood; a slice of life/recovery story about a woman who adopts a kid who was being raised to fight demons

The Empty City; a drama about a limbo world entered in dreams by people who compete for “days”, which give them another day of life in the real world

The Mortal Forge; an adventure story about a group of cursed people putting together an expedition to find a legendary cure

Tethered; a slice of life story in a setting where everyone has a familiar, starring two teenagers who are “tethering” their familiars, allowing them to become more physical and sentient

Fallen Angels in YOUR Area!; a comedy about a group of angels who are banished to earth for gaining too much individuality

Arlan Kingslayer; a comedy about classic high fantasy book characters being brought to the real world and not wanting to leave

High Fantasy

Boar’s Blood; an adventure story about a magical society built on the grave of an undead dragon that is rapidly falling apart (NSFW)

The Phoenix Bride; an adventure story/romance about a woman exploring an ever-expanding magical tower to confess her feelings to the woman who created it

God Hunters; technically closer to magical steampunk, an all-women drama about monster hunters (NSFW)

Scales and Bonedust; in a setting where some humans live in dwellings draped over the backs of dragons, a man and a dragonling try to find their way home after their whole community is killed

Rabbitheart; a fairy tale of sorts about a young jester (and would-be sorceress) trying to reclaim her familiar to earn a princess' hand in marriage, with a large section of backstory about the setting's version of Arthurian lore

The Mayfly; a dark fantasy about a mortal half-elf prince learning the truth of elven immortality

Whalefall; merfolk dark fantasy about a "bloodsalt knight" (a soldier who bites themselves to draw attacking predators to the blood and away from their school) who is separated from her people

Mark the End; trope manipulation on 'everyone grows up and has babies' endings where the children are the reborn god-monsters their guardians fought as teenagers. heavy on monster lore and character drama

Vampire Prince Walter; a romantic comedy about childhood sweethearts (who have since become a vampire and a werewolf) being arranged to marry each other... as long as their fathers don't find out they like each other too much to spy on the other.

Science Fiction

New Apocalyptia; a comedy about a world where all movie apocalypses happened at once (slightly NSFW)

Salt Water; an adventure story about a group trying to reach the bottom of their world’s incredibly deadly oceans, also mermaids and surfing as a death sport

Peppermint Circuits; a gay love story set in a world where everyone has a chip in their brain to influence their behavior (slightly NSFW)

Spycaller; a murder mystery about humans who interact with the intergalactic community from within mech suits

Superheroes

Superfish; a traditional coming of age superhero story about an LGBT group for college-aged sidekicks

Isaac is Okay; a very gentle story about a timetraveling superhero that traps himself in the past to raise his younger self away from their abusive father

Villain Risk; a superhero drama about an illegal hero team being arrested, told after the fact by a social worker, a kid in juvenile detention, and a shapeshifter who killed a cop and stole his life

Fate and Switch; a soulmate au fakeout about psychically linked superheroes who have been brainwashed, and their partners’ attempts to find them

Tooth and Nail; a superhero/kaiju mashup about bioengineered superheroes fighting monsters, and the protagonist’s attempts to protect his new apprentice from the horrors of their work

You Can Keep the Mask On; a superhero story intended to be told through sexual encounters between characters, obviously (very NSFW)

Overpowered; a comedy about a city's extremely, well, overpowered supervillains

Abelsons; a superhero story focusing on the "support" members, such as the people who make costumes and the medics

Bonus Individual Posts

that one about the destiny orphanage that one about the silkworm aliens

#original stuff #finally an updated pinned post!

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lostinforestbound · 14 days

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WIP Name Tag

Thanks @darkurgetrash for tagging me! I have a lot of wips that I haven't touched since I really wanted to get the 10k Oneshot out of the way!

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

Here they are!

Writing WIPs:

Pyxis Tavarez (SFW and NSFW Alphabet)

I'll Try Again, Just For You

You're a fucking idiot

Third Time's a Charm (Chapter 2)

More Dark Rolan stuff

Art Wips (I haven't been drawing because my IPad finally broke down after 13 years of usage out of it, but here's WIPs I was at least planning to do!)

Ambition is Taxing (Redraw)

Their first time was incredible, btw

Death of a Master

Reference Sheet

They're Best Friends!

No Pressure Tags! @graysparrowao3 @underdark-dreams @dutifullylazybread @barbwillbrb @sleketon666

#forest-chats #wip #wip game

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29625 · 1 month

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Forensic artist! Slider x FBI investigator! Mav AU WIP I’ve been hatching for a while.

Inspired by the UID community and its talented volunteers and professionals who contribute to the beautiful, humanizing facial reconstruction of some of the decedents! The case isn’t particularly based on the real event but rather a creation of a mish-mash of many different cases as well as fictional details.

Paring: Slider x Maverick, with forensic sculptor! Ice and FBI investigator! Goose.

Rating: Teen and up for now. Might throw some sexy stuff later.

Warning: graphic description of violence, dead body & suicide (no major character death). Very inaccurate description of how law enforcement works in the US (I’ll fix it later! Sry! Please let me know if there are something you’re familiar with because that’d help a lot!)

In 1991, a case reopens in San Diego, California. The case where a White woman aged between 30-45 was found deceased in a wooded area with a gunshot wound in her head in 1978.

She was not facially recognizable with decomposition and animal activities, as well as the wound inflicted by the impact of close proximity gunshot. A medical examination concluded she had large amount of alcohol and some sleep medicine in her system at the time of her death, possibly making her disoriented, and the purse containing her personal belongings left at the scene had a empty bottle of pills whose label had been scratched off.

She cut all tags off from her clothes which consist of a polka dot summer dress, a pair of white heeled sandals (size 5), blue bra and a white underpants with laces, all found on the decedent’s body except for one of her sandals, possibly due to animal activities as observed in her post-mortem scars on her right leg. She was approximately 5’ to 5’3 inches tall and weighed about 140 lbs. She had fair complexion with chin-length red hair, naturally straight and styled curly, but the advanced state of her decomposition hindered the examiners to determine her eye color.

The location she was found is close to the region where prostitutes and hitchhikers frequent and she is theorized to be particularly familiar with the area, suggesting she had been working in sex trade in San Diego area.

Even though she carried no ID or tax stamps, receipts, or credit cards with her at the time of her death, a possible clue to her identity was found in her purse, which is a piece of paper (approx. 4 inches wide and 1.6 inches long) with the message following:

I love you so much Jannie/Jennie/Jamie (the exact words differ depending on the sources) .

I can’t be there anymore but I’ll always love you & wish you the best.

To people this may concern Im [sic] sorry for every-thing [sic]. xxxx

The message was scribbled with a blue-ink pen, but it lacked her signature and nobody with the name in the letter has come forward after the initial information was released in California region.

It is theorized that the person in the letter is either her friend, family (possibly a sibling or a husband) or her child, who she might have been estranged with at the time of her death.

No foul play is suspected in her case and her death has been concluded as a suicide by gunshot.

“….And we’re renewing her facial approximation, which hasn’t been updated since the initial discovery.” Pete scans the case file containing the composite—a basic photomontage. Her silent face is devoid of any emotions he can tell right away, frozen in time, something he’s so used to seeing. “Right. Well, we gotta contact Tom about this.”

Tom Kazansky from Los Angeles Police Department. He’s a forensic anthropologist who specializes in sculpture. A great contributor of his and Nick’s cases with an ice-cold precision, he’s also been a close friend of them—with his great dedication for his job and his deadbeat sense of humor.

“About that.” Nick interjects. “I don’t think we can, Pete. Or we should, for that matter.”

“Why not?” Pete asks, slightly frustrated but mostly surprised at the statement. “We’re lacking a good reconstruction and he’s the best candidate we’ve ever got.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Nick says with a small shrug. “But he’s on a family leave, remember?”

Oh.

Oh, right. Now he remembers.

“Good for him, yeah?” Nick smiles. “A kid is such a bundle of joy. I still think of the day Brad came home with my sweetest wife whenever I’m feeling low.”

“Shit, Nicky.” Pete groans as he rubs his face with his hand. Maybe two months without a break really does something to his memory. “I can’t believe I forgot that, man. I even sent some gifts for him back in October.”

“Workaholic.”

“Yo, shut up.”

He playfully smacks Nick’s head as they leave. The perk of having a witty partner is he never gets bored at work—with a side effect of never getting a break.

Finding another forensic artist was, to his surprise, a smooth process. Tom has assigned a substitute while he was away, taking care of his wife and his newborn baby girl.

Ron Kerner.

A forensic artist at LAPD, working in Tom’s lab. His portfolio shows a series of drawings of people. He seems to have worked on both the composites of criminals and victims, with him predominantly working on the identification of latter.

Flipping through the thick file, he reaches to the section titled ‘John & Jane Does’. And—damn, how lively and colorful those portraits are.

They are all smiling, some of their grins are wider than others with a more sly-looking expression. There are four comparisons between a then-unidentified person and their living photos, and Ron seems to have captured their unique facial features on point while…humanizing them, however tragic their last moments may have been.

Talented, indeed. Pretty empathetic, he might add. No wonder Tom has assigned his role to him.

“Bradshaw!”

A voice echoes in the hall as they finish talking to the receptionist. Nick turns around and waves back with a big grin on his face.

The man stands in front of them. He’s muscular, slightly shorter than Nick yet still way taller than Pete himself. Towering, but his relaxed stance makes him seem friendly, combined with the toothy grin on his angular face. His curly brown hair complements his tanned skin. Judging from the way he presents himself, Pete assumes he’s not a visitor here.

“Hey bud!” Nick says and shakes hands with the man. “Still dwelling in the lab, huh?”

“Oh you shut your pretty mouth, dickhead.” He chuckles almost affectionately.

“Pete, this is Ron. Ron Kerner from LAPD. Ron, this is Pete. Pete Mitchell.”

Ron Kerner.

The man looks at Pete and reaches out his hand, which he’s quick to shake.

“I really liked your portfolio.”

Pete mutters almost instinctively as he shakes his hand, realizing how awkward he sounds a moment later. Ron looks at him with slightly widened eyes, curiosity flickering in his beautiful hazel irises.

“Uh, I mean…I’m Pete Mitchell. Call me Pete.”

“Thanks.” Ron says with a smile with a tinge of shyness on the corners of his droopy eyes, although well-concealed by his bold voice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pete. Tommy always talks about you guys.”

“Yeah.” Pete answers as their hands part, leaving a pleasant warmth on his cold skin. “Pleasure to meet you, too, Mr. Kerner.”

“Hey, Ron’s just fine.” He says. “We’re about the same age, right? Don’t make me feel old.”

“You can call him Ronnie if you want, Pete.” Nick says. “Bet you’ll get along just fine. He’s just as immature as you.”

“What did you say, jackass?”

Their eyes shot at each other as their voices almost synchronize, much to Nick’s amusement.

“Damn it, Nick!”

“Shit, Bradshaw.” Ron mutters at Nick’s smirking face that Pete’s so familiar with at this point of his career. “Let me be cool and act like an adult in front of this guy, alright?”

“Ha! Jokes on you, Kerner. You’ve already said dickhead like you always do.” Nick teases. “C’mon, Pete. You think he’s mature? With his taste in jokes like that? Betcha get along well, darling. Already in synch.”

Ron pouts at Nick with a small pfft sound, a gesture he didn’t think a guy this big could pull off.

“Get along well, huh?” Pete chuckles, lightly patting Ron on the shoulder.

“Great start, I guess.” He grins. “Though I can’t wrap my head around how you tolerate this bastard.”

“Me neither, man.”

Ron barks out a laugh as Nick pokes Pete on the arm, grumbling at how the table has turned.

Ron Kerner.

Today was the first time they’ve met. He’d been faceless to Pete for almost a month, ever since they first called in the most basic business-like manner, talking about grown-up stuff, in contrast to the almost overwhelming amount of portraits he sent him.

“Hey, Nick?”

“What?”

“Can you see an artist in his own work?”

Nick blinks a little, his eyes briefly shot up from the road. They are on their way to go back to their office in his car, idly listening to the local radio as the town passes.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Pete stretches his arms and loops them around the headrest. “It’s weird, I know.”

“I thought you lost your mind and decided to be a philosopher instead.” Nick says. “But I guess you can.”

“How?”

A few seconds of silence filled the car before Nick speaks, absentmindedly stroking his mustache.

“A part of your soul leaves your body to live in the world of your art, forever.” Nick mutters. “I don’t know, Pete. That’s just how I feel. A part of me becomes something not mine, and he dances with the music as I play it.”

Pete can only nod in response. Nick has always been enthusiastic about music. Tom has been artistic, too. He’s a professional artist as well as being a full-time officer, for God’s sake.

“I guess that’s true for Ron, y’know.” Nick says. “Considering the subjects he deals with daily.”

His fingers skim through the pictures. A Black teenager with shoulder-length braids, grinning widely in her denim overalls. A middle-aged Hispanic man with a box of tobaccos in his hand, smiling softly. One of the portraits depicts a woman and a child, possibly her son, chin-up and looking serene together in the wind.

“Ron’s a good guy, Pete.” Nick smiles and shoots a knowing gaze at his partner in the passenger seat. “I wasn’t joking when I said you’d get along.”

“Yeah.” He answers, lowering his eyes in approval. “I suppose so.”

He closes the file and traces the black lettering on the back of it.

Ron Kerner, it says.

Lined in ink, detailed with colored pencils and some markers. Pete can still feel the strokes of his pencils under his fingertips.

#slimav #ron slider kerner #top gun fanfiction #slider x maverick #top gun 1986 #pete maverick mitchell #ao3 writer #Forensic artist! AU #Sorry for any inaccuracies #my parents used to binge watch Criminal Minds and ER and that’s pretty much the only exposure to police/medicine things #also I think Mac Taylor from CSI NY is an absolute sexy king don’t judge me #tom iceman kazansky #nick goose bradshaw #a deep dive into my thoughts on how resentful I am for Rick never getting enough screen time he deserved #29625’s top gun fics

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transmasc-wizard · 2 years

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"they're a 10, but" tag!

ty @multi-lefaiye for the tag! Rules: List your ocs as "tens but" to give us a not at all comprehensive scope of their characters.

Ace: he's a 10 but he hates MCR

Rafael: he's a 10 but he will constantly tell you cursed facts

Lissa: she's a 10 but she probably cares more about her alien invasion video games than she does about you

Thalia: she's a 10 but. she's dead

Jade: she's a 10 but she will force you to listen to MCR 24/7

Angel: they're a 10 but they've probably already stolen your wallet

Corey: he's a 10 but he may be in this just for your cat. also he WILL make things explode

Oliver: he's a 10 but he's terrified of human connection

Bea: she's a 10 but she's probably judging your fashion choices

Hope: they're a 10 but they consider smiting anyone who annoys them

Rowan: she's a 10 but she's an arsonist

Tasya: she's a 10 but she's a dragon rider so actually she's a 20

Winifred: she's a 10 but she'll give you a corruption arc in 3 weeks

Nathaniel: he's a 10 but he's going through a corruption arc rn

Eleanor: she's a 10 but she won't hesitate to do an axe murder if she needs to

Charlie: he's a 10 but he's literally a library

Tagging uhhh @albatris, @wherearetheplants, @void-fireworks, and @cream-and-tea. no pressure though!

#they're a 10 but tag #writblr tag game #tag game #wip nt21 #wip gfs #wip death and taxes #wip rose librarians #nicola.txt

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compacflt · 8 months

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Fully support your desire to cut down on the extras as they're already so long, but as someone who was also looking forward to the sickfic section and is sad to hear it's been taken out, I will simply have to ask you about it instead! First off the discussion of home in the snippet you shared was delicious - when do you think Mav started thinking of the house as 'their' home? And Ice taking Mav to the hospital has a lot of crunch there around how they're seen and how they act in public, especially if Ice was worried and Mav was kind of out of it. Do you think Ice would have taken Mav in to the hospital if he'd really been spiking a fever and decided he needed it? How would he explain themselves? And I suppose a separate, related question: who are their official next of kin/emergency contacts?

the reason i got rid of the sickfic is cause all those questions were answered better elsewhere in the extras ❤️

i was kind of annoyed that the house inconsistently appears to be the property of whomever the plot calls for at the moment -> another reason to cut the sickfic

Yes Ice would take mav to the hospital. it happens elsewhere LOL, maverick is extremely incident-prone

obviously a fun surfing injury with friends != the sickfic’s ice taking “a friend” to the hospital in the middle of the night for dangerous levels of illness-related dehydration… implies familiarity, intimacy above everyone else… the hospital staff would probably assume they’re together, yes, & i don’t think ice would challenge that at all, especially if he had to make sure all the paperwork was filled out right. just not worth the effort. “is there anyone else we should call for mr mitchell?” / “Um no. Just me.” Yeah i took him to the hospital at 4am bc i love him and im worried about him what r u gonna do about it 🤨 violate his hipaa rights? It’s 2009 gay people exist grow up🙄 hospital staff isn’t gonna tell anyone, so who cares

(Luckily for ice in the sickfic he didn’t have to take mav to the hospital)

the point of the sickfic was to establish a precedent for one of them voluntarily taking care of the other who is unable to take care of himself, to set up the parallel of maverick taking care of Ice when he Really gets capital-s Sick. but then i still can’t bring myself to write ice actually being capital-s Sick because i have some weird neurosis where i simply dislike thinking about ice (powerful guy) being helpless or incapacitated or, um, dead. so the mav-sickfic isn’t really relevant anymore because i haven’t written (and never plan on writing, besides that one half-assed one-shot) the corollary ice-sickfic. so the sickfic became the Nixed-fic ❌

And according to this wip wednesday snippet, they are each other’s emergency contacts. don’t ask me how that works or how they figured that out, idk. some stuff you do have to talk about for logistics purposes i guess. which is kind of the point of all the house-related/money-related discussions I’ve written throughout my fics—they Have to talk about the logistics because that’s real life. But they don’t INTERPRET those logistics or assign them a normative value.

for instance debriefing presents (maverick’s) death & taxes as the only two things that ever get them to actually talk to each other lol. logistics become a vessel through which they can talk about their situation without actually talking about it. The state of being each others emergency contacts might be a death-and-taxes discussion—acknowledging permanence without acknowledging permanence

#so is wearing protection (or not) during sex!#i still have a hard time identifying the stakes in this fic that i wrote on a whim sometimes #is it just not saying i love you? or is it everything that goes along with saying i love you?#bc really the way ive written them they are baaaasically married in the 90s #which is obviously a huge criticism that i keep leveling at myself: no it does not make sense for them to buy a house!!! for instance.#would it make sense for them to be each others next of kin either? idk!#all of this predicated on me not knowing the legal ramifications of next of kinship or homeownership and because it’s fanfiction not being #interested enough to research it #i say this all the time but this is one of those areas where i know if i were older/had lived longer my writing would just be better #idk if they would be each others next of kin but OTOH idk who else they would ask to do it!#man i wish i had infinite tags i actually have so much more to say #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #icemav #asks #edts notes #need the icemav fanfic where ice & mav try to figure out their tricare benefits #thank you for the ask!#some sections just aren’t the right vibe too #like me & the sickfic just did not vibe with one another

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livingfast04 · 1 year

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Steddie Hogwarts Au?

I need someone to take the internet away from me. I have massive writers block, but my brain also has this stupid- stupid idea I don't have the energy to write between My two WIPs- but god. My Non-binary ass is truly trying my own patience at this point. The massive urge, to write a Steddie Hogwarts Au??? (Fuck JK Rowling) But it's- like, not through the years, and it literally doesn't involve the actual cast of HP, because fuck that- that's boring. Yeah Dark wizards, but more like Dark forces kind of thing. Tw: Child abuse, child death (unnamed child)

Anyway- Stevie- Born into a very rich, pureblood family- all Slytherin's or Ravenclaw's. At least on his father's side, his mother is French and she went to Beauxbatons- Steve's got a, King Steve thing going on- Quidditch chaser, and he's good at it. He's the top of his class in Charms but not really anywhere else, and he's is a perfect. (so I'm thinking 6th year-) He's the third year and under "whisper" the younger years flock to him, it's on the down low. But he's really good with kids. Crying because of Tests? You miss your Parents? Steve's got you, just quietly and out of the way. Eddie is a half-blood, father is a muggle, and his Mom is a Witch. Her line of families jumps from houses to houses, no real lineage to uphold. Wayne was a Gryffindor. (That's not important to the story, but it's important to me) Eddie is the guy to go to if you are in need of something. He'll walk you to class if someone bothering you, he still stands on the Tables in the great hall at Lunch. It's a commonly know thing that if anyone needs anything that Eddie will help without asking too may questions. No matter what house. As long as you aren't a bully. (there is asshole tax, but he respects the grind) Steve is a Slytherin (Hang in there with me please. I promise I'm not a lunatic) Eddie is a Gryffindor (That's a brave boy, he's a reckless boy, and a man with a lot of courage.) I haven't fully figured out the like semantics, lore and general details- because I'm desperately trying to refrain from writing anything. But I'd say 5th or 6th year- (6th or 7th for Eddie) Steve's brutality attacked. It's in a Muggle Village within a few hours of walking of the Harrington Manor- and Steve goes down there when he needs to get out that house, with a pocket full of Muggle Currency and no Wand. When his Dad is pissed off and not above hexing or cursing his own kid. When his Mother is passed out drunk in the sitting room. He always gets the same thing, Hot Chocolate from the little family owned Café that's better than any house Elf could ever make- The Woman and her wife adore Steve and he hasn't had to pay since he was 7. He always leaves the amount in the tip jar. Walks to the candy store two fronts down, and buys whatever the little group of kids pressing their hands all over the window out front whatever they want with what's left over in his pockets. Like he always does. Might be The Party, might be just a group of Muggle children. It's not even a magical attack. It's not an attempt to kill the heir to an incredibly wealthy house. It's just some muggles who took offense to Steve's and a group of little kids existence. However it does maul up half of his face, his ribs and his hands. The blunt force trauma of the attack leaves him with little of his hearing left. The assault almost kills him. (Despite his attempts to keep the angry attention all on him. It does kill a little boy, Steve sees his head split open on the pavement every time he so much as blinks.) He doesn't talk much either after. Little things, yes or no- but that's about it. And that's far in-between. He won't tell anyone what actually happened, or at least can't. Anyone who wants the story has to get it from the Muggles who looked on in Horror- and the man who called emergency services. Both his parents had already written him off as useless before- but not even more so.

When he returns to Hogwarts for the School Year, he's basically been abandoned and shunned by the rest of the pureblood peers in his house and in the other houses. His friend group wasn't restricted to one house, but all of them leave him when it's clear he's a shell of a human being and can't use him to further themselves in Wixen society. not when he can hardly hear and refuses to talk. They come back to school, and Steve ends up "The Outcast" A worse Fate than Eddie "The Freak" Munson. It doesn't help that Hargrove who before hadn't liked Steve but they had the same friends- but they kept mostly to themselves- just steps to kick the dog while it's down. Tells Steve loudly, and aggressively that his "Pretty face and pretty words couldn't save him. He was taking his crown." Pushes him around, mocks him, all but bodily removes him from their compartment on the Train. It hurts more when no ones says anything about it. A lot of the kids from years previous are unnerved by his appearance, and the next set of first years are terrified of him. And that's only the Train ride, the carriage ride (he can see the thestrals now), and Welcome Feast. By the time they get down to the Dungeon and under the lake to the common room- The Castle refused to let him in. He's left stranded in the chilled hallway, and no one cares. He doesn't know where his trunk is, his things, and his Cat even are. Steve bathes in the Perfects bathrooms as is his right with his position, Sleeps in fits. In History of Magic, and sometimes empty classrooms between his classes, and homework. Uses quick cleaning charms on the robes he wore when he first arrived. Steve see's it as his atonement for letting that little boy die. Eddie's actually the one to notice somethings far more wrong that Steve just being traumatized. The younger boy was completely withdrawn and almost totally ostracized from his house and no matter how many other students attempt to reach out. Eddie watches as they are all treated with a almost hostile kind of fear. Slytherin and Gryffindor share History of magic. 5th, 6th and 7th years took it together, (staffing issues) so Eddie watched more than once as Steve's pale, scarred up face- develop even deeper bruises under his eyes. It's a sudden thought, one that he makes on his own and without talking to anyone about it- not even thinking to owl his Uncle for advice. That he was going to befriend Steve Harrington, and make sure the dude actually got some fucking sleep. It takes weeks, Eddie walks him to and from Classes whether the younger boy wants him to or not when he realizes that, the reason there's been a lack of bullying in the younger student body is because almost everyone has been targeting Steve. He keeps a notebook within that he only ever uses to talk to Steve with. Takes in stride every single little giggle he can pry out of the others lips. He celebrates Steve making noise in response to him talking in the privacy of his dorm room. Steve sits with him at lunch, and sometimes breakfast if he can find the boy before classes start. He's a strike of green among Red. The Gryffindor's take to Steve slowly but fall in line with Eddie glaring over his shoulder.

Gareth tells him that he's Harrington's guard dog one day, and Eddie takes that in stride too. Steve needs a guard dog with the way Hargrove looks like he wants the brunette 6 feet under. It's halfway through October when Eddie realizes that Steve can't get into his own common room. He beats himself up over it for the rest of the year too- because he notices that there's a roughly done patch on Steve's robes sleeve- and Eddie hates that it takes him almost a week to recognize the same spot. See, Eddie made the patch. Because it was Eddie's fault that Steve ripped a hole in his robe anyway. They'd been walking along the edge of the Forbidden forest, Eddie talking, Steve laughing. (he was pretty, with or without the scars- Eddie was all but tripping over himself to see that smile. No matter how weak it was) Steve had tripped, because Eddie had knocked their shoulders together. Ripped up his robes, and scrapped up his arm. Eddie was quick to clean that up first, he hadn't liked the way Shell Steve had come back at the sight of the blood covering his skin. Eddie took the cloak when they parted ways at the Great Hall after dinner. Steve had been hesitant, but handed it over. He returned in after staying up for far too long with a patch of soft green cloth. Eddie knows he could have repaired it with magic- but, there was something in watching Steve's whole face light up at the sight of it. At first- Eddie had just thought Steve had just really liked the patch, that Eddie had fixed it. But then the weekend came, and he realized for the first time. That he hadn't seen Steve out of uniform the entire time so far. And that the washing day had passed and Steve was still wearing the same clothes. He waited a week, the same. Eddie had no idea what he was supposed to do. Steve clearly wasn't being either allowed in the common room, didn't have extra clothes- But, other signs pointed to other things. That Steve couldn't get in the common room. Broken quills, lack of notebooks, the change of clothes- the same robes. How he always slept in History of Magic when Eddie knows before that the other didn't. They'd shared the same class for awhile now. Eddie hates, hates that he doesn't bring it up to Steve- but he knows enough now that Steve would just ignore him on the subject, and blow him off and hide for weeks. it had happened about something before- So Eddie went to his Head of house for the first time since 1st year.

Steve's pulled from all classes for two weeks, he's not even on the castle grounds. Eddie looked, and Eddie asked. When Steve comes back, he looks a little healthier, and he comes back in Hufflepuff yellow. Eddie smiles wide when he slips onto the bench at his elbow, stares at the new soft looking sweater under his robes, and the pants with yellow thread. His eyes find the green patch on the sleeve. Leans over and presses a kiss to the youngers temple. It doesn't magically get better. Steve still doesn't talk, he talks some now, short sentences 2 or 3 words at most. (his longest so far is 6 words and Eddie kissed him on the nose for that one, right on a scar). But only with Eddie, and eventually with Robin- a girl in Hufflepuff who attaches herself at Steve's hip and declares herself his bestfriend. They don't start officially dating until just after Yule either. Eddie kisses him in the middle of the Great Hall after Steve gives him the biggest laugh he's heard out of the other since the beginning of the year. There's bad days, and worst days, but the good days- the good days make it worth it. School is hard, on both of them. Its harder when Steve returns from Yule with less words than when he left. It's hard when Steve sometimes finds himself sleeping in empty classrooms out of mindless habit. It's hard when sometimes all Steve can think about is drowning, can see the boy whose name he doesn't know, but his body he can never unsee. It's hard when Eddie graduates. It's hard for the both of them knowing that Steve will have to go back just one more time. Steve Stays with Eddie and Wayne over the summer between his own 6th and 7th year- only goes back to his parents the first week and arrives on their doorstep at 12 in the morning with tears running down his face, his trunk and cat in hands and never goes back. Eddie works in a small bookstore, and Steve joins him when he finally graduates. They both learn Sign Language, for days when Steve is completely non-verbal, and because it's easier on his brain. And Eddie loves him.

--- I clearly thought about this far more, than I had wanted to. And Now that I've written it down I have even MORE Ideas. This was counter productive to my plans of just spitting out the idea. I was just- "Traumatize Steve Harrington who doesn't fit in his house anymore and the castle just pushing him out- and Steve seeing that as a "this is what you deserve for failing to protect a child who didn't deserve to die- this is what you deserve for not being fast enough, for being too stupid to bring your wand-" and not as a. "This house won't help you in your journey anymore," but when has magic ever been like, straight forwards. And then ofc Eddie's here. :)"

This was far longer than I thought it was, I'm so sorry- I'm emotionally invested in this Au now- Damnit.

#steddie #steve harrington whump #steve x eddie #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things au #Hogwarts au #hoh steve harrington #stranger things magic au #liv is losing their mind #hurt steve harrington #I am mean to my favorite okay-#steve harrington #eddie musnon #steveddie #Eddie munson whump #selective mute steve harrington

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moonknightsonata · 5 months

Text

WIP sneak peak!!

Working on this still but it’s emotionally taxing to get through so this is taking longer than the fluffy one shots I usually do

summary: It’s been a year since Wendy passed and Marc’s emotional turmoil about it is coming to head. You help him process it.

I really wanted to write something about Marc really digesting and processing emotionally his mother’s death. As someone who went through something similar and subsequently that person also passing - the emotions I processed about it were really fucking weird man.

I’d love to also talk through stuff with Marc with anyone if they’re interested.

Sneak peak under the cut!

“I finally left after high school, and I figured she’d never get to control or hold anything over my head ever again, but then she goes and dies and it’s not fucking fair -“ Marc slams his hand on the counter which makes you jolt from the suddenness of it, and he slides down to sit on the floor, his head in hands again.

“I hated her. I hate her, and she still makes me feel like shit from beyond the grave and it pisses me off, but... fuck, why the fuck am I sad about it? She was awful... she was...” she was my mom. Marc mutters into the sleeve of his shirt, his shoulders shaking again as he shutters out a breath to keep himself from crying.

Marc had never gone into specifics of what his mother had done when he was a child. He told you enough, you knew enough to know he had deserved a better childhood than the one he was given. You kept this in mind as you slid down to his level, scooting to sit close to him, gesturing for his permission to touch him.

With a nod from his head, you wrapped your arms around him, resting the top of his head against your chest as you rubbed soothing circles on his back.

“I think…” you started, pausing to see if he could hear you. “that, anything you feel is valid. Emotions are a tricky thing.” Marc snorted in what you would assume was a half-hearted attempt at laughing.

“Grief is messy. It’s sadness, and anger, disappointment and longing. Grief for things you had, things you never had… maybe it’s not her that you’re mourning for exactly.” you continued, moving a hand to brush through his curls. If Marc wanted you to stop, he made no inclination for it.

“Maybe you’re grieving the mom she should have been for you.”

#marc spector x reader #tentatively tagging this bc i want people to know its coming lol #but its still a WIP

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wangxianficfinder · 2 years

Text

In the mood for a Fic...

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1. Hello, Mods! Thanks for all the amazing work that you do, and I hope you’re all well! I’ve been in the mood for WangXian social media AUs lately. Would you have any good ones to share? Thank you!

episodes by kasunn (M, 34k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, basically all fluff, Youtuber WWX, Social Media, Actor LXC, Artist JC, Chef JYL, Babysitting, lowkey kidfic, Surgeon LWJ, Canon typical feels, Taiwanese WWX, Copious amounts of Chinglish, pets!, Secret Relationship, kind of bad pet names, Established Relationship, LSZ is a wen)

🧡don't threaten me with a good time by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reality TV, The Great British Bake Off Fusion, Fluff and Crack, gbbo au, content warning for absolute unhinged nonsense, Enemies to Lovers, by enemies i mean BAKING RIVALS of course, the last two chapters are the twitter reactions to the show so, Social Media AU)

Circles Pt. 1 by cicisears (M, 173k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Rare Pairings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Academic Fraud (Please Do Not Commit), Alcohol, bed sharing, Closeted Gays Working Through It, mentions of abuse, parent death mentioned, Car Accident Referenced, Social Media, And More Social Media, Typos!, But Not Many Typos, Arranged Marriage, Homophobic LQR Homophobia, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort)

like, comment, share & subscribe by detectorist (T, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, YouTube, Social Media, Flirting, Humour, Banter, Getting Together, First Kiss, Texting, so much texting, Youtubers For Social Justice, The Gang Gets Political, Competitive Flirting Via The Medium Of Youtube, it's about the yearning, YouTube Rivals To Lovers)

不忘 | Don't Forget by dragongirlG (E, 50k, WangXian, Modern AU, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Reincarnation, Fix-It of Sorts, Identity Porn, Social Media, Reunions, Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Bondage, References to Canon, Artist WWX, Sexual Content, Pining, POV Multiple, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

Wangxian Tax Universe Series by adrian_kres (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, Americana,Family Dinners, Dysfunctional Family, Family Feels, Crack, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, POV WWX) has social media aspects

Some of You by tangerinechar (M, 60k, WangXian, Modern AU, Social Media, Actor AU, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Love Confessions, Matchmaking, Light Angst) twitter

a baby rabbit is called a kitten and other fun facts by aurora_chiroptera (G, 11k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Modern AU, this is really a kid fic in a lot of ways hidden in a youtube/social media au, Mutual Pining, JZX is a trans lesbian and uses she/her pronouns, Child LSZ, Long-Distance Relationship, (kinda?), Fluff, and bunnies, Good Parent WWX, Single Parent WWX, Getting to Know Each Other, Getting Together, Nonbinary NHS, LWJ Has Friends, set in the US)

to see your face (your smile) by sunflowersfield (T, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Happy Ending, Mutual Pining, Snapchat, and they were ROOMMATES, Declarations Of Love, Social Media, Pining, Set somewhere where Snapchat exists, Fluff) snapchat

Rating: General Audiences by Mishaa (T, 17k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, everyone shows up at some point, you don't really need to know them, Meta, Fandom Allusions & Cliches & References, Fans & Fandom, Social Media) Modern AU (in an alternate universe where Lianfang-zun and Zewu-jun were the protagonist and ML of the fictional work “The Untamed”); legendary genfic author WangJi and notorious kink artist Wuxian wind up collaborating on a Big Bang—and shipping the villainous Yiling Laozu with the righteous Hanguang-jun! Featuring most of MXTX’s characters and fandom red in tooth and claw.

No boys allowed (except Lan Wangji) by allollipoppins (M, 118k, WIP, WangXian, QingLi, MM/QS, Q/OZ, ChengSong, NingYangYu, Male-Female Friendship, Modern AU, Crack Treated Seriously, Mathphobic LWJ, Fluff, Slow Burn, Adult Humor, Mutual Pining, Drunken Shenanigans, Identity Porn, Mild Angst, Polyamorous WN, discord fic, Background Madam Jin/Madam Yu Drama, Like soap opera level drama, No Incest, Sexting, Implied Sexual Content) Discord-style chatfic among the female characters (as well as everyone’s favorite brother-in-law); graphics-heavy; the author advises, “For more comfort, this fic is best read on a computer or on a phone/tablet's landscape mode. Don't forget to enable Creator's Style!“

Inflexible by yeaka (E, 3k, WangXian, Modern AU, PWP, Anal Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Established Relationship) livestreaming gamer WWX’s neglected husband picks the middle of a broadcast to exact his Everyday

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2. Any non explicit fics where nmj notices what is up with wwx during sunshot/post sunshot and is like whoa this dude needs help, and actually helps him? With like character development for both/world building. & nie cultivation being resonantly similar to wwx's. Possibly mingxian but not necessarily. And/or nmj recruiting him or slow burn allying with him during this time? Thank you for all you do! :D

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It, Lynchpin [PODFIC] by Opalsong) Not sure that is quite it, it's wangxian and JC POV, but there is NMJ support of wwx and discussion of Nie cultivation.

Better Things to Do with a Flute in Wartime by Anonymous (E, 365k, MingXian, WangXianJue, Sunshot Campaign, Fix-It, Magical Healing Cock, Dual Cultivation, mild Dom/Sub, Undernegotiated Kink, Golden Core Reveal, Breathplay, Choking, Painplay, Subdrop, Topdrop, Major Character Injury, Canon Divergence, What-If, Temperature Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fisting, Spanking, PTSD, Trauma, Self-Harm, (in the pursuit of cultivational badassery) )

The River Runs Forever by Cerusee (T, 129k, wangxian, JYL & WWX & JC, NHS/JYL, WWX & NHS, character death, BAMF WWX, inventor WWX, sect leader WWX, WIP) has some strong friendship/alliance going on btw wwx and nmj during the ssc

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3. hello!! for the next in the mood for, is there any fics where the personality of the yunmeng sibs are swaped? or maybe their ages and dynamics?? like wwx as jyl, jc as wwx, jyl as jc? i don´t know if i explained right but i hope you understand it?? thank you <3

Burying the Hatchet by pearliegloom (T, 9k, WangXian, Body Swap, Comedy, Post-Canon, Brother-in-law (Derogatory), Fluff and Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Family Bonding) these 2 fics have JC and WY switching bodies

A Day in Your Shoes by Blueflower740 (T, 3k, WangXian, Bodyswap, Canon Divergence, Comedy, Possessive LWJ, Angry JC, WWX is a Little Shit, Mentions of Sex, One Shot Collection, Post-Canon) these 2 fics have JC and WY switching bodies

a decade off your shoulders by loosingletters (T, 1k, WIP, JC & JYL & WWX, Older Sibling JC, Younger Sibling WWX, Younger Sibling JYL, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Humor, Fix-It of Sorts, Bad Parent YZY, eldest daughter syndrome, Protective JC, Age Reversal, Non-Chronological, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, JC-centric)

You & Me Baby, We'll Eclipse The Sun Series by 2501987 (M/E, 130k, WangXian, XiCheng, Modern AU, Canon Divergence, Mafia AU, Gangsters, Murder husbands, Younger Sibling WWX, Older Sibling JC, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, domestic fluff, Murder, Blood and Gore, MIND THE TAGS)

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4. Hello there!!!! I hope that you’re all having a lovely day. Ah, for the next ‘in the mood for’ , can we have some MXTX crossovers??? Especially if it’s Hualian or Bingqiu adopting WWX (cos those are adorable)

💖 Hua Xianle by Tiffany_Guinne (Not rated, 27k, hualian, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX adopted by hualian, not Jiang friendly, madam lan lives, selective mutism, WIP)

💖 Song of Joy and Regrets by HelloKitten (Not Rated, 125k, WIP, hualian, wangxian, Angst, Self-Harm, Child Abuse, Time Travel Fix-it, characters watching the show (mdsz))

💖 echoes from across the void by Nilaic (G, 20k, hualian, wangxian, dimension travel, wangxian adopted by hualian, demonic cultivation, PTSD, hurt/comfort, fluff & angst, families of choice, WIP)

💖 Where the Chaos Is by martyr_syndrome (E, 38k, wangxian, hualian, post-canon, crossover, case fic, accidental voyeurism)

💖 The Red Ribbon by Xiao_Hua (M, 20k, wangxian, hualian, ghost city, cultivation partners, immortality, fluff, supreme ghost king WWX)

💖 For Whom the Bell Rings by DawnCloud (G, 24k, JYL & XL, JYL & HC, fix-it of sorts, calamity!JYL, TGCF/MDZS)

💖 when you’re ready, we’ll turn the page together series by merthurlin (T, 33k, TGCF/MDZS)

💖 Atlas by etymologyplayground (M, 12k, wangxian, hualian, TGCF fusion, getting together, friendship, grief/mourning, smut)

💖 Farmer’s Almanac / 情雨濛濛 by Irrelevancy (T, 13k, WQ/YH, fix-it, TGCF/MDZS)

💖 Hello, Neighbor!!! AU by Dragon_Scribe (M, 70k, bingqiu, wangxian, demon WWX, found family, dimension travel, angst w/ happy ending, mystery, mind control, love confessions)

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5. Hihi! For iitmf - can we get fics where wei ying and lan zhan were betrothed as children?

sweet chaos by eachandeverydimension (G, 86k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged marriage, Fluff, Romance, Light Angst, Falling In Love, Different First Meeting, Qīnghéng-jūn’s A+ Parenting, Night Hunts, Chinese Language, Good Sibling LXC, Good Sibling JYL, POV LWJ, Getting Together, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Chinese Culture, Slow Burn, No Homophobia AU)

seldom all they seem by Fahye (E, 24k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, or rather Arranged Betrothal, followed by Weapons-Grade Thirst)

Neatly Arranged by thunderwear (T, 45k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, lwj’s mother is here but only briefly, RIP, Shenanigans, Fix-Itof sorts, Canonical Character Death, but not all, did i forget to tag pining, because this fic is like 90 percent pining, Hurt/Comfort)

the river and the sea by sasamelons (T, 7k, WangXian, Soulmates, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Falling In Love, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Mutual Pining)

sweat for me by silverclaw (M, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha WWX, Omega LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Friends With Benefits, kind of, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, LWJ owns a perfumery, Secret Relationship)

Hope Series by RoseThorne (G/T, 52k, WIP, WangXian, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Sexual Tension, Arranged Marriage, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect)

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6. Hi ! Can you recommend me some long or completed fics containing A) Wei Wuxian being the loved and coveted and previous person as he deserves. Or B) Wei Wuxian as a scholar everyone (lans) looks up to . I mean him being a very respected cultivator. Also if the word count could be more than 2 or 3k. Preferably very long fics like more than 10k @whateverweilanlovechild

6A)

a waiting warmth by hauntedotamatone (M, 1k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Bathing/Washing, Non-Sexual Intimac, yImplied Sexual Content)

make your good love known to me (tell me 'bout your day) by glitteringmoonlight (T, 6k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Married WangXian, Fluff, a dash of angst, in the form of thoughts about the past, Implied/Referenced Sex)

Littlest Miracles by Vrishchika (M, 5k, WangXian, Dragon LWJ, Dragon WWX, Established Relationship, Dragons, Mpreg, Sort OfTenderness, Non-Explicit Sex, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, supportive families, Not JC Friendly)

Decorate by Vrishchika (E, 4k, WangXian, Smut, Soft WangXian, Possessive LWJ, Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Porn with Feelings, PWP, Married Couple, Clothed Sex, Nipple Play, Tender Sex, Dom/sub Undertones)

Love in all forms, something tender by Vrishchika (T, 4k, WangXian, Post-Canon, married wangxian, Established Relationship, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Family Feels, Sickfic, Sick Character)

Proximity To Knowledge by ChilianXianzi (T, 7k, WangXian, Juniors & WWX, Post-Canon, Married WangXian, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Teacher WWX, Inventor WWX, Not LQR Friendly)

Trust by FlyingMachine1 (G, 8k, WangXian, Juniors & WWX, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, background WangXian, BAMF!WWX, Humor, junior quartet is the wwx fan club)

no smoke without fire by glitteringmoonlight (T, 12k, Wens & WWX, WangXian, YL WWX, Angst and Humor, this was meant to be crack but feelings got involved, not technically outsider pov, Burial Mounds Settlement Days)

6B)

Worth of a Good Man by Vrishchika (G, 6k, WangXian, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Not Jiang Sect Friendly, Not JC Friendly, Tumblr Prompt) kinda

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (G, 7k, WangXian, Post-Canon, wangxian is mentioned but not the focus, this is just the lans being a wwx defense squad, people being nice to wwx, people being mean about wwx but immediately getting shut down, POV Outsider, 5+1 Things) kinda

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7. Hello, dear people!

First of all, thank you so much for your amazing work! Found some real nice fics thanks to you :)

Secondly, do you by any chance know of some fics where Wei Wuxian becomes the Chief Cultivator, either post-canon or in his first life? In not a cracky way and with happy ending for wangxian? Thank you again! @themorrana

Lies and Truth by parodismal (G, 14k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Pining, Protective LWJ, chief cultivator wwx, Sect Leader WWX, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, WWX Lives, Out of Character, Original Character(s), Communication, supportive families)

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8. Iitm for a fic where the juniors or one are protective of wwx or a fic where sm happens and they seek out wwx for comfort or sm along those lines pls. Also i cant beging to explain how this site saves my ass

Proximity To Knowledge by ChilianXianzi (T, 7k, WangXian, Juniors & WWX, Post-Canon, Married WangXian, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Teacher WWX, Inventor WWX, Not LQR Friendly) (link in 6A)Juniors undertaking a campaign of civil disobedience in protection of wwx.

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 63k, WangXian, WWX & JL, Post-Canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Reluctant Matchmaker JL, [PODFIC] Rotten Work by sakizar) Jin Ling being protective of wwx and basically reverse adopting him.

🧡 the stone-filled sea by yukla (T, 9k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Post-Canon, senior wei defense squad, a study of the way prejudice and injustice and anger trickle down from generation to generation) Sizhui dealing with how the world sees WWX.

🧡 The One-Body Problem by metisket (T, 28k, WangXian, LJY & WWX, Canon Divergence, Possession, Cohabitation) (link in 16B) Jingyi being very protective of wwx.

❤️grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, wangxian, post-canon, de-aging, character study) (link in 16B)

Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, WangXian, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con)

~*~

9. So I just started reading "the twin demons of mo", and now I really wanna know if there are A) any other fics where mo xuanyu wasn't just passingly known at koi tower, but like directly involved with raising Jin Ling, even a primary caregiver. B) Also any fics where mxy isn't the one to bring back wwx, dying from the mos' abuse instead (or happier ending is in a coma or something) but mxy's ghost ends up showing up to protect jl (and possibly solve crimes/prove innocence)?

9A)

Different Paths to the Same Route by JustAWanderingBabbit (T, 184k, WangXian, 3Zun, Canon Divergence, What-If, Implied Necrophilia, At least they’re talking now, Medicical science in a cultivational world, Magical Genetic Testing, Family Issues) MXY is rescued from his shack at Mo Villa to resume cultivational training; he winds up developing a healthier relationship with JGY and becoming a loving uncle to JL (whom he serves as combat talisman support) as well as JRS (who survives).

@guqin-and-flute's and @littlesmartart's AUs have all JGS’ children surviving and joining forces against Daddy Dearest; MXY is close enough in age to JL, LJY (here the 3Zuns’ adopted son), and Xuanli’s OC kids to be more of a cool big cousin than an uncle—and often the instigator of mischief.

~*~

10. Hi, for the next In the Mood For post do you have any recommendations for fics where yanli and xue yang are friends? I’ve just read Silk over Steel by LadyRachael which is the kind of vibe I’m looking for. Thanks!

I Will Follow You Into the Dark by Lunarwriter75 (T, 4k, JYL & XY, grief/mourning, demonic cultivation, demonic cultivator JYL, JYL centric, implied/referenced character deaths) not 100% sure if this can be counted as friends?

~*~

11. Hellooooo~~ for itmf i'd like fics where wwx and jgy are friends please :D

The Kids Are Okay (I Think) by GossamerGlint (Not Rated, 47k, WIP, WangXian, MY & WWX & XY, Royalty AU, Prince WWX, prince MY, Prince XY, Burial Mounds, Yílíng Wèi Sect, more like yiling xue sect, its... complicated)

Really? Me Too! by mercyandmagic (M, 59k, WangXian, XiYao, JC/QS, WWX & JGY, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crack Treated Seriously)

The Wild Geese's Tomb by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (T, 56k, WangXian, XiYao, Time Travel AU, fixit, Temporary Character Death) their friendship isn't the main theme but it's a great part of the story

Renewed Hope by Fortune_Maiden (T, 5k, MY & WWX, Canon Divergence, First Meetings, Pre-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, fluff and friendship, MY Makes A Friend, Birthday)

One Good Turn by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 3k, MY & WWX, CSSR and WCZ Live, Lore Drop, WWX is Friend Shaped)

Meng Yao vs. the Board of the Homeowner's Association Series by Ariaste (M/T, 119k, WIP, WangXian, XiYao, MY & WWX, Modern AU, Frenemies to Friends, Established Relationship, xiyao and wangxian are both already married, Family Feels, Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Slice of Life, Discussions of Past Trauma, wwx's canonical kinks, HOAverse)

Collaboration of Dangerous Minds by JustAWanderingBabbit (T, 14k, JGY & WWX, JGY & QS, WangXian, 3Zun, Canon Divergence, Timeline What Timeline, An unexpected team-up, Making friends while on 'vacation', Waking the Dead, Fix-It, Canonical Sibling Incest, Mojo's Post) JGY, sent by JGS to spy on the Burial Mounds, learns of the actual situation there and befriends WWX and the Wen Remnants

Enfant Perdu, Jouet du Destin by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 15k, WangXian, Prostitution, Brothels, Child Abuse, YZY Being YZY, YZY’s cannon issues, JFM and YZY bad parenting, Found Family, Misunderstandings, Angst and Feels, Family Feels, Parent-Child Relationship, Ghosts and Yiling Patriarch feels, Time Skips, WWX half-grows in a brothel, Bittersweet Ending) shows WWX and JGY as childhood friends, and is canon divergence.

~*~

12. I have an itmf request! Any fics where wwx dips out when people tell him he's unwanted or annoying? Like "sorry for the bother, I've taken too much of your time/attention/food it's clearly better for everyone if I leave." Like this tweet thread (but preferably finished) @tess-is-elated

~*~

13. for the next ITMF!!! do you have any recs for wlw wangxian?? preferably works similar to ao3 user 74243’s fics - i’ve consumed all of them in one sitting cause they are that good 😂. i love the way they write wx’s dynamic ! doesn’t have the be rated E or anything though, and can be any AU! thank you in advance ❤️

We have a new F/F & M/F WangXian comp, if you want to also look through that ^^

~*~

14. Do u have any mcd or very angsty modern or canon anything wangxian fics??? Preferably 50k+ long. I'm in mood for very angsty or sad fic and I can't find anything

salt to the sea by starmins (M, 31k, WangXian, Modern AU, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Road Trips, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie (E, 76k, WangXian, Modern AU, Pianist, Getting Together, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Hospitals, Overdosing, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

~*~

15. Hello! Sorry if this has been asked before but do you know of any fics where jc does manage to drag wwx to lotus pier post reserection? Preferably jc unfriendly. Thank you! @feeny

~*~

16. Hey!!! A) Can you recommend something where wwx of different time period meet if possible in only a one shot... B) something with the juniors povs as a focus (post-canon) C) something where wwx doesn't give up his core. (It doesn't matter if there's the Jiang's bashing or anything)Thank you!!!!!

16A)

Wei Wuxian’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good First Meeting With His Future by Enigmatree (T, 3k, WangXian, Time Travel, Cloud Recesses, YL WWX, POV Outsider)

How to Deal with the Conundrum of Your Past Self: A Case Study by anatheme (E, 16k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, YL WWX, Established Relationship, Pining, Sexual Tension, alpha!yiling laozu/alpha!lwj/omega!mxy!wwx: the fic, ft. soft married wangxian, Threesome - M/M/M, Bottom LWJ, Switch wangxian, Knotting, time travel of sorts, Happy Ending)

Crazy Little Thing Called Time by kippalittlefox (T, 11k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending)

16B)

grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon, [Podfic] Grow by jellyfishfire)

green flame, black flute, red ribbon by Fleetling (T, 3k, WangXian, POV LJY, Hurt/Comfort)

A Dramatic Reading by pupeez4eva (Not Rated, 5k, WangXian, Humor, Post-Canon, Public Confessions, oblivious wangxian, The Juniors accidentally write Wangxian fanfiction on a cursed scroll, Everyone suffers the consquences, Getting Together)

The Full Form of Press by Vamillepudding (G, 12k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Comedy, Wherein the juniors found a newspaper, [Podfic] The Full Form of Press by jellyfishfire)

Life is Very Long by Vamillepudding (T, 12k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Comedy, Protective JC, Protective JL, Misunderstandings, Oblivious WWX, Protective LWJ)

The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (T, 19k, In-Universe RPF, Romance Novel, Post-Canon Fix-It, primarily drama-canon with cameos from novel-canon, The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea) )

🧡 The One-Body Problem by metisket (T, 28k, WangXian, LJY & WWX, Canon Divergence, Possession, Cohabitation)

16C)

The fault in my core by luckymoonly (M, 16k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Drama, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mpreg, Pregnant WWX, getting together early, First Time, LQR and his tragic backstory, Fluff, jealous lwj, Oblivious Wwx, Unreliable Narrator WWX, Mildly Dubious Consent, Miscommunication, Miscarriage (not WWX), Attempted Sexual Assault, Matchmaker NHS)

Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WangXian, WQ & WWX & WN, Canon Divergence, Angst, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, BAMF WWX, mentions of abuse, Canon JC traits)

Return to Sender by Thesaurus_with_no_words (M, 72k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence BAMF WWX, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, YL WWX, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, canon JC characteristics, Temporary Amnesia, Partial Memory Loss, Literal Emotional Manipulation, Unreliable Narrator WWX, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Slow Burn)

~*~

17. For the next ' i'm in the mood for ' is there A) any good fics in which wwx is just so obviously gay/bisexual? B) also, any fanfictons of wangxian where wwx is just your hot dom top?

17A)

See all this and more for just ten dollars a month! Series by ScarlettStorm (E, 382k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, Pining, Porn, like in the writing and also as a plot point, onlyfans au, repressed lwj, sex worker wwx, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, hornt(tm), mental health, therapy is good actually, Nonbinary NHS, Gender Exploration, Hurt/Comfort, past trauma, genderfluid wwx)

reports of my heterosexuality may have been exaggerated by sysrae (E, 8k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Getting Together, straight boy lwj, disaster gay wwx, demisexual lwj, the mildest of kink explorations, Heteronormativity, Hockey player WWX, wwx in drag)

Walk, Walk, Passion, Baby by westiec (E, 3k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fantasy, Fashion & Models, Dragon LWJ, Phoenix WWX, Semi-Public Sex, double dragon dick, Frottage, LWJ is a biter, Shameless Smut, Getting Together)

Many happy returns. by orange_crushed (E, 25k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Suicide of a Parent, References to Depression, Anxiety, Therapy, References to Anti-Depressant Medications, Escort Service, Loneliness, Everybody's Abandonment Issues, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Moving In Together, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, LWJ Likes Mess Actually, Hopeful Ending, Recovery, References to Escorting/Sex Work but No Actual Escorting/Sex Work)

please forgive my most passionate disruptions by pumpkinpaix (E, 65k, WangXian, Modern AU, Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Modern with Magic, Modern: Still Have Powers, stripper!WWX, Graduate School, psych it's stripper au AND grad school au AND cloud recesses AND modern nonsense, Internalized Homophobia, lwj is repressed and sad)

just between you and me by starknjarvis (E, 14k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Public Display of Affection, Party Kissing, frat party, Mutual Pining, First Time, Alcohol, blackout drinking)

A Sure Thing by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 95k, WangXian, Modern AU, Sugar Daddy, Sex Work, Light Dom/sub, Aftercare, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Bondage, use of sex toys, boundary setting, Relationship Negotiation, many baths, Barebacking)

🧡tear out the thread one by one from your skin (’til your bones feel embarrassed by all the attention) by lightningalwaysreturns (E, 40k, WangXian, Modern AU, Holidays, Getting Together, Professors, Pining, Spring, Fluff and Smut, Family, single dad lwj, so many novel refs, Explicit Sexual Content, service top lwj/power bottom wwx vibes)

Ticket to Ride by mistresscurvy (E, 18k, WangXian, Modern AU, Online Dating, Road Trips, Service Top, Phone Sex, Dick Pics, Wedding Banquet)

leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (E, 14k, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx, the neighborhood asshole dog, if you've met one then you know, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Happy Ending, for everyone including the asshole dog, Eventual Smut, switch rights, Sex Toys, horny yearning, Masturbation)

17B)

We have a Dom Wei Wuxian Comp that you might find some good fics in ^^

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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y-rhywbeth2 · 1 month

Text

Death and the Afterlife #2

Dying/Pre-Judgement | Judgements | Afterlives [WIP]

Judgements, not necessarily just Kelemvor's job: • "Go back and try again" • The False • The Faithless • The Faithfull • Why resurrection has a time limit.

So there are two schools of approach to this. We have lore where Kelemvor and the Fugue are the be-all and end-all of the beginning of the afterlife.

And then we have "that's Kelemvorite propaganda", "Kelemvor cannot actually manage to judge all of those souls, god or no", and all the death gods judge their own people:

"The time requirements of stewardship over the dead tax even [the gods of the dead], however, and [social] visits [between them] are rare." - Faiths and Pantheons

"Kelemvor’s clergy will tell you that Kelemvor governs the fate of all souls. However, this is (honestly believed by those who say it) church propaganda. In other words, it isn’t true; the truth is that Kelemvor can’t even keep up with judging all Faerûnian pantheon-worshipping human souls. "So, yes, the souls of nonhuman beings go to other judges and judgments, some souls get lost and “wander,” and humans who worship the Mulhorandi pantheon or other deities not of Toril encounter other judges. It seems to vary on a case-by-case basis, which really means mortals are struggling to understand the afterlife, and various faiths are attempting to provide answers which likely have more to do with reassurance and doctrine than reality." - Ed Greenwood

So if he's calling in the other death gods to handle their own people (presumably according to the standards of their own pantheons):

Sehanine Moonbow, who begins to call to elves in their reveries as they reach the end of their life, summoning them to Arvandor. -

Urogalan, the halfling guardian of the dead and Yondalla's judge and advisor. He collects the souls of dead halflings and takes them to his realm, where he sorts them out and assigns them their appropriate afterlives. -

Segojan Earthcaller is the gnomish god of the dead. -

Dumathoin is the dwarven protector of the dead. -

The Mulhorandi are literal Ancient Egyptians, although there's been some cultural divergence. Osiris judges the souls of the dead alone, and there's no mention of the weighing of the heart and such. -

Chultans believe that at the end of the maze that is life, they will exit that maze and stand before Ubtao, who will ask them to draw the map of the maze they walked. If they do it correctly, they are welcomed into the gods home to live with him in paradise. If they get it wrong they are cast out back to Toril, to wander the earth as ghosts and ghouls. (The Tabaxi - a human tribe, not the cat people - often doodle these metaphorical life mazes throughout their lives as practice and contemplation) -

I'm not sure who handles the drow, because none of the Dark Seldarine are going to tolerate any of the rest of the pantheon going anywhere near their followers' souls. Eilistraee tends to pick her followers up personally anyway. -

Null is the death god of the draconic pantheon. if you worship Tiamat you probably know him as Faluzure, the Reaver (who blesses those who have taken the most lives) and if you favour Bahamut then you probably know him as Chronepsis, the Guardian of the Lost, who guides souls to the Dragon Eyrie where they will be protected and no longer troubled by enemies and in-fighting. -

Yurtrus is the orcish god of the dead

Some souls may also have unexpected judgements:

“Kelemvor himself has been known to (for unknown reasons) pluck certain souls away from the usual fates of his judgments, to serve him. Often they end up sent back into mortal life on missions, often in bodies of a different race and/or gender than that of their previous life.” - Ed Greenwood

So, the Judgements:

Being sent back to Toril: The gods may restore a soul back to its original body.

“Sometimes, the being’s own desires or the will of a deity cause it to be ‘sent back’ to life, or stuck in undeath (e.g. a revenant) to take care of unfinished life business.”

These people have a sense about them that is noticeable to the supernaturally attuned, especially divine spellcasters and the zealous. A being is usually returned when a deity still has need of the soul's service in the mortal world. Most of the death gods don't care very much for deities creating undead this way, but what one or a few gods think of things historically matters very little as far as godly rules go. This also happens in the case of “disputes” – due to Toril being a polytheistic setting where everybody worships the entire pantheon, sometimes more than one deity has an equal claim on a soul. Usually people have a single patron god, but occasionally they have more, or happened to live their lives in line with the doctrine and aims of a different deity giving that god grounds to claim the soul suits them better. In this case the soul is resurrected and will be tested and watched carefully to see which god they’re the best match for. Some deities will also go for more traditional reincarnation, and the soul will be reborn as an infant with a new life, such as the Companions of the Hall, who were given the option to move on or be reborn again. Some physical traits and subconscious memories may carry over to the next life, and I think there are cases of people recalling who they used to be. ---

Being judged False The False are those who have made a commitment to a deity (clergy, chosen, paladins, etc), but then deliberately betrayed their god and their teachings and so the god either will or can not claim them. As they have nowhere to go, the False remain on the Fugue plane serving their sentence in the City of Justice. Their punishment is determined by how severely they have betrayed their god: it may range from horrific eternal torture that would kill a living person, to minor punishments like having menial tasks assigned to them like serving as guides or servants for beings they hate. The sentence is usually eternal, however occasionally it’s a temporary sentence and eventually “a deity” sends servants to recover the soul for resurrection and another chance at life. It isn’t specified whether this deity is the one they betrayed, or if it's a different god that has a claim on the soul but had to postpone this claim until that soul had finished serving their punishment for their broken oath. ---

Being judged Faithless The Faithless did not worship any gods and actively reject and shun them all. Some of them flat out refuse to acknowledge that the gods exist, or claim that the gods are simply powerful beings pretending at divinity (which most of the population of Toril views the same way most people view flat earthers.) If forced to pray, they went through the motions but nothing more.

Some of them are Faithless because they did not further any god’s aim in life, which is impressive: “Many gods consider mortal deeds to be worship, even if the mortal didn't intend them so.” So never trying to do anything with your life, never actually doing more than lip-service to living by, supporting and furthering morals, values and ethics you claim to care about, whatever they are, I guess. Or being so apathetic you don't bother to form any opinions or feelings on anything. In your entire life. Parents in the Realms will have their newborns blessed by priests as soon as possible and give them toys featuring the holy symbols of one of the gods in the hopes of getting them attached to it (so stuffed animals in the shape of the god’s sacred animal/s, surrounding them with certain colours and symbols etc). For an infant, lacking much comprehension of the world, these things count as being faithful. Traditionally the sentence is for Faithless souls to be mortared into a wall of screaming souls (the Wall of the Faithless), where their identity is slowly and tortuously dissolved until they are absorbed into the structure and cease to exist. Faithlessness and hubris ran rampant amongst ancient empires such as the Netherese and Imaskari, who probably make up large chunks of the Wall. Myrkul came up with it during his tenure as Lord of the Dead (While controversial amongst fans, this is actually far from the worst fate one can meet in the afterlife imo.) Furthermore, demons occasionally invade from the Abyss and forcibly tear souls from the wall en-masse to take back to the Abyss. If the stolen soul was one that was of interest to a deity – who for whatever reason couldn’t claim it in judgement – they will send their servants to intercept the demon and fight it for the soul. There is talk of the Wall having been removed in 5e, but the Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide still mentions it being there. ---

Being collected by your deity Being handed over to their deity, who takes them back to their home plane. Generally this is the patron deity, the deity the mortal worships most out of the pantheon and/or whose worldview, drive, ethics and etc they themselves align best with as a person.

The Fugue plane has connections to the divine realms of every god on Toril, and deities send one of their servants - celestials, fiends, undead, other petitioners - to the City of Judgement to wait for the soul and bring it to their domain.

Petitioners, by default, have no memory of their past lives and lack true individuality unless a deity intervenes to maintain their identity. Or identities, if they've been subject to reincarnation and lived more than one lifetime: elven spirits, for example, consciously maintain knowledge of all the lives they've lived while in Arvandor.

From there are a few fates, the specifics of which depend on the god:

Petitioners, without intervention, slowly lose their identity as they are continually assimilated into the plane itself and are absorbed.

Some petitioners just live in their deity's realm forever, I guess.

Some petitioners are absorbed into their deity's divine essence (I don't know whether they have any consciousness or sense-of-self within the god; if they're anything like the Bhaalspawn situation, then they are.)

Gods may convert the mortal soul into another being: fiends, celestials and etc.

Sometimes they eventually send them back to Toril to be reincarnated into a new life, or to serve certain tasks as undead.

The many ways a soul can be lost is part of the reason resurrection spells come with time limits.

"A successful resurrection heals a brain and a body, and the soul and animating spirit return to the body, the spirit linking brain and soul together to the body and “life as before” is back again."

For a successful resurrection the body (especially the brain) must exist and not be too heavily damaged (not a requirement for true resurrection) and the soul must still exist as an independent entity to be recovered. The longer a soul is gone, the higher the chance it is no longer a mortal soul, or has lost its individuality. Both the soul and the deity must also consent to the soul returning.

A resurrected person has no memory of the afterlife, or anything that happened to them from the moment they died to the moment they lived again unless a deity wills it otherwise.

#I'm going for immortality personally. Just not dying. It's a choice you can make.#lore stuff #edgelord hours #long post

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