#whimsys writing

[sapphicwhimsy]

Pearl while sparring with Gem during the crossover accidentally rips the sunflower dress. Gem works her hardest to help fix it

thank you for your hard work solider

The sparring is nothing new. Really! They're girlfriends, it's all in good fun. They won't hurt each other too badly, the wooden swords are to make sure of that, and they'll respawn if they take too much damage. It's friendly and fun and Gem wants some of the death mementos that she'll drop, so Pearl agrees to spare.

The ground is even, the bed is set, their swords are drawn.

And Gem attacks first. It's clumsy, she isn't used to a sword in this world, Gem has admitted as such. Part of the reason for the spar, actually. Pearl joked about her losing her ability and Gem had taken it as a challenge.

And now she has Gem practically beating her to death with a wooden sword. It's fun! Really! She fights back and she laughs and it's great. The steps for both of them aren't the best, they aren't used to fighting in their dresses, and it's all great, until…

Gem jumps at her, and she doesn't back away fast enough. She jerks back but it isn't good enough, Gem lands on her new dress that's a gift from the void without her noticing but she still jerks back away further from Gem and then.

RIIIIP.

The noise is loud and grating and also so very awful. It breaks her heart more than anything she'd ever thought possible, and when Gem jumps back out of fear, Pearl can see the damage done.

"Oh no," Pearl moans in despair, and Gem is by her side again in an instance. Their swords are forgotten as they inspect the damage, and Pearl feels tears in her eyes. She didn't know something like this could rip like that.

"I'm so sorry!" Gem exclaims, as she looks at the tear along the fabric. Pearl isn't too sure what she's looking at, in all honesty. It's threads torn apart and fabric flaps in the wind and oh, her heart breaks for the pretty dress.

"Shoot," Pearl mumbles, kneeling down as best she can without possibly risking tearing it more. Her fingers lightly pick at the edges of the fabric, and she whines in the back of her throat as the damage gets to her. She can't fix this! She doesn't know how! "What am I gonna do…"

"It looks like it's just a torn seam," Gem says, without much fanfare, and when she looks up at Gem inquisitively, Gem's cheeks color as she looks away. "What? I do things without you sometimes…"

"I didn't say you don't," Pearl says in response, and Gem purses her lips as if she wants to argue, but turns her attention back to the dress.

"Anyway. It's not bad. I can fix it."

"You can?" And it's more incredulous than she means it to be, but it makes Gem scoff all the same.

"Yes! How do you think I got this dress? I made it myself, thank you." Pearl doesn't really have time to consider the implications of what that means too much, before Gem is pulling her to her feet. "C'mon. Let's get you inside and I'll get you fixed up."

"I don't have anything to wear," she protests, because she at least knows it's easier to not be wearing the clothes you're fixing up, so it probably means the same for Gem fixing her dress. Gem's cheeks shift a few shades darker and she tilts head down, determined as she leads her inside.

"I do. C'mon."

"No offense Gem, but I don't think I can fit in any of your clothes…"

"No! They're not mine. I… Ya know those overalls and hoodie ya lost last month?"

"Yeah…? What about them?" When she doesn't get an immediate reply, she spends the walk thinking, before she yelps, "Gem! Did you steal my clothes!"

"You're my girlfriend! They're soft and they smell like you, and if you wear them again they'll smell more like you again."

"That's not the point!"

"Do you want me to fix your dress or not?!" She hesitates, then relents, puffing out her cheeks as she pouts at Gem.

"Fine… But you can't go stealing my clothes anymore, Gem! I need those!"

"No promises."

#gempearl #shiny duo #pearlgem #shinyduo #whimsys writing #tournament propaganda

[whimsii-cal]

Chorus / book I / chapter II

Sides of a Coin

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masterlist

warnings: none

significant characters: Parlsona, Stoowarb, Maggpi, Tawkerr, Deedge, Connie

summary: Parlsona awakes on Air Island and meets someone oddly similar to herself. Meanwhile on Cold Island, Tawkerr and Maggpi consult Deedge, the island Quad, about helping them find their siblings…and get far more help than they expect.

~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~

Parlsona • Jan. 1st

Parlsona couldn’t quite recall what had happened in the past day, or whatever had led her to this moment.

As she slowly stirred back into awareness, she tried to reach into her mind for any recollection of where she was and how she got here, but there came none. It was a similar feeling to waking up from a deep sleep briefly, catching snatches of what was going on around you, and then slipping back into unconsciousness, over and over. She heard muffled echoes of a few words spoken, and saw hazy images of sights and colors she couldn’t quite grasp, but no more.

Parly drew in a breath that grated her dry throat, and opened her eyes fully, startled by the harsh light piercing her vision. The world around her was nothing but blurry white and gold, the humming of a fan in her ears and the feeling of smooth fabric on her fingers. What? Where was she?

She forced herself upright, as reluctant as her body was to move from the warm, welcoming embrace of the soft surface beneath her. She was indoors, she knew that much, but slowly she began to process her environment as she inched steadily back into awareness.

Parly found herself sitting on an awfully comfortable mattress under cream-colored downy comforters, amidst a small, simply-yet-nicely decorated room with mute yellow wallpaper and gold accents on the rich reddish-brown furniture. The lights were off, but the sunlight bleeding between the curtains bathed everything in its golden gleam. This…didn’t seem like her room back on Plant Island. No, it surely wasn’t.

A strained sigh slipped out of her as she struggled to her feet, groggy and lightheaded. When she stood, she noticed a glass of water on the bedside table, and had downed half of it before she realized she’d even grabbed it. The cup felt heavy in her weak hands, but at least she felt a tad rejuvenated by the time it was emptied. Stumbling over to the window, Parly threw back the curtains—

“Whoa…”

—and was met by an expanse of tall buildings and massive metal spires, many of which were covered with complex clockwork, reaching for the sky like fingers jutting out of the ground. Tiny, distant figures of varying shape and size far below her milled about through white-paved streets that wove between the structures, seeming to glint in the growing sunlight. She even saw a few strange machines and creatures flying above the streets and darting between towers.

Although the buildings were grand and tall, the city sprawled out before her seemed rather small in terms of width. She could see the sandy stone cliffs that bordered the civilization on either side, all of them seeming to cut off into nothingness.

…One thing was for sure, though; this was definitely not Plant Island.

Slightly jarred, she stepped away from the window and made her way towards the door across the room. Her head swam with questions. Where was she? How did she get here? Why couldn’t she remember anything in the past 24 hours? This felt unsettlingly similar to…that day, when she woke up without recollection of anything, nothing with her except for…

…Tawkerr. Where was Tawkerr?

Throwing open the door, Parly peered out into the empty hallway outside, suddenly able to feel her own heartbeat.

There was nothing there but off-white stone walls and a neat row of doors stretching down either end of the hallway. The hall stopped at a dead end to the left, and to the right was a curve into an unseen room. With no other choice, she stepped out and tiptoed towards the corner.

Upon making the turn, the hallway opened up into more of a balcony, overlooking a large foyer of sorts below. Pillars shot up from the ground on each corner of the room, walls that hid hallways connecting between them to the left and right, and opening into balconies at the front and back, from which two stairways led down into the foyer. Despite her uncertainty, she found herself marveling at the architecture. It was a pretty building indeed, all decorated in soft yellows and whites with glints of gold making the room shimmer like a sunbeam. She’d always been one for aesthetics.

Parly leaned over the marble railing and gazed down at the foyer curiously…and there she spotted a figure curled up on a couch in one of the seating areas, right below the balcony. She stiffened and blinked, equal parts alarmed and relieved to see another person. She mustered the courage to call a “Hello?” down at them.

They shifted, one bright blue eye peeking out from their crossed arms, and eventually lifted their head to gaze up at her entirely. Everything about him looked warm and comforting, in a way Parly couldn’t explain. He was bigger than her, and looked strong enough to hurt someone, but far too sweet and cuddly to try— like an oversized teddy bear, or a big fluffy dog. He had warm brown skin and a mop of curly auburn hair, from which a pair of curved horns and fuzzy, floppy ears peeked out of. He stared up at Parly for a moment, then muttered back in a soft voice, “Hi.”

“Hi! Who’re you? You look kinda…upset?”

“Oh.” He smiled weakly. “It’s nothing. Uh…’m Stoowarb. Call me Stoob.”

“Parly,” She chirped back. She started to reach out for a handshake, then recalled that she was a good four feet in the air above him— so she plopped down on her knees and reached down between the bars of the railing, outstretching her hand to the boy below her.

Stoob looked up at her bemusedly at first, but then gave a quiet giggle that turned his forced smile genuine for a moment. He half-stood atop the couch to reach up at where Parly sat on the balcony, and, with a slight strain, manage to meet her hand and grasp it. “Heh…why didn’t you just come down here?”

“I dunno,” Parly shrugged with a smile. “this is funnier.” Her fear had almost completely melted away by now, distracted from her worries…But, as she gave Stoowarb’s paw a quick shake, she began to notice how some of his features were awfully similar to her own. When their eyes met briefly, it felt like looking at a reflection of her own irises— sky blue with golden flecks. He also had horns, those ears, that tail, all features she had only found in herself and her brother…oh, god, her brother! She nearly forgot!

She snapped back upright, releasing Stoob’s hand and twirling lock of her hair. “Um, I’m kinda lost. I-I just woke up here, and I’m not…from around here? Do you know where we are?”

Stoob let himself collapse on the couch clumsily with a quiet “Omph!” and looked up at Parly, his eyes narrowing for a split second. “That’s…weird. You’re on Air Island.”

“Oh. How did I…get here…?”

“Yeah, super weird. Especially considering it’s, like, a bajillion feet in the sky?”

“Wait, what?”

“Mhm! It’s a floating island! I dunno how you would have just popped up here on accident…th-that’s wack.” Stoowarb fidgeted with his hoodie strings, avoiding Parly’s eyes.

“Huh. You’re acting weird, Stoob,” Parly said flatly.

“What?” He squeaked, voice cracking like glass. “Pssht….psssshffff…nooo…”

“I hardly know you and I can already tell you’re a very bad liar. Somethings up. Spill!”

“Mmf. Fi-Fine. Just…come down here first, please?”

Parly didn’t need to be told twice; he’d already piqued her interest. She got to her feet and started quickly down the stairs, skidding to a stop at the couch and plopping down next to Stoowarb. He shifted and twiddled his claws, looking a little surprised at how suddenly she’d sat by him. “Okay, uh…”

Parly leaned forward, cocking her head. Stoob squeaked and looked off to the side. “Th…s-same thing…”

“Huh? Speak up!”

“The same thing happened to me.”

“…Wha?”

“I just kinda…woke up here…couple days ago I was on Cold Island, then next thing I knew I popped up here, ‘n the big bat guy won’t let me do anything about it!” His voice grew bitter and brittle. “He keeps saying he has everything under control and that I just need to stay here until he ‘gets things sorted out.’ He won’t tell me anything! And he doesn’t want me to tell anyone. But, um…I just told you. I feel like I can trust you if the same thing happened to you.”

Parly took a long moment to absorb that information. “…That’s…so weird. What’s going on?”

“I dunno! I don’t like it. I feel so… helpless. My sister’s probably so worried…wherever she is.”

“Oh, geez.” Parly clasped her hands to keep them from trembling. She felt dizzy again. Tawkerr. God, where was he? What happened? “I…this is freaky. I’ve got a brother, too. This whole thing is even weirder than I thought. How can we be so similar?”

Stoowarb shrugged and sniffled into his sleeve, bleary eyes blinking away what may have been tears. “Riff says it’s fate. That’s all he told me.”

“W-Wait, Riff? General Riff?” Parly flinched. Was that who Stoob meant by “the big bat guy” before? She’d heard that name a few times before, always spoken with a breath of fear behind it. She knew him as a member of the quad council, and the fearsome leader of some nation who communed with King Entbrat frequently— now she knew that nation was Air Island. “You talked to…him?”

Stoob rubbed at his nose and squinted at her. “Yeah…? Is that weird?”

“Isn’t he, like…really super scary and important?”

“I dunno, i-is he? He’s chill with me. A little intimidating, but chill….’n now that you mention it, everyone else does treat him like he’ll blow them up immediately if they make a wrong move. Huh.”

Parly rested her chin on her hands, unsettled. What made Stoowarb so important that the general himself was in regular contact with him? Did that also apply to her now that she was in his same situation? Would she have to talk to him? She shivered at the thought. The mere mental image of this man intimidated her. “Well…I guess I can’t say anything when I talked to King Entbrat almost every day on Pla— wait. Waaaait. I’m noticing a theme here.”

“Gosh, that’s another thing!” Stoowarb muttered. He looked befuddled. “Me and my sister talked super regularly with the chief back on Cold Island. Why are we so…?”

“That can’t be a coincidence! This is so odd. I mean…hey, did you—“

“Did…?”

“Liiike…did you just…”

Stoob drew in a breath and let the next few words tumble out of him, as though he’d been waiting to do so for forever. “…just wake up with no memories or anything ‘n your sib with you?”

“Yeah!”

“YEAH! WOAH! WHAT?”

“I DON’T KNOW! Oh my GOSH…how? That’s so…!”

“WACK!” Stoob yelled, flinging his arms up.

“Wack.” Parly agreed. “…I-I don’t like this. How we’re so similar, but different from everyone else. How the quads are paying special attention to us. Makes me feel so…important. In a bad way.”

“Like everyone’s watching you.”

Parly blinked. He had just put into words exactly what she wanted to say. “Yeah. You get it, huh?”

Stoowarb smiled the tiniest bit. “Mhm… just nice to know I’m not alone in this, I guess. I think…we should go see Riff—“ He seemed to notice how Parly tensed, and lifted his hands to reassure her. “Hey, he prolly already knows you’re here, anyway! He did when I got here. Maybe…if we’re connected somehow, and he knows the both of us are here, he may be looking for us right now. Maybe we should make it easier and just come to him.”

“No need for that,” a voice like a blade on whetstone hissed from behind Parly, sending a shiver up her spine. She whirled around with a startled squeak to see a tall, shadowy silhouette standing in the doorway of the foyer. “I’ve already found you.”

~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~

Maggpi

Maggpi quickly learned that Tawkerr was…talkative.

Unsurprisingly.

She couldn’t blame him, really, as irritated as she was. They were both confused, afraid, not knowing what could come next. They were each the other’s only refuge of familiarity and understanding in this storm of peculiarity. Maggie supposed she appreciated Tawkerr’s company as well, even if he was…a little much.

Now, as they moved together through the corridors of the Cold Island Castle, Maggie’s newfound companion seemed somehow more frantic than ever, growing more and more anxious the closer they got to Deedge’s abode. He ran his claws through his hair— Maggie noticed he did that often. “Sooo…what was your brother’s name?”

“Stoowarb,” Maggie answered tepidly. The mention of him made her heart ache, but she didn’t let herself show it.

“Ah. Did he just…disappear? Did you find any signs of how he left or where he went? They didn’t let you look for him?”

“Yes, no, yes. Nobody here wanted me to go out looking by myself…they said it’s too dangerous, and all that. But a search party was organized, and Deedge is trying to keep an eye out, though he’s a busy man.”

Tawkerr stared off at the hallway ahead, scrambling ahead to try and match Maggie’s pace. He had to take two steps to match one of her strides, the brisk clicking of his heels against the glossy floor echoing constantly through the halls. “Entbrat was too.”

Maggie quirked a brow. “You’re on a first name basis with the King?”

“Mhm. Everyone else thinks it’s kinda weird how casually we interact with him, but, like…if a pair of people just magically popped up out of nowhere on the island you’re ruling, you’d probably keep them pretty close and talk to them a lot out of interest, yeah? He’s really nice, too! Not high ‘n mighty in the slightest.” Tawkerr said with a small smile, briefly appearing distracted from his nerves.

“Ah. True. I would say the same for Deedge, but he interacts with us about as much as anybody else on Cold Island. I mean…perhaps more, now that I think about it. But hardly anybody lives here, really, so he knows everyone by name and gets personally involved with everything around here.”

“Oh.”

It was quiet for a long while, besides the clicks of Tawkerr’s footfalls.

“…Your shoes are annoying,” Maggie muttered after a minute.

“Boots,” Tawkerr corrected.

“Same thing.”

“No.”

“You really are always this irritating.”

“Mmmmhm.”

More quiet.

“…Maggie?” Tawkerr piped up.

“What?” When she turned to face him, his demeanor had suddenly dropped. He looked down and fidgeted with his brooch, his pace lagging slightly. “What do you think’ll happen to us? After all this, I mean?”

Maggpi wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She mulled it over for a moment, then shrugged. “Best case scenario, nothing. Maybe we’ll just find Parly and Stoowarb, go our separate ways and come as close to living a normal life as we can.”

Tawkerr shook his head. “I don’t…think we can. Think about it, Maggie. All of this weird stuff happening to us, you think it’ll just halt after we find them? Why were we just thrown into Canti without explanation? Why is any of this happening? I think…I think we’re meant for something more. This can’t just be a bunch of coincidences.”

Maggie chuckled bitterly. “You’re right. You’re right, and I hate it. Just let me hope. Please.”

“…Don’t get your hopes up.”

“I can’t. I’m terrified, Tawkerr…and we’re here.”

They both came to a halt and turned their attention to the door ahead of them. It stood as high as the ceiling of the hallway. Bathing in the hues of icy blue that illuminated the halls, the door streaked with glimmering crystal beams radiating from the center of the door, in a pattern similar to a snowflake.

Maggie shrugged her shoulders and lifted her hand to knock on the door. “Don’t be surprised if Deedge himself isn’t here. He’s out of the castle all the time, but if he’s off doing something else, his assistant will probably help us find him.”

Tawkerr nodded. “Mkay.”

Knock knock knock. The sound resonated through the halls around them, seeming to fill the very air. It didn’t fade away until the door swung upon and a cold wind gusted out from the room behind it.

The two were greeted by a pair of sharp almond eyes over a blank, pale face. The woman at the door stared for a moment before huffing, tucking her periwinkle hair behind her ear and stepping aside, outstretching an arm into the room. The gesture would have been welcoming in theory, but with how her eyes didn’t leave Maggie and Tawkerr for one second, it just came off unsettling.

Maggie placed a hand on Tawkerr’s arm, sensing his discomfort. “That’s Connie, Deedge’s assistant. She’s harmless, just a little…cold,” she whispered in Tawkerr’s ear as they passed the woman and entered the room. She felt his arm relax slightly under her hand.

Maggie had been in Deedge’s study a few times before, but never had she felt so uneasy about it. The room was just as she’d recalled it, fairly large, sharing a similar bluish lighting and crystalline material to the rest of the castle, with a dome shaped ceiling sporting the same snowflake pattern as the door. It was far colder in here than any other room, simply to Deedge’s preference.

At the back of the chamber was a long white desk, and behind it sat a well-aged man in a sky blue winter coat with fluffy cyan hair pulled back into a loose ponytail…Deedge. He was facing away from them at first, and slowly, awkwardly attempted to turn around in the wheelchair he sat in, first bumping into the wall behind the desk, than the desk itself, then accidentally rolling directly parallel to the wall for a moment before groaning, grumbling something under his breath, and simply sliding himself out from the tight space and moving forward to greet Maggpi and Tawkerr.

To Maggie’s surprise, Connie spoke up— hearing her flat, perpetually unimpressed voice was a rare occurrence. “Sir, you don’t have to turn around like that every time someone walks into the room.”

Deedge gave her a soft-edged sort of glare, much more like a pout. “It makes it look cooler. Like, you know how in movies when the villain turns around in their swivel chair and is like ‘I’ve been expecting you’? That.”

“You are not a movie villain, sir.”

“Let an old man dream, Connie. Sheesh. Ahem. Anyways, Maggpi, welcome, kid! You caught me at a good time. Oh, and who’s this?”

“Evening, Deedge.” Maggie said with a slight bow of her head. “This one here is Tawkerr O’Charo, from Plant Island. And… ah, look, as much as I’d like to talk under better circumstances, some…odd things are afoot. Somehow odder than usual.”

Deedge’s expression suddenly grew more serious. He furrowed his brow in concern and leaned forward, lacing his fingers. “I’m listening?”

Maggie nudged Tawkerr gently. “Hey, help me explain this, why don’t you? It’s offputting when you stay quiet for longer than a minute.”

Tawkerr gave a slightly scornful glance up at her before mussing his own hair and sighing. The quick breath formed a cloud of white in the chilly air. “Okay. I’m sure you’re familiar with Maggpi’s situation?”

“That I am,” Deedge confirmed.

“Well, mine is very similar to hers. Eerily similar. It’s like—“

SKREEEEEEEK.

He was cut off by the ear piercing scraping sound of Connie pulling Deedge’s desk across the tile floor. All eyes turned to the quads assistant.

“Connie,” Deedge said exasperatedly. “What are you doing?

“Moving your desk,” She replied blankly, staring back at him.

“Why?”

“It’s too close to the wall. You bump into it every time you try to get out from behind it, like you just did.”

“…Thank you, Connie. I think. Anyways, Tawkerr, continue?”

Slightly startled, Tawkerr drew in another breath and began again. “I—“

SKREEEEEEEEEK.

“OKAY!” Deedge shouted, then sighed and spoke through gritted teeth. “Connie, maybe move the desk later?”

“It’s okay, I already finished it.” Connie answered, lowering herself into a chair by the wall and beginning to scrawl something on her clipboard.

“…GREAT. Cool. Thanks. Tawkerr, continue! For a second time!”

Maggie pinched the bridge of her nose in silent frustration as Tawkerr hesitantly started to speak again. “O-Okay, um…! My current situation is basically a direct parallel to Maggie’s. Similar to the point it’s unsettling. I woke up on Plant Island with my sister and no memories except for basic information about ourselves and each other, we lived there for a few months, then my sister went missing the other day out of the blue and I’m looking for her now. That’s, like…exactly what Maggie said happened to her. Even the timeframes of these events match up closely.”

Deedge’s expression seemed to darken and lighten at once. He tapped his thumbs together and stared off into nothing, deep in thought. “So you are the…”

With those words alone, the atmosphere of the room suddenly grew twice as heavy.

Maggie tensed. “The what?”

Deedge didn’t reply.

“Deedge?” Her voice came out louder than she intended it to. “The what? What do you mean? Is there something you haven’t told me?”

Deedge held up a hand. “I…yes. Yes, there’s a lot I haven’t told you, because I wasn’t sure…There’s a lot…a lot to explain. Calm down, please.”

“What do you mean?” Tawkerr squawked in a somehow shriller and croakier voice than normal. “God, just— just…explain! Please! I’m so confused!”

Deedge sighed. “That’s easier said than done. You two, I…need to make some calls. Connie, contact the rest of the council immediately. If anyone at all has seen the other two, we need to know, now. This is no longer a ‘maybe’ thing. We’ll have the boat on its way.”

“Boat?” Maggie and Tawkerr echoed in unison.

“I’ll explain everything I can in a moment, I promise. You four…you’re so much more than you think.”

Maggie’s heartbeat seemed to halt. She wasn’t sure what to feel right then, or if she felt at all.

Tawkerr was right.

She had no idea what was ahead, but she knew one thing. They had no chance of leading a normal life, did they?

to be continued.

Glossary

Air Island- A floating island nation led by General Riff. Once torn by dispute that caused a brutal war, it was lifted into the sky by arcane force to protect its people. Air Island is a hub of creativity and innovation, inhabited by many great inventors working to rebuild and rediscover the lost technology of Old Cantilyra.

Chief Deedge- Cold Island’s leader, a humble, good natured and levelheaded fellow with a proper sense of humor. He sorts out disputes very well, but his antics can irritate people…particularly his assistant.

Connie Gaul- Deedge’s assistant. Very much done with everything, including her boss, but a hard worker nonetheless. The polar opposite of her twin Connor.

General Riff- Former war general brought to become the leader of the very nation he protected, Air Island. Both feared and respected, but overall a relaxed and reasonable man, so long as you stay on his good side. A member of the Quad Council.

Parlsona O’Charo- one of the mysterious aurochians who appeared in late 24-post. An optimistic and curious young lady who appreciates all the beauty in the world. Trusting, kind and full of whimsy, although skittish in the face of danger.

Stoowarb Hermeas- one of the mysterious aurochians who appeared in late 24-post. A creative and chipper lad with more than their fair share of quirks. A tad socially awkward, but can light up a room with his presence alone.

#whimsys writing #chorus #chorus chapters #my singing monsters #msm #canti #Cantilyra #cantilyric saga #Parlsona #parly #stoowarb #Stoob #maggpi #maggie #Tawkerr #Deedge #connie #riff #msm au #msm fic

[ballwizard]

can i be real with you guys i fucking hate the "HOW HIGH WERE U WRITING THIS XD CARBON MONOXIDE DETECTOR!!! LOL WHAT!! UR A CRAZY PSYCHO FOR WRITING YHIS" schtick that I've been seeing around recently . it's like. Not funny at best and really rude and annoying at worst

#i say 'recently' but i am fully aware its been happenint since like forever #Just feels like every time i make a post cuz i felt like puttingn a bunch of words together i get peoplle in my notes doing this shit #SO ANNOYINGGGG SHUT UPP. I was completely sober writing the guy who wants to be a bird post. i wrote it #while sitting on the floor in between two shelves at work because i was bored and wanted to play toys with words #Im sorry you dont understand my imaginative whimsy

[whimsivamp]

No hate to therians, especially not canine kin, but when I open up the alterhuman/nonhuman tags, I wish there was more than just animal kin, y'know?

You guys already have a word, you guys are animals and therians, but the word "supernatural" is taken by one of the biggest tumblr fandoms and it's so hard to find my people that way.

I want to interact with more vampires, fae folk, mermaids, zombies, angels, demons, devils, haunted spirits, etc. Even robots and dolls! Where are you at??? I need you.

#whimsy writes #alterhuman #nonhuman #otherkin #faekin #vampirekin #fairykin #zombiekin #angelkin #demonkin #seriously no hate but i had to filter out some tags to get variety in posts #it's sad man #even when looking for nonhuman alters or talking about nonhuman past lives #i get people talking about animals #and it just makes me disappointed

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hey can i ask Thranduil and (human) f!reader smut? When f!reader can't stare at his eyes because she's very shy and insecure with her expression during *cough cough* Thank you!

I'm sorry about that one with Thranduil x f!reader cant-stare-at-his-face that i didn't addresed my 'smut rating'? Anyway🔥🔥

It's all good. Time for some more Thranduil smut. Because it's Thranduil. And smut. I'll stop now.

"The looking glass"

✵Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Human / Second person POV)

✵Themes: Smut / Soft 

✵Warnings: Insecure / Shy reader | Kissing | Praise | Body worship | Mirror sex | Fingering (fem receiving)

✵Word count: 1.3k words

✵Summary: Thranduil comes up with a unique "solution" when he realises how shy his partner is in bed.

✵Rating: 🔥🔥| Minors DNI | 18+

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Thranduil gripped your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. "Sweet starlight, why do you turn your face from me?"

You said nothing, your cheeks merely burning with embarrassment. Thranduil’s question should have surprised you, but it did not. Whenever you shared pleasures with the king, he would want to look into your eyes, and you would inevitably close them and turn away. Before this night, he did not ask why you did it, and now? Now he wanted some sort of explanation.

Of course, you had an explanation, just one, but that embarrassed you even more.

"Starlight?" Thranduil was not about to let this go. "Why do you look away?"

You hummed quietly and sat up, flushing when the king sat up with you. "I… umm… that is…" you stumbled over your words, your tongue tied up in knots. Thranduil studied you with barely disguised curiosity while you fidgeted with the hem of your robe. "The thing is… I…" you buried your face in your hands and sighed. "I am not sure you would like how I look when we… when we…"

Understanding dawned, and Thranduil smiled when he heard a muffled scream. "Starlight," he pulled your hands away from your face. "Is that what troubles you? That I might be repulsed by the expressions you make when making love?"

You nodded meekly, still too embarrassed to face him. Thranduil kept smiling and looked around, his gaze skimming over the chamber before it rested on something that caught his eye and piqued his interest—something that gave him an idea. "Stay here," he said, and rose out of bed.

You raise your head, wondering what he was up to. The answer presented itself soon enough with the sound of wood creaking. Thranduil had hefted a large silvered-looking glass, one that was taller than him, and brought it over, placing it at the foot of the bed with a soft thud.

"There," he huffed, dusting his hands before joining you in bed. "That should do nicely."

You studied your reflection in the shimmering glass and gulped. "Do nicely for what, my love?"

Thranduil smiled—a slow, wicked smile—before making himself comfortable next to you. "I want you to see, starlight," he breathed huskily, and he helped you to your knees, his arm around your waist. "I want you to see that there is nothing for you to hide. I want you to see how much I enjoy seeing you while I pleasure you—that there is nothing for you to be shamed by. Now, will you permit me to go further?"

The very idea of it—watching him in the reflection of that looking glass while he pleasured you—was just so shocking, so very sinful, and more than a little daunting. It made you nervous to watch him like this, to have him look up and watch you; you were unsure you could do it. Still, you could not keep averting your gaze every night, so you came to a decision and nodded. "Yes. You can go further."

Thranduil’s eyes blazed in the dim candlelight, his hands reaching over to your robe. You felt it—the heat of his breath against the nape of your neck when he moved slightly behind you, the warmth of his hands that radiated through your silks. And you kept still, so very still, your gaze fixed on the looking glass.

The king took his time, untying the belt of your robe and drawing it away, exposing what lay beneath. "You look like a painting, starlight," he murmured, his hands sliding over to your belly. "Your body is so perfect, like you had stepped out of a vision."

Helpless and stunned, you continued to keep still, unable to tear your eyes away from what you were witnessing in the looking glass. Thranduil’s hand moved up, over to your breasts, running his fingers over your nipples over and over again until they started to throb and ache, and harden beneath his touch.

"Do you see it, starlight, how your body trembles?" Thranduil whispered, his touch persistent and demanding.

Flushed and breathless, you did indeed see it—how the muscles of your belly fluttered, how your entire body quivered. And there was Thranduil, his eyes darkening with lust, the need in his gaze matching the growing desire in yours. You felt it, growing prickles of pleasure all over your body, heat slowly pooling at your core. You blushed and instinctively tried to look away, but Thranduil caught it.

"Look into the looking glass, starlight," he crooned, his hand gliding down to the apex of your thighs. "And focus on me. I want you to see how high I could take you."

You raised your eyes and found his locked on yours. Embarrassment slowly morphed into something else, something dark and primal, when he moved his hand over to your slit and found it already hot and wet. His fingers moved in a slow, delicate rhythm, and his name parted your lips in almost a sob. You still couldn’t look away, not when he possessed you the way he did. Your body started to move against him; your hands moved to rest over his, and his groan, guttural and harsh, felt so sweet to your ears. 

"That is it, starlight," he rasped, his voice already roughened, when your first moan spilled free. "Show me how much you desire this."

Thranduil watched, utterly spellbound, as you came undone in front of him, how you sagged into him, your moans and mewls slowly turning to pleas. Pleas for more, pleas for him to go faster, to take you higher. He wanted to incite and inflame, to break down your walls, and he was amply rewarded when your hands pressed over his, to guide him. He slid a finger inside the warmth of your sex, then another, moving them inside you, slowly growing drunk on your needy moans.

"Th-thranduil," you whimpered shakily, all sense of shame now long forgotten. The sight of the woman in that looking glass, her body yielding to pleasure of the acutest kind, her eyes darkening with each deft stroke, was too beautifully erotic, and you took great pleasure in seeing it—how he pleasured you, how he took you higher and higher, like he promised.

"Do you see, sweet starlight?" Thranduil cooed sweetly, "Do you see you have nothing to hide? How much I delight in seeing you this way?"

How true he was, and how foolish you felt. And how Thranduil looked on, with lust-filled eyes, as if he were feasting on what he was seeing. "I do see," you breathed, harsh and ragged, the muscles in your belly coiling as your release neared. 

"Keep looking, starlight," Thranduil ran his tongue over your neck even as you trembled and he felt a tightening around his fingers. You were close, so very close. "See how beautiful you are even now."

And you looked on with heavy-lidded eyes as a wave of bliss rose higher and higher, as a sweet, delightful pressure grew stronger and stronger, unceasing, until it felt like your body splintered, and Thranduil’s name came out like a desperate, wanton cry. Your entire body shook against his as you slumped into him, your breath coming out in shallow pants. Thranduil held onto you, moaning softly as your walls contracted around his fingers, pulling them deeper. His gaze cut to the looking glass and found you, looking right back at him, your lips curling into a deep and satisfied smile.

"You were right," you murmured, your hands still over his. You turned to the side and found his lips just over yours. "There was nothing for me to be shamed by."

Thranduil leaned in and kissed you, his body humming with unsated need. "Absolutely nothing," he said, before helping you lay back in bed. "And now, starlight, I hope you will indulge me, by letting me make incredibly thorough love to you this night."

No longer plagued by your fears, you smiled and welcomed him into his arms.

Tags: @shrasdust | @asianbutnotjapanese | @nupppuff | @ryantryan6969 | @lemonivall

#thranduil imagine #thranduil smut #Thranduil #thranduil x reader #x reader #x reader insert #reader inserts #reader insert request #the hobbit imagine #The hobbit #the hobbit x reader #writeblr #💫a world of whimsy writes

[whimsy-stimsy]

Absurd, aggressive and profane calligraphy stimboard.

🖋️ 🖋️ 🖋️ • 🤬 🤬 🤬 • 🖋️ 🖋️ 🖋️

#whimsy makes #stims #stim #stimboard #calligraphy #ink #pens #writing #drawing #swearing #hands #cursing #profanity #anti stim #(?) #joke stim #(also ?)

[wildflowergirlie]

nobody tells you the worst part of being a fanfic author is deciding if you want to make an idea an au or actually try to write a book. like this trope would be amazing with this ship but also it's been my lifelong dream to get published.

#do I choose whimsy or security? #the niche internet fame or the actual job? #it's actually so hard tho #au #fanfic writing #fanfiction author #fanfiction #authors #writing things #writing humor

[fafrogke]

Inspired by THISSSS post that made a lot of sense and made my brain shake so hard it melted, i wanted to try to assign my angel's favorites so i put them together!

thinking that Ren could make friends with pokemon... one can just dream.,.. they're a menace

#14 days with you #14dwy ren #14dwy redacted #14dwy oc #me mad bc there was not space for me to write <- my brother in christ you made the space??? half cooked its ok #in all honesty i don't know much about these little guys i just did research bc i was curious and it sounds fun and friendship yyeeyy #hope nobody minds the disproportion of heights or tries to make sense of the weights my mind it's already beating itself with that #WHY ARE THE LITTLE GUYS SO BIG AND HEAVY i mean it makes sense but #i just wanted to draw and my brain got fried thinking about making sense of the compositions with the data i was searching #and i just got tired thinking about 4 and i wanted to do moreee aaughhf #like Vi's pokemon having a theme of elegance and whimsy with strenght or Leon with themes of strenght to protect and keeping #an eye on what they care for and taking pride on it and Moth with their cool bugcore team and Elanor chilling with company #im getting too conscious the rush of finishing this is dissipating just post it just do it you ca #okback to my enclosure 🍖 #i waited 2 days bc i got scared hiii goodnighhhtt

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I know you probably won't answer this, which is fine.

But, I just wanted to say thank you, for everything you do.

Whether it's a simple shitpost, a artistic comic about gay puppets, or even a life update about sprinkles, everything you make brings me joy.

Life's been pretty shitty lately, and I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done.

I can't what to see what else you post, lol

jokes on you, I'm Answering This! ha, get pranked

but really, that's one of my big goals, i'm going to be honest. it's why i started posting fic & now art - i wanted to provide for people the joy and escape it all gave me over the years. if i can make One person's day better, it's worth it!

so... really i should be thanking You! it warms me to know that i've brightened your hours even a little <3 KITTEN BLAST:

#keep with it dude <3 there's always good things #i hope to continue providing this little service! #thank you for your support and enjoyment <3 #i may not have much art or writing to share currently #(work is taking all of my spoons and bending them into pretzels you see!) #but! perhaps i will have other things. silly frivolous things #the Whimsy. the Whimsy! #cat pictures perhaps... crochet updates... Odysseus liveblogging... #that last one is a jest im in too far to start liveblogging Now #also may i recommend listening to Hozier's latest album Unheard??? #the songs Too Sweet and Fare Well go very hard and make it a bit easier to feel Delight in living imo #rambles from the bog #i hope your day tomorrow (today? both!) treats you kindly

[hamartia-grander]

If Leon and Ethan ever met they'd absolutely not like each other at all at first but then they'd accidentally bond over the stupidest shit (like they say the exact same cheesy one liner at the same time) and end up becoming best friends

#Not a ship #Do not tag as ship #Ethan would hate Leon's misogynistic ways and Leon would hate Ethan's whimsy but they'd eventually get over it #Would love to write a fic where Ethan teaches Leon to respect women and Leon teaches Ethan to take his own mental health seriously #resident evil #leon kennedy #ethan winters #Resident Evil 4 #Resident Evil 8 #resident evil village #Resident Evil 6 #Re4 #Re6 #Re8 #resident evil memes #re village #re vendetta #leon s kennedy

[bleaksqueak]

Okay, if you like fromsoft games or love bloodborne/love a challenge/love horror juxtaposed against endearing whimsy, please check out Lies of P.

The part of me that couldn't stop laughing at the game's name and the concept of "Edgelord Pinnochio Bloodborne Clone" can no longer fathom thinking of the game as anything other than "AMAZING!!!!!!! SO GOOD!!!!!!!! THAT TEAM SHOULD BE SO PROUD!!!! WHAT AN ASTONISHING CREATIVE ACHIEVEMENT!!!" I already knew I was on the "i'd recommend this to anyone who likes these types of games or wants to try them" team, but now that is 10000% And even better, it has filled me with so much art inspiration after exploring its world and collecting beautifully designed costumes. The world building/world design is so, so so so very actualized and charming.

#yackin #my favorite way to describe the story/writing of this game is #that it vibes like one of those fanfics that is written by an exceptionally talented 17 year old #because it's full to the brim with nothing but earnest whimsy and heart on its sleeve cringe #as in the type of cringe that wraps back around to being endearing due to how honest it is #because the cold hard world and bitter critics haven't stomped it out of them yet #so it's a real treat to see a polished game that plays smooth as butter have that sort of story #it's shocking how good the experience is with such a tiny team #it's just nice to get to read/experience a story with great gameplay that feels very Untampered With by moneybag CEOs #it might be my favorite souls style game now #anyway hi I woke up at 3 am today

[sapphicwhimsy]

Hi!!! I hope your fic propos haven't closed yet ^^; If they're still open, may I have some Pearlgem "confession" trope or "feeling realisation/oh oh" trope? Please and thank you!! YURI FOREVER!!!!

HECK YEAH, I GOTCHA!! ill be doing fic propaganda until gempearl is out of the game!

Gem wanted her head.

A respawn memento the server was programmed to drop, not like, her actual head. She was collecting everyone's, a sign of how her prowess with sparring had improved. Just a simple spar, one that was guaranteed to be fun and exciting, just by the very nature of sparring with Gem, so Pearl had agreed.

Gem had already set up a clear and flat area to fight in, with the bed set up to allow them to respawn once they had taken enough damage. So when she had tossed her a newly crafted sword, Pearl had no further thoughts about what they were doing. She loved spending time with Gem, and sure they were beating each other with what was basically a long stick, but it was fun!

Dodging, ducking under the sword, doing her best to swing back and knock Gem off balance. The jokes filled the air, along with their laughter. Swords hit together, impractical in an actual fight, but much more fun with the wooden swords they were using. They fought, all in good fun, even while dealing blows to each other. Hitting hard, because it wasn't meant to be taking things slow. It was as real as any fight between them might be. It was in good fun, but it was also a fight to the first respawn.

And, when Pearl's stepped back wrong and stumbled as Gem lunged at her, it was no surprise she fell back. She grunted with the effort of hitting the ground, before Gem stepped over her and held her sword to her throat.

And oh, she was…

She was a sight to behold. Cheeks red with effort, chest heaving as she caught her breath. Hair sticking out from her messy braids, sweat dotting her brow. Gem was smiling down at her like she'd just won the best prize in the world, blocking the sun and allowing it to frame her perfectly. She was beautiful.

Pearl had never realized it before, her heart in her throat as she tried to catch her own breath. She was so pretty.

Had she always been that pretty? How had Pearl never noticed it before? There were a million feelings bubbling in her chest at the thought, a million things she had never thought about before, and they swirled in her head.

Did she… Like Gem? Like that?

"Gotcha!" Gem giggled, breaking her from the brief moment of thoughts she had, and Pearl's breath was stolen away as she thrust the sword forward. Warmth filled her body as the respawn mechanic activated, and she jerked out of the nearest bed to her feet, finding her own cheeks still burned as Gem picked up the proxy for her discarded skull. "Yes! I got it!"

"That you did," Pearl said, rubbing her cheeks as if it would make the blush hanging there vanish. She looked at Gem, at how delighted she was at holding the respawn memento, and found the blush only getting stronger. Thankfully, Gem slipped her discarded head on a moment later, and it allowed Pearl the chance to look away, because seeing herself looking back was enough to break her trance. "Best two out of three?"

"You wanna go again?" Gem asked, tossing Pearl the sword, and Pearl nodded as she picked it up and felt it weighing in her hands.

"I do! I can't just let ya win with only one go!"

"Alright!" Gem said, and jumped forward, ready for another go. She didn't seem to mind that she was wearing Pearl's head, and Pearl didn't comment on it. She wanted the chance to win, and maybe not seeing how beautiful Gem was if she had her pinned would allow her that very chance.

#whimsy whistles #whimsys writing #gempearl #shiny duo #pearlgem #shinyduo #ask #tournament propaganda

[whimsii-cal]

Chorus / Book I / Chapter I

It is Cold Outside.

next

masterlist

warnings: very mild language

significant characters: Tawkerr, Maggpi, Bowgart

summary: Strange things are afoot in the shattered world of Cantilyra, and a mysterious pair of siblings have appeared out of nowhere with no memories of their past. Tawkerr and Parlsona awoke on Plant Island together, but the distress of their situation is getting to them, and uncontrollable oddities seem to fellow the two wherever they go. Without explanation, Parly has fled Plant Island, and Tawkerr sets off to a wintry land across the sea in search of his sister.

snowflakes are gently falling,

each one on a journey.

~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~

Tawkerr • Jan. 1st

Tawkerr awoke with a start to the bite of bitter cold on his skin. Drowsy and disoriented, he drew his cloak tighter around his shoulders, fingers aquiver in the chilling wind.

For a moment he remained still, trying to collect coherent thoughts from the stirring slew in his aching head, and then he finally remembered just what he was perched atop and why he heard the roaring of waves all around him.

He lifted his weary eyes to meet the back of Bessie’s long, azure neck and sighed, leaning back against the saddle strapped to her shell. “Aye, sorry, Bess…must’ve dozed off.”

The lamphrie craned her neck back to peer at her rider and crooned softly, slapping her fins against the water. Tawkerr sighed sleepily. “I know, I know, ‘s not safe…hey, where are we?” With a rub at his eyes, he suddenly realized the dichotomy between the freezing sting of the air around him and the warm, floral winds he was familiar with. “…Good Galvana, we must be a long way from Plant Island. How long have we been moving?”

Bessie trilled once more and tilted her head to glare at him.

“You’re the one who agreed to take me!” Tawkerr shot back.

Bessie snorted in a manner more reminiscent of a bull than an amphibious sea steed.

“Okay, okay, my bad…” Tawkerr yielded. “Are we at least near land, ya’think? With civilization, I pray…?”

Just as he said that, squinting his eyes at the horizon, he noticed the faintest, blurriest shape on the distance, peering right back at him from the fog. For what he could make of its size relative to its distance, it had to be big enough to be a proper island. “Speak of the devil!” He said breathlessly, fixing his frost-glazed hair and gathering up Bessie’s reins in his hands. “Pick up the pace, Bess! This may be where Parly’s run off to.”

Perhaps Tawkerr’s entire form was shivering and fangs chattering as he reached the shore, but however freezing he felt, the heat of his determination kept him moving forward. Bessie finally came to a steady halt, the swishing of her fins on the waves evolving into repetitive impacts against wet, icy rock. Tawkerr swung his legs off the side of the saddle and let himself slide down. An icy slush of frozen mud and gravel crunched beneath his boots as he hit the ground, stumbling at the sudden weight on his feet. “AH! Geez! H-Haven’t actually used my legs in a while, huh?” He laughed shakily, leaning on Bessie’s slick shell for support. “I’d better find some kind of building before I become a bleedin’ ramsicle…you alright here?”

Bessie gave a quiet trill of confirmation. Tawkerr patted her on the fin, then immediately regretted getting his hand damp, as the cold now bit at it harder than ever. “See you…wait for me here, okay? If I dont come back in a day or two, then… I-I don’t know. Gosh, I’ve probably got the king worried sick, huh?”

The lamphrie blinked at him sadly with her dark, wise eyes, as if to say “yes, you do.”

Without another word, Tawkerr tugged his bag from the saddle and started off, stepping over rocks and chunks of ice jutting from the ground as he headed toward the center of the island, where mountainous structures of rock towered above the sparse wintry wasteland and converged in a peak.

It didn’t look too terrible a climb, especially for someone as agile as himself, so he supposed it would be worth taking a look…

The world around him was now cloaked in a cold, murky gray, as if it had been dredged in a fine layer of bleakness and shadow. He couldn’t tell if it was day or night, as the sky was dark and cloudy all the same. He only spotted the occasional tree, and even those were bare and blackened, looking as though they must have been long dead. The further he walked, the more uneasy he began to feel…the chill settling into his bones and singeing his skin didn’t help. Suddenly he wished he knew pyromancy.

He kept walking.

Had it been only minutes? It felt like hours.

Still walking.

He didn’t feel any closer to the mountains.

And still he walked. He walked until he felt like he couldn’t anymore.

And then he reminded himself of his sister, and it kept him walking.

~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~

Maggpi • earlier that day…

All evening, Maggie had been counting. She counted each swing of the axe, each loud, crisp crack of the logs splitting in two beneath its blade. She had split 47 logs, now, and made 94 pieces of firewood.

Keeping track of numbers usually kept her mind anchored and stopped it from wandering, but nothing could pry her thoughts away from the worries in the back of her head.

Crack. 48 logs, 96 pieces.

She only now noticed how badly her arms ached, the subtle shaking each time she lifted the axe again, but she didn’t allow herself to pause. She couldn’t afford to think about anything else. But here she was, mind still racing.

CRACK. 49, 98.

Maybe it was just the atmosphere getting to her. Everyone had been acting strange lately. Practically all of Cantilyra knew about it; Irrational decisions, casters’ magic acting up, ferality at an all time high…Everyone she had spoken to about it agreed that they had been affected by it too. But what was it? Some sort of arcane anomaly? And it wasn’t like it was a select thing— Elves, humans, centaurs and tabaxi alike felt this inexplicable off feeling. Something stirring deep inside their instincts, causing them to just act…strange, overall.

CRACK. 50, 100.

Maggie paused. Her trembling arms let the axe fall to the ground without further prompting, and she plopped down clumsily against the side of the toolshed. Sweat trickled down her face, despite standing amongst snow and ice.

…Or maybe she was just sad and scared. Maybe she just wanted to know who she was, why she was here and where the hell Stoowarb was.

“Maggie?” A quiet voice piped up, piercing her thoughts. She lifted her head to see a familiar four-armed, blue-coated figure standing in the gateway of the yard. Bowgart gave her a nervous wave with three of their arms, using the fourth to fidget with their coat button. “Uh, hey. I…saw something?”

Maggie squinted at them, wiping her forehead with her sleeve and rising back to her feet. “What is it? You sound worried.”

“Well, I was just collecting berries for dye over by the edge of the woods, and I spotted somebody coming up the mountain from the east side. They didn’t look familiar…I know they may just be a traveler, but we never get travelers up here!”

Maggie furrowed her brow. “Odd. What did they look like?”

“They were a small fellow, with horns— sort of like you and your brother, but more thick and curly like a ram’s— with silvery hair. They were far off, so I didn’t see much, but they looked awfully young…”

Maggie felt a painful pang at the mention of her brother, but didn’t let her expression betray it. “Ah. I-I’ll go check it out, it’s probably nothing to worry about.” She picked up her axe and stuck it into the thick stump beside her, moving to step past Bowgart and out of the yard.

She stared ahead at the snowy landscape with hesitance, and for a moment the anger and fear crept back into her mind. She hated this. She hated everything about the present.

But once again, she told herself it would be alright, and it was just this weird phenomenon affecting her mind. She set off toward the edge of the thicket.

~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~ ~•~

Tawkerr

Tawkerr had been told many times before that he was too stubborn, but now he was starting to see it himself. As he threw himself against a wall of rock with an exhausted groan, nestling into his cloak that seemed to provide no warmth, he finally realized he had probably bitten off more than he could chew.

…probably.

His numb fingers found their way up to the brooch around his neck, circling the insignia pressed into the gold plating, and he felt his throat tighten. He had to keep going. He was so close to the top.

But before he could rise, he went still, ears twitching at the sound of something, or someone, approaching. He didn’t know whether to be hopeful or terrified, so he just shuffled back against the rocks and stayed quiet.

“…I see you, you know.” A gruff woman’s voice sighed from out of Tawkerr’s view. An accent he didn’t recognize roughened the edges of her words, making them sound somehow coarser and growlier.

Tawkerr squeaked and stiffened, peeking out from behind the crags. Standing cross-armed before him was a stocky woman with a serious expression laid across her fierce green eyes. She had mahogany horns and fuzzy ears like him, but other than that, it felt like staring straight at his polar opposite.

She had warm dark skin and wild, silvery-mint hair that fell over her face messily, swaying slightly in the wind. She was dressed far more warmly than Tawkerr, probably because she actually knew what she was doing in this environment. She looked over the tiny boy before her and clicked her tongue. “You lost?”

“Maybe,” Tawkerr answered curtly.

“Care to explain how you got here? Hardly anyone visits this place willingly.”

“…Uhhhh. Is “big turtle thing” a valid answer?”

The woman sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do you want help or not? You’ve got snow in your hair and look like you’re about to collapse. Look, I’m in a bad mood. Tell me your name and why you’re here or I’m leaving.”

“Fine, fine!” He scrambled to his feet and scrubbed his hands through his hair to find that there was indeed a fine film of frost coating it. How much could he even say about his situation…? He decided to keep it simple. “Name’s Tawkerr O’Charo. I’m looking for my sister.”

“Really?” The woman quirked her brow and looked to the side briefly. For a moment she looked genuinely surprised, but it faded into a scowl just as quickly. “You seem to be far from home.”

“…I’m…not all that sure where my home is.”

She was silent for a moment, then her head bobbed just barely in a short nod. “…Me neither, Tawkerr. Me neither.”

Tawkerr shifted uncomfortably. What was that supposed to mean? He rubbed his forearms anxiously and decided to throw in another snide comment to wave away the tension. “…You gonna tell me your name? Or was that just a one sided thing?”

“Maggpi.” She said briskly, then added “…call me Maggie. If you want. I don’t care. Now, as much as I’d like to leave you here, I’m shackled by sympathy. Follow me to the castle. We’ve got warmth and food, at least…or freeze to death, if you’d prefer.”

Tawkerr perked up. A castle! Maybe this place wasn’t all that different from Plant Island, after all? “The former sounds…mighty favorable!”

“Then keep up.” Maggie spun on her heels and started off into the crop of spindly trees that speckled the mountaintop.

• • •

Neither Tawkerr nor Maggpi spoke a word for the entire walk. Tawkerr’s throat was burning even more than usual with the cold, and Maggie simply didn’t seem like much of a talker.

Soon, though, Tawkerr spotted icy, crystalline spires shooting out above the treetops. The two broke out of the thicket and into an open space of pure white snow, riddled with footprints and shoveled pathways snaking between buildings. The bright expanse was mottled with many small cabins made from dark mahogany wood that stood out starkly like an arctic fox’s eyes amongst the white, along with a few larger buildings boasting colorful string lights and soft, warm glows pouring from their windows.

But most prominent, front and center of the town, was the castle— a breathtaking mass of sparkling, spiky sky-blue spires that appeared as though they were made from pure ice.

While not even a quarter of the size of Plant Island’s castle, It was a centerpiece that stuck out strongly amongst the more quaint cottages that surrounded it. Tawkerr stood for a moment, admiring the strange structure, before scrambling to catch up with Maggie. He felt a tug of hope somewhere inside him.

As they approached the castle, a four-armed figure in a blue knit coat came into view, standing stiffly by the central door and fidgeting with ten of their twenty fingers.

“Bowie!” Maggie called ahead to them, gesturing to Tawkerr. “This the guy you saw?”

“That’s him,” the Bowie person squeaked in a soft voice. They regarded Tawkerr with worried brown eyes and a small frown. “Is he alright? What’s he here for?”

“Told me he’s looking for his sister. We’ll get to the details later. Either way, he’s freezing out here. Let’s get him inside, okay?”

“Ah, yes!” Bowie agreed, pushing open the castle doors and scurrying inside. “You two, sit down in the lobby. I’ll get you some tea.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Tawkerr murmured, feeling a little safer already at the stranger’s kindness. Maggie led him inside as Bowie set off to another room.

The castle lobby was, again, rather small compared to Plant Island’s, but still a lovely sight. Gazing up at the center of the lobby allowed a view all the way up to the dome at the roof’s peak, with crystalline chandeliers hanging from either side of the ceilings formed by the second floor. At the back wall, a pair of symmetrical stairways overarched a massive hearth and met at the second level, where he could see many doors lined up— presumably guest rooms.

Along the sides of the lobby were carpeted areas filled with chairs, couches and coffee tables, a cozy sort of contrast to the striking and sharp beauty of the rest of the castle’s interior.

Maggie sat him down at one of the couches closest to the fireplace and handed him a thick, bundled-up blanket that had been sitting on a nearby ottoman, then plopped down with a sigh on an armchair across from him.

He muttered another thanks and buried himself in the blanket hastily. The inside of the castle was already much warmer than the outside, with the heat of the nearby hearth steadily seeping the chill from his bones, but the blanket was like a warm hug. The chunky knit material felt thick and fluffy on his pawpads, and the subtle flaws but visible care in the knitting led him to suspect that it was handmade. How charming.

Tawkerr leaned against the arm of the couch and let his weary eyes fall shut for a moment, comforted, even if it was just for the time being. He only shifted again when he had to restrain a purr from forming in his throat.

Maggie just stared off into the hearth’s flames distantly as Tawkerr basked in the newfound warmth, eventually turning to him. “Any better?”

“Yeah…god, ‘s cold out there.” Tawkerr rasped.

“Well, we are on Cold Island.”

“…this place is just called…Cold Island?”

“It’s an island that’s cold.”

“Ah. I suppose you’re right. I can’t say anything when I’m coming here from Plant Island.”

“…Let me guess, it has plants?”

Tawkerr chuckled quietly. “How’d you guess?”

“Hm. Just had a feeling.” The corner of Maggie’s mouth turned up just a tiny bit. Tawkerr feigned a gasp. “What? You have a sense of humor? Never woulda guessed that!”

“Are you usually this irritating?”

“Mhm.”

Maggie grumbled and crossed her arms behind her head, her fluffy, mint-tufted tail curling up beside her. “Well…welcome to our little town, I guess. I haven’t…been here that long, but as secluded as the island is, it’s a fairly nice community. Small, but close. And better than being stranded in an icy wasteland by a longshot.”

It was then that Bowie reappeared and set down a couple of ceramic cups filled with steaming, golden-brown liquid. “Here, that should warm you up. Let me know if you need more.”

“Thank you,” Tawkerr said again, but didn’t touch the glass. He eyed it cautiously as Bowie slipped back into the room beyond the seating areas. As much as he felt it would help warm him up, he couldn’t bring himself to take a sip for some odd reason. Why…?

“Hmm.” Maggie lifted the cup to her lips and closed her eyes, seeming to relax slightly for the first time. Slightly, but not completely. She sat back up and set the cup on the table with a soft clunk. “You said you were looking for somebody?”

“My sister,” Tawkerr affirmed. “We were on Plant Island before, but things have been…weird. Tense. Got into a big fight, she didn’t want to talk to me, and after I went looking for her the next day I found nothing but the fact that there was a hot air balloon missing…so, y’know. I took a lamphrie from the docks and decided to search, because the king couldn’t send out an immediate search party.” He didn’t mention the…other things. He couldn’t mention that.

“Jeez.” Maggie furrowed her brow, visibly concerned. “Does she even know how to fly a hot air balloon?”

“Probably not. She’s only 16. That’s most of the reason I’m terrified.” Tawkerr clenched the edge of the blanket to stop his hands from shaking. “…I’m really, really worried. I don’t want to think about what could be of her right now.”

Maggie nodded silently. “Well, we haven’t seen anybody new in town in the past few days except you. Especially not anyone in a balloon.”

Tawkerr felt his heart sink. “Oh. Okay…”

“…But we can ask the chief here to contact the other councilmen and see if she’s been spotted on any other islands.”

He sprung up again. “Really? You’ve got a quad council member here?”

“Sure do. Not the most influential, but he’s got connections. I imagine king Entbrat has started a formal search by now, huh? …why did you even go yourself if you know he’d send people looking anyways?”

“Because I knew it wouldn’t be immediate…? I guess. Ugh, my…my reasoning sounds stupid now that I think about it.” Tawkerr hid his head in his hands. “I-I sort of freaked out, okay? I was in a rush and it was all I could think to do. I’ve just been feeling—“

“Off?” Maggie finished for him.

“Yeah,” Tawkerr said slowly, giving her a bemused gaze. “…Off. How did you…?”

“Making quick decisions without thinking, being suddenly more short tempered and aggressive, bouts of confusion and distress…” Maggie went on, listing each point on her fingers. “…everybody in Cantilyra has been feeling it. There’s something out there that’s disturbing everybody’s instincts, but nobody knows what. It just started a few months ago, apparently. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it.”

Tawkerr leaned back on the cushions. “That explains a lot. God, I…what’s going on?”

“We don’t know. Nobody knows.” Maggie folded her hands in her lap with a small shake of her head. “But it can’t be good.”

“Ah.”

“…Anyways, we’ll talk to Deedge. He’s the councilman around here. Since we’re such a small community, he’s fairly easy to contact and is close with the people, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble.” Maggie said. Tawkerr managed a small smile, glancing at his untouched tea. Something was off. “…Maggie?”

“Hm?”

“What did you mean earlier? When you said you didn’t know where your home was either?”

He noticed her tense slightly, gripping the arm of the chair a little tighter. “What did you mean by it in the first place?”

They locked eyes for a moment, both of their gazes skeptical…but slowly fading into recognition. Something about them both felt too similar. Different, but the same, like two sides of a coin. They both seemed to realize it— so many things that were far too alike. The plating on their horns, the gold undertones in their eyes, all their specific features that they didn’t seem to notice on any other creature in Cantilyra except one another— and most of all, their apparent situations.

Somehow, it felt like they were one in the same. A moment of mutual understanding dawned on the two, beyond words.

Maggie let her hands relax again. “How long have you…been here?”

Tawkerr’s eyes widened. There was no way she was referring to anything else. There was no way that was a coincidence. “You’re like me.”

Maggie straightened in her seat as well. “…You woke up a few months ago somewhere with hardly any recollection of where you were. With nothing but—“

“My sister.” Tawkerr finished.

“And for me, my brother.” Maggie murmured.

“…Wait, did your sibling—?”

“Go missing too? Yes. They— They’re on the lookout for him right now. His name is Stoowarb.” For a second, Maggpi looked as though she might cry, but she blinked it away quickly and pursed her lips. “I nearly did the same as you and ran off myself to find him, but the townsfolk have been monitoring me since I appeared here. Can’t blame them.”

“…What the hell, Maggie.” Tawkerr said blankly. Not a question, just an expression of pure bewilderment. How were they so similar? What was this? “…Who are we? Why is this happening?”

Maggie’s eyes told Tawkerr that she was equally baffled. She chugged down the last of her tea in one gulp before speaking again, and when the cup left her face, her eyes became cold, determined and steely again. “I don’t know, but it seems like we’re in this together. I don’t know if that’s comforting or disturbing.”

“Comforting, I think.”

“…I guess so.”

Silence.

“Alright.” Maggie started to get to her feet. “Let’s go talk to Deedge. Maybe then we can find out what’s going on.”

to be continued.

Glossary

Aurochian- a race of horned humanoids, which Tawkerr, Maggpi, Stoowarb and Parlsona belong to. Not many Aurochians still exist after the Worldwipe. Aurochians are split into two main groups, the Eldos and the Illmi. Eldos carry bovine and canine aspects and are known for their larger and sturdier builds, strong senses of smell, physical prowess and adaptability. Illmi are smaller in comparison, appear more ovine and feline, and possess high agility along with keen senses of sight and hearing.

Bessie- one of Plant Island’s transport Lamphries— Tawkerr and Parly’s favorite. Loyal, but has an attitude. Can be bribed with lettuce.

Cantilyra- the world that the Cantilyric Saga takes place in, currently in a state of repair due to an catastrophic incident that occurred 25 years before the events of Chorus.

Cold Island- a small island nation, aptly named for its chilly climate. While seemingly a hostile environment, Cold Island’s small but close-knit community is very warm and welcoming, watched over by Chief Deedge.

Feral- a term used for when certain inhuman species of Cantilyra, such as satyrs, tabaxi, aurochians and the like revert into a temporary state where they behave more animalistic and instinctively, sometimes to the extent of becoming completely confused and nonverbal. This can be caused by stressful situations, overexertion or person-specific triggers. The frequency, intensity and effects of ferality differ from person to person, some not experiencing it at all.

Lamphrie- a large species of aquatic reptilians characterized by their long necks and thick shells, commonly domesticated and used as water transportation.

Maggpi Hermeas- one of the mysterious aurochians who appeared in late 24-post. A no-nonsense woman with a versatile skillset, sharp of mind and tongue. She’s tough to crack, but is soft-hearted and caring deep down…though she’d knock you flat sooner than she’d show that.

Plant Island- A large island nation known for its temperate climate and fertile land, ruled by King Entbrat. Despite its size, it’s towns are scattered and large portions of it are uninhabited, making it the second most populous nation next to Earth Island.

Quad Council- (Not to be confused with: Quarrister Council) also referred to as the Council of Quads, informally as “The Bosses” or simply as The Council, the Quad Council is a group of prominent island leaders— referred to as Quads or Councilmen— who banded together around the start of post with the goal of unifying their nations and rendering the rule of Cantilyra more coordinated and peaceful. The primary members of the Council currently consist of King Entbrat, Chief Deedge, General Riff, Princess Shelby and representatives from the Quarrister Council (yes, a council within a council.), with several lesser-involved members from the fire islands.

Tawkerr O’Charo- one of the mysterious aurochians who appeared in late 24-post. A charming and princely yet rather roguish fellow with a knack for getting up to no good and little tolerance for being bossed around. Has some sort of chronic illness affecting his respiratory system and voice, but still manages to never stop talking.

#whimsys writing #writing #chorus #cantilyric saga #chorus chapters #my singing monsters #msm #msm au #msm fic #tawkerr #maggpi #parlsona #stoowarb #bowgart #bowie

[iwillneverlosemywhimsy]

4.9.24

#mine #photography #my pics #aesthetic #nature #cottagecore #whimsical #poetry #creative writing #roses #flowers #surreal #ethereal #dream #dreamcore #whimsy #fairycore #corecore

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Could I please request Thranduil with a breeding kink with the lavender field prompt? 🔥🔥 thank you so much!! Your writings lift my spirits!

Here you go!

"Lavender Haze"

Pairing:  Thranduil x Fem. Reader (elf/second person POV) | Location: Greenwood the great

Themes: Smut | Soft

Warnings:  Kissing | Explicit language | Mild dirty talk | Breeding kink | Sex in an open field | Penetrative sex | Rough sex | Cream pie

Word count: 1.6k words

Summary : A game of hide of seek take place in a lavender field. What price will the loser have to pay? 

Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 🔞  | You are responsible for the media you consume

Rules and tag form here | Prompts for requests here

 A lavender haze. 

That was all you could see in the periphery of your vision—an endless haze of the richest lavender swaying with the wind. The blooms rustled, murmuring with a hushed voice of their own every time the wind rose. It was sheer happenstance when you came across this field of wild lavender. Thrilled with this new find, you made haste to ride back to Amon Lanc and tell its prince. Thranduil listened with rapt attention and insisted that you take him there. No one knew of such a field, and he wanted to see it with his own eyes. 

The prince came. And he saw. And believed. And a merry chase then ensued. No one besides the two of you knew of this little slice of paradise, and Thranduil wanted to make the most of it. Others would learn of the field's existence soon enough, and the opportunities to be alone within it would grow sparse. 

You ran and ducked behind tall bushes. Hid behind the thick trunks of gnarled trees with branches so low they kissed the soft grass that grew beneath them. And Thranduil chased you still, calling out for you and searching for you, the heady rush of the chase working its magic on him. 

"Where are you, meleth?"

You clapped your hands over your mouth and kept still. Thranduil was close to the oak tree you were hiding behind. You could not hear his footsteps; the prince moved like a wraith, not making a single sound. You press against the bark of the tree, wondering if he heard you or if he knew where you were hiding. 

"Meleth?"

It was as if he were further away now, but you keep yourself concealed anyway. When it sounded as if he had moved quite a distance, you peered around the tree, pleased to find him no longer there. You take off again, giggling and smug, confident you have thrown him off your trail. 

"There you are!" Thranduil ran in from behind and threw his arms around you. He cackled when you squealed and squirmed and tried to free yourself from his hold. His moving away from where you were had just been a sly trick. He was there the entire time, hidden, waiting for you to come out into the open. 

"Th-thranduil!" Giddy laughter ripped through you when you tried and tried, and he simply continued to carry you deeper into the field. "Let g-go!"

"No!" Thranduil's laughter mirrored yours. He listened to you grumble and plot your escape, and laughed again, louder this time. "Yield, meleth. Escape is futile. Surely you know this by now."

"Never!" That never lasted no more than a few moments, when you realized you would not be able to extricate yourself from his vise-like grip no matter how hard you tried. You give up and go limp against him. 

Thranduil sets you down amidst fragrant purple blooms. "Now, tell me. What was our wager again?"

"If I win, you are to be my slave for the turn of a moon," you answer quickly, more than a little disappointed that losing the wager meant not having Thranduil wait on you hand and foot. Literally. 

Thranduil smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "And if I win?"

"I am to let you have your way with me. In whatever way you desire."

"A prospect that does not disappoint you, yes?"

You huff and cross your arms. How easy it was for him to read you! "It does not."

Thranduil smiled wolfishly and sat down, extending his hand to you. "Come, meleth. It is time to pay the piper, so to speak."

You narrowed your eyes and made yourself comfortable next to him, lying down on the grass as you did so. The sky was beautiful, all puffy white clouds against a field of the palest, clearest blue. You rest your head over your folded arms and watch while they stay low and move slowly. Thranduil is content to watch you. He lays down beside you, an enchanting smile slowly working its way across his face when you turn to face him. His eyes light up when you smile in return. 

"I will pay," you reply with a grin. 

Thranduil beamed and leaned forward, the sweetness of his kiss pouring into your throat when his mouth opened over yours. Deft, experienced hands worked on the clasps and lacing on your robes. Your gown loosened beneath his touch. The prince helps you out of your clothes, barely taking a moment to marvel at the sight of you exposed. Thranduil then sat up, his clothes rustling while he rid himself of his tunic and undershirts, belt and sash and boots. They all joined the growing pile by the side. He slipped out of his breeches, sighing in relief when his throbbing cock sprang free. He did not give you time to even think or breathe. He simply captured your lips with his. 

Your nerves were aflame; every inch of you was heated and sensitive to his touch. And you were bold, reaching out to ghost a finger over the crown of his member. Thranduil moaned lustily and drew away, content again to watch, this time while you took him into your hands. He moved his hips, thrusting in time with your strokes. The warmth and frenzy of your pace were unceasing. It nearly undid him and almost made him cum all over your hand. 

"Not like this." Thranduil loosened your grip and pushed you onto your back. "I would much rather finish inside you."

He was so warm when he lowered himself onto you—slowly and carefully—and tried not to lose control of himself and hurt you. He did not enter you immediately. Thranduil kept still while you touched his face and his hair, and ran your hands over his arms and chest and back. The prince was perfect, like an exquisite marble sculpture come to life. 

"Mine," you declare without even hesitating. "All mine."

Joy welled within Thranduil's heart. "As you are mine," he exclaimed with pride before dipping his head. 

He kissed with tenderness, then hunger, then fury, when your mouth parted for the warmth of his sinful tongue. Thranduil knitted his tapered fingers around yours, moaning into your mouth when your free hand slid around his waist and nails dug into his flesh. 

"Naughty girl," he breathed wistfully. "Now open those beautiful legs for me."

He groaned under his breath when your legs slid open and hooked around his hips. Thranduil pushed in, inch by agonizing inch, sinking his shaft into your slit. The prince was built bigger than most, and you felt it in the pressure around your core. He kept still, his chest heaving and his heart racing wildly, while you adjusted to his size. Arousal pooled in your belly when even the slightest movement sent shock waves shooting up your spine like lightning. You no longer wanted him to stay still. You wanted him to move. 

"I am ready."

Thranduil's pace was merciless. He rutted into you like a wild beast, growing drunk on your transported moans.

"Look at how well you take me," he cries against your throat. "It is as if you have been made for me."

All you could do was hold onto him while he bucked his hips against the insides of your thighs. "Perhaps it is because we were made for each other."

"Yes," Thranduil agreed. "Meant for each other. You are mine, just as I am yours. We belong together."

His grip on your hand tightened. He plunged deeper and harder. It made you see stars. "More," you plead shamelessly. "More. Please."

Thranduil grunted softly. "Look at you. Listen to how desperate you sound. Should I deny you?"

"No!" you keen. "Please do not do that."

"Pathetic." Thranduil hissed hoarsely, his hips now undulating every time he thrust. "But I suppose I will concede to your plea. I am going to finish inside you, so you know who you belong to."

"Please." The knowledge of him filling you with his seed unraveled you. "Do it. Please."

He nearly fell apart when he heard. Thranduil let go of your hand and gripped your chin, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. He wanted to see how your words could undo him. "Are you ready?"

You did see. You saw how his eyes had darkened and how raw, unbridled lust flashed in them. And you were so ready for him.

"Yes," you sob in relief. "So ready."

Thranduil ran his tongue along the curve of your throat. It made you tremble beneath him and whimper against his shoulder. His thrusts grew erratic and relentless. It sent you spiraling and made the world grow dark in your eyes. Thranduil gasped sharply while your walls contracted and milked his cock. It shattered him and made his orgasm rip through him. He glanced at your belly, his thoughts running riot with visions of his spend filling your cunt. It heightened the bliss he was already drowning in. With one last, satisfying grunt, he came to a stop, his arms and body trembling from the exertion. 

Nothing could be heard save for the wind rustling through flowers and leaves and the deeper sound of ragged breathing. Thranduil slowly moved onto his back, taking you with him. You sighed in contentment while he held you against his chest. When you moved, he stopped you. 

"Keep me inside you a little longer," Thranduil insists. "Just a little longer, then you and I can go for a swim in that pond nearby."

#thranduil #Thranduil smut #Thranduil x reader #Thranduil imagine #greenwood the great #x reader #x reader insert #reader insert #reader requests #reader insert request #💫a world of whimsy writes

[jankwritten]

Jason turns his cabin into a pillow fort, one day.

It’s silly. He doesn’t have enough bedding to do it, so he sneaks into the big house and steals some from the closet at the end of the infirmary hallway, leaves a little note that says “sorry!” Makes the trek back to his cabin with his arms full of dusty, moth-ball scented linen giddy with excitement.

The fifth would turn their barracks into a fort whenever a younger legionnaire (a soldier, at child, gods) would feel homesick or scared, whenever they had a nightmare. It would always start the same way - cover up the legionnaire’s bunk with a blanket so it’s closed off from the room - and expand from there, until there were sheets tucked under all the top bunks, everybody’s mattresses thrown into a pile in the center of the room, odd-colored lighting from the bedding thrown over the lamps.

Jason was seven when they made him his first pillow fort. He was thirteen when he got to teach the tradition to an eleven year old girl (a soldier, a soldier, how could they do that to-) who grinned at him through snotty tears and gave him a hug and said “thank you” like she’d never meant anything more.

He hangs a sheet over the statue of his father. Tucks the edges around so it stays secure, pulling the further corner to hang over his standing lamp, too. Thunder rumbles overhead. Jason tells it to shut up, in his head. Never out loud. Even now, he can’t bring himself to disparage the gods out loud.

He still doesn’t have enough blankets to make the fort as splendorous and fine as the ones from the barracks, but it’s serviceable for what he wants, a patchwork of thin sheets draped like a tent over a section of floor, hidden from his statue-father’s eyes, held up by the sparse furniture of the cabin itself. Inside, he’s made a pallet of his actual bedding, his pillows and few blankets. The piece de resistance is the big, weighted comforter his friends pitched in to buy him for his seventeenth birthday, laying out like a puddle over the sheeted floor.

It shouldn’t be comfortable - he’s still essentially sitting on the hard ground - and yet, when he curls up underneath it all, Jason finds himself falling asleep faster than he has in months. If he drifts enough, he can almost convince himself he can hear his legion-mates roaming around outside, putting together their own sections of fort around him, like layers of protection.

Jason turns his cabin into a pillow fort, one day, and takes the best goddamn nap of his entire life.

#pjo #hoo #jason grace #idk I just wanted to write something quick and sappy for the boy #patting him like a dog. he deserves so much childhood whimsy. #I think Jason should remember more silly little fifth cohort traditions. as a treat.