#I wish I could stop crying yknow?

[footballffbarbiex]

.

[starlooove]

No one is asking you to like cops IRL, not even the show. If you look at Arcane and what you see is copaganda, if you look at Cait and only see PoLiCe OfFiCeR and not the character, the problem is YOU.

1. I never said anyone asked me to like cops irl

2. I know that’s what I said.

[seithr]

fbfghfthbbhtff

illness talk / medicine / family associated stuff i dont know

[kneelingshadowsalome]

🤠🫶:

I am CACKLING like a cartoon villain oh my GOD you are a genius!!! Of course the toxic king breaks his back of COURSE he does the fucking idiot (affectionate), so there's fuck-all he can do with reader's big announcement that this was all worth it and he can totally get some...yknow, in a couple months. AHHHHH. And she just wanted to give him something to look forward to, motivation for the physical therapy <33 (she boops his nose while he lays there wishing for death and cowering from her, of course she does, omg. i love them your honor!!)

and maybe she gets more confident now that he can't fucking move 💀💀 (lmao, oh god. König if you weren't such a menace this would have been easier for her a lot earlier and nobody would be in this situation) and maybe this leads to way more sensual  touching from her on her own initiative; she's curious, after all, and she does like him a lot and she's just trying to help him get better, you know? and König eats that shit up, starts telling her all about these itches and sore muscles he can't reach, could she be a dear (trying to act like he's not literally begging for her touch) and then he basically blacks out the first time her hands linger and drift, but probably better that than the things he was going to say to her. So König wants to die, this is too much, he's done, he's a goner each time she visits him. and damn her, she's a devoted little thing, never misses visiting hours. Always so sweet and caring towards him and it's the perfect image of a faithful, doting housewife without the wife or the house or the sex part of it lmao. And of course he can’t move when all this is happening!!! so basically just more torture and his mind just kind of breaks into little tiny pieces held together by demented lovesick lust-filled fantasies. he says some absolutely filthy things (makes the cunt licking look family friendly in comparison), he can't control it really anymore, and poor reader is shocked/horrified and blushing furiously, but thinks it's the medications and the pain and whatnot, tries to be understanding, only chides him once she gets her shock under control (and he's actually stone cold sober the entire fucking time lmao, but he ain't telling her that, she'd run if she knew). 

AND THEN MAYBE~~ (dun dun dun) one day reader is FINALLY reaching under the stupid hospital bed blanket - he can feel her soft little fingertips and carefully manicured nails travel down his abs, trace the V of his hips (my man is going to black out again, good lord) and she's looking at him with big round eyes and she's nervous she's going to do it wrong and he won't like it (as if), and it's taking FOREVER for her to get her hand between his legs bc sweet little thing just wants to do it right, and he's out of his mind, half-crying, whisper-begging at this point (it's probably not even English, not German either, just mindless pleas). Her hand FINALLY wraps around his length and he's lucky he doesn't cum right then and there; she's blushing so violently at taking a man in her hands for the first time and she's seeking HIS approval with those pretty doe eyes as she bites her lip. So of course that's when there's a knock at the door (the universe hates him, he's going to scream, whoever this is is lucky he can't move and they might die anyway from the blast radius of sheer rage) and a doctor comes in for daily rounds. Reader barely has time to yank her hand back before doc sticks his head through the privacy curtains and yep our man's heart might actually just stop, he is just going to keel over right then and there. 

so not even a handjob for our poor king <3 if he doesn’t die (lol) he transfers to in-home care IMMEDIATELY and finally gets reader to himself in a more private setting where he can lock the fucking door. this is the part where I look away lmao, I'd leave him blue-balled & suffering forever ...am i a mean person?? also RIP to that doctor. this verse is so hilarious & wonderful and i love it, feels like a tug of war between tropes and genres if that makes sense which results in your delightful genius works, thank you thank you <333

This is so beautiful. I am puddle & I can't thank you enough for collaborating & I LOVE YOU Howdy anon 💋 and um, I think I got a little too excited about their first time lol oops (I can't leave him blue-balled forever! Poor man would die of heart failure 🥺)

(Tamara and Demon (1864), Mihály von Zichy)

Word count: 3.7 k

CW: 18+ NSFW. Corruption kink goes brrrr. Masturbating, dirty talking, obsessive/yandere König. Awkward handjob. First time/virgin!reader. Kinda sweet and fluffy 🩷 Also coersion/mildly dubious consent, tread carefully!

A/N: You can find the story of König x virgin!reader and their relationship so far by following the tag (könig x virgin reader)

Oh she visits him alright!

She’s much braver now that König is bedridden and can’t move. They actually spend more time together after the weightlifting accident. The intense stares haven’t gone anywhere, he's actually gotten worse in that department, but otherwise, König is behaving quite nicely.

He seems to like it when she reads to him next to his bed, which is immensely cute in her opinion. Armed with a new book in the crook of her arm, she’s on her way to visit him again for another session.

She's already accustomed to simply floating in after giving his door a light rap. She's also gotten used to the sight of guns and knives and the smell of army storage, even the manly, pungent stench of sweat that lingers on top of it. 

But it’s not the potpourri of masculine military scents that stop her at the door and nearly make her drop her book.

The King himself is lying naked on the bed – well, naked except for the bag of a mask he seems to hold on to like it’s his soul. This time, she doesn’t even see it: her eyes fly straight to the towering erection he’s stroking, urgently with one hand while the other cups a pair of shaved, pale balls.

"König…?" 

The man who calls himself King curses – in German or in English, she can’t tell. The sight of him there, caught red-handed on touching himself, only makes her feel sorry for him. König has nowhere to run and hide, nothing to cover himself with, he's not supposed to even move yet. And he is not the one who should be embarrassed, after all, she's the one who barged in on his privacy. 

Although… König doesn't look embarrassed. 

He only looks drunk and sweaty and in need.

She thinks about turning back and leaving him with hurried excuses because what the hell is she supposed to do…? Read him a book? He is still gripping his cock like it’s a sword or something, breathing like he just ran a marathon. 

And speaking of swords, that weapon is far too big for her... Hell, she doesn’t know much about swords but she would deem that sword far too big for any woman.

If she were clever, she would run away from that stare and that huge, monstrous cock. But she’s not that clever, that much is clear because everyone she’s told she’s dating König have warned her about him. Every cell in her body is warning her of danger, but she keeps running back to him, over and over again…

Well, at least he can’t move, she thinks, takes a hesitant step, and places the book down on a table. Just when she’s about to whisper some calming, soothing words to this beast, the beast speaks.

"Take your clothes off," comes a husky command from the bed, and she freezes with her fingertips still on the cover of her cute little book about German fairytales (she knows König likes his fairytales bloody). 

Normally, she would make a scene out of such audacity. She might even storm out of the room and vow to never speak to him again for daring to talk to her like that.

But… 

He looks so desperate. König looks like a giant bound for torture on that bed. And he's not the only one who has been tormented these past few weeks… The incident at the hospital has plagued her dreams every night as she has tucked herself in with the memories of König's… sword.

Perhaps it would help with his pain if she offers him relief in his time of need. No harm can come from that, surely. She doesn't know how exactly taking her clothes off will help, but if that is his wish, then it’s the least she can do. 

To her and his surprise, her hands drift to the hem of the top she’s wearing. She’s feeling rather wild – something about seeing König completely naked yet unable to move is making her act like this. Like she's the brave one. Like she’s in control now.

Dedicated to her task, she pulls the shirt over her head.

Nothing moves on that bed for a good long while. As far as she can tell, König might've stopped breathing. But by the time she takes her bra off, there’s a swallow under that hood. Then the hand slowly starts to stroke again, the moist, slick sounds continue as her breasts fall free from their confinement. 

She’s breathing heavily too, and the man on the bed is stiff as a stone: every single muscle in his body is pulled taut as he stares at her breasts like they’re the Revelation of John. Then those blue eyes lift to her face just before another command is issued.

"Take off the rest."

"The–the rest…?"

"I just want to watch you." 

His voice is hoarse and croaky, and she feels even more sorry for him – König must be in so much pain and she just keeps on teasing him. She started this, so perhaps it’s better just to see it through. 

What’s crazy though is that he actually moans when she gets out of her pants, socks, and finally, her underwear. The slick sounds of fapping increase, and he’s moaning.

She hasn’t even touched him yet… She’s just standing there before him completely naked, heat pooling low in her belly as König continues to work himself with what looks like both pleasure and pain.

"Komm… Come here," he orders next, out of breath but surprisingly politely, and she has no other option than to approach his bed. She sits down as chastely as possible, then almost jumps back up when a steel-hard thigh brushes against hers.

"Touch it. Ja?" 

Her eyes grow as wide as they can go as she takes in the cock she has touched once before, briefly and under a hospital sheet. Now it’s right there, foreign and demanding. 

Better just to see it through, her mind tweets as her hand reaches out through what feels like water. Like before, there's a sharp intake of air under the hood as she takes him in her hand. It’s even hotter than she remembered, and gives a tight pull the instant her fingers wrap around it. 

"Like this…?" 

"Just like that…"

Her meek little mouse peeps and multiple bats of eyelashes are like drug to him, it seems. The man is as tight as a bowstring when she starts to move her hand up and down, mimicking the motions she just saw him do. They're not as fast as his, and her grip must be way gentler, but she seems to do surprisingly well for an inexperienced virgin. The poor man looks like he’s about to faint on that bed. 

What she doesn’t expect, however, is König to touch her.

A large, warm palm sweeps across her ribs and lands on her breast, softly, as if he's concerned that he might scare her off. She's the one who's stopped breathing now… And then he rubs her, squeezes her. Gently… Reverently.

"You're soft," comes a strained sigh from the bed as she tries to keep her own grip both tight and gentle. She’s starting to get so wet she fears she will stain his sheets. Bewildered, she tries to change her position, but the palm cupping her breast seems to have bound her to the bed too. Nothing moves, except her hand and his as they explore each other. A giant and an angel...

Something hot and wet meets her hand as she strokes him – is he cumming already…? But it can't be, she has heard there’s supposed to be quite a bit of it when a man cums, and there’s only a few ample drops of clear liquid oozing out of the slit on his tip.

"Can't wait for the day I get to make you scream," he rasps, and her heart is hammering in her chest as more cum-like liquid streams from the slit of his cock, adding to the lewd, moist sounds of the handjob she’s giving him.

König doesn’t know she has never even kissed a guy… 

"We'll… we'll get there," she tries to soothe him, thanking her lucky stars this man can't move.

"I want to fuck you," he continues, sounding more and more desperate. "Good and hard… until you cry under me. Want to see if you can take it all in."

"König…"

"It’s a long cock, ja? I can make you squirt."

"König, I'm still a virgin… You can't–"

"Nh–Sorry… sorry."

His head falls back on the pillow, his muscles relax just for the tiniest moment. But if she thought he would finally leave her to it, she was wrong. The hand of a giant killer drops between her legs next. 

She’s sitting on the bed like she would sit on a side saddle, with one leg slightly bent, giving the horniest man on earth good enough access to the heat between her legs. She doesn’t stop him – she doesn’t even want to – as broad fingertips meet her pubic hair and slip between her already slick folds. 

"...Was? Pretty angel is all wet," he comments on her state of mess. Approvingly: like all his fears have suddenly disappeared. 

She has to fight the urge to roll her head back and moan as those agile fingers start to give her full, generous strokes. She almost messes up her rhythm while stroking his cock, which seems to have gotten even harder.

His fingers delve into her with more courage, they tease her tight, tender nub with excited circles. She tries not to jolt and shiver as he makes her even more slick, tries to ignore how her nipples grow hard from that burning stare alone. 

"Such a pretty girl… and so wet. You sure you don't want it?"

She thinks about it – how it would feel if he somehow was able to take her on that bed. If he pushed that cock inside her and if it would hurt or make her moan even more. Even the thought of trying to fit that inside her makes her thighs feel like pudding.

"I don’t know… You're still recovering."

"Heh… That's not a problem. You can be on top. I'll help," he offers as if it’s a gentlemanly thing to do, to help her bounce on that huge cock. 

"I–I'd rather do it the classic way."

"I'll show you classic when I get better," he promises with unconcealed greed. "I'll show you all the other ways too. We’ll do it any way you like."

She tries hard not to whimper when hearing his promise. She tries her best to pleasure the biggest cock she’s ever seen. It’s ridiculous that it’s the only cock she’s ever seen... What sort of a cruel joke was it from the universe to choose this king-sized Austrian to be her first man? 

She wonders how König would react if she told him he’s too big for her.

Would he try to change her mind? Would he have a meltdown? 

Would he cry…? 

She doubts if this man ever cries. The last time a brutal soldier like him shed tears was probably when he was a kid. But he did look like he was about to cry that one time when she booped his nose... 

And despite being a cold-blooded soldier and somewhat awkward at times, König has always been so, so delicate with her. He's tender even now, touching her with the gentlest avarice there is. But that searing stare wants to possess her, devour her, and it makes her bite her lip nearly to the point of drawing blood.

"Sit on my face?" he offers next, this time sounding so desperate it's almost pathetic. 

Sit on his face… 

What would he even do? Lick her? Try to push his tongue inside her while finishing himself?

The thought alone makes her mess up her rhythm again and causes her pussy to pulse more wetness on his fingers. She secretly hopes he would slip at least one of those fingers inside.

"Let me see your cunt," he begs. God – this giant mercenary is begging to see her poor, aching pussy. "Just… let me at least taste you–"

She can’t even reply before the hand between her legs gives a sudden twitch and stops those delicious rubs. Actually, his whole body is going rigid. 

"König…? Am I hurting you?"

"I'm–gonna cum…" 

Oh god.

Oh god ohgod-

She's not sure what gives her more of a fright: the sound that leaves her soldier boyfriend as he cums, or the bright, hot flash of liquid that shoots from the cock in her hand.

He groans like it’s torture. Long and hard, so loud that she’s sure other people can hear it in the neighboring rooms, perhaps even further than that. There’s one, two, three spurts of thick, hot liquid, after that, she loses count because it spills to coat his stomach, it runs down her hand, and she’s pumping him in a frenzy while he just keeps on moaning.

"Slow, slow down–" he tries to groan in the middle of his climax and she obeys immediately, reveling in how his cock still throbs in her hand when she finally stops moving altogether. More cum gushes out with every strong pulse, even if the eruptions are less violent. Ropes of it already cover his abs, it coats her hand with thick film – it's far more than she would ever have expected, and a shiver goes through her as she imagines what it must feel like to take all of that semen inside her… 

"Ah… Das war wirklich…" König sighs dreamily while she must be looking like a startled deer.

Yes, that was really something… She doesn’t know what to do with his cock, or her hand, or the mess that coats half his body.

Luckily, he instructs her to take his old shirt from the floor and clean herself with it. She cleans him with it too, dabs the black t-shirt over his muscled stomach, even tries to swipe his crotch with it as gently as she can. 

König looks happier by the minute, looks at her like she’s an angel or something, and when she fully commits herself to getting him cleaned up, he gets another erection. She’s quite horrified – how is this even possible…? She thought men would need at least hours to get it back up again.

"Come on top," he offers, sounding all but seductive with that commanding tone. 

She swallows, thinking if König wants to be a "gentleman" and finish her too. With his tongue... or something else.

"Just for a hug? We don't have to put it in."

She seems to be under some spell tonight, because she simply drops the poor, cum-stained shirt back on the floor and crawls to the bed and on top of him.

König is hot and lean as she presses herself against him, her thighs now straddling the intimidating thing between his legs. Her head falls right beside his mask-covered face, and the smell of guns and fuel and sweat is prominent there, as is his natural odor, the woodland musk she has grown so fond of.

"There we go," his arms go around her waist, pressing her tighter against him. There’s no escape now, she thinks, but like always with König, she eventually softens and relaxes, molds against him… Accepts her fate.

"You did well, Meine Liebe," he even caresses her head as she slowly melts into his hold. "I’m sorry if I frightened you. Will you forgive me?"

"Um, of course."

"A gentleman should always apologize if he has upset his lady. Do you agree?"

"Uh… Yes."

"I promise to be a good man. The best man you could ever hope for."

She bites her lip as König continues to caress her. She’s far from upset, but she doesn’t want to tell him that and excite him too much. Otherwise he might end up hurting himself. He hugs her tight, and seems to have calmed down more than ever.

Is this what an orgasm does to a man...? The change is drastic, and her lover feels warm, and tender, and inviting. He even whispers more promises on her skin. They're nonsensical but gentle, König is probably trying to be romantic, but she can feel how his breaths grow heavier as time goes on. After all, they're both naked, pressed tightly together, closer than ever before, and he's having an erection again...

She tries not to shiver at the things he tells her. The husky promises of love and protection: "You are mine now, ja? Don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you. I will always keep you safe." And then, "You’re still wet, mein Mädchen… How about we practice just a little bit? We'll do it slow. Ja? I will make you moan…"

He coos those things in her ear while holding her in place for his cock. She starts to move on her own accord; it’s like her hips have their own will. Soon, her entrance meets the tip of him, still hot and bulged, and she starts to grind against it with barely restrained greed. She is wet – wetter than ever. 

König curses multiple times under his breath, and she feels so, so filthy for loving how unhinged he is, how unhinged she is – spread wide on top of him like that, trying to get off of the faintest touch of his cock. She’s so soaked that the hot tip of him glides across her folds with no effort at all. 

She feels like she’s doing something forbidden, taking her pleasure from him like that, but König doesn’t seem to know what the word filthy even means. He keeps praising her, guiding her, helping her, telling her how good she feels, that she’s doing so, so well.

Soon, he’s asking to put it in – just the tip. 

She tries her best not to sound too needy as she breathes a soft, mousy "Yes."

"How does that feel?"

He’s panting, few inches of thick cock inside her, and she thinks, did she just lose her virginity? Is this it? Why isn’t it hurting?

“You like that, hmm?”

He feels so, so good, pressing her against him, spreading her legs with his own, trying to feed more of that marvelous thickness inside. It doesn’t hurt, at least not yet. It makes her dizzy to even think what she must be looking like, with her legs spread and a huge cock partly inside her.

She should say something… What was it that he asked? Oh yes, if she likes it. She more than just likes it, and tries to push herself down to get more of him in. König reacts immediately with a ton of praise leveled at her in the softest possible way.

“That's it, that's it, pretty girl, take it in…”

Him cheering her on like that only makes her decide that it’s time to let go and let go for good. But she can’t get him in by herself, not while he’s holding her a prisoner like this.

"More… König, please," she hears herself whimper. 

God, is this all it took...? Him holding her close and letting her find the joys of sex herself? Apparently so, because he sounds goddamn smug when he turns his head to rasp more needy, throaty things in her ear.

"Ah… Knew you'd beg for it… "

His voice makes her inner walls clamp down on him, and that’s when it hurts, but only slightly. She wants him so much that it’s painful. And König… God, he keeps on showering her with praises and promises.

"I'll show you how good it can be… That's it, let me hear you. It's a good cock, ja? Good cock for a pretty girl…"

It’s not even fully in before he starts the thrusts. That’s when she knows she has lost her virginity. She’s being plunged. Not taken… Just… loved, thoroughly and deeply. 

When she moans, finally sounds as filthy as can be, he tells her how tight she is. How good she feels. He says he’s going to cum again soon. But not before her…

He doesn’t need to instruct her to rub her clit on his pelvis in rhythm with the thrusts. She is smart enough to do that by herself. And the thoughts of This is it, I’m not a virgin anymore have turned into Is it possible to cum on your first time…?

Everything’s perfect, all things considered. But there’s something missing.

"König," she swallows arduously. "I’ve never been kissed... Would you– Could you…?"

He stops moving, releases his hold a little. A strong heart is hammering inside his chest, she can feel it against her own fluttering heartbeat. 

Is it stupid of her to ask…? Will he only laugh at her for being so sentimental?

Apparently no, because it’s the warmest possible command that surrounds her this time.

"Lift the mask, angel."

By the time their lips meet, both hesitant and needy, he's fully inside her and holding her like a mountain. She feels like she's in a fairytale now: the only thing that moves is his mouth, and hers. Theirs is a slow, hungry rhythm. 

Her first kiss is not only awkwardly romantic and sweet, it’s sinfully good. 

The kiss also does things she did not expect. Her pussy goes tight around him, so tight that a whimper or two escape her nose, and König only purrs – she feels like the softest little creature in the embrace of a lean jaguar.

And she thinks… 

Why on earth didn't they do this months ago?

[peskytimeswithscar]

scar decided to cuddle like a giant koala in 3l since grian kept getting up in 3l to go look out and it managed to stick around (scar tries not to but he ends up doing it in his sleep) so now grian has accepted his fate of staying trapped in bed until scar gets up (he definitely could get up if he really wanted to, hes physically stronger than scar, but scar would most definitely wake up and he wishes his husband all the sleep he can get)

another thing is that their bed always ends up with 50000 blankets and pillows since obviously, i headcanon them as a cat and bird hybrid which are both nesting animals, and they also just have their mattress on the floor since its easier to deal with if stuff falls off and also is easier for their cats to jump up if they want. their bed also ends up with so many feathers and cat fur on it since yknow, and scar usually ends up collecting up those feathers in a pile if grian falls asleep before him and hes bored <3

they also tickle eachother alot (because they like hearing eachother laugh) which gets grians feathers EVERYWHERE because they fluff up and he squawks and tries to kick scar away whilst absolutely laughing his head off, whilst if grian tickles scar it usually ends up in him returning the attack until theyre both just crying laughing and usually grian is clinging onto scar's shirt trying to stop giggling !!!!!!! they make me ill let them be domestic everyone

[ppnuggiex]

Howdy! I saw requests were open, but if not then please do ignore this one!

It's kinda crack? But mostly angst to comfort, essentially something goes wrong in reader's alchemy class and they get hit by an extremely strong spell that makes it seem as if they're dead, but really they're just in a super deep sleep. So once the spell wears off, they wake up right in the middle of their own funeral cuz everyone thought they were dead. Gender neutral pronouns for the reader with riddle, kalim, malleus and floyd as the love interests! In headcanon format as well pretty please!

　　　　　　TWST x gn reader

　　　　『　riddle ,, kalim ,, malleus ,, floyd ,, gender neutral reader    』

　　-> reader gets hit w/ heavy deep sleep spell n characters think theyre dead

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,, crack ,, a bit of angst

　　— this ended up being a little more on the humorous side 😭

- kalim

| • hes so distraught ,, hands on his head as he freaks out and shakes you violently . jamil finds out and facepalms . mr crewel told him nothing was wrong ,, to just give you time but kalim couldnt .

| • he swore you had died ,, and because of that he done held a big fancy funeral . he done invited all the dorms and everything .

| • you woke up when he was in the middle of talking about how you were such a nice and loving partner ,, how he wished you didnt have to die this soon .

| • get this man a tissue bc he starts bawling when you whip that coffin open .

- riddle

| • hes a bit more calmer than kalim in this situation ,, taking care of you whilst you sleep . but he always felt like something was off .

| • that was until one day he went to check up on you ,, your skin was oddly cold and he couldnt feel your breathe or see your chest move when you did breathe .

| • he may or may not have panicked at that point ,, checking your pulse and not feeling anything .

| • riddle thought the spell done killed you then ,, after all you didnt have any sort of resistance to magic so it was a possibility .

| • cue him tending your funeral and trying his best not to start crying in front of all those people .

| • you were his partner ,, his life and joy and now youre gone . or so he thought until you threw that coffin door open and smacked the person speaking right in the face .

| • and standing up in the coffin and falling face first out .

- malleus

| • bro acted the same as kalim . he did not stop to think about checking your pulse or anything . his immediate reaction was that you died . and all the sudden it started to rain very hard .

| • he starts acting like a child who lost his mom ,, panicking and shaking your body as much as he could .

| • then he pulls out some shakespeare typa shit ,, going on about how woe is me ,, my beloved hath died ,, taking from his grip as your soul was dragged away from him .

| • he has a small funeral for you ,, ready to speak for you when a miracle happens .

| • you awaken !! malleus is so shocked he gets a little teary eyed ,, running over and making sure youre okay before getting all baby girl .

| • in the end you walk out carrying him bridal style whilst sebek is fretting over his image .

- floyd

| • he thought this was one of those pranks people do to their pets . where you record yourself pretending to be dead to see what your cat does or something .

| • so he kinda ,, kicked you a few times and is all like ,, wake up shrimpy this isnt funny .

| • then jade has to break the news of the possibility you mightve been struck too harshly by the potion and maybe youre just ,, yknow ,, passed on .

| • floyd refuses to believe it ,, you couldnt have left him . you wouldnt do that to him . you wouldnt abandon him like that .

| • as much as he hates to admit it ,, he definitely cried a bit that night . he shows up for the funeral ,, still in disbelief youre dead .

| • but boooyy is he whipped when you ended up being asleep . he doesnt care who’s there ,, he runs over and rips you out that coffin so fast .

| • blames you for worrying and leaving him ,, and makes you promise not to do something like that again .

[its-time-to-write]

PLEASE i am on my knees for jamie x reader where she’s just crying thinking about all the times he needed someone but no one was there.. and now everything is great, he’s grown and he has so much love and support and he has her but all she can do is sob because when you love someone you wish you were could be there to hold them even if they were 8 and their dad was a dick.. yknow??? AND he’s just holding her face, nodding and reassuring her he’s fine and he has so many people, especially her, and he’s lowkey choked up too

So. This is actually a mix of two writings. The first part is from your request, the second is something I wrote shortly after my very first post. I actually wrote it because I was processing some personal things, so… yeah. Here it is. Just be warned, it talks about abuse and stuff, Jamie’s dad shows up and is his regular, douchey self. If that’s upsetting for anyone, just be aware. If this needs more warnings, let me know.

i don’t know how you keep smiling/i’m just choking almost constantly

“He what?” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “You’re telling me he took you there and made you do that?”

You’re sitting on your couch in your flat, legs across Jamie’s lap. He’d come over out of nowhere an hour earlier, just knocked on your door and said, “Can we talk?”

You let him in because of course you can talk. You make tea, sit down on the couch, and words just come spilling out of Jamie. It is all about his dad. How he drank, yelled, and hit, precisely in that order. Watching his mum throw him out and accept him back in, in what felt like an endless cycle. Hiding how bad it really was for her because his dad was making her laugh and she was smiling and anyway, it’s not like the bruises were anywhere anyone could see.

Jamie tells you how his dad came to his game the night before, went to the locker room, and how Jamie punched him. He says he’s scared of his dad finding him, because his dad always makes good on a threat, and he doesn’t usually have anyone to talk to but he figured you might be a good listener, what with being his girlfriend of five months and all. He says it all while staring at the chipped mug on your coffee table, the one he insisted you can’t throw out because it’s his favorite, and who care’s if it’s a little damaged? It adds character.

But all you can think about is little eight-year-old Jamie, hiding under his bed and pulling out his front tooth because his dad broke it, so he can tell his mom he just lost it like all the other kids.

You think of what you were doing that year. You would have just turned six, chasing your brother with a fairy wand and a nerf gun, ponytail flying.

The mental image of Jamie under his bed, cowering in a corner, learning to cover up welts and to lie to his mum brings a fresh wave of tears. Just the thought of him being alone makes it feel as though your heart is breaking, and you wish you would have known him then. Your parents would have loved him. Wouldn’t have let his father come around and hit him.

He just finished telling you about Amsterdam, and you can physically feel your soul shatter into pieces on his behalf. The fact that he can’t even remember it is what really gets you. 

Jamie, meanwhile has stopped staring at the mug and is now looking at you. “It- it’s alright, love,” he says. “I’m here now, and it’s alright.”

Through blurry eyes, you can see that it is not alright. Jamie’s eyes are watering now too, and he pulls you onto his lap. He wraps his arms around you and you let him bury his head in the crook of your neck.

You sniff and pull yourself together. “No, Jaim, it’s not alright. You can say, ‘I’m alright,’ or ‘I will be alright,’ but what that shithead did to you is not and never will be ok. And I’m glad you’re telling me about it, and I’m only crying because I keep thinking about how you must’ve felt. It’s not because I can’t handle it, because I can. And I want you to know that I’m here for you, and you’re going to be ok.”

Jamie has started shaking in your arms, and you feel a tears start to drop onto your neck.

You run your fingers through his hair and whisper, “You’re ok. I’m here, I’ve got you, and you’re ok. I’m not leaving. You’re ok.”

—

That was the first real time Jamie ever told you about his dad. You’d talk about it periodically, whenever it got really bad, and he also started talking to a therapist. Doctor Sharon, you think her name was? Anyway, he’s getting better in his mind, which is good, because sometimes you don’t know what to do beyond listen. And you do. Soon, Jamie’s stories about his dad begin with, “Dr. Sharon says…” and he’s not as angry anymore. Not as jaded, not as broken. There are still deep cuts, but his spirit is coming back. He’s not broken in such a way that he can’t be put back together, piece by piece.

—

It’s not until you’re out to dinner at your favorite restaurant that something actually happens.

“Jamie,” you say, face serious, empty plates between you.

“Yes, love,” he replies, matching your expression.

“I think that we should get ice cream.”

His face breaks into a smile as he slides his hand off the top of yours to run it through his hair. “Babe. We just ate enough food to put a horse into a coma, and you want ice cream? What about digestion?”

“Jamie. Listen-” you both argue as he pays the bill, takes your hand again, and swings it while you head in the direction of the ice cream shop.

“-And if you think about it, it’s actually a wise food choice,” you continue.

“Babe,” he laughs, “I just think that you might be making up the health benefits of strawberry ice…”

Jamie's counter-argument has trailed off as he stares at something ahead of you, rather someone who is stumbling down the sidewalk in your direction.

You have never seen this man before, but you know exactly who he is.

He's still a good seven feet away when he yells, “Well, well, look who it is. Me son, who can’t even take the time to return his own father’s phone calls! Just joking, just joking, hey? And who’s this fine little lady?” he asks, punctuating his words with a few fake punches in Jamie’s direction as he draws closer.

Jamie is still holding your hand, but has maneuvered himself in between you and his father. He has yet to say anything, so you take your cue from him and keep silent.

James Tartt, Sr. is in front of you now, and it is more obvious now than ever that he is intoxicated. He's swaying a little bit as he stands, and there is the stench of alcohol with each breath he blows. Jamie is holding your hand so tight that it hurts, but you don’t let go. You grip it back.

“Dad,” Jamie says as a way of greeting, face taut.

You're under a streetlight, but not many people are around this time of night.

“Jamie,” his father replies, mocking his serious tone, “is this how I find out you’ve got a girl? Runnin’ into you on the street? Couldn't have sent me a quick message about it, hey? Oh I joke, I joke,” he says. His words are grating, and he keeps punching at Jamie. You do not like it at all. 

“What d’you want, dad?” Jamie asks, gripping your hand harder, if that’s even possible.

His dad wipes his face. “Ey, listen, since you’re ‘ere, what do you say you get me tickets to the Man City game this weekend? Can spend some quality time with this one.” He winks at you in a way you’re sure he thinks is endearing, which is a problem because three things happen in rapid succession: his dad makes a rude comment about quality time, Jamie pushes you behind him saying, “Don’t you ever fucking speak to her,” and James Tartt shouts, “You self-righteous, fuckin’ pussy!” and moves to hit Jamie. 

You’re not sure which one of you he’s talking to, but it doesn’t matter because Jamie’s dad is on the ground and people are starting to stare. You pull Jamie’s still clenched fist down and say, “Babe, let’s get out of here,” while James Tartt is drunkenly trying to stand.

“Babe,” you say a little more forcefully. “let’s go.”

Jamie snaps out of it, lets out a short, “Right, yeah,” and then you’re walking as fast as you can in the opposite direction. 

Not fast enough, apparently, because you still hear his father yell, “That's two you’ve got on me, boy! You better watch your back!”

You have no circulation in your hand and for the first time that night, you feel real fear. Not for yourself, but for Jamie. You may have never met his father, but you’ve heard enough. You know that he always makes good on a threat. 

Jamie looks back twice to make sure you aren’t being followed, and you just walk. You walk a mile past your flat and then circle back. Jamie hasn’t said a single word, just held your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world. It's not until you’re on your doorstep that you decide to break the silence.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You’re facing each other, you one step above him so you’re almost eye-level.

Jamie shakes his head and looks away. “Not- not tonight. I don’t think I can- I’m not sure-”

“Hey,” You slowly lift your free hand and brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. Not slowly enough, apparently, because he still flinches almost imperceptibly, “It’s alright, Jaim. We don’t have to talk about it tonight.”

Jamie blows out a sigh, and you slide your hand from his hair to his cheek. He just looks so tired, all the anger and defensiveness gone out of him.

“Your place or mine?” you ask because there’s no way in hell you’re letting him be alone tonight.

Jamie shakes his head slightly. “I can’t. I have training tomorrow.”

“Jamie-”

“No, look, I just need something to be normal. And I don’t want you coming over in case me dad fuckin’ decides to come ‘round. I'll come over tomorrow after practice and we can talk then.”

He says it with such resigned finality that you don’t fight him on it. You whisper a soft “alright,” and then wrap your arms around him as tight as they can go. Jamie hugs you so hard you almost can’t breathe, but you don’t ever want to let him go; you memorize the feel of his arms around you, his head in the crook of your neck, and the erratic beat of his heart.

He lets you go after a long moment, waits to make sure that you get inside safely, and then you watch him begin the two-block trudge to his house.

You stay awake until your phone dings with a made it from Jamie, and then, despite all the thoughts swirling in your head, you fall asleep.

——

You startle awake by someone yelling outside, followed by a loud knocking. You squint at the clock which reads an awful one a.m. for a split second you wonder if it’s Jamie at your door, then you catch a word this person is yelling.

Whore.

You’re wide awake now. You grab your phone to text Jamie as his father continues to pound on your door yelling, You stupid fucking bitch, no one messes with James Tartt, I’ll make you fucking pay for that shit he pulled!

The text goes through and you wait a second before calling 999. They answer your call and promise that someone will be over right away. You know for a fact Jamie is still asleep, but you call him just in case and his sleep-deprived voice answers on the third ring. You can only get out a few words - outside, your dad, police - before he is wide awake and on his way over.

——

It's all kind of a blur, really, and you feel truly horrendous, but all you can think about is Jamie. You’re not really sure how he does it, but he is at your flat right before the police. All your neighbor’s lights are on now, and Jamie is in your doorway holding you tight. 

You think about how awful this must be for him.

It's his dad. It’s like being a kid all over again.

You’re supposed to be the one person who he can feel safe around, but now you’re asking him to step into a volatile situation.

He got woken up in the middle of the night when he needs his sleep, which resulted in him seeing his dad get arrested.

All you can say is, “I'm sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again, as you try not to cry into Jamie’s pajama shirt.

He pulls back a little and wipes a stray tear from your cheek.

“Your place or mine?” he asks, because there’s no way in hell he’s letting you be alone tonight.

You shake your head. “Neither,” you say. “You have training in two hours.”

“Yours,” he says as he gently backs you into the flat and shuts the door. 

“What about Roy?” you ask. Roy gets pissed if Jamie skips training.

Jamie pulls out his phone and narrates as he types: “Granddad. Won't be at training this mornin. If you’re mad about it you can go fuck yourself,” and then presses send.

You have the bizarre urge to laugh. “Jamie, you did not type that.” You try to grab his phone from him but he holds it out of your reach and shuts it off.

“Oi. We’re going to sleep and we ain’t thinkin about anything until 10 tomorrow, yeah?”

“Ok,” you say. 

He takes your hand and leads you to the bedroom, where you finally fall asleep in a tangle of limbs.

You might not be ok right now, but you will be. You’ll both be alright.

[chaifootsteps]

I think Look My Way didn’t hit it off as much as an episode would, because nobody can even agree what it’s about. And it is very confusing. When you ask a fan what it’s about, they barely give a coherent answer. Paranoid DJ explicitly called stolas arrogant for being upset that he can’t purchase love and needing to stop his obsession and rethink what he’s done for his daughters sake. Which was very interesting. This one is just, Wet Hellfire. Addict is fun, this isn’t fun at all, for anybody.

When anyone who hasn’t seen the show asks what it’s about, the conversation becomes extremely uncomfortable extremely fast.

“Well…there was this deal with his magic book that. He’d let this guy travel and once a month he’d have to sleep with him, no it’s all consensual at least he thought it was? He actually lead him on!

What one granted “mercy” is talking about? Okay mayyybe he kinda coerced him into sex but it was by accident? It was a misunderstanding, he’s a good guy, he is just a silly billy and doesn’t know what consent even is! he has an abusive wife. How old is he? He’s like 37 I think. The guy he’s sleeping with is a thief by the way, did I mention that?

But uh, he feels really bad and is stopping this deal! He learned and he’s changed! Uh why is he crying like he doesn’t want to do this then? Um..cause they can’t have sex anymore. Why not? Well he wouldn’t want to without the book. What an asshole right? No, not wanting sex doesn’t make him an ass, but he should at least give him a chance instead of making him celibate involuntarily. Yknow what let’s just watch smiling friends instead.

Like you realllyyy have to tie yourself in logical knots to feel bad for stolas in this scenario. The awful marriage yes, but this? It’s like the arranged marriage on crack. Forcing stolas into sex for his family business is the most heinous act in the world, but him making another guy do it? Uh. That’s fine.

Anon, just know that I wish I could cut this entire ask into lines and snort it. "Wet Hellfire" in particular has me rolling.

[strawberrymilkwithastraw]

: i think we are a collection of all the things that have ever happened to us. like i am still the girl on the playground with a scraped knee and dirty tights..like I am 12 and 8 and 15 and 17. i am my first kiss, my middle school haircut, my first day of kindergarten, and everything in between yknow

idk maybe i’m the playground and the knee and the tights and the haircut

it’s terrifying to realize you will always be you, especially if you have spent most of your life hating yourself, running away from yourself and who u are, no matter how much u run away u end up on the same pavement with the same scraped knee

Everytime i cry i am 9 again or i continue to be 9 and i still wish i was older, but then i remember, i am older, and then i don’t know what i want.

I think even when i’m withered and old, and all my hairs are grey i’ll still feel 9 years old, that as soon as i feel the lump in my throat start to form, i will be 11 and 17 all at once,

i am drinking too much and too often

i am gripping the bathroom sink and telling myself this is fine this is fine this is fine

i am apologizing for being weird

this is fine

i am acting normal

i am pulling the skin off my fingernails and feet this is fine

my pencil has bite marks on it and my laptop has claw marks

i am laughing about things i used to cry about

I can’t cry anymore

i am worried no one would care if i disappeared

i can’t remember the last time i turned down a drink and i wonder if i could stop if i wanted to

i worry how much i like the feeling of everyone forgetting what u say

i am always the person to text first and last

i think i am lonely

this is fine

it is exhausting and embarrassing being the one who is always holding on last

it’s fine

i am brushing my teeth and washing my face and keeping myself alive

i am not a good person

i need someone to tell me i am kind

i want to hold someone’s hand so bad that i might take up palm reading

i am not committed enough for it

i am trying to show people love

[fictionfixations]

all the sad tales

penacony + aventurine spoilers

the wiki probably contains this but for my own sake i need to keep this somewhere.

(it'll be in bold. what im not sure on will not be in bold)

(The murmurs near your ears grow louder, more booming. You can even see another ████ ████████. Let's hope you can hold on until the moment you step onto the stage of the amusement park.)

(whited out parts are parts i cant decipher yay)

im going to try my hardest not to miss anything because i really like aventurine and i want to take my time with this. but i also sometimes have a really short attention span or get too immersed in something that i forget everything else so like...

(You ████████ ██ ██ █ ██████ discovered a strange child -- He seems to hail from the Avgin origins(?)... Weren't they already wiped out?)

(need to stop sprinting. i keep noticing breakable objects or chest so then i sprint towards them and im going to end up missing something instead of just heading straight into activating more of the story)

bby kakavasha runs so fast oh my god (its kind of sad to imagine that he can run so fast probably to run away from well yknow...)

(You are completely entranced by the Avgin boy. Just who is(?) he? There's still time. Maybe you can catch up to him and ask him exactly what █████████.) (happened?) (the extra whited out part on just who --- is probably a space. otherwise it could be was but hm.)

(im going to cry if i miss checking it because an enemy is chasing after me and i run headfirst into story. yes i am a coward who doesnt like starting battles if i can help it. makes me wish i had acheron but id honestly never use her in battle unless i had someone to regenerate skill points considering i have 5 star dan heng, so other attack ppl on team dont get much attention, and i dont really know how to use her beside tehcnique insta kill?? does that mean i can whip out a lvl 1 acheron and it works??)

dont plan on talking about the dialogue too much (i saw multiple people go through the story before i started ngl) but (also aventurine boss creeping up on me... i literally only have one person on team who attacks multiple at a time, and no one else outside of the team is as built)

LISTEN. have you SEEn hyenas playfighting its fucking adorable. call someone a hyena, i call it a compliment.

i missed the first piece of text... i forgot...

(*Ride the Pinball Machine)

still the same

i dont know why but the puzzles in penacony make me lag so bad. the puzzles, the pinball machine, or that dreamweaver thing. bruh.

(*Win the Hide and Seek game and find the Avgin boy)

anyway from what im understanding you can tell how many letters are missing because its as many characters as a character is missing. whenever ive blacked out text i never do that cause its so much bigger than the original text (i do one block for every two letters ngl. but i also dont do it with the intention of people deciphering what it says)

(*Play the roll of █████ film) (wound?)

i dont know film terms enough to even decipher what it could be. it could be color. black. white.

wound? wound as in rolling? like uh uh. past tense of wind. like winding up a roll. a wound roll. cause the description of wounds.. it could be related to his family. or..

I MISSED IT AGAIN 'there is only water, not rock' or something like that

(*Leave the maze)

(*Check the things you(?) lost)

i cant decipher this one 😭. you??? (Leave the maze you(?) █o) but i dont know what would make sense of it then. idk.

oh fuck i forgot to check the objective. its. probably the same as the other one for when finding a 'lost' object but like...

AGHHH wiki came in clutch

(*Check the lost things and memories)

(*Escape escape(?) the maze escape(?) the past/last(?) escort(?)) (this is a lot of 'idk')

(Failure discarded selfish useless pointless coward murderer gambler blessed discarded loser chosen-one Mother Goddess's beloved crazy murderer blessed failure discarded loser pointless coward murderer chosen-one selfish fool(?) blessed discarded loser chosen-one you(?) loser discarded pointless coward(?) murderer gambler blessed █isc█████ useless loser chosen-one Mother Goddess's blessed/beloved(?) loser loser loser loser loser loser loser loser loser loser loser loser loser ████ ████ ███████████ ███ ██████ █████ █ ██ ████ █)

there might be way more losers then there should be because my eyes were getting confused. and also more of the blacked out character

this line right here makes me wonder why he's still in the IPC after like the end of 2.2 (..im pretty sure 2.3 is the next update)

my brain power is failing on me idk what this one is

im going to turn my settings to max for the picture because its so fucking pixel-y. im going to try to save it before my pc crashes.

my one complaint: the taking a picture function that continues the story disappears when you get close to kakavasha. so i cant take a photo with him and continue the story.,

whatever.where the fuck is the screenshot folder im crying

oh my god the LAUNCHER? HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNow after i go through the star rail folder > games folder > starrail_data folder > screenshots

thats way too many folders for me to even notice 😭

second image cuz yes

I RAN PAST THE TEXT AGAIN

'there'll be one beside you' or something im sorry my memory is shit short term i already forgot

I MISSED MORE OF THE FLOATING TEXT 😭😭

'over plains, endless'

'into cracked earth, stumbling'

im stressed so im getting distracted

ARE YOU READY KIDS? I CANT HEAR YOUUU. WHO LIVES IN A PINEAPPLE UNDER THE SEA

"So run, Kakavasha, do not be afraid, and do not look back."

now go back and reread the previous quest thing.

okay thats it i think

[possibilistfanfiction]

Hey there! Just wanted to let you know that I love your writing. I love the universe you've created for ava and beatrice. I could have said Avatrice but the thing is you write them so beautifully as individuals, all their triumphs and losses, that it doesn't feel right not to acknowledge them as they are on their own as much as they are as a couple. Anyway! I pretty much have bookmarked all your work and I keep suggesting your fics on Twitter, I'm pretty much your unofficial publicist at this point, proudly so 😆

I just finished the multitude of loving and once again you made me laugh and smile and cry and you made my heart warm and for a while, my depression didn't feel as debilitating. So thank you. I don't know what you're gonna write next whenever inspiration strikes, but if you ever do another outside pov, would you mind writing one from Diego's? I guess I'm biased because aside from your fics, I've been obsessed with do a flip by sunsafe and it warms my heart to see Diego in fics because well, I think it's safe to say that he was the one who loved ava first, he was there by her bedside and all and so it would be lovely, to know how he feels and thinks about ava and beatrice, after all the years of living his own life, after all the years wishing to see his sister, his best friend, his... Ava, because there's no traditional title that really fits them, after all the years wishing that ava is okay and... Alive, more than just surviving because even when he was a child he knew, ava was meant for such a bright and grand life, just because she was all that herself.

Anyway, just an idea, of course. My rambling is not in any way meant to pressure you into writing it 😆😅 I hope you're having a good day wherever you are. Cheers!

[first of all i love do a flip!!!! 100/10 recommend if anyone hasn't read it!!

anyway, here's a little diego pov in the butch bea universe. he's like 18 or 19? idk. yknow just roll w it :) ]

//

university is busy as hell, and it's cool that they pay for your doctor's appointments and, when you actually started getting the care you needed, you were able to do basically everything in the normal, big wide world with regular meds and check-ins — but mostly you just want to play rugby and flirt with girls (not well, but you're 18 and always kind, so who cares your success rate) and pass all of your classes. when you got adopted it had seemed like a miracle, and so you don't take any of this time for granted — not the bright sun or the grass stains on your knees or how rachel plays with your hair when you hang out in her dorm.

you don't think much of it when you get a random email from beatrice gu-knight, partially because emails are a pain in the ass and partially because nico brought over a six pack of stellas and his nintendo switch — you're the mario kart champion, undisputed — but, in the morning, when you open your phone, you think your heart might stop in your chest.

Hello Diego,

I hope you're well. I know it might seem strange to get an email like this from someone you don't know and have never even heard of, and, if you don't wish to follow up or connect, please just let me know, and that will be the end of it.

But, in the hopeful chance that you do: my name is Beatrice (she/her), and I'm reaching out to you because Ava Silva is my life partner. We've been together for a few years now and she talks of you often, and fondly; I know from her stories you were an extraordinarily joyful and sustaining part of her life at St. Michael's, and, if nothing else, I hope you understand my deep gratitude for that. I work in tech, so I was able to find this email address for you in the hopes that you might want to reconnect with Ava. We live in Los Angeles, and she's, as I'm sure you remember, wonderful. Maybe even more wonderful now, as I hope you are too.

Again, if you are at all uncomfortable, please feel no pressure to engage in any way; I won't let Ava know, so don't worry about that. If you would like to reconnect, though, you can respond to this email, or call or text me at my cell listed below. Thank you.

Warmest regards,

Beatrice

it takes you a few seconds to get it together, because, what the fuck, first of all. second of all, ava — one of your favorite people ever, and someone you miss every day. who apparently has a very proper and seemingly kind partner named beatrice, and lives in california. ava is alive, and probably really happy. the last time you saw her she was scared and upset and you had thought she died before that. you had thought you would never see her again.

Hey, this is Diego, you text the number on Beatrice's email. you think about the time difference, and, sorry if it's the middle of the night for you

it takes a minute or two, but then your phone vibrates. Diego, wonderful to hear from you! I'm glad my email wasn't too intense.

and, like, maybe it was a little, but your calc III professor is a fucking nutcase, so you kind of have a high bar.

Ava works late sometimes, so don't worry about the time difference right now

it's sweet, you think, that beatrice doesn't work late, or, whatever, maybe she does, but she's up because ava is awake. because ava will be coming home, or finishing up in an office. you wonder about their life, what their home looks like and if ava's laugh is still just as awesome. and, like, what is ava's job? is she still paralyzed, or can she walk like she had the last time you saw her? you're glad for her, honestly, that her partner is a girl, because ava thought boys were hot but also seemed to like girls more — so, like, how did they fall in love? it's funny to imagine ava as a grownup, with a partner and a home and a whole life, but it's also the best.

do you want to facetime tomorrow or something, you text, because you don't really know what else to say, but you want to find out: about your sister, and the life she's apparently built. you think — if ava is anything like how she had been when you were younger — you definitely want to be in it.

I would love that, beatrice responds immediately. you work out the details and, eventually, you go to class and try to have a normal day. but ava is out there, happy, in california, with a partner who clearly cares about her. it feels like a gift, even to know. it feels like a gift, to get to be in her warmth again.

/

beatrice, when you answer the facetime call at exactly the second the clock hits 7 pm your time, is beautiful. it doesn't surprise you, not really, because you remember ava being pretty, and, even more than that, fucking awesome. beatrice is younger than what you think someone with that formal a name would be, with short dark hair that flops into her eyes, which are kind of gold in the light through the window of whatever room she's in. 'hello, diego,' she says, and, yeah, ava probably loves that accent.

it makes you laugh, but, like, in a nice way, to know that ava has a whole partner. a whole entire person who shares a life with her, who helps her with stuff and — beatrice is a saint for this — laughs at her puns.

'hey,' you say, feel awkward and a little sloppy in the face of the chic big oil painting behind her, the hoodie you know is expensive because your friend artur had had it marked on his stockx for, like, months now. 'uh, i'm diego. nice to meet you.'

beatrice smiles, and you see her freckles, and you realize, in a flash, a truth you know implicitly — that ava loves this person. ava picked this person to spend her life with. the world is cruel, you know better than most, but the world is also so, so kind.

'i'm so happy you responded to my email,' she says, less formal and with a slight laugh, mostly with joy. 'ava is the best, and i know that — she misses you. she loves you, a lot. i've always wanted to meet you.' you kind of don't know what to say, and you're relieved when she shakes her head. 'sorry, i'm being a lot again. believe it or not, this is my first rodeo with something like this.'

first rodeo sounds foreign from her, and it inexplicably makes you laugh. 'you're doing fine.' you realize that beatrice is just as nervous as you are, maybe even more: she loves ava. she has a whole life with ava. 'i — does ava want to talk to me?'

'i haven't told her yet. i wanted to see how you felt first, without any pressure, and i didn't want her to feel disappointed. but i know she will be... overjoyed, to have you in her life again, if you want.'

'yeah.' you think of ava's jokes and how full of life she was, even when she didn't have access to much of it herself. you think about the clumsy drawings you had made her, and how happy she was every time she got to go outside in her wheelchair. 'i do, want that. a lot.'

beatrice's smile is relieved and grateful. 'i can talk to her, then, and then maybe you two can set up a video chat? i know she'll be beside herself with excitement.'

'yeah,' you say, and you can't help but smile looking forward to it. it doesn't sound like ava's changed much, in the good ways, which is super cool. 'i'm excited too.'

/

your palms are clammy and you feel like you might throw up, but beatrice had sent you a link to a zoom and asked if the evening worked for you; you're so thrilled but also, like, what if ava doesn't like you anymore? what if she's way way cooler than you, or too grown up, or just bored by your life? it had been one thing, to lose her when you were young and confused, to have to grieve her absence so obliquely — but it would be an entirely different thing now, to know she's alive and has a life of her own and just doesn't want you in it. you don't really know how you would handle that. ava was your friend and ava was your sister, in the ways that really matter.

but, you realize very quickly, all of your anxiety was for nothing, because ava's face pops on screen — older, and her hair is shorter, and there are slight laugh lines settling into the skin around her eyes, but she mostly looks the same — and her smile is so warm and then she starts to cry and laugh and, yeah. if you do too, it's fine. no one else is in your dorm room anyway.

'hey,' she says, the first to get any words out. she's sitting up, and she waves, and you feel like you're seeing a real life miracle, right there on your computer screen. 'you look so old. i really missed you.'

'you look so old too.' she grins. 'i really missed you.'

it's a little stilted at first, probably because you're both overwhelmed, but then it's just... the fucking best. ava is a bartender, 'mostly for fun,' she says, which, whatever that means, and she still loves the beach. they apparently have a house right by the water. she starts crying again when you tell her you got adopted, that you're not so sick anymore because you have good doctors and caring parents, that you're in school to become an accountant.

'the family business?' she says, choked up, after you tell her that your adoptive mom is one too, and that she wanted you to be able to take over one day if you were interested.

it's as unbelievable to you some days as it seems to her, on bright mornings or when you get to go skiing in the cold snow, when your friends pass around a joint or when you get to go to a museum, whenever you want. 'yeah,' you say —  a family; you learn ava has one too. 'it's pretty incredible.'

/

'holy shit, ava.'

she just laughs, letting you go in front of her into her house. well, her and beatrice's house, you guess. you'd facetimed and texted a bunch with ava in the past two months, so you had figured out they were kinda loaded, and they'd both picked you up from the airport in a very sleek, fancy volvo, but, like —

'this is nuts.'

you think you might immediately cry again when you notice, right away, how there's not a single part of the house you can see that isn't accessible for someone in a wheelchair. ava had told you that she can walk but some days has a lot of pain and a hard time with mobility, and that beatrice was awesome and she had a good chair and even a van and a service dog, but you never could've imagined this. their house is huge and beautiful, like something you'd see in an AD tour you like to watch when you're stoned. ava has a cane today, and beatrice trundles in with your bag — she had insisted, quietly, but with a look that told you it would be totally pointless to argue.

'your house is awesome,' you say, to both of them.

beatrice smiles gently. 'we redid it last year, for accessibility. i think it turned out great.'

'wanna see the best part?' ava says, using her cane to bounce a little on the balls of her feet and you have to clear your throat because you had known her for so long. you had loved her for so long, your best friend in the entire world, who was smart and funny and bursting at the seams to feel it all, to really get to live.

'dude,' you say, 'of course.'

'i'm going to put your bag in your room,' beatrice says. 'and then i have a work call. but i should be done after the hour, for whatever you'd like to do, if you want me to join.'

'of course we want you to join,' ava says, and beatrice blushes and then gathers herself and kisses the top of ava's head before she offers you a thumbs up — nerdy, and it makes ava snort — and then lifts your bag like it weighs two pounds or something. 'love of my life,' ava says. 'definitely doesn't have a work call, but she's been stressed all week about making sure she gives us time to ourselves but doesn't seem aloof. huge weirdo.'

'she's hot.'

'ew, diego.'

you shrug. 'all i'm saying is that, like, i get it. not for me, because she's, like, super gay, but you know. for you.' you take a breath. 'sorry, i'm just excited.'

ava laughs. 'bea is super gay, it's true.' she points to a button on the wall nearby and then floor to ceiling glass doors that separate the living space from the patio. 'now, check this out.'

it's pretty fucking wild that ava went from the horrible orphanage, and tons of abuse that you were too small and too weak and too scared to stop, to a whole house that opens up to a day bed and an outdoor kitchen and dining area and a hot tub, a small patch of grass, and then the sea behind — but in the best kind of way. the kind of way that makes you want to tell everyone you meet that things can get better. that good things will happen to good people, at least sometimes. at least ava, who is the best of all of them.

ava motions for you to come with and walks outside, and then it's, like, genuinely the best thing ever when a black and white dog — korra, who ava sends you pictures of all the time and has featured in multiple zoom calls — who was napping in the sun, perks her head up and you swear she, like, dog-smiles at ava. 'hi, good girl,' ava says, and then claps her hands once and korra obediently, and happily, comes to ava's right side and sits, leans her little head against ava's thigh.

'i can't spend this entire time crying,' you say, and ava laughs. 'can i say hi?'

'of course,' she says. 'she's not usually formally working at home, unless i'm having a really bad day. which, you know, i'm not, but they do happen sometimes.' she shrugs and you kneel down in the sun and pet korra's soft ears as she nuzzles your face.

'she's so cool,' you say, and then kiss the top of her head and her nose. 'hey korra! i'm your uncle, i guess?'

'yeah! uncle diego.'

it makes you beam, to sit on the patio with ava as she shows you some of the tasks korra has been trained to do, and tells you about her bar you'll go to later, and points toward their outdoor shower with a sly smile. you do her the courtesy of fake gagging, although you really are just mostly happy for her, with her partner and her dog and a house that was built just for her.

eventually, beatrice comes outside, carrying a very intense charcuterie board. she places it down on the day bed, between you and ava, korra happily snoozing at your feet.

‘hi baby,’ ava says and scoots closer to you, then tugs on beatrice’s hand until she sits. ava kisses her temple. ‘this is very extravagant.’

‘well, we have a guest,’ beatrice says. ‘there’s wine inside, if you’d like a glass.’

‘i know nothing about wine,’ you admit, ‘but if there’s one you think… pairs? well with, you know —‘ you gesture to the elegantly laid out spread of food in front of you — ‘then i’ll trust you and go with that.’

ava grins. ‘yes, beatrice. be our resident sommelier, please.’

beatrice rolls her eyes, again with a blush, but then stands, ignoring ava’s pout. ‘i’ll be right back.’

‘she’s, like, really nice.’

ava lays back with a grin. ‘well she’s on her i was raised by diplomats and nannies most proper behavior right now. i don’t get charcuterie boards like this… ever.’ she takes a bite of cheese. ‘but bea is wonderful. she’s brilliant and funny and so, so kind. she’ll loosen up. i’m really excited you get to spend time with her.’

‘i’m thankful she reached out. i — i’m so happy to be here, and to see you.’

‘me too, my dude.’

beatrice comes back out with fancy real crystal glasses and a bottle of wine she explains is a vintage napa chardonnay, which mostly just makes you think it’s expensive. it probably is, with the way she efficiently uncorks it — ava practically drools, annoying, and you elbow her in the ribs — but it’s, like, really good. at least compared to the cheap wine you sometimes have with your friends when you order greek food.

‘diego,’ beatrice says, measured and anxious and, if ava’s stupid expression is anything to go by, endearing, ‘as you know, i like to surf. although it’s quite early, i was wondering if you might like to join me tomorrow? one of my best friends is an excellent instructor and the wave report looks ideally calm. ava thought you might be interested, if you’d like to learn?’

‘yeah,’ you say. ‘of course. that sounds sick.’

beatrice grins, relaxing a little. ava squeezes her hand. ‘i find it quite fun. it can be hard at first, but it’s nice to be in the water.’

‘diego gets his astounding athletic ability from my side of the family,’ ava says, patting you on the knee.

‘your side of the family?’ beatrice arches a brow.

‘yeah, the orphan side,’ you say, an old joke coming back to you, and ava gives you a high five.

‘i —‘

‘don’t think about it too hard, beatrice. diego also gets his bisexuality from my side of the family too.’

‘now that i’m willing to believe.’

ava winks at you, and then settles back into beatrice’s side.

/

admittedly, you're exhausted, so the mezcal margarita — smoky and just the right amount of sour — is hitting harder than you thought.

'okay,' ava says, 'boys are easy to flirt with.'

beatrice rolls her eyes.

'they are, bea,' she insists, then looks to you. 'sorry, diego, but boys are just... simple. they see someone hot, especially me, and there's, like, no thoughts.'

you think of the way luis had kissed you one night at a party — with his strong hands and his strong jaw and the rough, delicious scratch of his beard — after you'd just offered him a drink politely, so. honestly, that tracks.

'girls, though, diego.'

you laugh.

'you know, people who aren't men.'

'yeah, of course.'

'difficult. i just — whew.'

'aren't you, like, basically married?'

'well, yes, we're domestic partners. but beatrice is horrible at flirting. she's just lucky she's brilliant, and beautiful, and handsome, and funny.'

beatrice rolls her eyes again, although a blush spreads across her cheeks. 'i think i have more women try to flirt with me than you.'

ava huffs. 'that's because you're just — ugh.' she turns toward you. 'bea has grown into being a lesbian magnet. i once was superior. plus, boys flirt with me too.' she claps you on the back. 'either way, between the two of us, we'll teach you everything you need to know.'

'they won't,' one of their friends says, sliding in next to beatrice, who smiles and kisses him on the cheek. he's maybe the hottest person you've ever seen, with tattoos down both arms and a neat fade, probably a few years older than beatrice. 'i'm keiko,' he says, and offers his hand. his handshake is so strong and you feel yourself blush. 'i own the dojo beatrice goes to.'

'my favorite sparring partner,' beatrice says. 'partially because i have never lost.'

keiko waves her off.

'uh, i'm diego.'

ava laughs, delightedly, at how flustered you clearly are.

'well, if you want advice on boys, i am quite successful.'

'i'm sure you are.'

ava gives you a high five, mortifyingly. 'that's my man.'

'i'm cutting both of you off,' beatrice says.

'one shot, bea, please. come on. all we have to do is walk home.'

beatrice sighs dramatically and runs a hand through her hair, and keiko nudges her in the shoulder. 'for once in your life, beatrice, have a little fun.'

it takes a moment, but she laughs. 'fine. one shot, and then home.'

/

you surf the next morning, early as fuck, but you’re kind of jetlagged anyway and it’s really beautiful to watch the sunrise while you rest on a board. you haven’t popped up and you got tired pretty fast, but beatrice’s friend, ray — and beatrice herself, obviously — are patient and relaxed and don’t seem to care at all.  ava wanders out eventually, setting out a towel and drinking a to-go cup of coffee. she waves happily and blows a kiss in beatrice’s direction, who blushes. it had made you laugh, quietly, when she had put a special bucket hat designed for surfing on after she situated her wetsuit.

‘i don’t want to get sunburned,’ she explained, and then handed you a bottle of spf 100 sunscreen and a zinc stick.

eventually you ride a wave in on your knees, laughing, and then go sit by ava while you watch ray and beatrice and the rest of their little crew surf the next set, bigger on the outer break. you can tell beatrice shows off, for ava and, maybe a bit, for you. it's still early, and ava's happy to sit back in the easy quiet.

'hey,' you say after a while, during a break in sets, 'so, beatrice introduced me this morning as "ava's little brother".'

she turns to you, studies your features carefully, just like she always would when you were in the orphanage, trying to pay close attention. 'did that feel okay?'

'other than the fact that i'm taller than you —'

'— hey —'

'— of course,' you say. 'i love being your brother.'

ava scoots closer to you and bumps your shoulder with hers; you have your wetsuit down around your waist and she has one of beatrice's hoodies on, but you've mostly dried off by this point so you put your arm around her shoulders and tug her to you.

'do you, uh. sister? sibling?'

ava smiles. 'either is great.'

'okay.'

'thanks, diego.'

'nothing to thank me for there. i should be thanking you, honestly. all expenses paid trip to a bougie beach house in california to see someone i've missed so much? the dream.'

she sniffles. you don't know all the details but you know ava has been through some real shit after she — came back to life, you guess? 'i missed you too, so so much.' she clears her throat and wipes under her eyes. 'in the spirit of being your cool older sibling, what mild to moderately wild things do you want to do here. i don't want your parents to be mad at me so consider wisely.'

'tattoo.'

'do you have anything planned that you would want?'

'well, no.'

ava laughs.

'what? beatrice has cool tattoos.'

'she is a staunch believer that you should plan your tattoos in advance. but think of something and then next time we'll get you all set up with her artist, if you want.'

there's a level of maturity and care that's a little unexpected but, like, really cool? really nice. it's kind of weird and makes you a bit emotional, because ava is grown up. she's still an idiot, and constantly annoying, and very funny — but she's gotten to get older, and so have you.

'we could dye our hair,' she says, shrugging. 'easy to rectify, if it's a disaster.'

'i'm so in, man.' your hair is darker than hers, and you have no idea if she knows what she's doing, but you trust beatrice — with her neat hair and neat house and neat clothes and seemingly undying love for ava — to monitor the situation.

'maybe we can do the bi flag.'

it makes you laugh, imagining how silly it would look. 'what about just purple? like, a light purple situation.'

'i've done that before,' she tells you excitedly. 'loved it. definitely time to return.'

'deal. also, i want to try california weed.'

ava grins. 'we would have let you last night, you know, but you were actively falling asleep at the bar after one cocktail.'

'it's the time difference, i swear.'

'sure it is.'

'well, bea loves her edibles. she's very particular about them. i'm... much less particular about joints, but we can start off chill. maybe this afternoon. and then we can have tacos.'

'that sounds like a perfect day.'

she smiles. 'yeah,' she says. 'even more perfect because i get to share it with you.'

'gross,' you say, although you might suddenly cry. 'sappy.'

'yeah, yeah. whatever.'

you keep your arm around ava's shoulders and watch beatrice and ray trade tricks the next set, and then they both call it and walk, laughing, toward you. ava struggles to stand with a frown, and you offer your arm for her to take if she wants. she does, smiles quickly in thanks and then, you know too, moves on without a word. she kisses beatrice soundly on the mouth, then pushes her goofy bucket hat off her head, fastened around her neck and resting on the back of her shoulders, and then gratuitously unzips her wetsuit while ray rolls her eyes.

it's a whole big world, you learn more and more every day. ray joins you for breakfast and then ava takes you shopping while you're pretty sure beatrice just naps. ava uses her chair and brings korra, which is mostly just the coolest thing in the world to you, because she has a whole van customized too, and she just — you had known, when you were younger, when ava would get to go outside in her chair, that nothing was limiting her other than care, and access. you had been limited too, and you ached with it. you ache differently now, because ava navigates her day fully and independently: a wheelchair lift for the stairs, and a huge, beautiful closet and kitchen where she can reach everything without having to stand, and korra, who can turn on lights and open doors and brings you a juice from the fridge when you sit down and mention you're thirsty; ava grins with the command and then praises korra, and you scratch her soft head and even softer ears.

beatrice does supervise when you and ava dye your hair, but ava mostly knows what she's doing, and really gets distracted the most when she looks over at beatrice in lowslung joggers and a cutoff tank and a beanie, leaning against the doorframe quietly, a fond expression on her face. ava wears crop tops and wideleg pants and expensive sneakers and you both end up laughing when you have your matching lavender hair.

you eat edibles that make everything feel lush and slow and perfect, and beatrice laughs softly at ava's ramble about her arms, and she orders a ton of her favorite chinese food that you eat on the patio at sunset. you take some pictures on your film camera, at sunset, and beatrice takes a few of you and ava. you wish you could go back in time and tell both of you, when you were small and sad and scared and abused, that things would be this beautiful one day. that things would be this good.

ava and beatrice eventually say goodnight before they head inside to their bedroom. there's too much light pollution in los angeles to see many of the stars, but you know they're there all the same.

[etoilesombre]

I sometimes wish I could better articulate my words because I really need a deep dive of how Jim Hawkins and Silver’s relationship, as messy and confounded and sweet as it is, is actually the back bone of a skeleton of how bs silver’s are represented.

Silver’s gift he can give is that the people he loves lives no matter how much they might want to die, and I think that particular “trait” was from the genes of THAT relationship. Same with silver’s weird conflict with his own selfish desires and the wants and needs of the people he may or may not care about it. Considering his crew mates turn on him because he defended Jim too much.

Treasure island kind of echos backward and it drives me insane.

I don’t know, I know they are too different things but also yknow I think there is a big reason James was the name they went with for Flint and Jim Hawkins is a big reason for that.

Also it ever kill you that madi and flint only spent maybe a few months to a year with silver but HANDS spent 25 years with him, if you think about how long black sails and treasure islands time gap must be. That kills me.

Oh thank you I hadn't really thought about it through that lens, I don't tend to be super TI focused (mostly because Black Sails makes it so devastating I tend to look away, but I think I'm getting there, I know it's time for a serious reread, I definitely see the echoing backwards, the show always knew that relationship was the endpoint. (Good point about the name.)

I feel like to the extent Silver grants protection to people around him, he's unaware of it, or does have some counterevidence. After all he lost Muldoon, and that was absolutely not the same level of relationship, but in his head it is absolutely possible for him to fail to save people when they are caught up in Flint's Bullshit. Which means it probably also seemed totally possible to him that Jim Hawkins (who he is categorizing more like Muldoon than Flint probably, right) is absolutely vulnerable.

Regarding conflicting desires, I think that it's interesting that when the conflict is between what we traditionally think of as selfish desires (money, safety and security for oneself) Silver ends up picking love and connection over those types of goals, almost despite himself. But when it comes to a conflict between keeping the people he loves safe vs respecting their own desires and self determination, he chooses to keep them safe even if it destroys the relationship. (or in Flint's case maybe puts him down like a mad dog but he's sad about it and its still for love and safety overall.)

also YES OH MY GOD how short a time he had of actual vulnerable love and connection and belonging, and then Israel Hands is the opposite of that, its utter loyalty WITHOUT love/connection/vulnerability, which feels safe for Silver but must be devastating, you can WATCH him undo all the progress that was made over the course of the show. The scene where he slaps Silver and basically tells him to shut up and stop being a pussy makes me cry like, almost as reliably as the end. And then we can infer that Silver stays stuck there. For so many years. If I could change one thing about the course of canon it would be Isreal Hands dying early on. If he has a thousand haters I'm one, if he has a hundred I'm one, etc etc fuck that guy.

[kairithemang0]

Hiiii me again appearing in your ask box :3

What is & Juliet about? I've seen stuff about it a lot recently :)

OMG OK OK

So it's the story of Romeo and Juliet only Juliet doesn't off herself. She takes a bit to cry (singing baby one more time by Britney Spears MY BELOVED) and it's a wild ride where Shakespeare and his wife are also fighting over how the story should go, his wife wants more freedom for Juliet while Shakespeare wishes to keep things more traditional (they sing i want it that way it's great). So basically Juliet, her bestie May, and Shakespeare's wife who's name inside Romeo and Juliet is April and I believe her name outside is Anne but they all go to France and they meet this silly little goober at a party (they're all over 21 in this bcs Anne said so I love her sm) and Juliet is like "oh pretty guy" and May (who's nonbinary and I love them) is also like "oh pretty guy" and Frankie (pretty guy) is like "aw fuck... the nb is kinda cute" but Juliet kisses him so ✨drama✨and because it's romeo and juliet juliet and Frankie are gonna get married because I guess that's how relationships work

BUT

ROMEO IS ALIVE???? Yeah so shakespeare said fuck this and brought Romeo back to life (HE SINGS IT'S MY LIFE AND IT'S SO GOOD DFOUHEWORHOWUHROEWU) and he tells Juliet he still loves her but she's engaged (it's been 2 days max btw) and so now there's shit going on with them and also Frankie and May and Frankie and his Dad have a whole thing with him liking not girls and everything goes to shit at the wedding because Shakespeare is trying to bring the band back together (aka him, may, romeo, frankie, and the dad, they were a family group and the first 3 are hiding themselves as family it's a whole thing) and they sing at the wedding and it's great THE BOYS BANDS BACK ALRIGHT and shit hits the fan when Juliet says "yknow what fuck this I DON'T WANNA GET MARRIED" because she's stronger than yesterday now there's nothing but her way her loneliness aint killing her no more because she's STRONGERRRRR THAN SHE EVER THOUGHT THAT SHE COULD BE ive gotta stop singing

Basically at the end, May and Frankie get together, Shakespeare and Anne sort things out, and Romeo and Juliet begin a new chapter of their lives, where they date instead of saying "i'm marrying you" instantly

this is a horrible synopsis

[kyojurismo]

i don’t know how to do emergency requests. this is my first time asking for anything. if you’re not up for it, you don’t have to. could you maybe do a rengoku or tengen x reader with eczema? i have it really bad right now because of allergy season and it’s making me insecure.

again you don’t have to, thank you!

🩰

# kyojuro rengoku & tengen uzui

tags : gn!reader, eczema, r is insecure, crying (bc i’m dramatic i guess), general fluff !!

a/n : hello again ! i hope it comforted you a bit and make you feel better, i tried to focus on the comforting part because i feared i would say something that was um incorrect? well, yeah… anyway, i’m sending you a big hug <3

KYOJURO RENGOKU

let’s say that kyojuro at first thought it was some kind of curse (like oyakata-sama yknow) and that there was some strange ritual to make it go away

but then you explained to him, even though it made you feel a bit uncomfortable, scared of the possible judging stare you would end up receiving from him

but he did not!

we’re talking about kyojuro after all

he would help get you whatever kind of medication is needed, offering to go buy them himself <3

he knew how hard it is for you to walk around when it is even more evident

but he’s here to support you and shower you in love

he would kiss your forehead, reminding you that you’re beautiful nonetheless

he didn’t care, really. he just felt bad noticing that it made you uncomfortable and insecure

if he could, he would make it all disappear in a second

“i don’t feel like going out today, i’m sorry,” you whispered once, trying to cover yourself. “no problem at all, little flame! i totally understand!” he would smile at you, showing that it didn’t bothered him at all

you were grateful for kyojuro

because he wasn’t grossed out or anything, he hugged you and touched you with ease

he simply didn’t care

he loved you too much to let something like this get between you two

he thought that it was simply part of you, y’know? that’s you too, and he’s totally okay with it. he loved you for who you are, not for your appearance

kyojuro made sure to cuddle you 24/7 so you know that it’s not a problem for him, he really really really wished you could feel better about it <3

TENGEN UZUI

our boy tengen,

somehow thought the same as kyojuro in the beginning

he tried not to touch you that much because he thought it would hurt or make you uncomfortable

but after some time he became more touchy, that way you knew he didn’t found you gross

literally pleaded shinobu to find a cure, but oh well

“at least find something to make them feel better!”

he wouldn’t force you to go out if you didn’t feel like it

but would make sure to be your giant teddy bear, hugging and kissing and reminding how much he loved you

man he would be so lovely

“you’re so beautiful today, i wonder how i got so lucky to be with you,” like 🥹

stop right now, tengen would fight whoever starts messing with you

i’m not kidding, whether be it with words or with his hands, he wouldn’t let anything slide

you literally cry because he’s too much

well, you probably cried because you thought he deserved someone with perfect skin too

but he did his best to demonstrate that he wanted you and that he didn’t care about it

hugging you 24/7 because man is clingy af and can’t let you go

i don’t make the rules

reblogs & comments are super appreciated! thank you for taking your time reading it, i hope you enjoyed it. have a good day / night <3

[eye-of-yelough]

there was a post i saw ages ago saying that since there are underwater communities, and durge is supposed to kill everyone Ever, then durge being able to breathe underwater is entirely plausible. likely, even.

anyway. githyanki seamonster Aeryn wins again.

uhh this got a little long and it’s also. horrible. so. oc lore dump ramble including what i can only describe as trans horror and gortash being his usual awful sadistic scientist self below. 👇

i think bhaal may have used githyanki as a base for aeryn for the psionic abilities and all that, but ultimately built him with the plan of him mothering (eugh) a whole new race of monstrous amphibious bhaalspawn (Pure bhaalspawn because asexual reproduction) i don’t think aeryn was ever actually intended to take over and wreak ruin, but to birth the children that will. which makes me sick to my stomach.

i think this works better with aeryn’s personality being the way it is, yknow, “kind”, “compassionate”, all that. nurturing. of course, nothing went to plan. Bhaal wanted to wait until Aeryn hit 30 to start. yknow. sending him eggs. and by that point Gortash was already in the picture, already had his hooks in him. egg thievery ensues. gort does a lotta weird shit to them i can tell you that much. eats some, sure, but mostly experimentation. noting how many are duds, seeing how susceptible they are to genetic manipulation, hypothesising on a way to force them into stasis without access to the Astral Plane, so they could all hatch at the same time when we wishes, (illithid tadpole prototype)

a few years down the line, he let’s one live, in the most perfect conditions he can make, to see how long it takes to hatch. and in a moment of sadism mercy, decides to let it live for a while, the cute little runt. he’d always wondered what aeryn looked like as a hatchling. bathes it, wraps it up, and takes it to the balcony. shows it the rising sun, his city. keeps it around for a few days, maybe weeks, tracking its progress, running tests, snipping its vocal cords so it stops crying, until Aeryn’s next visit. introduces him to his baby he didn’t even know he had, and tells him about his grand plans, how they can raise it as their own, raise them all as their own, their perfect killer offspring army. forces him to hold it, and smiles as he kills it to save it from that fate.

and then he cooks it and serves it to him for breakfast the next morning :)

[love-songs-for-emma]

Shuffle your favorite playlist and post the first five songs that come up. Then copy/paste this ask to your favorite mutuals. 💌💛

OMG ty adrey!!! i love any excuse to share my music!!!!

songs BE SHUFFLED‼️

1. With A Little Help From My Friends (Remastered 2009) by the Beatles :3

2. death bed (coffee for your head) by Powfu & beabadoobee

3. How To Never Stop Being Sad by dandelion hands

4. Sitting, Waiting, Wishing by Jack Johnson

5. Ocean Man by Ween

HOLY COW. WHAT A GENUINE SHUFFLE ALCBKSCN USUALLY SPOTIFY IS SO BAD AT SHUFFLING WHAT!!!!! I love all of these songs actually omg

This was not apart of the task but im using this as an excuse to talk about these songs below the cut:

1. Beatles songs fill me with such warmth. Hugs. My sister loved them sm and anything my sister loved, I loved. She was ten years older than me. I was raised on the Beatles. Plus they remind me of my beloved emma ( @love-songs-for-maria ) and her family/her mom. My second family being a Beatles household is so nice c: I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends :')

2. There was a time period where i could Not stop listening to this song. I started making art about it back then; this is absolutely reminding me to finish it omg. Also, this song actually /sampled/ beebadoobee's song "coffee," it's not just like a song they made together. So check out "coffee" for a song about healing that makes me CRY and also feel like I'm being HUGGED. Love u beebadoobee

3. Wow. What a classic. How To Never Stop Being Sad was my ULTIMATE cry song when I was like 13. I still think about some of lines (it reads more like spoken word/poetry with backdrop) more as How To *Stop* Being Sad, yknow? Motivational. Like "Become a background character to your own motion picture" -> Be the main character in your life. Take up space. EXIST. ♡

4. The album this comes from, "In Between Dreams," sounds like childhood. Like sitting on the lil fold down square seats in the back of my dad's old lil red pickup truck as we drive to other side of the island to go dirtbike riding with my mom and brother. It's also become something I dont /have/ to associate with that. I got a vinyl record of it when I was about 15/16 and used to play it while dancing around the front room and making breakfast (various friends and partners over the years there or not). It's also mine. My solo drive peaceful music. Sittin, Waitin, Wishin :)

5. This is the sound of the Spongebob Squarepants Movie ending. That's it. That's what it is. First credits song. One of the rare movie endings where the credits actually go SO HARD and I actually prefer letting them play out. I watched this movie a billion times since it came out when I was a kid. The end credits when this plays show waves crashing and it looks like you're surfing and reminds me of Hawai'i, which is where I was still living when it first came out and I'd watch the DVD endlessly!! Perfect song. 0/0 notes. Ocean Man, Take Me By The Hand, Lead Me To The Land That You Understand

Lastly,, I probably would have skipped a song if I didn't like it bc I've been unliking a lot of my Liked Songs on Spotify lately so that my shuffle on Liked Songs is better and bam! There's the payoff! Didn't even skip one for this ask! Wahoo!

If anyone read this to the end, thanks for sharing these memories with me. :) Much love, always. I'll send this out to a few peeps, but if anyone wants it sent to them specifically so they too can be involved and/or ramble on, DM me/let me know! MWAH