#I'll post this soon on Ao3

[startanewdream]

can you write a fan fic on Sirius giving Harry advice on Ginny. I need Hinny fluff!

This was sent so many years months ago, hope you'll still read it, Anon!

godfatherly advice

Summary: Sirius and Remus discuss Harry's love life. Set during OotP. Around 1600 words.

“Do you remember a girl named Cho Chang?”

It is the sudden change in their talk — they had been exchanging stories of their favorite Christmas dinners at Hogwarts — that makes Remus blink, surprised. He turns to Sirius, but his friend is now looking at the far corner of the kitchen where Harry is playing Explosive Snap.

“What?”

“When you were teaching at Hogwarts,” Sirius answers, sounding impatient. “There was a girl called Cho Chang, right?”

“Right,” Remus agrees slowly. “Ah—she was in the Fourth Year. Ravenclaw. Bright girl. She wrote this essay about curses—”

Sirius waves him off. “Fourth Year,” he muses. “One year above Harry, then. Different houses. Not much in common.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another. “Pretty girl?”

He jumps. “I didn’t notice it! I was her professor—”

“Oh, get a grip.” Sirius rolls his eyes. “Think like a fifteen-year-old boy—never mind, you never mentioned your crushes back in school, I don’t think you were ever a teenager.”

Warmth floods Remus’ face, and he deviates his gaze. “Why are you asking, anyway?”

“Hum…” Sirius seems as embarrassed as he gets. “Rumour has it that Harry’s got a crush on this girl.”

“Rumour.” Remus glances at where Tonks and Hermione are talking with the Weasley twins. “I guess this rumour is friends with one of Harry’s best friends.”

“I am not discussing my sources with you. But if you can trust this particular rumour, and you can… Harry and this girl, Cho, got friendly before the end of the term.”

“Oh.” Remus watches Harry for a moment. With his overly large shirt and laughing freely as he plays Explosive Snap with Ginny Weasley, Harry doesn’t look his age. “I forgot he is old enough to have a girlfriend.”

There’s a grunt in answer. Sirius is frowning, displeased.

“What?”

“I don’t think she is his girlfriend. From what Ton—my source mentioned, it was just a snog or something like that. “

Remus raises his eyebrows. “Just a snog? That doesn’t sound like Harry.” Sure, Remus may have missed a few — a lot of — years staying away from Harry, but he got to know him during his time as a professor. And between Voldemort and the Triwizard Tournament, not to mention all the stress of this year, he doubts Harry has turned into some kind of Casanova since then. 

“No,” Sirius shakes his head. “But from what I got, Harry has had feelings for this girl for ages, but it is complicated—she was the girlfriend of the Diggory boy. The one who died in the Triwizard Tournament.”

Remus sighs. “Nothing is ever easy for Harry, is it?”

“Maybe,” Sirius mumbles, seemingly to himself. “But when Harry finally snogs the girl he’s been pinning for so long—you would think he might mention something to me.”

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Remus can’t help his smirk. “You know you owe him the talk, right?”

Sirius flushes slightly. “It’s not his silence that’s upsetting,” he says haughtily, clearly determined to ignore the second part of what Remus told him. “But rather—do you remember when James and Lily finally snogged?” That familiar jolt of pain hits Remus; his smile is wistful as he nods. “James kept smiling so much that it looked as if he had overdosed on an Euphoria Elixir.”

“And he couldn’t stop babbling about it—it was three in the morning, and he was still gushing.”

“Yeah.” Sirius looks older for a moment, his gaze far away before he nods towards Harry. “Does Harry look remotely like James did?”

“I don’t know. He seems quite happy now.” And as to prove his point, Harry’s laugh echoes in the kitchen for a moment. The cards have exploded, drawing everyone’s attention, though neither Harry and Ginny seem to mind. They are chuckling, and even though his own face is painted with soot, Harry jumps to smooth the small flames over the tips of Ginny’s hair. 

“Exactly!” Sirius beacons him to come closer, his eyes shining with mischief. “And not because of this Cho Chang girl, but rather…”

Sirius’ voice drifts away, conspiratorially. It takes Remus a few seconds — during which, impatient, Sirius glances meaningfully at the place where Harry and Ginny are — before he understands.

“Harry and Ginny? They are friends.”

“So were James and Lily.”

“Yeah, but aren’t you forgetting the part where James made a fool of himself whenever Lily Evans was around?”

Sirius shrugs. “Things never happen twice the same way. In fact, rumour has it that Ginny used to have a massive crush on Harry.”

“Hmmm.” Remus considers this for a moment, before deciding it is no big secret. “This one is true, when I was her teacher, I saw how she acted whenever Harry was around… but I thought it was because of that Chamber of Secrets incident.” He shakes his head. The things Harry faced at Hogwarts…

“Very romantic, I guess. The hero saves the girl… and usually gets the girl.”

“I think the hero was too young then to care about these things.”

“And now he is older, but he doesn’t seem to be caring for the right person.”

Remus blinks. “Aren’t you being too judgemental? You have just heard about this girl.”

“I am judgmental, but not of Cho Chang. I’m judging Harry.”

“Who is acting as a teenager for once?”

“I just mean… I thought they would make a good couple. Harry and Ginny. They share the same slightly twisted sense of humour and they seem good together.”

Remus sips from his goblet, allowing himself some time to consider it. Harry and Ginny have split up now; while Ginny is chatting excitedly with Tonks and Hermione, Harry has joined Ron, but now and then he glances at Ginny’s back — fondly, not exactly romantic, but maybe there is a spark there, a seed that could grow. There had been some storm over Harry’s head during that Christmas break, something related to the vision of Arthur being attacked; that storm is gone now, and though Remus has no idea of what exactly unfolded, somehow he thinks it was because of Ginny Weasley.

“They would match,” he agrees, and then, because this is Sirius he’s talking to, he adds carefully, “but you shouldn’t meddle with them.”

“I would never,” Sirius rebuffs at once, but there is a mischief spark in his eyes, so alive, that Remus knows this isn’t the end of it.

“Sirius—”

“Speaking about match-making, don’t you think my cousin looks splendid tonight?”

The inevitable flush that floods his cheeks is enough to make Remus change the subject.

He isn’t really surprised to find out, a couple hours later, that Sirius has cornered Harry as they clean up the last remains of supper. 

“How are things at Hogwarts? Any good news?”

Harry seems taken aback. “You know how things are,” he says, looking at Sirius as if he’s considering his godfather lost his mind. Remus winces, then unsuccessfully tries to get Sirius’ attention.

“I was thinking about things you might not mention in a letter or during a fireplace call, like… Maybe some romance in the air?”

Smoothness, Remus considers, was never Sirius’ strength. Harry flushes a deep red, all his attention in drying the dishes as if his life depends upon it.

“Er—okay. Not anything worth mentioning, just the same.”

“The same,” repeats Sirius slowly. Perhaps he senses that Harry is ready to run — his eyes have shifted to the door a couple times as if he is considering how many steps he needs to be away from there — because Sirius suddenly smiles. “You know, your father never had eyes for anyone but your mother.”

Harry’s eyes open. “Really?”

“Really.” Sirius looks only encouraged. “Now, James was a popular guy, a Quidditch hero, had a great sense of humor, and of course an amazing taste in his best friend, so there were girls chasing after him, but he never cared for anyone else. And he was right, because he and Lily… they were just perfect, destined to be together.”

There’s a dreamy expression on Harry’s face. Remus knows Harry is away thirsty for any information he might receive from his parents, so he may just be considering this new piece of the puzzle that are his parents. But as he drifts, destined or not, Harry’s gaze seems to fall on the corner where Ginny is now sitting by herself, playing with the cat.

And Sirius, bless him, notices it. He barely contains a grin.

“So, you get what I mean, right? When you find the one, you know you did. Someone with whom you really connect, someone who makes you laugh, who gets you. You don’t waste your time snogging anyone else…”

Harry blinks, suddenly pulled back to Earth. “Snogging?” His gaze is suspicious. “Who said anything about me… snogging?”

“No one. This is not the point, I just—”

“It’s late, I should get some sleep.” Harry glances helplessly at Remus, who nods.

“We’ll leave for St Mungo’s early tomorrow,” he agrees.

“Right.” Sirius looks as flustered as Harry does. “But Harry—you understood what I said? About the one—”

“Yes, yes.” Now Harry is almost at the door. “Good night!”

Remus gives him a few seconds before shaking his head at Sirius. “You should not have—”

“I just did what I am sure James and Lily would like me to do. They would adore Ginny.” The mischief is back on Sirius’ eyes. “Speaking of—I heard Ginny might be dating someone, I think she needs a piece of advice as well.”

“Fred and George have mentioned her Bat Bogey Hex—” But Sirius is not listening to him anymore, already crossing the room. Remus sighs as he sits to watch the scene; he supposes he could use a last laugh before going to bed.

[hardly-an-escape]

poll time!

*for context: usually I disagree with this practice and think things like [prompt] month fills should be standalone works in a collection/series. but I have a hunch people might feel differently about drabbles since they're so short.

I’m genuinely curious about this, but also I’ve been writing a lot of drabbles here on tumblr and I’m on the fence about sharing them anywhere else. thanks for voting and reblogging!

[gingermintpepper]

I would really like to read one piece of writing, amateur or not, that features Apollo and Zeus having a positive relationship. One. Any one. It could be 30 words long for all I care. I just need confirmation that one other writer actively producing content in the Greek Mythology sector doesn't think of Apollo as Zeus' toy, sexual or otherwise, or of Zeus purposefully surpressing Apollo because he doesn't want him to surpass his power, or of Apollo only being obedient to his father over all else because of fear and physical abuse, or of any other reason possibly invented except some sort of mutual understanding and respect.

It should not be this difficult to find content where they do not hate each other.

[ohmytiredheart]

It's uncanny how much the FNAF lore actually makes sense if you look at it through the eyes of TMA

[unicornpopcorn14]

An add-on to the touch averse Chuuya headconnon!

Chapters: 4/6 || Words: 31.2k || Category: Platonic Teen Skk

Summary:

Chuuya was never a tactile person…

But for the one who’s trying so hard to initiate contact for no other reason than to spite him, he might as well try to be.

Or: 5 times Chuuya hugged Dazai when he didn't/couldn't hug back, and 1 time his partner requited the gesture.

[youchangedmedestiel]

Suptober 2024 - Prompt: Sigils

This ficlet is called "Except Cas" and you can also find it on AO3 here.

"Dean." Cas starts, sitting back up as he breaks their kiss. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure." Dean says, studying him while he is laid down on the bed with the angel straddling his upper thighs.

"I'd like to change the sigils on your ribs to be able to find you when I want to." Cas admits, without looking at Dean, he focuses on his fingers tracing soft, random patterns on Dean's chest instead.

"What? Like adding an 'except Cas' at the end?" Dean asks jokingly.

"I searched for it and it's more complicated than that. Plus it might hurt so if you don't want to I understand." Cas still can't look at him, while minutes ago he was kissing him hungrily.

"No, no, I'm fine with that. I mean I'm not against you finding me easily, especially in case of emergency." Dean accepts, taking Cas's hand in his, which makes the angel look at him a bit astonished.

"It's useful not only for emergency you know." Cas smiles and Dean thinks this is a slight smirk so he definitely wants to know more.

"For what then?" Dean wonders curiously.

"I - I could hear your longing better." Cas confesses.

"Oh - oooh." Dean realizes. "That can come in handy." Dean jokes.

"Exactly." Cas answers, definitely smirking this time, and his hand slide down along Dean's ribs, on his stomach, to end up on the bulge in his boxer briefs. Cas strokes his length through the fabric and gets a groan from the man under him. “Handy.” Cas whispers against Dean’s lips, while his hand snakes under the fabric and takes him, loosely working with his fist around Dean’s length.

He doesn’t kiss him though, and Dean groans from frustration this time, but not for so long.

Cas takes Dean’s cock out of his boxer briefs and pours some lube in his hands. They work beautifully around it while Cas can’t stop looking at the hunter this time, studying every single one of his reactions. And he smirks again when he feels Dean’s hips trying to chase his hands with difficulty under his weight. So, he wipes one of his hand on the sheets and places it on Dean’s sternum to hold him down.

“Cas.” Dean moans and the angel can feel it resonating under his hand, the other still bobbing Dean’s cock. “Do it now.” Dean suggests between moans.

“Are you sure?” Cas hesitates because he knows this might hurt.

“Do it, Cas!” Dean orders, he is already so close. “Now!” Dean insists. So, Cas does as told. He changes the sigils on Dean’s ribs while still trying to make him fall over the edge.

Dean feels like his whole chest is tingling. It hurts and it's longer than last time because it's more complicated but that hand on his chest filling him with grace mixed with the feeling of Cas's hand working around is cock is too good. With the pain and the pleasure he feels, he reaches his orgasm while Cas’s eyes shine bright above him.

“Are you alright, Dean?” Cas worries, his eyes back to normal, but still with his usual unnatural shade of blue. Dean’s breath is still jerky but it’s slowing down. Cas cleans them both before Dean even realizes he needed to be. Then Cas lies down on the hunter, kissing his forehead. “Answer me, please.” He talks softly.

“Yeah yeah I’m fine. So is it done?” Dean asks, closing his eyes at the angel’s soft touches on his still oversensitive body.

“It is. I can now find you easily when you need me to.” Cas explains, kissing Dean’s lips tenderly.

“Great.” Dean sighs, relaxed.  

“You should do the same for Sammy.” Dean suggests, his eyes still closed. Then he realizes what he just said, when Cas stops kissing and stroking him softly, and opens his eyes widely, “Not the same same. But you know, the sigils thing.”

“I will, Dean.” Cas answers, smiling against his neck, then kisses and bites him there.

“What are you doing?” Dean asks, definitely not against what’s happening.

“I can hear your longing now. I know that you want me to fuck you and I attend to give you what you want.” Cas confesses, against Dean’s chest, licking his nipple on his way down. And Dean bites his lower lip in anticipation. “I love you too.” Cas responds to Dean’s longing and Dean pulls him up to kiss him again.

Thank you @wigglebox for that list of prompts and especially this one, it was really inspiring for me, I do have another idea in my drafts for sigils.

[tennessoui]

au where obi-wan gets prophetic dreams of anakin’s fall but they’re the kenobi show montage dreams where nothing useful can be gleaned about how to stop it; so obi-wan decides he just needs to leave the order. anakin is only 12, he can be trained by another master. obi-wan didn’t even have a master when he was 12. anakin will be fine. stars, he’ll probably be better.

of course he’s not and of course obi-wan abandoning him pushes him closer to palpatine and he falls much sooner, becoming a baby sith that palpatine mostly farms out to dooku for training because anakin at 16, 17, 18 is a lot

and when he falls, the jedi order is like hm. we’re gonna tell kenobi about this. cause now skywalker is a sith with a sith master, and a grudge the size of coruscant against the guy who left him, so. let’s just give him a heads up to maybe consider going into hiding

but of COURSE when obi-wan hears his precious padawan STILL FELL he goes right to count dooku and asks to be his apprentice, he’d make such a good apprentice, dooku always liked him when he was qui-gon’s padawan, remember? now he could be his apprentice

dooku knows that with skywalker, 19 and well-trained now in the picture, his usefulness to sidious is running out, so he doesn’t have a lot of reasons to say no to kenobi. and kenobi is right. he did always like him when he was qui-gon’s apprentice, so sure he’ll give him a sith name (solence) and a red lightsaber (sick)

but basically this leads to very awkward sith family dinners where darth vader--is trying to kill darth solence with his eyes and sometimes the nearest oyster fork, darth solence is throwing sad kicked puppy expressions across the table at darth vader and sighing into his dessert pudding all the while debating with darth tyranus about how good the dark side could really be, i mean, if one were to really think about it, especially in comparison to the life we all led at the Temple, remember anakin? you loved life at the Temple.

darth sidious stopped accepting the invites five dinners ago.

[angelofchaos001]

Stranded in the Rain - Chapter 1

Link to Ao3 (Chapter also under cut)

Link to Masterpost

Next (Adapting)

Chapter 1 - Beginning

GASP!

Hatchling shot upright, desperate for air. It felt like they had been choked out, maybe even to the point of death. Perhaps that's not the best train of thought, they realized. Death was just a grim reminder of the fact that they had been stuck in a loop. Space and time had gotten so warped and tangled with each other that no matter what they did, every time they met the end of their life, they would just come back.

Except . . .

Hadn't they ended the loops?

Hadn't they ended the universe?

I . . . I remember the big flash . . . But . . . Why can't I remember anything else?!

Panic seized the young hearthian as they fought to remember even the most basic information. What were they doing? What was their goal? Who were they??

Memories flooded back to them like a cyclone slamming them down. They remembered seeing it with their own four eyes. Finding the Eye of the Universe, being taken to a strange quantum realm where nothing made sense, gathering all their close allies they'd met on the journey to bring them together for one last song, before the big bang that they could have sworn killed them happened. Feldspar . . . Solanum . . . Everyone . . . It wiped everyone out.

Evidently, it did not wipe everyone out, because they were very much here and very much alive. Alive. Am I really?

They could cling to the memories of who they were now. They were Moissan, a Hearthian in the Outer Wilds Ventures space program. They had been exploring the solar system like everyone else. And they caught in a time loop because of a statue they'd linked to.

Oddly enough, they were even still wearing their space suit. That's new, they thought, checking themselves over. No injuries. No missing pieces. Just a full tank of oxygen and a jetpack ready to launch. They didn't have their scout, which was a little upsetting, but it seemed rather odd that they were in such a pristine condition now, waking up alone.

Alone.

Whenever they'd woken up before, they'd seen Slate sitting by the campfire, roasting a marshmallow. Even if they didn't know about the loops and tried to ground Moissan several times for apparent medical reasons, not seeing the familiar hearthian's face stung. There was no campfire, not even a smoldering pile of logs. No launch pad waiting for them on the rocky cliff, their trusty ship that had carried them so far on their journey absent.

Considering everything that ship had lived through, they were surprised it wasn't here with them when they had lived it.

Arrrrgh, the ship doesn't matter right now, they thought, slowly getting to their feet. What matters is finding out where I am. Clearly, it wasn't Timber Hearth. Everything looked too . . . damp, despite the abundant plant life. They reached out for what seemed like a fern, only for the plant to shrivel away from them with a rustling noise. They gasped, intrigued and in awe of the specimen.

All the plant truly did was raise more questions, though. If everything was wet, then it couldn't be the Hourglass Twins. There was plenty of solid ground to stand on and a lack of fog, so it wasn't Dark Bramble (thankfully). It seemed too stable to be like the collapsing Brittle Hollow, and Giant's Deep would have been far wetter considering the whole planet was an ocean. None of the moons - Not even the Quantum Moon - matched this unique location either. It almost reminded them of the Stranger.

Almost.

Around Hatchling seemed to just be walls and a very tight, cramped room. Small plants, almost like some kind of moss, stretched across the floor like a natural carpet. They almost felt tempted to touch it, but one of the most basic safety lessons was 'Don't interact with things you don't know about'.

Ignoring that rule is sorta what got me into all of this in the first place, isn't it.

Moissan really just didn't feel like taking off their suit for moss-touching purposes. Instead, they focused on the room. The walls, other than having strange flora growing along them as well, seemed fairly sturdy. They took a moment, curled up their hand, and punched at the wall to test it's integrity. OWWWW . . . Pain exploded in their digits as they uncurled them. Solid metal wall, got it. Owww, ow ow, why did I do that?

They'd been expecting dirt . . . maybe packed dirt, if they were lucky. Not full-on metal. They looked straight ahead of themselves, and saw the one wall that was different than the others. Embedded into the wall was a small tunnel, maybe about the size of Hatchling's head if they really squeezed themselves in there. Attached to it seemed some kind of contraption, something made of a smooth metal that looked . . . in a decently well-kept state.

Maybe this place has intelligent life on it. Naively, they found themselves hoping it was some kind of familiarity, such as another hearthian, a Nomai, or even an Owlk would be nice to see. No, stupid thought, they told themselves, facepalming. The Owlks didn't (couldn't) leave their dream world, and all the Nomai in the system had died from the Interloper and it's densely packed load of ghost matter.

Well, all but one. Moissan thought of Solanum again. They'd met her in such a strange place, such a strange time, and most certainly the last thing they ever expected to see. Guess it's really back to being 'all of them', though.

The big bang played out in their mind again. Had it been some kind of crazy dream? The heat and fire felt too real for them to believe that. They could recall every second in the blast, as few as there were, and the moment pain seared through every fiber of their being before becoming a pleasant nothingness. My universe was already doomed. It was a strange thought to come to terms with, being born at the end of a universe. If every path would lead to my doom, then I'm glad I could at least build something new for those after me.

If Hatchling survived, there wasn't really telling if the others had. The feeling of that one end felt so real. Was it because of the intensity? The emotions they felt in that moment of terror and awe? Perhaps because they knew that this time, they wouldn't come back? Removing the warp core from Ash Twin ended the loops, after all, and if nothing else, they had absolutely taken that core out. It just wasn't possible that this was another loop.

What else could explain this, though?

Too many questions buzzed in their head like angry flies, numbing their brain to anything else. They tried to ground themselves by looking at the tunnel again, studying the metal. It appeared to be some kind of mechanism of moving parts to close off the tunnel. Gears sat underneath large metal slabs, though they were currently quiet and still, not pulling anything along. On either side of the passage, there was small bits of interlocking metal that they guessed fit together to fill the small tunnel. But why?

They'd figure it out at some point, probably. They'd been spending their life figuring out mysteries, after all, hadn't they? A small mechanical contraption was nothing compared to creating another universe.

. . . How did every thought loop back around to the end of their world and the beginning of a new one?

Being alone with their thoughts wasn't entirely pleasant. For one, Hatchling was confused about a lot of things their mind had already entertained before. They thought that the release of death would be a nice closure to their action-filled life of solving the Nomai's greatest mystery. After all the trials, they could rest easy knowing that at least there would be something for future planets to exist in. Instead, they were both relieved and terrified that they were still alive.

Brushing past all the confused thoughts, though, being alone was what made things even more awful. In their travels, they had never been truly alone before. There was always the network of other explorers to chat with, Nomai scrolls to read, the Ship's Log to update and check over, and if they got lost too badly, the signalscope could at least bring them back to something.

Pulling out the device now did almost nothing. No matter what frequency Hatchling tuned into or where they pointed it, no readings popped up. It was almost like the horrible silence and loneliness they'd felt in the Eye, awestruck by the new setting but oh-so-scared of what lie in wait for them.

Most of all, though, Hatchling felt . . . sad. Nothing but true sadness lined every thought, thinking of the world they knew. Coming to terms with the inevitable end didn't mean they had to like it. But now, this meant that it was really just them on their own. Everyone else was still most likely gone, gone forever. For the first time since becoming a space explorer . . . Moissan felt like crying.

It wasn't like the frightened tears that threatened them when the anglerfish let out their awful, shrieking roars, certain doom following the noise.

Nor was it the happy ones they'd nearly wept when they saw everyone gathered together, playing their music one last time around a campfire.

It was just . . . sad. And lonely.

Did everyone else get to die with that last happy memory? If so, then . . . why not me?

Am I stuck because I'm the one who did it?

Because I knew about the looping?

Or am I being called out for a greater purpose, just like last time?

Moissan really hoped they weren't about to become the universe's favorite specimen to call on when in need. One lifetime of adventure was enough for them. They didn't want (or need) more stress to be the great unseen hero all over again. They sniffled once, then twice, before they felt the unfamiliar sting as their eyes watered. Can I do this alone? Whatever it is I need to do?

It felt as if every thought was too painful to read, too much for such a fragile heart to bear. Tears dripped onto their suit, rolling off the waterproof fabric as the reality of everything truly caught up to them. If everyone else had to die and yet I survived, me, of everyone . . . great trees, I'm sorry it had to be this way. It wasn't what I wanted. It was what had to be done. There wasn't any other option.

The song that almost brought them to joyous tears now haunted Hatchling like a ghost, sailing in the air around them and involuntarily forcing the air in their throat to form a faint humming along with it. Each part added a new distinct layer, the full song being beautiful enough in both sound and meaning.

The plucky, strong banjo that carried the melody. Riebeck may have been scared of space, but they were still bold enough to face that fear in some way or another.

A high-pitched whistle, giving the banjo a lighter partner. Age didn't take a toll on Esker, even if his place in life had come to the end of it's usefulness.

Droning and yet still warbling, the harmonica sang back to them. Despite their isolation and situation, Feldspar had been invaluable in their quest for the Eye.

Carrying the steady beat were those drums. Even if they had given Chert some existential dread, they had skill at their instrument, that was for sure.

Delicate and faint, the flute gave everything a new meaning. Gabbro really had tried their best, hadn't they? The only other one to remember the endless looping.

Cutting the noise clear, the key strokes of the Nomai instrument shone through. Solanum had been the last Nomai in the system, and without her, they weren't sure they would have made it this far to begin with.

Lastly, the haunting, ethereal strings of the Owlks made everything feel that much less real. The Prisoner, as Hatchling called them, was the one they had to thank for them being where they were now. If they had never let the Eye call out again . . . (That was not a reality Hatchling wanted to think about)

All seven of them.

Gathered at the fire.

Playing together.

Happily.

Moissan felt like curling up and waiting for death to take them all over again as more tears flowed, a long-dried well inside of them being opened and the water inside rushing out. Between the sobbing, they gasped for air like they would lose it, their vision a blurred mess as they tried to stop thinking about everything they'd lost. About the lives that had been so intertwined with theirs, only to be ripped away like nothing had changed.

Alone.

Alone and lost, with nothing but the feeling of a mistake clinging to my gills.

No matter how badly they wanted to find out where this place was, find shelter, and explore, look for any kind of familiar sight . . . they couldn't bring themselves to move. They just sank back down to the ground, the moss squishing beneath them as it stretched for the delicious tears that continued to fall. They couldn't bear the idea of getting out of this small, cramped box. They didn't want to stay, either, but this was at least safe.

Unless another supernova is going to happen in twenty-two minutes, in which case nowhere will be safe without my ship.

Why couldn't they think just one happy thought? One thing to help claw their mind out of the mental pit it was sinking deeper and deeper into was all they needed. The boost to get up, put their helmet back on, and try to find a way out to explore. But if felt like all they could do was sit there, lying on the floor, crying and mourning for the loss of friends, home, and sanctuary. Not even the knowledge that in the grand scheme of things, they had been astronomical in saving this place of existence, was enough to make them move. Every limb felt heavy, every bit of energy dedicated to sobbing and choking on air.

Did anything they do truly matter in the end?

What is my purpose here?

Hatchling found themselves almost wishing they were dead, happy with their friends in whatever kind of afterlife awaited them all (if there was one), rather than stuck here, confused and scared on what to do. The damp moss around them became a poor comfort for their weeping heart and soul, but it was comfort enough. As they continued crying, they began to tire. Lying on the ground, with somewhat spongy plants as a bed, sleep and it's numbing, peaceful bliss found a way to them.

-----

@mellow-mooon

@0silverbluedragon1

@corn-worshipper

@doodlebug091

@isnt-that-grape

@fishbone5

@dragonpurplecristal

@obsidianmage3

[incandescentflower]

Posting my little response ficlet to this post by @dimplesandfierceeyes here so I don't lose it.

Monday Motivations

Somehow Monday had become Pat's favorite day of the week. It was a weird realization at first, discovering on Sunday nights Pat was often looking forward to Monday and the quiet afternoon he typically would spend catching up on assignments for his Tuesday Project Management course.

It wasn't really that he especially enjoyed Project Management. He understood why he needed to understand Gantt charts and be able to assign resources appropriately, but it wasn't his favorite course or anything. But it was something that was fairly easy to practice. It was almost meditative, just take the tools and apply them, rinse, repeat.

And somehow Pran was always there with Pat when he studied on Mondays.

Pran had his Construction course in the morning and would spend Sunday nights studying and memorizing materials for his weekly quizzes. Pran was good at tests. He was always so organized, so well-prepared, but he also was really stressed about them so this course would require a weekly cycle of him ramping up for an exam and all that entailed.

But then after Pran would come home from his class, grab a sandwich and then he would just lay out on the couch. He'd put his head on Pat's lap and kind of collapse. Week after week it just seemed to keep happening. Pat liked to study there in Pran's apartment and once he knew Pran's schedule, Pat seemed to always be there, his lap ready to be a pillow for a sleepy Pran.

Pat kind of felt bad because he started looking forward to when Pran had tests. No matter what class, no matter the stakes of the exam, the next day Pat got to have a soft, sleepy Pran to cuddle up with until he reset and recharged. They were brief moments - an hour here, an afternoon there, but Pat reveled in them.

It wasn't like he didn't get to cuddle with Pran other times. But this was a specific type of Pran, one that had pushed himself to his limit, had worked his hardest and come to Pat to reset, clinging onto him as he exhaled deeply, finally letting the stress of it all go.

truth, these moments recharged Pat too. He wasn't one to need recovery after exams, but Pat needed to have ways to keep up his momentum and these times with Pran, him sleeping and Pat studying, they made him feel like he was supporting Pran. So Pat found reasons to study longer in Pran's apartment and honestly, his grades got even better.

Sometimes Pat wondered if Pran did it on purpose to make Pat study longer. Pran was conniving like that. Even if that was part of the reason Pran sought him out like that, Pat didn't really want to know.

Maybe if Pat played his cards right, Pran would be open to other motivational tools. Pat could definitely work that angle, but it would have to wait. He needed to finish this assignment first.

[zero-max]

Just some silly little concept sketches I did for the amazing @asteral-feileacan for the Vaderkin Creative Exchange 2024!

These are my ideas for a zombie/apocalypse au where the golden trio are among the few survivors. In my head this would also function as a post/alternative ROTS au, where instead of falling to the darkside he's presumably killed by zombies, making everyone assume he's dead or turned (which is just my excuse to give him a shit ton of scars). Obi-Wan and Ahsoka end up teaming up and traveling the galaxy together, trying to help people where they can while fighting zombies along the way.

I had plans to make a bigger piece but I ended up spending way to long with drawing out my concept ideas, but I still hope you enjoy what I cooked up plus my silly au thoughts. ^^

Full page spread under the cut^^

[blommis-writes]

*struggling to write more than three pages per day for my dissertation* ugh this can't be the same brain that wrote down 17 pages of unabashed p0rn of two One Piece characters in the span of two hours

[userautumn]

hi i think it was you that posted that eddietommy at the vegas fight smut drabble/fic but I cannot find it :( I think about it all the time do you happen to have it somewhere? thank you!!!

Here you go, babe.

[mothtimecutie]

starting a small series where i get to talk about (and interact with) all my faves lol pt2 (NOT SHIP ART!!!)

my commissions are open!

[evilasiangenius]

Sneak Preview: The Canterbury Tales Roadtrip

Aziraphale carried Crowley into the inn. The demon was still dead asleep and wrapped up – even his face was entirely hidden in the folds of Aziraphale’s hyacinth-colored cloak, and the angel resisted the temptation to push that fur-lined wool back just a little bit so that he could stroke the demon’s dark curling hair.

“I’m sorry, you can’t bring in anyone sick!” the innkeeper began, moving to block the way.

“Oh no, he’s not sick at all. He’s quite healthy, through and through. I doubt the plague could even touch him. Besides, this. This. Er, this is…” Aziraphale panicked for a moment, trying to think up an excuse. “This is…erm, this is…this is my son!”

“I’m not his son,” Crowley’s voice was muffled from beneath the enshrouding cloak.

“Ha ha, that’s exactly the kind of backchat a son would say. My son. These young folks and their jests, really. Now now, my child, behave or I might accidentally drop you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Quiet, child. The adults are talking.”

Crowley gasped in outrage.

“Anyhow, the poor child fell asleep on my horse, which reminds me, if you could send someone to make sure my palfrey’s watered and fed, I’d appreciate it. I can handle the grooming myself–”

“Did you say horse?” The innkeeper’s ears pricked up at the suggestion of wealth, and then he inspected Aziraphale a little more closely, from the cream-colored silk velvet of his long calf-length pleated houppelandes, the sleeves fashionably scalloped and trimmed with the same pale blue-gray fur lining of the hyacinth cloak to the low slung belt with elaborate metal ornaments of gold-chased bronze and hanging tassels of silk, among which hung a heavy purse. “Come in, come in! Please, did you want a room? You’ll be wanting a room, we got the very best rooms for a man of your standing, Sir…?”

“Ahem, if you must know, I am a knight. Sir Aziraphale, a knight of the crown,” Aziraphale said, resting his hand upon a hilt made of white horn and bound with golden silk cord. “As you can see by my sword.”

“Oh, so that’s what was poking my back,” Crowley said softly, just loud enough for Aziraphale to hear.

Aziraphale went bright red. “And my son who is my squire.” He drew Crowley a bit closer, and whispered into the demon’s ear. “Don’t make me drop you.”

“Yes, I’ll behave. Daddy,” Crowley laughed, looking up into Aziraphale’s flustered, consternated face.

[wren-of-the-woods]

So this is not quite done (it's missing one line that I can't fudge), but I wanted to post it anyway to celebrate the anniversary of Ruin and the new post from The Amazing Devil! Enjoy <3

[medeaaasworld]

Are we waiting for daddy dearest to show up??