#I'm sO excited to write with you!

[hopeful-hellion]

@jadesigners continued from here X

Jackie's gaze was fixed on the shelf adjacent, looking for something sweet. They'd been hoping to find carrot cake or cheesecake that day but alas, the bakery had been sold out. So it looks like it was gonna be gummy worms this time. Shrugging to themselves, they pick up the bag and turn....walking right into someone. "Shit!" They manage to slow the fall just enough that they don't land on anything important. "I-I'm okay, thanks." They hop to their feet quickly. "Are you?"

[csaladanya]

"you're the nurse." tabitha's approach is direct and to-the-point, obvious; she's not great at small talk and even had to internally debate with herself on approaching for several long-winded minutes before she finally made it to medical. she's a bit awkward, standoffish as she looks at the woman, her eye-contact fleeting.

"how strict are the regulations about medication? as in, do you happen to have something that works for, like, headaches?"

"i am."

anya's own response is unsure, as if questioning herself and her own position upon prompting. she eyes tabitha as she stands in front of her—watching her completely avoid eye contact has anya doing the same, focusing on the cabinets on the wall behind her.

"pony express isn't very generous with their medicine stocks, but i have a limited supply of mid-strength paracetamol. we don't have things like cough medicine—but we do have oxycodone. it's kind of ... all over the place, i guess."

[yuuchama]

The easiest way to find Sebek is to walk around the Night Raven campus, going "where's my Sebek?"

It elicits odd stares and plenty of snickers from the other students, but it gets the job done. You'll know when he's nearby. After repeating this phrase enough times and in multiple places around campus, you'll hear a familiar thundering cry.

"I am not your Sebek!"

The shout is eventually followed by the man himself. You can tell what direction he's in by the heavy stomps, thudding against the ground almost as loud as his voice. His frown is as sharp as his furrowed brows. The slight tinge of embarrassment colors his face.

"Human! How dare you..."

The familiar face makes you smile with joy. "There you are! There's my Sebek."

He falters. It's clear he has so much to say, but can't find the right words to get out first. They pile up in his mouth while he stammers. You fear you may have traumatized him until the verbal barrage bursts out like a dam.

"How dare you! You know I serve none other than the great heir to Briar Valley. To even imply that I am yours? A mere human's? Inconceivable! Your absurdity knows no bounds!"

He sounds as energetic as ever. You decide to interrupt the angry monologue before he really gets going.

"Sebek, I wanted to know if we're still having lunch together."

"To insult the very essence of my being! As if you..."

It takes a hot second for your inquiry to reach his ears, but when he catches it, the rambling drifts off. He grows oddly quiet. He balls his hands into fists and unclenches them several times in quick succession, testing the limits of his uniform gloves. This would already have delved into a physical fight if you were any other student.

Despite your inane actions, you're practically harmless. Any great guard should easily be able to ignore petty taunts. It's best to consider this a test. Sebek clears his throat.

"Of course we are. You didn't have to come find me just for that. I always keep my word." The redness of his ear tips peeking out from under his hair remind you of a Christmas tree.

"Great! Can't wait."

You stick out your hand for a parting high five. Sebek subverts expectations by grabbing your palm. His gloves are warm and a little sweaty after rushing to find you, and his grip is anything but soft in a boyish display of dominance.

"Do not do this again," he says. He's stern, but after that warning his voice drops to a normal level and he sounds almost gentle. "Just... text me, like a normal person. You have my number."

[egophiliac]

Your first initial impressions of any Twst character vs your current feelings about them?

honestly, my perception of pretty much every character went through some metamorphosis of "this guy looks like a jerk" to "oh, he's a stupid jerk? now hold on." it's all about that balancing act between a dark brooding asshole and a dark brooding asshole who is also totally ridiculous, and it really does make ALL the difference.

perhaps most ironically, I've mentioned before that I was absolutely not into the Diasomnias at first, because the impression the website gave pre-release was somehow even less favorable than for everyone else and I was mad at Lilia for getting my hopes up for a token girl). and then we got their stories and, well, I kind of just haven't stopped thinking about them since. 🤷

also, I went in thinking that Crowley was going to be. y'know. competent at his job. a helpful guide. a mysterious yet caring mentor figure, a fitting leader for this band of delicate young magic waifs with their fancy little magic outfits and their perfect, perfect hair. I've never been so glad to be wrong.

[hazelnootnut]

ACT 2 "You're... me?" "That's right, stardust!"

You know I've been drawing Loop as their Siffrin form so much that it's got me thinking. I've read and seen so many fics and artworks of Loop eventually getting back to looking like their old self, but I don't think I've seen any so far of Loop already being a mirror copy of Siffrin. So uh, yoink?

ISAT AU where the game plays out the same way (plot-wise at least) but Loop looks like Siffrin the whole time and while Siffrin is extremely perplexed that there's another him, he's still gotta accept their help because how else are they supposed to escape the loops? Good ol' Loop is here to help, helpful friendly Loop!

Siffrin is going through it still but Differently.

[wardingshout]

Travelling for Day 4 of SpeSilverWeek! going to Mt. Silver to visit "the extended family"...

[chronicparagon]

[ MUSUEM ] from @keithhoward (hi there!)

[ MUSUEM ] :  for  our  muses  to  meet  at  a  museum 

She ran as fast as she could. The news set her heart ablaze and her silver eyes shone with excitement. Black hoots hit the concrete as she races through the busy streets, weaving in and out of the crowds with relative ease, her sight pinned ahead of her to the goal: Domino City Museum. Harmony could not believe it! She couldn't believe it until she dashed through the doors of the museum.

That is when she found out the news she found online was true after all.

The banners and signs reveal the current and upcoming exhibits that adorn the grand halls. One of the current exhibits is about the Tribes of the Great Plains, featuring displays of the history of her home country and the culture of her people. The culture and ancient knowledge that she grew up with and cherished.

The woman knew she had to see it! In a way, it is like she is coming back home.

The smile never left her face when she enters the section of the exhibit. She takes in the paintings from renowned Lakota artists showing scenes of their history, the beautiful ledger art adorning the walls, and the display cases showing beaded regalia, replicas of weapons, and other items like horse regalia, a replica of a lodge and buffalo robes. She admired the mannequins wearing the traditional clothing through the eras and contemporary regalia the danders would wear like the fancy shawl, jingle dress, grass dancers, and fancy chicken dancers. Tears brim her eyes as she looks at the war bonnet worn by war chiefs, leaders, and heroes of the Great Plains, the ornate cradleboards and amulets in the shape of lizards and turtles that infants were given.

Her mind returns to stories from her grandfather and her days on the Black Hawk Reservation when she was close to her culture. For a time, she felt she was closer to home. How she misses it so.

However, something else also caught her eye, or more like, someone. A man is at this exhibit too and what he wears made her flinch from where she stands. He dons a bandana on his head in the design of an American flag and he certainly looks like he is not from here either. Eyes widen as her heart leaps once more.

Oh! He must be from the US too! It's been so long since I seen anyone from there! Harmony thought with delight. Though he seems a bit rough by appearance, Harmony knows she looks a bit like that as well. It didn't mean she was unpleasant company. She clears her throat as she approaches him, hoping to gain a friend, or at least an acquaintance. They came from the same country, and she is hopeful that will help start a conversation.

"Excuse me?" Her soft voice calls, "Excuse me, sir? H-hey! Apologies for troubling you, but I noticed what you're wearing." She points to her head to gesture to his bandana.

"You're from the United States too, yeah? That's where I came from! That's wonderful! May I please know which part you came from?"

@keithhoward

[myiliterallyhavenolifegoals]

i'm unwell!!! because in stede's eyes, ned low was right!! ned says "he [ed] only likes you because of your bumbling amateur status" and calls stede blackbeard's "pet" just like izzy did in series 1

so stede steps up as a captain, kills the man who harmed his crew, and suddenly, for once in stede's life, he isn't a joke! the gentleman pirate is taken seriously and welcomed into the pirate community!

and what happens less than 24 hours later? ed calls their night together a mistake, AND LEAVES.

yes, obviously the situation is more nuanced, and these old men are once again struggling to communicate, but i 100% understand why stede went a bit of the rails at the end of episode 7. stede's been so focused on trying to help ed, that he's completely ignored his own ongoing identity crisis and trauma, and after the incident at the academy in series 1, this meltdown was long overdue.

[mischievous-thunder]

Wade: If I were an octopus, I'd have slapped 8 people at once.

Logan: if I were an octopus, I'd just select one person and slap them with 8 times the force.

Wade: *Stares at Logan with adoration and sheer excitement*

[verridaiya]

—Dream Blooms

"I've seen you there, before."

This fic was born from watching Sylus's Abyssal Blossom card and watching my heart break into a million pieces. It hurt, but then I realized you know who hasn't been hurt by it? Sylus.

Based on the prevailing theory/my headcannons that the Abyssal Blossom card was just a dream, brought on by MC's yearning for a normal, quiet life after the events of Beyond Cloudfall chapter 7.

Synopsis: Sylus invites himself over to take care of you while you're sick. You tell him about a pleasant dream of yours and proceed to break his heart. (Or, you dream of something you've dreamt before, and Sylus hears about it for the first time.)

Contains: Spoilers for Sylus's Beyond Cloudfall myth and the Abyssal Blossom card, Sylus x MC/reader, gender neutral MC/reader, angst/hurt (the comfort will come later), current timeline Sylus & MC

Word Count: 1.7k

“I had a strange dream again.”

“Another one, sweetheart?”

Sylus’s voice is a soft murmur above you. You open your blurry eyes to a darkened room and a pleasantly warm body under you, wrapped around you. Your head feels as hazy as the moonlight filtering in from the cloudy night sky through the window. Half-awake and half asleep, you can still feel the sensations of your dream like phantom memories. You hum an affirmation, shaking off the vestiges of a medicine-induced sleepiness.

You’re not quite sure how you found yourself in this position: sprawled out on your couch, nestled between a warm blanket and an even warmer Sylus, breathing in the scent of him through your admittedly stuffy nose. The last thing you remember was you laying collapsed on your bed, trying to convince yourself that you’re not sick, you’re just tired from a long week at the Hunter’s Association, and to muster up the energy to find something to eat. And then, suddenly, there was Sylus, filling your doorway as he had filled every part of your life, your thoughts, and now your dreams.

You’ve been having more of those recently, ever since you absorbed the power of another Aether Core almost a year ago. Reality intertwining with illusions, the people in your life woven intricately into a tapestry of dreams. Fragments of memories, glimpses of things that could never be, or never was. Flashing scales underneath glistening waves. Zayne, in a flowing robe you’ve never seen on him before, but looked so right on him. A silent forest, illuminated by starlight. You would wake up yearning for something just out of reach, hands outstretched to capture the essence of something that slips, incorporeal, through your fingers.

This dream was gentle, though. And this time, your hands didn’t need to reach far to grasp the heart of your dreams.

“You were in it this time, Sylus.”

“Oh?” he says, sounding intrigued. “Do tell, kitten.”

You hear him place something on the coffee table—his phone, probably—his attention shifting solely to you. He carefully moves to his side, extricating himself from under you, a large hand propping his head up so he can fully face you.

The soft moonlight illuminates on his face, throwing it into relief. Silvery hair threaded with shadow, a pale complexion half shrouded in darkness, eyes like banked hearths warming you with its glow. Through the haze of your fever, you can almost envision what you saw in your dream. You lift a hand pat his soft hair, as if searching for something that wasn’t there, before trailing your fingers down the side of his face.

“You had something on your head.” No, not exactly on his head. You can’t quite remember. The you in the dream was certain that the something was more a part of him than anything else. You frown slightly. The more you strain to remember the details of it, the more awake you became, and the more it danced out of your grasp. “Something sharp and twisting. Rough. It was beautiful, though. You were beautiful.”

Sylus stares at you with wide eyes you couldn’t decipher in your current state. There’s a spark of something foreign in his eyes.

“And?” he urges on, his deep voice uncharacteristically eager to your ears. He reaches to grab the hand that was holding his face, pressing it gently to him. His thumb rubs against the back of it in small soothing motions. “Can you tell me more about this dream of yours, kitten?”

You grasp at the cotton inside your head, stuffy from sleep and sickness. It takes so much effort, to tease apart the strands and find the wisps of fading dreams. It doesn’t help that you were also fighting off the drowsiness. You try, though, to give him what he’s asking for, as he always does for you.

“We were standing in a lovely field of flowers. They were breathtaking, Sylus. Such a vivid, dazzling red. There was a black spire in the distance, I think.” The spire had stood tucked away in the backdrop of rolling hills, but it was a small detail your mind was stuck on for some reason.

Thinking about that spire again, your mind can almost conjure a clear image of your dream. A lingering feeling of déjà vu washes over you, settling heavy on your chest. You’ve dreamt this before; you feel this with every bone in your body as an unshakeable fact. You’ve seen this obsidian spire before, this sprawling flower field. You know with startling certainty that you’ve had this exact dream before. But when you try to recall when, the feeling dissipates and leaves behind only a phantom sensation and an absence in your memory you cannot comprehend.

Sylus watches as you shake away the remnants of déjà vu. Your brow furrows. You’ve come to be accustomed to his intense stares through the months you’ve known him, but this one was… strange. It was as if he was trying to look deep into the fabric of your soul, even without the use of the Aether Core in his eye. His face remains a blank and indecipherable mask, leaving you with no indication of what he’s thinking of. You wanted to know what was going on in that unfathomable mind of his.

Longing. Trepidation. Yearning, a yearning that aches and makes you want to answer its call. You become distantly aware of emotions trickling into you that weren’t your own. You didn’t realize you were resonating with Sylus until he severed it, the hand holding yours shifting to catch your wrist instead. He leans down to brush his soft lips against it before letting your hand rest gently on your stomach.

“How about you recover from your fever first before you use your evol, sweetie.” He laughs softly, the red-gold brilliance of your evols intertwined fading from your hands.

“Oh, sorry.”

His presence in your mind and by your side was so natural that you weren’t even aware of when you began resonating with him. It seemed like your body responded to your desires even while your mind lagged behind. That brief glimpse into him enabled you to decipher that emotion in his eyes, though you struggle to make sense of it.

It was hope.

“Never apologize to me. What else do you remember?” he asks quietly, before you can puzzle over it further.

You close your eyes, willing the memories of the fleeing dream forward. The golden light of a setting sun. The crisp cold of mountainous air. The feeling of being the only two creatures in the world. And, inexplicably, the feeling of home.

“We were up in the air flying, somehow, before we landed in that blossoming. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I felt like I was in a whole other world. When I turned around to look at you, I saw you sitting there amongst the flowers. Red, like shining rubies. Red like-” you pause, the words at the tip of your tongue. A silhouette appears in your mind’s eye, before it sinks back into the void.

“Red, like rich wine,” you finish, though you know that’s not what you had wanted to say.

When he said nothing, you continued on. “I decorated you with those flowers. We were so carefree, unworried and relaxed. It was just us, no one else, in the valley that was our playground. I think I was teasing you, or maybe you were teasing me. You said something about seeing the other side of things, something taunting. We ended up play-fighting, rolling around and sending petals up in the air.”

You smile, the warmth of the dream enveloping you.

“It felt so real.” You wanted it to be real, this lovely lush field and this gorgeous, monstrous Sylus.

Monstrous?

Startled out of your reverie, you blink open your eyes. No, there is nothing monstrous about Sylus. Not anymore, not since those first few nights that you’ve met him so long ago. Shaking your head slightly to dispel the thought, you turn your head to glance at him, realizing he hasn’t spoken in a while.

His eyes are closed, brows furrowed and drawn tightly together. You’ve seen this expression on his face before, briefly, when he struggles to heal a particularly nasty wound. His body is so tense when you reach out to him, muscles taut and rigid beneath your fingers. You’re not quite sure he’s even breathing.

“Sylus?”

At your prompting, Sylus sucks in a breath through his teeth and exhales. He opens his eyes and your breath catches. Rich garnet eyes glow in the darkness, twin wine-dark seas drowning in sorrow, regret. Agony.

It is so at odds to the sweetness of your recounted dream that alarm shot through you, temporarily driving away the sleepiness. Seeing the pain in his eyes unsettled you; it didn’t belong on his face at all. Your sluggish brain tries to make sense of what you could have said to have garnered this reaction. Did you say something wrong? Your chest tightens at the thought of hurting him with your words, somehow. You begin to prop yourself up.

Sylus stops you with one gentle hand, pushing you to lay back down. He silently regards you, the silence between you stretching into something delicate.

There are so many things you want to say, to ask and to comfort. Sylus was never one to let his emotions show as openly as they are right now. You want to ask what was wrong, take back your silly little story if all it gave him was pain, even if you didn’t understand why.

But through the jumble of your fever, all that came out of your tired mouth was, “It was just a dream, Sylus.”

He quietly watches you for a few breaths longer. Slowly, he lifts a hand to gently caresses your cheek, holding you as if you were something as fragile as a memory. Leaning down, he brushes his lips against your forehead, soft as a butterfly’s wings, as the petals of a phantom flower.

“You’re right,” he says, with a grief you cannot fathom.

“It was just a dream, sweetheart.” His voice is barely a whisper. “It can be nothing more than a dream.”

[naffeclipse]

O' Medusa

Gorgon!Eclipse x Reader

The wrath of the divine hunts for your blood and flesh. You flee into the darkness, carrying a bitter wound. A goddess blesses you with a gift and a protector, and a minor deity guides you to your new refuge: a long abandoned temple with a mysterious figure dwelling inside. Your prayers are answered by a chorus of snakes.

Word Count: ~10,900 Warnings: Blood, violence, injury, fear, anxiety, and nightmares

A/N: Hi, hello! I'm so very eager to introduce my new fic! I love the inherent tragedy of lots of Greek Mythology and while this is heavily inspired by the culture/period, it will not be entirely one-to-one with actual Greek Mythology lore. I play around with established FNAF characters and insert them into the story as I see fit. Very few will use their actual names so I apologize if that's disconcerting. However, I hope you have fun figuring out who is who!

The subject matter within this fic will contain darker themes, and I am warning you now to consider the tags carefully before reading.

[science-lings]

God, I love it when people who clearly have personal experience or expert knowledge on certain things write obscure AUs that incorporate those things so hyperspecifically that I feel like I'm learning something.

I love nurses who write hospital AUs that have accurate medical knowledge just thrown in there because they went to medical school and when people who clearly had a phase where they obsessed over a certain time period write an AU set in that time period or location it's just so fun.

Tell me about the 1950s Chicago culture and history and how the characters are interracial and how that affects their life, I love when the money is accurately converted and the personal histories of the characters are thoughtfully woven to incorporate the new setting they're put in, I love it when people care so much about making something and use their own expertise to aide them.

[gennyrthewriter]

After TWO YEARS, the sequel to The Backwater is finally out!

Check out These Other Coasts on Amazon!

(Or, as always, hit me up for a PDF. It's MY book I'll distribute it how I WANT!)

If you like colonial-era inspired low-ish fantasy with political intrigue, moral ambiguity, and a whole cast of queer characters, give it a chance!

[maaxverstappen]

help me hold onto you | T | 9/13

f1driver!max and streamer!charles

The man—Charles, Max assumes—sounds French. He loves that. He should be used to a French accent, he was forced to converse with Pierre often enough, but it sounds different coming from Charles. More melodic. Almost similar to someone he used to know once. “And that made me think,” Charles says, voice bellowing from Max’s speakers. “That it was stupid that we didn't have carrots before. Like, come on, it's a farming game.” Max has no fucking idea what the hell he is on about.

or: Max is lonely and finds Charles streaming on Twitch.

based on this prompt sent to @f1prompts

[mister-writes]

Hey writeblr I have a question!

So I often see posts in the same vein as this one here:

Things along the lines of "oh my characters are always changing the story, they're the ones that are really in charge."

[lesbianherald]

I love your jayvik fics, and I am suuuuuper stoked and looking forward to your jayvik fantasy au!

I am very glad for all the compliments and recognition you get because you write so well, you deserve it. I hope you have a nice day!

you are the sweetest thank for taking time out of your day to tell me! and the kindness I've received from you and others really means so much. it's hard to put into words what these past few weeks have done for me.

so happy you're excited for the fantasy AU. since I'm almost done with the first draft of Chapter 1, here are a couple of sillier snippets teeeheee.

Road trip games

Horse girl Jayce

Vi with priorities

Magical pain medicine induced first impressions before loading jayce onto a stretcher