#Idk idk it's been swimming in my mind for ages

[phoenixcatch7]

I'm making a persona 5 au of svsss (au in that it was the modern world that was the au, and sy brought something along with him), and I'm having a lot of fun with it!

Sy dies the same way as in canon, but this time as the leader/a member of the Chinese branch of phantom thieves (when and how a Chinese branch was made can be handwaved). He's a fellow wild card, a fool arcana, he's got third eye and a fully realised but unawakened persona.

When he awakes in sqq's body, he starts on as canon, but starts to notice strange fluctuations on qj that indicate the presence of the meta verse - and not only that, but a palace. The system notices the mysterious appearance of a new program it can't delete - the meta nav.

Without the key words, however, Sqq can't get in. He can't find who it belongs to, nor what it might be. One thing is for certain though: lbh cannot find out. The blackened protagonist with free reign of the meta verse? An undoubtedly powerful persona of his own?? It'd be the breakdown incidents all over again! He wouldn't stand a chance!

It takes a lot of arguing with the system about narrative directions and plot holes for it to not direct him to the nearest ripple in reality. In dreams, igor agrees (he has a lot to say about his new situation, but Sqq kinda ignores it).

Then, one day, he finds a fluctuation strong enough to fit a human, and slips right through, his scifi fantasy ninja outfit appears in flames, and he is faced with the distortion of qing jing peak - roiling dark clouds, bamboo towering impossibly far over his head, brown leaves thick on the ground and a thunderous gong ringing from somewhere down the path.

A coliseum.

Screams ring out, metal clashes, beasts roar.

And standing in front of the metal grill gate, tall and bedazzled in riches and more unmarked than shen yuan has ever seen him, is shen qingqiu.

-

What is persona if not themes of the inner self and fighting literal inner demons and learning to love, both yourself and others, and overcoming tragedy?

There are some things I'm still unsure of, but I really want to explore the idea of the ghost of sj lingering on, still haunting the narrative and how that affects everyone. Normally, when a palace ruler is killed, their palace crumbles as well, but with Sqq still walking around and the systems intervention with his soul (having not died then in canon) the original goods wouldn't be fully gone.

The soul is! It's not sjs ghost, but rather his shadow. Real souls cannot live in the meta verse. But with the real deal gone, sy would be unable to affect him in order to make his way through the palace to the treasure the way a normal heist would go. Instead, he'd have to learn about sj himself, uncovering secrets and dispelling rumours. As the new Sqq, he would have to change his perspective and uncover the story behind the scum villain in order to progress. Remove the distorted perspective from himself.

Mini bosses would be a bad faith interpretation of yqy from sjs perspective, qiu haitang as she was at the manor. Enemies would be the coliseum guards and jailers, the shadow populace qj disciples in general misery, often forced to fight each other or monsters as sj watches on from the top seat. Nyy would sit with him. Poor shadow lbh would be a prime gladiator slave, suffering constant defeat. Sin: envy. I really want to focus on the fact he is both abuser and survivor, and his 'I suffered, thus so should you' thing. A bit like p5 strikers in that.

The plot would be basically Sqq handling both the canon events of svsss and also his investigation into sj, tracing paper trails of slave documents, hunting for potential secrets in the bamboo house, learning about the ghost backstab incident from lqg (which leads him to airplane), building up the courage to go down and talk to the brothel ladies, carefully teasing bits of history out of yqy. Also beating up shadows with a jojo stand and a .7 calibre sniper rifle he can fire like an automatic in his spare time. (if you don't know, persona lets you hold shadows at gunpoint for cash and items, but also flirt, threaten and bribe. Also you can ambush them and sometimes collect them like pokemon it's fun.)

The final battle would have the palace ruler sj transform into his final form (I'm thinking something with chains) but there absolutely has to be a human duel for the first phase, xiu ya to xiu ya. The surrendering of the crown would end in a hug, and sj performing a sincere but bastardised version of the peak lord crowning ceremony before he dissipates, and the coliseum starting to crumble and burn. As for the treasure... In the distorted world, an elaborate peak lord ceremonial crown, in the real world, an old, worn hair ribbon.

If I wrote it, I'd probably keep it shorter. Just the one palace, maybe sqh awakens his persona by virtue of being squirrelly and getting on his last nerve™. I'm thinking of the 'what don't I dare when it comes to you?!' because if that isn't a persona awakening scene I don't know what is. Conquering the bamboo palace would free qj from some 'unnamable' dark cloud and just in time to push lbh in the abyss (the palace time limit bring that sjs spirit would cruelly push lbh into the abyss rather than sy doing it (and being kinder about it)).

If it was longer, more persona users would awaken, despite sqq's best attempts. Liu qingge, ning yingying, shang qinghua obviously, gongyi xiao, zhuzhi lang maybe (they'd both live). A real motley crew. There'd be more palaces along the journey, each with it's own deadline - old palace master, lbh (though his palace would have the gimmick of being actually xin mo's), tianlang Jun, qiu haitang. Sj would still be the overarching palace, this time being the only one without a deadline maybe, and the story would end with a 'not sj' reveal for the new phantom thieves (with a side order of 'we already know and care for you anyway').

A sequel would be shorter: sy visits qiong ding for the first time since its all calmed down and realises that the distortions of a palace are still there, that they weren't a product of the bamboo palace. Yqy has a palace (because you can't tell me that man is mentally well). For a side of angst maybe the sy reveal was more open secret for the need to knows rather than strictly 'whoever witnessed two identical versions of Sqq trying to kill each other' and Yqy develops the palace as a result of not taking that well.

In comparison to the others, Yqy is the strongest cultivator alive, has been sitting on a soul deep distortion and trauma for decades since childhood, recently went through a heartbreaking reveal pointed directly at every single one of those issues, and oh yeah, has his soul directly bound to xuan su.

His palace's difficulty level is nightmarish. The corrupt version of the lingxi caves is a terrifying subterranean crawl through blood soaked caverns and bottomless pits. The gimmick is that near everything wants to suck your soul out. The only saving grace is that distortions are not inherently malicious, and they manage to lever that to their advantage. Unlike the others, yqys palace does not focus on him abusing his power over others - quite the opposite, in fact.

Through murals, echoing voices, and what sy and sqh remember, they piece together his own heart demons. It's scary - outwardly, the sect leader is fine, clear headed, going about his days just fine. The bloodied caverns he sees the world through tell a different story. To gain access it's a long process of easing out stories, working through his deeply ingrained self reliance, helping him work up to confessing the truth of xuan su. Not only to xiao jius shrine, but to his closest martial siblings as well, allowing him to be vulnerable and protected as he never has been.

But Yqy follows them into the palace, curious as to why they visit his peak every day. It's unstable, very dangerous for a person to meet their shadow, but it's too late. Yqy meets his shadow self, small and furious and stuck through with a thousand swords he uses to his advantage, and does the impossible.

A palace ruler awakens a persona.

Even as a trained group, the life force powered xuan su boosted shadow is too strong - they've already failed to defeat it once. Yue qingyuan, breathing grief like air but finally ready to heal, stands for himself. Rips off the smiling mask he's been hiding behind since he was five years old and freshly a big brother. His persona is magnificent.

And just in time, too, because, uh, turns out the meta verse is the systems doing, this time. And it's evil. I'm thinking a giant brainwashing vr-esque super computer. And they defeat it with the power of friendship and also lucifer.

[kindred-spirit-93]

penelope canonically retreating to her room and refusing food = she puts on some weight, the reason being both lack of physical activity as well as her body being on constant emergency mode (so what little she does eat ends up being stored away bc the body doesnt know when the 'starvation' will end). whats more her constant stress elevates cortisol levels which in and of itself leads to weight gain esp in the abdominal area.

tl;dr chubby penelope send fucking t w e e t

[nomairuins]

i want to watch the things on my watchkist but i also never do its rly tragic

[lovifie]

Masterlist

495 words / No cw, just fluff

Childhood best friend Johnny Mactavish, that saw you had doodled a little dog on your notebook and in that second decided you were going to be friends.

Johnny that saw you drowning in the pool and jumped in to save you forgetting he didn't know how to swim either.

Johnny that got his nose broken when he got into a fight with some kids teasing you and got his ass beaten because it was 1 against 3.

Johnny that told you his plan to enlist in the military even though he was still too young because he wanted to become the best version of himself.

Johnny that came back crying to you when they rejected him, only calming down when you were cuddling and cooing at him about he just needed to wait a couple of months.

Johnny that used those couple of months to grow bigger and stronger, entering the military easily when he finally was of age.

Johnny who grew up being a scrawny kid that used to sit on your lap and still does even now that he has grown bigger than you. Chuckling when you huff at the sudden weight and patting your hands when you lock them around his waist.

Johnny that kissed your temple before going to boot camp, promising to write you a letter "like soldiers in the movies"

Johnny that did write you a letter, many of them actually, that looked like ripped pages of a journal telling you everything that happened to him.

Johnny that told you that they had given him the nickname "Soap" and that he would tell you why in person.

Johnny whose letters grow more and more distant in time, with less and less details about what he is doing. Saying it is classified and that it is better if you don't know.

Johnny, who suddenly appears on your doorstep with his arm in a sling and a bullet wound on his arm, saying he is on annual leave.

Johnny that sits on your toilet as you cut his hair and he tells you everything about his new teammates with nothing but utter adoration for all of them.

Johnny that one day tells you that they are meeting at the pub and that he wants to introduce you to them.

Johnny that does so, and introduces you as "my bonnie lass" with his hand on your waist. And you don't really mind. Keeping his hand on your thigh as he plays with the loose threads of your ripped jeans.

Johnny that gets a bit tipsy and accuses you of ruining his date life because ever since he met you he has not been able to feel anything for anyone that wasn't you.

Johnny, that when you sent him a message the day after about whether he meant what he said, his response is:

"Every single word, bonnie"

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[eldrith]

˗ˏˋ On Sunny Days I Go Out Walking ˎˊ˗ Jacaerys Velaryon

jacaerys velaryon x reader words: 3k synopsis: Jacaerys is learning that the world moves on. contents: angst. mourning, grief, major character death. mentions of depression, anxiety. sad jace notes: i was listening to the song francis forever by mitski and this somehow showed up fully written in 20 mins. also some inspo from mind over matter.... im so happy idk what else to say. super happy fic im happy and fine. this does not follow canon, jace aged up, no spoilers rly but like... iykyk. ps im sorry @softspiderling for what ive done. the gun is at my temple feedback is appreciated <3 requests open. masterlist

THE DARK IS NO FRIEND OF JACAERYS VELARYON.

A flicker, the single room illuminated in the obsidian of the castle at such an hour; the dark crawls upon him, slow as shadows, stealthy as the beast that lingers empty within his stomach. 

The dark has begun to infect him. 

Seeping slowly into skin, carving through into the sponginess of his bones - some shadowed poison, twisting and lingering in the blood that dawdles slowly through his veins. The quiet is deafening, in the way it had been up in the North those months ago; when snow tumbled from the chasmous skies in the dead of night, a blanket of reticence chilling him to his heart. 

Breaths tumble scarce from his lips. The darkness crawls, it whispers; fingers, blotched and stained, though he has scarcely written one word upon the parchment in the hour since he’s crawled from the refuge of bed. 

Perhaps, if things were different, there would be hands; hands, sleek and gentle, sliding over the slope of his shoulder, wrapping to embrace him from behind. A sweet whisper in his ear, encouraging. A ward to the shadows; though darkness swallows up any memory of that touch, the memory of which becomes more and more scarce with each breath he takes. 

Waves crash in the distance, twisting the dagger further into his gut. The word stares up at him - and he, avoiding the swimming vision, stares out into the pain of a world so large, so cold.

Dearest, 

He cannot bring himself to write what comes next. Your name, so sweet - your name, the world. His limbs frozen in fear - to pour his self into this letter, to release the pressure that has built and built and festered and rolled its beastly body upon itself to reveal a soft underbelly; a sharp pain below his ribs, one trembling hand pressing against the lids of his eyes, vision swimming in soft patterns. His lips wobble with poorly concealed anguish.

Jacaerys is no stranger to the feeling of loss - a swallowing, consuming dissolution, the eclipse of any warmth with the cold strike of grief. His father, fathers - and then when he lost his brother, he lost himself; anger, mistrust, pain. Your hands, the sweet embrace of your warm breast, heart beating strong enough for both of you when he thought his own might stop. You had been the one to suggest it, back then. 

The irony of it makes a vicious wave of bile begin to rise in his throat, fingers trembling as he holds a quill, shaking his head to rid himself of the barrage of sorrow that tears at his chest. 

You were there. In the middle of the night, when he could not find rest; in the peak of day, when the sun served nothing but a reminder of the laugh he would not ever hear again, you’d been there. Write a letter to him, you’d suggested. 

Jacaerys did not heed your suggestion for many days; a young man, festered with anger, revenge, grief; your insistence, despite his vicious sorrow, breaking through and softening the blow of life without Lucerys. With shaky hands he wrote the letter, one day. Brother, he’d addressed it to - and then, after sealing it in a bottle, had sent it into the tides in the early hours of the morning, turning to relieve his grief upon your shoulder. You’d held him in the wet sand until the sun rose in the sky. 

You would want him to do this, he knows - you, always pushing him to be better, to speak and be understood, to listen and understand, to feel, to love. To prepare, because when the time comes, when the crown is heavy upon his head, he will rule well - and you… to rule aside him. 

And that’s what it was for, in the end. You were what it was all for. 

But nothing of that remains; the quill hovers above the parchment, suspended in time. Jacaerys’ hand trembles with the weight of what he knows he could never convey. How can you express the loss of the entire world, your entire being, everything you are, into one piece of parchment? How can he confess that when you were consumed by those depths, he too was lost within them?

Jacaerys swallows the lump that rises; the parchment before him is warbled, dipping and swimming in his vision. His grasp shakes - with a soft whimper of desolation he realizes his foolish hand has marred your name, that sweet word, upon the parchment. Tainted, smudged now with darkness.

Your name, so sweet from the curl of your lips - lips now so cold to the touch, blue and purple with the unrelent of the ocean. That haunting thought - did you realize, in those last moments? 

Did you understand when you were going down, aflame and prepared to meet the Stranger? Was it Luke, who welcomed you with pale lips pulled into that ceaseless grin wherever your soul went after your body was dragged under the currents? 

A choked gasp, tears splattering upon the parchment.

Jacaerys used to grow exasperated with how Luke seemed to follow you and him around - blathering ceaselessly about anything he could think of; a menace, snickering when Jace threw glares at him yet beaming when you sent him a sly wink. You told Jace you didn’t mind Luke’s company, so Jace grew to enjoy it, too. 

After all, you’d always wanted a younger brother. 

Gods, why not me? The salinity mixes with the ink, tainting the curve of the first letter of your name as it begins to bleed through. He cannot stop the tears, his gasping sobs swallowed by the dark of eve. 

The letter is shoved away from him expeditiously, a heavy cloak falling upon him as he tries to suck in breaths; letting loose an involuntary groan of sorrow, his fingers tug at the laces of his tunic, much too tight against the heart beating into his chest.  The parchment flutters to the floor.

The cusp of adulthood was tread only by the hand within his own, the smiles in dark, the terse furrow of strategizing brows in the light of the council room. Jacaerys is a man, now - grasping, unsteady in the ground that has been ripped and overturned, the stench of fresh earth suffocating. The pillow that lies in the empty space of his mattress, illuminated by the second of two lit candles; dragged with detached hands that night when the raven came home, but you did not. 

It is beginning to smell less and less like you - like the dahlia blossoms you’d clipped in the gardens and refined into oils and pressed between the pages of Jace's old journals, the sweets you’d sneak into his chambers after a visit to the kitchens. Perhaps worse - with a violent twist of his gut, a panic; what will he do when the pillow is absorbed, the last of your scent snuffed by his own? Where will you have gone? 

He cannot bring himself to lay aside that pillow; with a shaky breath, he discards his tunic, running a shaky hand over a clammy chest, wishing it felt more like your own palm.

In only a few hours, the sun will wake. 

The darkness over the island will dissipate, the fog creeping along the coast in a slow crawl; and Jacaerys will rise, bleary and red-eyed, throat hoarse. He will break fast alone, as he does these days. He will rip apart pastries just to discard them upon the plate uneaten, take a sip of tea and force it down his throat; he will recall how you used to dunk little cookies into your own, how you often preferred to take yours with his mother when time allowed it, because you both enjoyed a later tea. 

He will walk to the hall, see to his duties - the Prince of Dragonstone; he will stare at the seat you used to occupy, recall the day he’d lifted you upon the table in isolation, how you’d sighed with a frilly laugh into his neck as he’d kissed the expanse of your face. He will walk to Aegon’s Garden, but he won’t go all the way towards the end where the freshly turned soil of the memorial grounds bears a new member.

The darkness will dissipate; the sun will rise.

The sun will come, and he will remember the way your hair shined in the early mornings, slumped upon the pillow, tickling his nose as he woke. 

The sun will rise every morning, but you will not. 

JACAERYS USED TO LOVE WATER.

He is kin of salt and sea; in one way or another - and the ocean, a soft presence, some secret rebirth. In youth, it held him like he was its own - wading, throwing stones, floating on lazy afternoons. Sailing with his father, slipping on the quarterdeck, diving into the captain’s quarters under rough seas. 

Jacaerys stares down at the water that surrounds him: Things are no longer what they used to be.

The bathwater is warm - his skin, pinked by the heat as tendrils of steam rise, a handmaid lifting his arm to scrub underneath his nails. The bath is full; he stares helplessly upon the ripples that undulate over the surface, eyes harrowed by his own reflection. A man he does not recognize. 

And a blink, then the face that stares back is so similar to his own; carved of the same bedrock stone, birthed of the same love, kissed by the same gods. Not himself, but one who knows him just as well, as close as one… a brother. Panic, a flash of jaws larger than the moon - pain, the wail of a lifelong companion, swallowed by a beast. A freefall, wind in ears. The cold, tumultuous sea, swallowing yelps, gasps, struggling to stay upright amidst screams for mother, for brother. Then, hair; not his own, nor his brother’s, but a reflection upon the refracted waves, a scream warbled as water fills sweet, kind lungs. The reflection of the one who knew him more than he knew himself - a smile, a gasp of pain. Legs, thrashing against currents, littered with arrows and tangled by a thick riding dress; skirts heavy, riding armor dragging to depths as hands grasp fruitlessly at a splintered castaway of shipwreck. 

This life; merely borrowed time from the Stranger. 

His hands tremble under the soft grasp of the houseworker; he ignores the looks of concern, sliding back until he is nearly submerged, letting the water flood his senses. This life - bright skies that leak through the curtains he continuously draws closed - soaked and numb, deafening silence as water trickles into his ear canals, an urge to breathe though he is submerged nearly to the line of lashes that weep from below his eyes. A voice asks meekly if he’ll be breaking his fast in his chambers this morning. He does not hear himself respond.

A rippled noise as his hand slides back into the water, the handmaids rising with worried looks before bowing, exiting to give the prince his privacy. He is left alone, isolated, small. Tired.

Is this what it was like? 

The cold, empty silence that followed your fall, bones splitting at the surface, water swallowing you, meeting with the same cruel depths that somewhere still tether Luke’s body to a watery grave.

Do wait up for me, my love… Your voice suffocates him. His throat tightens, head thumping against the back of the tub, tilting his head back to suck in a watery, ragged gasp, eyes screwing shut. Hot tears upon his cheeks. I heard they’re preparing lamb roast this evening, you’d told him as you’d straightened the clasp of his cloak. Such a sweet observation - his favorite of the meals the cooks oft prepared. Your bravery - a promise, a resolute promise. 

You’re ill, Jacaerys, you’d reminded him when he suggested once more he should come with you. You must rest. His worry was not easily concealed; yet you, with a smile so graceful it lit up the dragonmont; you, knowing him as familiar as your own reflection; you, brushing his hair away from his cheeks, poking his nose. -But do wait up for me, my love, and we can share dinner. I heard they’re preparing lamb roast this evening. 

He’d sighed then, worry lacing his heart as he roved his hands over your hips - for the last time. Your voice was so sweet, playful. I'll be fine, Jace. Don’t you trust me? 

A question asked rhetorically; yet he’d nodded, pressing a kiss to your hairline, straightening the riding armor over your dress, murmuring into your skin. I trust you with my entire being - with my life, and every life after. 

Your breath, shuttering as you tilted your head up, brushing your lips against his, whispering: And you, with mine. 

But the lamb roast went cold in the kitchen that evening. You did not return. A raven, broken whispers, his mother with unshed tears, choking as she grasped his shoulders, cradled his head - whispering: I’m so sorry, my sweet boy. 

The tears ripple into the bathwater. 

Jacaerys drifts, heart numb; harsh waves, sharp laughter, whispered kisses.

LIGHT IS DILUTED.

These days, the sun beats upon the castle; scarce clouds that begin to grow and cluster upon the shoreline, rumbling as they begin the slow descent upon the island. 

The scent of pine lingers in his nose; a sharp break from the salty air of coast, Aegon’s Garden is cloistered with tall trees, swaying in the breeze. The light that filters through the needles high above flickers in his vision; dappled shadows spreading across the path, crawling in a slow lumber towards the end of the garden.

He can feel you here, more than most places. 

The soft breeze in the wind, a fleeting touch of your nose against his neck. The trickling water of a stream nearby, crawling its way towards the sea - the bubble of your laughter between sheets, his fingers tickling your side gently, your hands pushing him away and then pulling him close. 

Those perfumed oils. gentle, sweet dahlia petals - lingering upon his clothing, upon his face after you'd pressed a kiss to his cheek. The call of gulls in the distance, the ones that'd flee when you and Jace, wild and yelling in joy upon Vermax's back, gave chase across the glassy refraction of the sea. Quiet afternoons under the pines, his head in your lap - he'd read you the history of house targaryen; you'd thread your fingers through his hair, and hum his favorite song.

Here, near the Dragon's Tail - where he taught you to weave wild grassroots and flowers together, and make a crown. You'd worn yours to supper proudly one evening, coaxing a grin from his mother and uncle alike when you'd placed the crown, wilting and too large, unto Joffrey's little head.

His steps are heavy; boots crunch softly on gravel as the pines sway, their needles whistling in the breeze. A sparse raindrop upon his shoulder.  

Silence passes until he's carried himself much too far - a tightness in his chest, breath coming in quicker as he nears the corner of the garden.

The intention was to turn around; though lost in the emptiness of his mind, watching a fat bumbling bee struggle to float its way past him, recalling when you'd helped Luke mend his split knee after tumbling from the low-lumbering branch of the tree near the Sept - Jacaerys’ steps slow, then stop altogether as the path bends and returns from whence it began. 

He told Baela he would not venture this far; though she told him it would be good - even offered to accompany him. The taste of his lip between his teeth has grown metallic as he stares ahead, eyes burning, heart stopped. 

Beauty is never consolatory, you’d told him once. He stares, heart pinched - a plethora of flowers - and there, carved in stone, fresh. 

His vision swims, taking a staggering step forward. The bush of forget-me-nots - vibrant, full of life - a soft, wistful blue, so matching the very shade that his brother oft favored. The flowers have grown in the months, spreading delicate beauty - indeed, not consolatory - and curling around the name: Lucerys Velaryon. 

And there, just beside them, white blossoms of dahlia. Your name.

His knees buckle. 

The ground welcomes the brunt of his weight upon his knees, trembling as he gasps - buds have just begun to open - white, bleeding with a deep red, leaking through and bursting sharply against the forget-me-nots. A new memorial grave. 

The buds flourish under the broken sunlight, even as light rain begins to kiss over the stones, sending heavenly tears over your name, over Luke’s. 

A glance upwards; some self-comfort, a seek for the dragons which circle the sky - the sunlight is gapped between the trees, swaying as rain falls from invisible clouds. Rainshine, you used to call it: Rainshine, Jace - You’d laugh, tugging him outside onto the ramparts, twisting the two of you in some lazy waltz through rain, smiling up at him, sunshine in your eyes, in your hair, in his heart. 

Tears fall from his aching eyes, though he is unsure if they’d begun when he entered the garden or just now, as he’s crumpled to his knees. A leaf falls, fluttering to land on the path beside him, orange and yellowed from the liquidation of summer. 

He stares in disbelief at the forgotten frond, settling itself onto the pavement, so ready to be trampled, discarded, destroyed. Some sick cycle; a long season through, fruit rotting unpicked, sunshine and days of warmth melting fresh and revealing upturned decomposition of below. Summer is ending.  

The smell of earth, of ocean; the sweet sick of flowers, once so lovely, now nauseating. It hits him within the chest: this summer cannot end - you are still here. His heart, suffocated as he stares, hands beginning to shake. 

Fingernails cake with dirt, grasping at the soft earth that lies before him; the heavy smell has begun to take over, a thick, lingering sweetness that has turned bitter in his mouth, rotting dahlias festering in the late heat of summer, soon to freeze and wilt in the cold of winter coming. 

“No,” His voice is hoarse. His head shakes, palms to the ground, reaching for whatever part of you remains in this cold earth. The sound of the ocean, mocking; The rattle of a hoarse whimper, tears hot and lethal against the apple of his cheeks, “Don’t go.” 

His words remain empty, heard only by the flowers blooming in the sorrow of the garden, forgotten by ears long since gone. “Don’t make me, please,” He sobs, now - eyes squeeze, tears fertilizing the deep roots of your flowers, “Please, don’t make me leave you.” He whispers, voice cracked and trembling with emotion. Don't make me leave you in the decay of summer. 

He remains, miserably curled between your memorial and his brother’s, pillowed by his hands as though he is once again a boy; head bowed, breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Pine, earth, flowers - it is overwhelming, so thick he might choke on it. A blurry glimpse against the rain, against the hues of white, of red, of blue - the light which filters down upon him, a mockery - bright, much too alive in the garden of death. 

Jacaerys’ head tilts back as he sucks in a gasp, tears leaking hot over his red cheeks, a dizzying wave of vertigo spinning the world around him - stumbling backwards down an endless staircase, reaching for the cold, lifeless hands which once held him so lovingly.

The leaf finds itself in his hands - a blurry hole through it, tiny, from the jaws of some insect; eaten through, a skeleton of summer. 

There is something etched into it by the hands of nature; though he swears it almost spells your name. It is crushed with the weight of his fingers, disintegrating into the stream that trickles just beyond the flowerbeds, pulled along, towards the deep blue of endless sea to watch over you and Lucerys' forgotten graves.

Jacaerys curls in on himself, wracked with quiet sobs that dwindle into a tranquil stare at the blotches of sunlight through the trees; he should have let Baela come, or perhaps sought the company of his mother - the garden is awfully empty, the world awfully empty - in such a large absence. 

His fingers trail shakily over the curved letters of your name, carved into the stone as he stares, tears ceaselessly leaking, chest hiccuping. “P-please,” He whispers again against the straining pain in his chest, lips brushing the earth, trying to recall the sound of your voice, the feeling of your lips. The twisting days, shortening with the fall of each eve; soon, he will have to face winter, and you will be left in summer. His tears are salted; they sting over his lips as he whispers against the stone of your name. “Please, I don't want to. Don’t let me leave you.” 

Whispers in the wind that almost sound like you, calling his name. But there is no answer.

Leaves rustle in the breeze, the sunlight dapples across his body, the birds sing, the flowers bloom.

The world continues to move on without you.

taglist: @bitchydragonparadisee @lukehughes43 @rhea-ripley @jottositto @chloe-petrichors @elaena-aerrin @smurfelle @greenvita @alyssa-dayne @uhnanix and also to @cregan-starks ily. @dipperscavern pls do not revoke my writing skills. also i need that shotgun pls and thx

[pretzel-box]

Idk if requests are open but an idea has been chewing at my side like a piranha for a few days now.

Sebastian, scavenging, searching and coming across whatnot, meets another humanoid such as himself. though, imagine reader is much like a certain character from another media. Twisted wonderland, floyd leech.

Basically, Sebastian meeting a floyd leech-like reader, maybe with a twin too? Not sure, though am leaving it in your servos to do what you want with it.

It's likely I'll come back, though am not sure if I'll have the courage to do so, idk how to ask properly. Have a great rest of your week

words: 1k

tags: gn!reader, reader is a eel hybrid and a prank master, sebastian gets pranked!

“Hehe, they are certainly squishy,” you giggled with a toothy grin, pressing the Squiddle against the hard wall with a bit more force than necessary. Its makeshift face shifted fast in a futile attempt to scare you, but you only blinked at it with glowing eyes, more amused than anything.

The poor creature had made the mistake of jumping at you in the dark, getting startled by you passing through, and now it was paying the price for its recklessness. You pressed harder, watching its panicked reaction with mild interest. But your boredom quickly sets in, and you soon let go of it's head, already losing interest in the squid-like monster.

“Oh well,” you sighed with an eye roll, casually pushing the Squiddle away. You made your way to dove back into the flooded part of the facility, swimming through giant pipes in search of your next source of entertainment.

And then you saw him.

Peeking out of the water, your tail wagged in excitement as you spotted Sebastian Solace on one of his usual scavenging runs, rummaging through debris with that familiar look of intense focus. He was completely unaware of your presence, and that made your grin widen. You knew just how to make his day a little more…interesting.

As always, you were determined to ensure he had a bit of unexpected fun, courtesy of your playful nature. The perfect prank was already forming in your mind, and you could barely contain your anticipation.

You grinned mischievously as you watched Sebastian from the shadows, your sharp eyes tracking his every move. The man was engrossed in his scavenging, completely oblivious to your presence as he rifled through the debris in the flooded section of the facility. Perfect. You hadn’t had this much fun in ages, and Sebastian’s all-knowing and self-confident nature made him the ideal target for your latest prank since you knew he wouldn't see that coming.

Slithering silently out of the water, your tail curling beneath you for extra balance, you scanned the area for something to use. Your eyes landed on a file—one of the many random documents scattered around the facility. A grin spread across your face as an idea formed.

With quick, precise movements, you tied a nearly invisible string that you found in a drawer, to the corner of the file. You could barely see it yourself, and you knew Sebastian wouldn’t notice until it was too late. Holding the other end of the string firmly in your hand, you settled back, ready to enjoy the show.

Sebastian moved toward the file, his eyes narrowing as he spotted it lying on the ground. “What’s this doing here?” he muttered, bending down to pick it up.

Just as his fingers brushed the edge, you gave the string a gentle tug, causing the file to slide away from his grasp.

Sebastian blinked in confusion, staring at the file as if it had just insulted him. “What the—?” He reached out again, but you pulled the string a little harder this time, making the file skitter across the floor, just out of reach.

His brow furrowed, clearly puzzled. He stood up, glancing around suspiciously. You had to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from giggling out loud as you watched him. This was going even better than you’d hoped.

Sebastian cautiously approached the file again, crouching down with a look of determination. He was careful this time, moving slowly as if trying to catch the file off guard. But just as he was about to grab it, you yanked the string sharply, sending the file shooting across the floor and into the shadows.

“Okay, what in the world is going on here?” Sebastian exclaimed, clearly frustrated now. He scanned the area, his three fluorescent eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of the ridiculous situation.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore, a soft, bubbling giggle escaping your lips as you watched Sebastian’s bewildered expression. His head snapped in your direction, his eyes narrowing even further.

You quickly ducked behind a stack of debris, trying to stifle your giggles as you heard Sebastian approaching. He was muttering under his breath, clearly irritated but still confused.

You peeked out from your hiding spot, your tail wagging with glee as you saw him cautiously searching the area. He was so close to discovering you, but the thrill of the prank was too much to resist.

Just as Sebastian reached the spot where the file had disappeared, you gave the string one last tug, pulling the file into the water with a splash.

Sebastian jumped back, startled. “Oh, for the love of—!”

You couldn’t help it—you burst into full-blown laughter, doubling over as you watched Sebastian’s exasperation. He finally spotted you, his eyes widening in realization.

“You!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger at you, his frustration melting into a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “You little eel!”

You grinned up at him, flicking your split tongue playfully. “Gotcha, didn’t I?”

Sebastian sighed, shaking his head, though the small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. “You’re going to be the end of me, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you teased, flashing him a playful wink. “But at least you’ll never be bored!”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, as he glanced at the file you had just made him chase around. “I suppose that’s true,” he admitted, a hint of fondness in his voice.

“Exactly,” you grinned, swimming a little closer, your tail flicking in the water. “Consider it my personal mission to keep things interesting.”

Sebastian shook his head again, but this time, his smile was full and genuine. “Well, mission accomplished,” he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. “Just try not to get us both killed in the process, alright?” He knew you wouldn't dare to put you two in actual troubles but he still felt like mentioning it since your pranks were a thing for itself.

You laughed, the sound echoing through the water. “No promises, Solace. But I’ll do my best.”

[dufferpuffer]

Ok ok...TELL ME YOUR HCS OF REMUS AS A DAD because I know he would've been the best dad <3333333 (although nervous and not so confident at first)

I have been WAITING to answer this ask hehehe These all go for Tonks and Teddy - or any partner and any kid, adopted or not. I wanted to keep it vague: Dad Remus: Father of a child.

Idk what this is... sort of a timeline of how I think Remus having a kid would go...? Take it or leave it, I was writing was came into my head.

Remus would take to being a dad like an otter to water. …young otters need to be forced to swim, dragged through the water squealing. But once they get used to the feel of the water, to holding their breathe… they are made for it, even if at first it feels impossible and alien.

(Approx 2000 words)

We KNOW he is good with kids. it is straight up canon. I will NEVER get over how cute his first lesson is: + He learned all their names before meeting them. + He goes out of his way to impress them, to surprise them + He comforts them - and to gently pushes them out of their comfort zones. + He relishes in being in charge and wholeheartedly wants to nurture them + He understands the need to be a little naughty and lets them have fun.

He is terrified of infants. He will hold them, eyes wide… and then quickly give them back. He doesn't want to hurt them. Drop them. Scratch them. Ruin them. Make them cry. But he wants to be close to them. When he finally gets used to holding the baby he will walk around carrying them constantly. Crib time...? Whats that...?

He keeps photos with him at all times, muggle and magical, and is constantly taking new ones. Shows them to random people. BIG baby-booker. Recording weight and the date of every little 'milestone'. He doesn't give up on the next kids, either.

He doesn't mind when infants are helpless, and you need to watch them constantly, and wake up at night… He is vigilant. Sometimes he feels more like a large pet dog than a dad, always ready to check on the baby... But he still doesn't trust himself to be tender enough, to not hurt them. When it comes to feeding or burping or changing them, he gets his partners help - and frets over their shoulder.

As baby gets a little older, toddler age… he gets colder feet. They start talking, running around, becoming their own person… He gets scared. He will very soon have to be a real dad. He is scared he isn't good enough. He will ruin the child, make all the wrong choices, his partner will hate him... So he has periods of disappearing again - and it isn't good. His mental health suffers and so does his partners. Friendships get strained as friends need to fill the gap he is leaving in raising his own kid... it's not a good look, and the more people get upset with him the harder it is for him to come back. ...But every time he does comes home, after a few months away, and see's his little kid has grown even more… God, it hurts. He cries. He is so, so sorry he is missing their life...

This means if he has a second child it'll be either VERY close to the first child in age (like conceived/adopted the same/next year) OR there is a significant gap in age. He wouldn't want another kid until he feels he has emotionally settled from this disaster... if he wants another one at all. Though, growing up a lonely only child, I do think he would want more than one. He will want to wait until the first child is going to be at Hogwarts while the worst years hit - so it could even be a whole decade. He will promise himself he wont abandon the next kid when times get tough… and he will fail. He will be BETTER about it, though.

It takes him awhile, but by the time the kid is 4 or 5 he is more often at home than he isn't. He is back and he is riddled with guilt. He is a little too coddling, too protective, too lenient. He spends all his time with them, sleeps in their room with them - if they aren't already sleeping in the grown up bed. He doesn't take the best care of himself, and he selfishly ensures that HE is his kids favourite person to appease his guilt. It's actually a bit of a problem. It is good he is supervising - but he makes it harder for his partner to parent, even unintentionally.

The kid can bully him. All they have to do is say 'I hate you daddy' and Lupin is a complete mess. He tries not to cry in front of his own kid… but he needs help to not run away again, for being a failure of a father. He is fragile and it puts pressure on his partner to have to baby him, too. Curled up freaking out because 'I wasn't there and now they hate me, they'll never love me, I've ruined everything...'

It doesn't help that he was bitten when he was 5, Greyback breaking into his bedroom, and he has a fear of it happening again. Days before the full moon he will pull back. He feels irritable and sick, so he stays out of the house as much as he can. Of course his kid misses him and doesn't understand why Daddy can be there 24/7 and then suddenly he goes away. Remus wasn't sure how early he wanted his kid to know - but too bad, his partner said something while he was absent: "Daddy needs to go away sometimes, because he gets sick and turns into a big monster doggy. He goes away to scare all the bad monsters away, so they don't go under your bed." …Remus isn't sure how he feels bout that explanation. Nor about how young his kid knows that daddy is 'different'.

It's a blessing when they start muggle school. And they DO start muggle school - Remus would not have it any other way. He couldn't go to school. He had to be home schooled, which was spotty from two overworked and stressed parents. He moved too often and wasn't allowed to make friends. He will not have that for his kid. They will make friends. At first it is hard for him, being apart from them - you know how kids cry on their first few days of school when their parents leave? He is almost as bad. But overall its good - because it gives him time to re-learn how to look after himself… and to maybe reconnect with his partner. His partner has been doing so much work these last few years... and he has drifted apart, in his obsessions and his absences. (Depending on the partner they may never be able to fully reconcile. Honestly I think Tonks would fall into that category - but that's not for here.)

He is very engaged with his child's education. As someone who has been a teacher himself he tries to be chummy with their muggle teachers... which doesn't always go well - because a wizarding Professor and a muggle Teacher are very different. They see him as eccentric and overbearing… and while he says he is a teacher too, nothing quite adds up. Remus is also tickled pink that muggle schools are so easy to access. He can just… walk in!!! It's down the road! He really SHOULD get a visitor sticker… but he's just coming to give his kid some lunch, so it is fine, right? When the kid gets older… how embarrassing.

Always gives sweets. 'Don't have snacks before dinner' - he fails. He finds it hard to say no to kids, when yes seems like good fun... Kid falls down? He is a master of distracting from the pain, making a big show of healing it - and giving a lolly to help feel better. Kid learns how to just shove heir hands into his pockets to get lollies out for themselves, when he is distracted.

He really starts clicking with the kid, in a way that is far healthier for both of them, when they are 7/8ish. Old enough to start having real fun. He has a habit of giving them his wand to practice spells - which he shouldn't... but he is so excited to nurture their magic. "Youre the age I was when my father taught me how to deal with a Boggart... I think I's time I passed that on." - he says, building up the experience as some huge and important adventure. He takes them out of muggle school sometimes to bond. Sometimes they really get up to no good - whether that's breaking into an abandoned muggle buildings looking for boggarts, or sitting in the mug together outside, making 'potions'. But he is also more responsible now. He will tell them 'no' without fear of them despising him and can deal with tantrums better.

The kid having their friends over can be tough, if they are muggle friends. If he has an office (he needs an office, he thrives when he can pretend to be a big professor type - a healthy Remus habitat includes an office) he has horned skulls, cursed books, specimens in jars… nothing as extravagant as Severus, but things a muggle shouldn't see. If they DO see, or the friends are magical, he is happy for them to show them cool things - his own little museum of oddities. Even if they are muggles he will take them all 'ghost hunting', or out into the forest camping... if they are sleeping over in the lounge-room he is sleeping with them. Old man passed out first watching a movie.

CAMPING. TRAVELING. HOLIDAYS. He loves planning these things and refuses to keep his kid inside the house all holidays - even if they want to be. Both because he enjoys having the money and freedom to and because he is just more comfortable in temporary accommodation sometimes than months on end in the one house. Also he wants to make good memories to make up for being absent... and planning things like trips makes him feel good.

If he goes back to being a teacher at Hogwarts, if he can - he will have originally planned to take time off to look after kid no. 2 if they are born/adopted near when kid 1. goes to Hogwarts… but it is so stressful that he doesn't. Instead he spends all year at the school having fun with kid. 1 as their teacher, and kid 2. barely gets to know him. This sours Kid. 1 to him when they get older and realize both they and their little sibling lack early childhood experiences of their dad... because he was a coward, and left it up to their other parent.

Even if there is no kid 2 - I think, after a childhood of hot-and-cold parenting, either being their best friend or completely absent - the kid's teenage years will be more difficult than Remus expects, and it almost sends him into a spiral again. They start hating their dad, rebelling against him... and it breaks his heart. But he is a little better at handling it now. He tries not to run away - and tries to do good. Tries to talk. He has abandoned them too many times already. Ignore if adopted a they are already tweenage B) They don't have a history with him and thus his bad habits are all fresh.

I think a first child will grow apart from Remus as they grow up. They see how he failed as a father… but also where he succeeded. Perhaps they grow closer to the other parent as they get older, understanding what they have gone through all these years.

A kid 2. with a gap? They were never as close to Dad as a very young child, kid 1 took his attention - but he is far more stable. He is much better at looking after kids now. He doesn't run when things get tough. He is more responsible, strict, wise... But he is also older. Of course, he is a Wizard, so age doesn't hit the same - but he is also a werewolf and would be showing that. Perhaps he's finally gotten hair on his ears etc. People are starting to recognize him as a werewolf now - and he doesn't go out adventuring as much. For the first child/ren, he was a fun, energetic, playful man. A man that almost clung to them - their dad and best friend. For the second child/red, daddy is a monster… but a nice monster. A cuddly monster. A monster that maybe can't come to their sports game with all the muggles… but really wishes he could.

I dunno how this looks, I've had alcohol and don't wanna proof read, Soz B^) Šljivovica is good

[hisslt]

idea

lo'ak sully x human! reader

both are aged up to 18

plot! : while hanging out in y/n's room lo'ak gets an idea

authors notes! : im writing this at 2 am while struggling to keep my eyes open because of a melatonin so there might be some mistakes. i do lowercase on purpose but if yall dont like it i can fix it. i might add a part 2 but idk

warnings! : aged up!!, suggestive, tit play?, size kink???, lo'ak and y/n are only friends

translations! :

tawtute - skyperson/human

tewng - loincloth

you and lo'ak had been friends since the two of you were kids, and although a few disagreements and minor arguments have happened you both stay close as if stuck together at the hip. and neither of you could stay mad at the other even though you two would never admit it. your unknown crush on eachother is disguised as a great friendship. and being lo'ak's friend you have to be prepared for all of the weird shit he does and thinks of. but you manage to put up with it, somehow.. whether the idea might be pulling pranks on mostly norm and neteyam, using one of the abandoned planes from the previous war as a hideout, sneaking out to go swimming in a small pond late at night, taking tuk's food (which turned out to be a horrible idea as she threw a fit and snitched). you were always down to do what he thought of in the spur of the moment.

which leads you to now.

you and lo'ak in your cramped room at the lab. his large blue body sprawled out, taking up most of the bed. and you sat up on the bed with your head against the wall. he layed on his stomach with his face cradled on his arms. his tail once calmly swaying in the air has picked up more speed, a sign you recognize from spending most of your time with him. lo'ak was brewing an idea.

"if you think any harder your head's gonna explode." you say with a small laugh at your own joke. the comment seemingly brings him out of his intense thought process, aaaand right back into it. only this time he's focusing harder on his thoughts.

his eyebrows furrow and his ears twitch ever so slightly. he now looks up at you with his brows still pulled together.

you let loose a playful scoff, "come onnnnn, tell me what you're thinking about."

"it's nothing." he replies, voice breathy and dazed as his eyes stay on you. as if he was trying to ask you a question without speaking.

"talk." you say with a slap to his strong upper arm. however your smack doesn't even phase the na'vi.

with a barely audible sigh he opens up, "where's your phone?" he asks with a tilt of his head. his eyebrows untense while his tail stays in the air, moving at the same, quick and swift pase.

you nod, confused and instantly stand to grab your phone then sit back down on the creaking bed, carefully tossing the phone max had found from one of the old scientists who went back to earth. your body faces him more to signal he has your attention.

he sits up, with his long legs criss crossed and swallows before speaking, "i got an idea for a picture,"

he earns a nod from you as your face is still contorted into a confused expression. 'why is he being so dramatic over a picture?' is what goes though your mind. you let him move your body however is needed for the picture, letting him take complete control.

the scene probably looks strange as well as funny as he moves you like a doll. the blue teen opens his legs and spread them, making room for your small body as he hooks his large hands around your waist and gently drags you unbetween his meaty thighs so you both face to the full length mirror infront of the bed. you two make eye contact in the mirror as his slender fingers linger on your waist and you can see an odd emotion on his face. hesitancy? a simple nod of your head encourages him to continue.

he tugs on the fabric of your shirt. you can see his eyes quickly dart down to your shirt and back to your eyes in the mirror. his pretty amber eyes have their remaining slight dazed look to them.

"w-what are you doing?" you stutter out in disbelief.

"can i take this off?" he asks with an airy tone.

you nod and you can feel your face starting to heat up. his fingers that, if you're being completely honest, you have always admired, grape the hem of the material and slowly lift it up off your body. gradually more and more of your skin shows until the shirt is completely discarded and your left in a bra. a definite red flush tints the apple of your cheeks. a warmth spreading to your lower stomach.

from the mirror you can see lo'aks ears occasionally flicker and his tail sways quickly. he meets your eyes, searching for permition.

"can i?" his voice is even more breathy than before and it's definitely not a thing you hate. his subtle accent grows stronger. he loops his hands onto the back of the bra as he waits for an awnser.

"uh huh.. go ahead." is all he needed to immediately unclaspe the garment, not without struggle though, the clip dwarfed in his big hand.

the blue alien rushes to reveal your breasts, the exitement of seeing his best friend's titties getting the best of him.

and finally, your on display, tits proudly showing. nipples gradually hardening from the cold air. his eyes stay glued to them through the mirror. pupils largening and shrinking slightly at the sight. his little tawtute sitting between his legs with her pretty titties that he's been curious about revealed.

snapping out of his trance he speaks, "hold up your phone with the camera facing the mirror."

you instantly do as he says and turn on the phone camera and face it to the mirror, the sight looks weird and probably lewd. the phone itself covering your face.

a gasp is let loose as his cold hands rest onto your boobs and slightly push up. not forgetting to use his slender fingers to delicately roll your hardened buds on his way up, acting as if it were an accident. despite his big form, the soft skin of your breasts still squeeze out from between his fingers. his long tail uncontiouslly curls around your thigh, the tuft of hair teasing your skin.

his hands act as a bra as he urges you to take the picture.

but before you can take a second picture just incase this one would look better than the first, he nuzzles his face info your neck and he takes multiple deep sniffs of your scent. and sneakily making sure you smell like him. the cold beads in his hair supply a sensitive feeling against your warm skin. the big bulge in his tewng pressed on your back.

anyway, you still take a second photo of your body being dwarfed by the large na'vi as his cold hands cup your titties while you sit, caged, between his legs.

once the picture's been taken you throw the phone to the side and lean into lo'ak's touch. a soft rumbling, similar to a purr, rumbles in his chest. he now brings his fingers down to tease your nipples. pinching and rolling the sensitive buds.

"lo'ak.." you let a soft and empty moan out, eyes heavy and lidded as you make eye contact through the mirror once more. his once big, bright eyes are now hidden behind a dazed fog.

his fingers don't stop their movements as the two of you lock eyes. quiet and soft noises escape you, catching lo'aks attention and definitely heightening his ego. he sets his mind on making you release more of those pretty sounds.

he slows his attack on your boobs to palm the body part. you let loose more noises as his big hands change to massaging the soft skin.

the area is much more soft than he had ever expected, as the na'vi women have firm breasts due to muscle. the feeling he was slowly but surely becoming addicted to. this was definitely gonna change the friendship, but as of right now that's the last thing either of you care about.

"that's it. fuckkk yeah." he coos, coaxing you to release more noises. by now it's obvious that he gets pleasure from your pleasure.

his hard member strains against the fabric of his loincloth. you can feel the obvious bulge against your back. even more so when your back automatically arches when his sharp teeth graze against your shoulder and the movements of his hands become firmer.

"okay, okay. that's enough," you shakily speak, on edge about someone hearing your sounds or walking into your room without warming just to be met with the horrifying scene of an alien pleasuring you.

a childish whine leaves him which earns a shush from you.

you move your body between his big legs to face him. he now gets a way better view of your tits and is unable to draw his eyes away as you reach up, close to his ear.

"we can finish this later, skxawng." you tease in a sensual tone with a laugh.

a smile plays onto his features and he happily nods, his eyes still cloudy. he unexpectedly wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you into a hug. which might've just been to feel you against his skin more.

xoxo - hisslt

[ink-and-dagger]

Hii, idk is this a weird request but. Silcos s/o fainting.

SO I got the idea 15 minutes ago when I got up too quick and just bam, lights out. My first thoughts waking up on the floor was just 1. Wtf 2. Wouldn't it be hilarious if my fav villain was looking at me confused af rn.

So like. They've just been discussing something, maybe the s/o was sitting on his couch while Silco got some paperwork done and then like

Silco: dear, could you fetch me the last weeks reports from downstairs(or sumn)

S/o. Ye. *gets up and BAM*

YUH UH. LOVE YE BYE

It isn't a weird request at all, and even if it was I love being sent weird shit. I realise that this ask is nearly 3 months old but I hope you're okay💜

I've actually had this half written for a while, but realistically I can’t see myself finding anymore time to extend or finesse it, so I’m just gonna post it as is. It's short and pretty rough, but I hope you enjoy all the same!

Also I hope you don't mind but I've used Astrid as the reader because this is just very in-character for her🥲

Silco x Reader || Silco x Astrid || Fainting || Unedited drabble

The toes of your boots tap absently together high above you - perched as they are atop the back of the crimson chaise in Silco’s office. The rest of you sprawled in a diagonal swoon across the seat cushions.

“You’re doing it again,” Silco chides beneath his breath ­- a mockingly melodic baritone from his seat at his desk, eyes not lifting from the papers in front of him.

Your boots halt their tapping, and you drop your book page down upon your chest in a huff.

“Bored,” you complain.

“Yes, you’ve already mentioned,” he responds patiently, “Which is why I suggested some quiet reading.”

You pull a face and discard the book on the coffee table, “Can’t get into it. Feel restless.”

A lengthy exhale hisses from his nose, and his gaze ticks upwards to meet yours. Long, unimpressed face upside down in your vision from your position upon the sofa.

“If you’re feeling restless then you can make yourself useful,” his attention drops back to his work, and he gestures towards his bookshelves with a flick of his pen, “Fetch me the profit ledger for this quarter. Bottom shelf.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“Now.”

You roll your eyes and swing your legs off the back of the sofa in a single dramatic swoop to spring to your—

“Sweetheart?”

The voice swims and warps at the edges of your mind. Loud and distant all at once. The surface beneath your spine is hard and coarse. Your vision remains obscured by a fluttering curtain of darkness which slowly recedes to the outer edges in swirling patterns of dappled red and chem-green.

A face above yours. Eyes that don’t match beneath dark, pinched brows. Mouth drawn tight and age lines deep with apprehension. Cute though.

Your mouth quirks into a dopey smile.

“Hey there handsome,” you trill.

Concern darkens to irritation, “I’ve told you not to lie upside down on the sofa like that. You’re as bad as Jinx. At least she has the excuse of adolescence.”

“S’comfy.”

“Be that as it may, you—don’t even think about it,” Silco growls, pressing firmly on your sternum to force you back down to the rug when you attempt to shift up onto your elbows.

“I’m fine Silco. Just stood up too fast is all.”

“And do you think repeating that mistake is the best course of action? Lay still.”

“Cluck cluck mother hen,” you grumble. But your complaint goes ignored. Silco shifts from his haunches to sit properly at your side, and his arm snakes beneath your knees to lift them, gathering them in a bundle up onto his shoulder.

“Not now Silco. Not in the mood.”

He offers you a slow, unimpressed blink, “It’s to help the blood flow back to your brain. I shouldn’t think it will take all that long to fill up again.”

You flip him the middle finger and his annoyance chips away just a crack, allowing through a tiniest of smirks.

[emsuemsu]

Tag game

Thank you for the tag @mycupofrum 💕💕 it's always a beautiful day to talk about oneself and also as the curious girlie I am to read about other people!!!

Fave colour: black baby

Last song: according to my spotify history my last played song was on Thursday and it was Stars Are Blind by Paris Hilton. That is the only song I listened to that day. It is a banger

Last film: we went to see First Omen a few weeks ago with my friend, absolutely shooketh from it, it was only us and a couple in the last row and they shushed us at one point. Never in my life have I felt more like a teenager in my LIFE. It was mortifying. I’m so embarrassed. We weren’t that loud though, just scared of the movie??? It was a good movie, enjoyed it, next Tuesday we’re going to see Immaculate, this spring is giving antichrist apparently

Currently reading: I have a few fics I’m in the middle of reading (one of them is A Violet Kind of Spin by @cassiaratheslytherpuff which I’m DYING to get back to!!!! jfc it’s so good!!!!! I feel so bad for taking such a long break from it but not a day goes by that I don’t think about it 🥹) and one book (Swimming in the Dark by Tomasz Jedrowski) but my reading vibes have been off for a good few months now!! I’ve read some shorter fics and listened to some podfics but reading in general feels super hard right now. I can’t wait for my summer vacation, maybe I’ll have some peace of mind and will be able to slam some words down. My tbr list is diabolical.

Currently watching: I’m going to be boring and say that I’m still on my Grey’s Anatomy grind. I’m on season 9 episode 10, 10 seasons to go. I’ve been watching s20 as it’s airing right now but it’s just not… it. This show should be taken off life support already 💔

Currently craving: a cigarette, uv index of 7, the beach and a crispy coke zero 😩

Coffee or tea: coffee, I never drink tea

Three ships: Drarry, first and foremost 🙂‍↕️ drarry has caused my brain to rot for almost two decades now and god knows when it’ll stop. I’ve been on and off the fandom, mostly off, but drarry is just a part of my goddamn DNA at this point it’s ridiculous. Next idk man. I have to say it’s a duel between prongsfoot and jegulus, your honor I love them both. Jegulus is a new acquaintance and like I don’t even know if it makes any sense at all (like where did this ship came from???) but jfc I am sat, I am folded I am silenced. But prongsfoot is the love of my life out of these two, I know for a fact that one of the first fics I ever read at the ripe age of 10 or 11-ish was Sirius/James and ever since that they’ve been in my heart, in my soul and in my mind non-stop. Prongsfoot is such a niche ship and I can’t believe it’s not more popular!!! Like they’re soulmates honestly. Funny enough I haven’t read that much of prongsfoot fics, always up for recs 👀👀 I know that was three ships already but I have to mention Kingsley/Charlie and it’s all because of @squintclover and their recent little microfics that just SLAP so hard I’m bruised black. I’m beyond obsessed.

First ship: I mean it was drarry. The one and only.

Currently working on: getting my goddamn ass off the couch and start to clean and do laundry 🥹 I have a few school deadlines as well but that does not spark joy so whatever

Thank you for coming to my ted talk once again!!! I’m tagging @valoale @cassiaratheslytherpuff @lemonlimelea @soliblomst @kk1smet @lucifergraced no pressure spill the tea if feeling like it!! 😌

[localgardenweed]

Its almost 1AM I have a interview with Wendy’s at 10:30AM so im gonna talk about my random HWS Japan headcanons until I pass out

He need reading glasses, I know we see him in the show/manga wearing them and like he may like actually need them and just uses contacts but in my mind they are only for reading. His eyes aren’t what they used to be and he needs his little nerd glasses

He likes making those bento box cooking videos, he makes them for himself and his friends/partners. He finds a lot of ways to pass the time and this is one of many. He likes making the character bentos the most, they make him smile

Gardening. Imagine walking into his backyard and seeing him on his knees tending to his strawberries and radishes just LOOK AT HIMMM!! Not only does it save him money but also makes him feel accomplished when he gets a good harvest

He typically likes doing a lot of those DIY projects, making little shelves and furniture and god knows what. He goes online and sees what new project he can make today to keep himself busy

He is actively greying and has been dying his hair for AGES. He plucks out greying eyebrow hair and stubble and dyes his hair. If someone points out a grey hair he gaslights them into thinking its just the lighting or they’re imagining things. If anyone found out he dyed his hair you wouldn’t see them the next day /j

He tried to grow a mustache in his youth but it looked so bad he repressed the memories of it deep DEEP into his mind you will never find them man. He found old paintings of his mustache and couldn’t bare to witness them anymore he buried them in his basement never to be seen again

He actively works out, he takes a 5 mile jog every morning and evening and does some biking and swimming every other day. He likes to stay fit even though he really doesn’t have to anymore. He just likes to keep his body toned. He also likes the cringe 1980’s American workout videos. He got a VHS set from America on his birthday and felt that he basically called him fat but no America just needed to get rid of them so just regifted them to him. He ended up liking them though so ig it worked out in the end

As well practices his swordsmanship, like dude we are in the modern day you do not need to know how to use a katana anymore but he does it anyway cause what if someone breaks in man you never know man una nunca sabè

Its right next to him every night and he is FAST, he even hears the slightest sound he jumps up and gets ready to slice you in half

Him and Prussia and very good friends (or maybe more idk am i pushing my PruPan agenda? YES) and he keeps a empty room for him when he decides to crash at Japan’s place for the 5th time this year. He doesn’t mind him he is very tidy and always repays the favor somehow. They like to go out for lunch and do all of the above together. They like to exchange snacks like chips and drinks.

He almost sliced Prussia in half when he crept into his room to ask him for smth when he was asleep, he only chopped off a lock of his hair and nicked his nose but nothing serious. He profusely apologized for it after and Prussia was a little shocked for a but but laughed it off and was okay. He was a but sad about the hair but it’ll grow back. Prussia knocks loud as hell now if he wants Japan for smth and he’s asleep

He keeps little historical knick knacks around his house that he should probably donate but doesn’t cause “They’re still good to use!!” Even though its a thousand year old pot that should be a health hazard. He has been wearing the same damn yukata for almost 2 centuries now cause he only wears it once every other summer summer when he finds his buried in his storage and the local museums beg to have it but he’s too attached to it to let go

He wheels around Pochi in a stroller sometimes when he feels a little silly. He loves dressing Pochi up with bows and ties and bandannas and god knows what else. That dog has been out in so many outfits bro cant catch a break

If he were human he would either pursue photography full time, his dream would be to get his photos on build boards and magazine covers. Maybe he’d be a field photographer too, go out into nature and stuff

He already does photography as a hobby but could never really do it full time cause ya know country duties

And thats it thank you for coming its now almost 2 AM lets hope I don’t regret this

[azrielgreen]

I know you get a lot of questions about writing and how to write fast and how to produce as much content as you. My question is sort of related. How do you stay motivated to continue fics when it’s been a while since updating? I have multiple WIPs and want to finish them all but I feel like a different person now than I was when I started them and don’t feel the same energy for the ideas either. I know it’s an option to abandon them but I hate the idea of that. I know passion is one corner of your triangle for the Az method, but how do you keep it alive and not burn yourself out by writing so much? Do you ever force yourself to finish stuff? Idk if my question makes sense. I hope it does. Thank you!

Ahh, this is an amazingly important question and you sent it AGES ago and I couldn't reply until now because I was SNOWED UNDER WITH MULTIPLE WIPS and didn't have a clear answer for you, beyond "hang in there babe😭" until now!

My advice is:

a) anyone reading this, don't write more than 2 things at the same time. If you have two and you're thinking of a third, don't do it. Trust me. Finish the others first.

b) if you find yourself in the ✨WIP SEA✨ you need to choose ONE island to swim to and one only. Get to your biggest project and set up shop there. Forget the others, immerse yourself again in the vibe, the story, the magic. Make a playlist, plan a themed tattoo, make a mood board, but get back into why you fell in love with the story in the first place and STAY THERE. You have to finish the biggest project first. The others will fall like dominos after that.

c) keeping passion alive is REALLY fucking hard sometimes and it takes very little to snuff it out, so my advice there is to remove yourself from what can dampen your spirits. Take a social media break (always radiant advice), make a new desk area, hype yourself up for THAT SCENE you have in mind, and if nothing else is working for the story, do something drastic. Write a dialogue only chapter. Do a POV switch.

d) Change your font to one of these: Comic Sans, More Sugar Thin, Jessica Antique or Beryllium Ink. These fuckers work MIRACLES for the neurodivergent brain. Switch the font, just start writing SOMETHING and watch the magic happen.

e) Know when to cut bait. I have never abandoned a fic in my life, but I have abandoned stories before I published them, including professional publishing ones and I have deleted MASSIVE amounts of text because it just wasn't working for me and I can confidently tell when to move on, start fresh and shift gears. If these are fics that are published and WIP, then the pressure to complete them definitely is higher, I know from experience. My advice is to either work on the biggest one and complete that first OR find one that would take very little to complete and smash it out.

f) Don't lose your momentum. This is CRITICAL and I want to talk more about this because creative momentum is powerful and important. The more you write, the more you can WRITE. Write every day, keep it doing. When you complete something, use that boost of pride and joy to fuel yourself. There will be days where you don't physically write of course but writing is a cyclical process and the more you map it to your energy (especially if you have a moon cycle VS sun cycle) the more you'll realise there are specific weeks where you'll have high, clear energy and other weeks with lower energy, so you can adjust your output to prevent burn out.

g) Don't let it get you down. The longest gap between update and completion I ever had was 6 years for my Twilight fic. 6 fucking years and in the end I had to end it with them writing letters to each other, back and forth because I was a completely different writer to who I was before and everything would have been different, so I took a risk and wrote it differently and it paid off.

h) Know that you CAN do it, you just have to decide to. "I just decided to..." is one of the most powerful sentences we can ever say aloud. Just look at yourself in the mirror and DECIDE to do it. That's it. Maybe it won't be great to start off with but that's why we edit. Just get the ball rolling again. The first push after a long period being stationary is ALWAYS hard but keep it going and it'll get easier with every passing word.

I hope this was helpful, apologies again for the delay.

P.S- Finishing Touched changed EVERYTHING for me. I really do recommend ticking off the biggest one first. 💜💜💜

[cherryblossomforest]

Spending time with my dad was okay, it took me down from whatever I was feeling. Or at least made me switch out. Probably that.

We cried in the car but then as soon as we are face to face with someone those feelings get turned off. Not sure why but I felt it. It doesn't matter who it is. Or at least I've not noticed who we feel okay to cry to.

My dad listened and wanted me to talk about it and we just explained that it's like day and night in our brain. From September (maybe August idk) to February, it's so dark. The deeper in the year it gets worse and it's scary. I explained parts in terms of ages rather than elaborated dissociative parts. No time for that. I just explained it based on age and how they feel stuck in that age as if no time has passed and how overwhelming It feels to experience this. Nothing too detailed. He said if the advocate doesn't fight for me to get treatment he wants to. Shocking to me. Seriously. I don't know this dad. Then he spoke more about me wanting to go to the police and I basically said I'm scared because I don't want to have my mother brought into it and I don't want the police to have to interview them. To put it short he said that if CPS gets involved because I was a child and they have to interview him because he didn't parent me right or any other consequence that it isn't for me to even think about. It's something that *he* will have to deal with and that I also shouldn't be put off if they do the same to my mother because there's no way this can ever fall on me since I'm the one that went through everything. He kept saying that he'd support me and that I should go through with it. Crazy. Truly. He shocks me at times.

I'm not the part that was crying in the car but for accountability sake, I am the part that has been a bit too risky. Running red lights, speeding late at night and racing those random racer guys for a rush. I need to stop though because my fear is not dying but harming someone else. Accountability! I also bought alcohol because that seems to be the only thing to keep us somewhat above water. Our medication isn't working and it's hell because it doesn't make us sleep but when we do sleep it keeps us sleeping for like 11 hours. Even if we take it super early our trauma brain will keep us awake until it's light out and then we sleep for 11 hours so everything is a mess and once our sleeping is a mess we get so so thrown off that our mental health quickly declines. Luckily we have a telephone doctors appointment so before bed I'm going to write down all I need to remember when we wake up. We need help and I definitely don't have to tools to help. All I can do is get us to the next step but we're so out of our depth here. Remembering more trauma and then forgetting but it still being unlocked in our body and mind is bringing up everything bad.

Plus we're planning on going no contact or at least semi no contact with our sister because she's so unbelievably toxic. We told our dad that too. I told him there's nothing I like about her at all... I'm only interested in hearing about the kids and supporting them. I'm done with my sister. All my life her problems have been "bigger" and I've had to constantly look after her. I've NEVER been able to have her be a big sister and she doesn't understand that. She's been in crisis after crisis whilst putting herself in situations and then needing to be saved out of it. She's in her 30s and I'm tired of being "My Sisters Keeper." I'm done with her so now I'm grieving that. Then you have this dead bastards coma anniversary in January with his actual death at the end of that month. Everything feels up in the air. We told our dad that we were scared we'd end up in the hospital again because things are bad. He said he wants to take us swimming again for exercise but also to get out the house. I declined but maybe it'll help. Idk. Idk. Idk.

- Zuri

[evilou]

As I was making my last post about closure and how that could relate to how people's professions are chosen for them in the Hive Mind series, I had a thought about Amber and her fixation on Forge during her teen years.

Obviously she's a true telepath, so she was never going to be given any other job. But the imprint she was given at age three meant that she spent her teen years fixated on Forge and would follow him around and do pretty much everything he did. For example, she took up swimming because of him. She didn't discover any special talents of her own during Teen Level, but what if that's because she never really had the chance? She was so focused on Forge, and because her best friend Shanna was dating Forge, she was around him all the time. Not exactly a conducive environment for becoming your own person.

Lucas explains to Gregas at some point that the years on Teen Level are important because it allows teens to develop their own likes, dislikes, and interests outside of their parents' sphere of influence. But this process could also be tainted by, say, a faulty imprint. Maybe if Amber hadn't spent so much time during Teen Level focused on Forge and what he was doing, she would have had time to pursue her own interests.

So, if she was like the three people who were kidnapped by Hive Genex 30 years before the start of the series, and she wasn't a telepath, her Lottery results would have been essentially corrupted by her imprint - not because of the imprint directly, but because of the knock-on effects, aka her fixation on Forge.

She might have been allocated work that involved something Forge would like, rather than herself. So, Idk, maybe something swimming or sports-related. However, it gets even worse than that. We know that Elden's initial plan was probably to infiltrate her Lottery testing process so that he could compel her to request a transfer to Hive Genex at the end, before being imprinted. So not only would she have ended up with a profession that she wasn't suited for, she also would have ended up at Hive Genex against her will. What an awful situation!

So, I guess the bottom line is that she's very lucky she's a true telepath, because Hive security restrictions meant that Elden couldn't get near her once she tested positive as a true telepath. This allowed her imprint to be discovered and eventually removed, and also set in motion the events preventing Hive Genex from ever being able to kidnap other people that way in the future. If she hadn't been a true telepath, her life going forward would probably not have been great.

[klonoadreams]

From what I remember mako has already met many important characters including 2 future strawhats and a powerful straw hat ally.

Assuming that not too much changes by the time the main story starts. How would these Chracters see mako as meeting her again. Like say meeting a grown up sanji and Law along with th baroque work robin? For me I would at least think sanji and law would be like big brothers to her.

Also any spoilers on who her dad is? Or who mako would be shipped with?

Not much is really different, just that Mako has been alive and in existence for like one more year, making her a year older than what she was originally, but it's also a bit of a mess since like, idk how to tell you, but Shanks is like barely 21 when he has Mako instead of 22, so oop, some things might end up changing, but also god dang, Yassop, you barely knew your own son and now you're just taking care of this rando Shark girl with the others ahahha.

No but seriously, this just means the Red Hair Pirates have Mako longer and that means further disaster because Yassop Daddy experience only goes for like a few months and Mako is half fishman, SO WHOOPS NEW TERRITORY.

So yeah, Robin and Sanji would be ecstatic to see her again, especially since the two of them went their separate ways to pursue their dreams, since Sanji won't get good experience as a cook with Shanks, and Robin, while absolutely delighted to know she is loved and considered important, knows that she has to leave the nest because she can't do what she wants with them and try as they may, they can't help coddling her a bit because Robin mcfucking did not have a good childhood, cmere, you get a hug.

Meanwhile Law would just be happy to see his friend again after so long, to the one person that taught him, alongside Robin, that even monsters deserve to live.

Seeing her thriving and also throwing a wrench in the world government's agenda by just casual exposing cover-ups in order to let the truth shine through....yeah, he’s happy to see her. Genuinely, no joke or nothing. Especially Robin and Sanji, though how the turn tables. He would've thought Mako would've been her own captain to a crew, but nah, she's content letting Luffy do it while being the resident lifeguard cuz she can swim. And also fish. :V

Her dad isn't actually anyone we know but an OC, like a rando mako shark fishman who effectively got picked out of the bunch to pair up with a Kuja Pirate who wasn't exactly considered a good wife for a Celestial Dragon (aka, dude was sterile, or at the very least got poor kid making skills), so curiosity plus pettiness and a bet equals Mako into the mix. Which is very bad.

That said, Mako's bio dad is related to some existing characters. And I will say this, Arlong won't exactly take to well to ever seeing her, because she serves as a constant reminder in a cog to a tragedy.

(Hint: it involves Koala going home - you can figure it out there, but yeah, Mako's uncle is pretty famous :V)

(He also had a hand in how Mako's mother was able to escape and while Mama was hoping to go back to Amazon Lily, she at least was in a safe place amongst Shanks crew when she gave birth to Mako)

Originally, i didn't have romance in mind, but honestly, I'm at a whatever happens, happens, because Mako's circumstances are so unique and complicated, that her situation allows her complexity, given how 17 seems to be the age at which people are considered adults or at least allowed to drink, and being a pirate just adds to it, mixed in with being someone who has a bounty.

Romance isn't off the table for her, so keep an eye out for it. Dont expect anytjing until after the time skip tho, she’s a little like Luffy in that it's the last thing on her mind lmao.

But also she's got a storm coming her way come Whole Cake Island because Big Mom wants Shanks's daughter for connections so...

Lucky son Katakuri got picked by my friends, so that's gonna be a "bruh wtf"

Aka, we got two weddings to crash. Except Mako isn't getting killed, but she still wants out of it, nope nope nope

Anyways wedding dress mako kicking ass. :V

[dirty-osc-confessions]

Coming back to copy-paste my confessions for the background of my anon sona. The concept of an "anon sona" is kinda crazy esp since I can't share it on Tumblr bc my style is somewhat recognizable to those who know it, and part of the name is being anonymous. I guess it's better to have "🫳🫴🦷 anon" be the person tied to my words than my main blog/image.

I've been quietly using that emoji combo for at least a year before I was even on Tumblr though, so if any of my close friends ever get Tumblr and find confession blogs I'm done for.

The only place I think I can safely put the art itself is the main oscconfessions blog's discord, but the link expired, so I'm trying to be patient to wait for the meetup to end so I can beg for a new one. Honestly, it being closed right now hurts rrgfghg.

5 hours on my Freaky Tooth drawing so far. If anyone wants to see it, I can send it in the inbox, and as long as it's deleted eventually, I'm good. The want to show off art is slowly arguing the style recognition argument away

Something to confess while I'm here, the months Airy was gone in hfjone makes less sense the more I think about it.

Food & water are the basics - based on the assumption that hfjone follows the same rules/standard of other object shows, objects need to at least eat to survive. Furthermore, we can see that there are restaurants in the osc version of San Francisco, and if not that, there's at least a bar. Alcohol as a beverage was made through wheat products, which were only harvested for the purpose of food in the first place. There's always the possibility with that that in this alternative timeline, beer/alcohol was made later on in the modern age through experimenting with brain chem's reaction, and in this case, I present water. In the hfjone investigations, much like in a real police questioning scenario, each of those who give testimony are offered water. This is to build rapport, but I don't have time to go into criminal psychology (as much as I'd love to talk abt it, this is an osc confession), so instead I'll say for the sake of argument that water IS essential to an object living.

Where did they get the water during that time??? Sure, there was the swimming pool, but I doubt they'd do that for months without making some form of cup. Slurping up water WHILE SWIMMING IN THE WATER is a terrible idea, you will get another Liam scenario. (Also feel like the water level might've gone down a bit, but who cares.)

Food??? I think at this point, they still had Whippy Creamy, but whipped cream is not a viable source of nutrients. ALSO, there's an issue with quantity. Do you really think one tub of whipped cream could sustain a group of more than even ONE object for that long??? Idk, maybe they just started eating tree bark from those trees we see in the challenge to "run to the tree and back".

I have less of an issue with Airy's version of this. There was probably some wildlife/edible plant life around he could get in a decade.

I mean. You could always just. Moldy is still a piece of bread, and if you cut off the moldy bit, you might be able to last a bit. They didn't do that though, sucks to suck not to resort to cannibalism in basically a stranded island scenario. Speaking of, object anatomy, yeah? Weird stuff, but I'll talk about that some other time.

Still enjoy hfjone. I don't have anything vitriolic to say other than I still hate bfdi with all my heart and soul. Love all the algebraliens, though ♡

I didn't double-check any of my claims here, but I think rewatching all of hfjone/the investigation tapes earlier this month is still fresh enough in my mind to talk about.

I find Pi and Animatic are those I'm most 'down bad' for. Jjjjjesus I didn't plan on this being an nsfw consfession though, and it's already getting quite long as is.

xoxo, 🫳🫴🦷 anon (freaky tooth)

wow, interesting stuff. is there a history of adhd in your family?