#Lil miss P

[thescribeoflostmemories]

Chasing indulgence

Scribe x Reader!Reader

“Even dreams aren't forgiving.” - P

In this land of dirt and fog, there lies a looming tower that stretches over at the dim stars above. 

One that rolls in no gold, nor glory, but of cheap sin. Treasure troves of once beloved, now lack therein.

“Get out of my way!” And here you are, in disillusioned madness. Faceless nobodies that wear identical clothing, turn and face you. Hours must have passed since you’ve set foot in this place, perhaps days even.

A stranger in dim yellow robes voiced out from the wooden stairs that descend from the spiral haven, one’s gaze that would spell admonition, “Dear guests, do not be alarmed.” His voice seems to give solace, even if the whole place has been baptized in depraved avarice.

"Ollie, Jade, please see our honorable guest is settled at the fireplace. I shall deal with them tactfully.” 

Two men emerged: one of which is a gallant looking knight; and the other who wore a cassock like the Strange Stranger in yellow. You could even see their glowing yellow eye that mirrored each other.

“Let go of me!” Hissing at the one who got your wrist. Fighting for dominance, almost sending both of you in a tumble. You could tell the short hair one does not wish to bruise you.

“Oh my, what a dirk!” The one with long hair insulted the shorter tassels. 

“Surely this one must be taught like the cirque.” He tugged at your arm, restraining you with a huff. It causes you to wince at the raw strength despite his lean structure.

“Ha! One that lurks within, could only be a berserk.” Laughed, the one who instigated the fight argued. 

“And unlike you, they don’t shirk.” Now the one who held you in place retorted at the other. Their rivalry is evident, despite working for such omnipresent.

Everything felt like it was spinning around, the ghastly light glows eerily as the flames it cradled sways. 

When you came to, here you were sitting upon the cushions that face the forever, kindling embers of the fireplace.

"Tea? Or maybe you like those things that make your tongue go numb?" Facing the chair just adjacent to you is the figure in yellow.

He had his legs crossed, "well?" Even with the pallid mask that he donned, the cheeky voice of his would make anyone's blood boil.

“Just water." You replied with a hoarse voice.

He chuckled, “Here." Pouring from an opaque pitcher, water flowed like wine. The dull tone of fluids against each other in the cup made a chilling crisp. 

“So, what is your problem with our archive ruin?” Even with the mask, the smile can be felt through it, mocking you with genuine interest.

Hands quivered as they held the thinly made glass of water, “I want to go home." He huffed at the notion of leaving.

" Why, dear Bubbles. What has gotten into you. You looked ecstatic earlier during your stay.” Tea cup clicked when he placed it back onto the saucer. Now that you think of it, he hasn’t even taken off his mask to drink.

“Perhaps a dance, or a rather intimate time?" He teased, then again, he did always have this sort of thing. 

“I just want to leave.” Pleading, as if he were the judge that sees who passes through the doors scott free.

Strange is the stranger who huffed, captious gaze lay evident through the stilted, pallid masque, “Fine, fine, here.” 

Within a snap of the lanky hand, time had passed, and here was the promised door. Just within reach. 

“Open it." His voice demanded with the secrets that incites such indulgence that the covers so sweetly shys.

Upon opening it, the mirth it provides has fulfilled its promises. In a world where fantastical beings rests, now everything, a blur.

War, where the sun’s dim color set, the savage souls marched with unrest. Sound of thy soul have been wed, to the hand chained mislead. 

Tyrannical growls were heard from you, "I shall see you in the eternal flames.” A silent voice cried a name to blame, only ending with shame.

Lush greens now dyed in grim purple, dripping of dis-myrtle. Hearing only a ghastly chortle.

“See, bubbles, you’re just stressed.” Says the tall man in yellow shawl, who then starts to rub your shoulder, unfazed by your blood stained armor. 

Laughed, "Now, do you feel better?" He smiled which is no daft, now his face partially revealed under his alabaster mask. 

‘Where am I?’

In this setting stage, the spot light which shine down. Shawled ill-rumored dressed to the nine, You know him, you should get away from him.

"You just need to get your head in the game, bubbles. It is all just a storybook." Open your eyes and look like a mook, through the shard of the metallic blade of Sir Brook. The blood rushing underneath your skin, made your heart ache. 

To wake up is to undo, yet you look at him, like a red rose, seeking the sun no matter where it goes.

“Where are you going, bubbles?”

“To… To …” Rapid eye movement was made, heart beating faster as he took long strides. Voice falters while your own mind fade, mold portrayed betide.

"An audience? Don't mind if I do, a feast for this occasion." He chafed with a huffed fit, taking an arm hand. Though it feels like the harrow’s pit, for what does this Fool demand of you to uphand?

“Don’t mind if I do… “ 

“Scribe, You can’t just infect our guests like that.”

" Well, well, if it isn’t the little miss Puppeteer.” 

[trypo-p]

A new and (very much so) improved Meet The TF2 Artist! I’ll be adding this to my pinned post among other much needed updates + additions :)

[literalite]

you give yourself to him

[raineandsky]

#112

Villainy is at an all time low. It’s practically non-existent, and with it, the villains.

Heroes have tried hunting them down. Searched every corner of the city, every abandoned building, every dark alleyway. Something’s going on.

The agency is humming with nervous energy. Something’s happening. This is on purpose. The villains are in hiding because they’re planning something big. Where are they all? We have to stop them. They have to be somewhere.

The villains are gone for so long, the agency strung so high, the place practically explodes when a pair of heroes happen across one on their usual jaunt around the city.

The hero is in the midst of buying a coffee when they come through the doors with bright smiles and cheers of victory. The villain flails between them, screaming bloody murder, as other heroes crowd around with questions and praises. You found one? Where were they? What’s going on? Have they said anything? This is a good sign. Good job, guys. The start of the end.

The heroes continue through with their prize, others following them like a cape of praise and cheers, and the hero gets a chance to glance at the villain. A familiar face. One of the ones the hero saw frequently in the field, one they’re well acquainted with. Of course.

The superhero throws them into an interrogation room not even fifteen minutes later. The hero’s coffee is still half-full. Might as well play the optimist, considering the situation.

One of the same heroes as before brings the villain in. The villain is, to put it lightly, rabid. The hero can see the scratches on the other hero’s arms, though he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s still too busy basking in everyone’s praise to care.

“Be careful,” he says cheerfully as he wrestles the villain into the chair opposite. “This one goes for the eyes.”

The villain’s never done that to the hero on the streets. Something’s going on, they can agree with that, but something’s changed.

The other hero steps back with a grin as the villain snaps at him, teeth bared like an animal, and with a quick thumbs up to the hero he turns on his heel and leaves them alone with the villain.

Rage is not an emotion the villain has ever expressed outwardly. Anger, sure, but not quite this raw. They yank their hands desperately to try and free themselves, the chair they were put in already tipped over. The table jolts with the force, and the hero’s half-full coffee tips over and onto the floor.

The hero can only think to watch. They’re not going to get anything out of them like this. They’ll wait for the villain for them to tire themself out.

After ten long minutes, it’s clear that isn't an option. Where are they getting all this energy from? They’ve been in the agency before, back when they were amateur enough to get caught, and they were never this frantic. They sat quietly, answered the questions the hero threw at them, and casually broke themself out that same night.

“[Villain]—”

“Let go of me!”

The villain’s breath is haggard, their arms shaking with the effort, but they haven’t stopped. The hero’s confusion is turning into worry incredibly fast.

“[Villain],” they try, carefully, tentatively. “Where is everyone?”

The villain’s eyes snap up to them like they’re seeing them for the first time. The first thing the hero notices is that it’s not rage in their face—it’s terror.

The hero holds their hands out pacifically. “You’re okay,” they continue. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The fear gets quickly masked by a layer of hatred. “Let go of me.”

The words come out calmer, quieter—seething. The villain looks like they’d break the hero in half given the opportunity. “Let go of me,” they repeat—and then, a little softer, “you have to.”

The hero’s heart pulls. A hint. Something to go off.

“Why would I do that?”

The villain’s pulling has slowed, their entire body leaning back against their cuffs. They sag slightly, exhausted, their eyes dropped to the table. “You have to.”

Less helpful a second time. The hero gets to their feet, glancing at the mirror to the side of the room. “I’m going to take them back,” they tell it, to the superhero inevitably on the other side. “We’re not getting anything out of them today.”

“No!” The villain cringes away when the hero reaches for them like they’re coming at them with a knife, and they almost throw themself back to their frenzy. “Don’t touch me!”

The villain kicks a foot out and misses, thankfully, as the hero cautiously edges into their space. The hero reaches forwards to detach the villain’s cuffs from the table, and as if the action makes something crack, the villain lets out a grief-stricken sob.

The hero steps back before they can stop themself, alarmed. The villain turns their face away with another choke of a cry, pushing themself as far away from the hero as the table will allow. “Let go of me,” they say again, but it’s not angry anymore. It sounds defeated. Scared.

The hero moves past them and they lurch back like they're contagious, watching nervously as the hero carefully sets the chair back upright. “Sit down,” the hero says gently.

They nudge the chair towards the villain. The villain stares at it for a moment, letting the first streaks of tears paint their face, before they give in and sit. The single motion is laboured, tired—how long have they been fighting back for?

“If you tell me what’s going on,” the hero prompts carefully, “we might be able to think about letting you go.”

“N– No, I have to go now. Before it’s too late.” Another hint, another step in the right direction. The hero glances at the mirror.

“That isn’t an option, [Villain], you know that.” The hero settles back in their own chair. “If you tell us what’s happening, though, we might be able to help you.”

The villain shakes their head shortly. “I can’t,” they mumble, and it comes out entirely heartbroken.

“Well,” the hero starts slowly, “let’s start with what you can tell us.”

The villain hesitates, but after a moment they nod, slight, barely perceivable. The hero nods too—a step in the right direction. The first hint in the giant puzzle that is everything.

[toxiccaves]

Just revealed: Metal Cardbot season 2 will feature a fresh new design for our protag, Blue Cop S!

There have also been closer looks at the other new character's we've received sneak peeks of so far over on SAMG's Toy Dev Twitter, including their alt modes:

[xxplastic-cubexx]

I truly do appreciate all you do(and put up with) with all our asks and such. I hope all the things you wish for come to you because you deserve it. Also I have been reading your tags. Snuggle your sis’ cat for all of us cat lovers plz. <3

The peoples asks are the highlight of my day …….. most of the time …… of COURSE im happy to interact with them thank you all for being so lovely !!!!!

now excuse me can you guys watch her

[earako]

Thinking of a convo for parentified Pines au (is it an au? I think its an au-)

And I can just imagine Stan and Ford wanting to fall back into the caretaker role with Shermie because thats what's familiar to them and Shermie going 'absolutely not, it's my turn to look after you two.'

"Wha-we don't need looking after."

"Yes you do, Stan."

"Ford, back me up here-Sher-bear you're our baby brother-"

"I'm sorry, out of the three of is who had a roof over their head at all times, didn't have to worry about starving constantly, and doesn't literally jump at shadows?"

"...He's got us there, Lee-"

"Nope, not gonna happen, Sher, if you want us to back off fine but you don't need to take cars of us-"

And it's this whole messy convo of Shermie trying to convince his stubborn, traumatized, older brothers that he -wants- to help them and take care of them-it's not because he feels obligated too. Shermie knows that his brothers ultimately chose to help Ma out with him and now its Shermie's turn to choose to help out his brothers

[shy-the-trash-lion]

"Did you step out of a dream?" 💙

[raiiny-bay]

i haven’t really been online this week but i logged in & saw it was simblr gratitude day today, so i figured i’d make a quick post & tag some people that i think make this community brighter & a fun place to be & whose posts i always enjoy seeing on my dash :-)

@simspurgatory @lilamausmaus @teddybearsims @elderwisp @nekrophoria @simmersofia @wileyfern @sikoi @glammoose @mattodore @fizzytoo @barbieaiden @void-imp @blacknoiseabyss @salemssimblr @daydreamertrait @vicciouxs @lynzishell @rebouks @morrigan-sims @bloody-soda @potential-fate @machinegrl @alelelesimz @seaslugsims @pralinesims @simanin @aniraklova @gashface @lilypixels @kimbr3 @wolfavens @gothoffspring @ellisimis @kawaiishitty @cyclopstrait @salemsimss @wastelandwhisperer @aurorangen @hekpacubo @hell-dusk @diwns @bunmou @novac2281 @koibish @wldestluv-rs @noeyinthemist @lucidicer @bobapplesimblr @deathtulips

[pvalleyarchives]

Brandee Evans, J. Alphonse Nicholson, Shannon Thornton, and Nicco Annan for Emmy Magazine’s May 2023/Issue No. 5

[recurring-polynya]

Good morning, happy Thursday, who wants to read a fun idea I had about giants in Soul Society?

So! I was reading this @littleeyesofpallas post about wuxing symbolism and was particularly struck by this passage in a section about the gate guardians:

There is no central guard but conspicuously Kirinji's name comes from Qilin, but apparently according to official height he's actually not nearly as tall as Kubo's drawings always made him seem. Not that he was on the same scale as the gate guardians even then...

No, I said to myself, of course not. He's powerful enough to control his size, because I was thinking of the part where Grand Fisher claims Isshin is too small to defeat him and Isshin responds with a lecture on soul reaper lore:

Now, bodies are not swords, but maybe the same mechanic applies! It certainly applies to Hollows. Earlier in this same scene, Kon mistakes Grand Fisher for a Menos Grande, and Grand Fisher is insulted by the comparison, but it's the same thing. Menos are huge and scary, but when they become Arrancar, they shrink down and become scarier. [Aside: I think this is why the Yammy-is-secretly-Espada-0 reveal doesn't quite manage to hit. It goes against the lore Kubo has been laying down for ages]

On a meta level, this is just a shounen storytelling tactic where X is an indicator of strength, but then later on, it's like "Reverse Uno! Not-X is the real indicator of strength!!" That's exactly how this zanpakutou-size thing is used when it's first introduced.

Exhibit A: Renji, a court jester, being impressed by the size of Ichigo's sword:

Exhibit B: A handful of issues later, Urahara, an intellectual (lol), sets us straight:

Genre convention or not, I think it lends itself some interesting world-building. Among low-powered people, size is impressive, but as you scale the ranks of power, it's kind of pathetic. Weirdly large people are like the petty bourgeoisie of Soul Society power dynamics.

But that's actually the perfect niche for a gatekeeper! In general, your typical Joe Shinigami is going to be able to take on just about any rando from the Rukongai, but maybe not a particularly strong ryouka. Ganju was able to take on Yumichika, after all. A single shinigami wouldn't be able to take on a planned rebellion, like in the Bount arc, and they've got to, like, sleep and stuff. The Gotei could, in theory, have an entire gatehouse and a gate patrol, etc, but that they are perpetually short-staffed as-is. Instead, how about one medium-powerful gatekeeper whose size makes them well-suited for fighting groups of people (or siege weapons), and who is going to be intimidating overall?

Furthermore, it's implied that Jidanbou isn't actually a shinigami. He wears a shihakushou, but his axes don't seem to be a zanpakutou (he doesn't release them and is distressed when they are destroyed). His neighbors offer this comment on him:

It's not quite right, though: after all, many shinigami are from Rukongai, including Gin, who is the reason Jidanbou is being healed at the very moment this panel takes place. I think what this guy means is that Jidanbou is of Rukongai, which is to say not of the Seireitei.

So what is he, then? Here's my big idea: I think that the gigantism in Soul Society might actually be a reiatsu-developmental disability! It's always been my impression that growth, especially for powerful people, happens in fits and spurts, rather than linearly, and that furthermore, big changes in growth tend to coincide with developments in reiryouku. Somewhere, either in childhood or adolescence, someone's spiritual pressure grows more quickly than their control over it, which results in their body growing uncontrollably. They become very powerful "physically", but their strength is all in their mass/reishi, which takes most of their spiritual pressure to control. This may end up limiting the upper end of power they are able to achieve and some cases means they get cut off entirely from the other forms of power used by shinigami (connecting to a zanpakutou, kidou). I think this might be especially common in children from the Rukongai, who lack access to education and training. I can also imagine it leading itself to cautionary tales in the outer Rukon that if you feed your hungry children too much, you'll end up with a giant on your hands.

This offers one explanation to why Jidanbou is a giant and his brother Jiroubou is large, but not remotely on the same scale (the Souls Data Book lists his height at 7'7" vs Jidanbou's 32'5"). There are a handful of other shinigami of larger-than-human height, which could be a milder form of this, or it could mean that some sort of special training or medical intervention helped keep their growth manageable. I think you can squeeze in a lot of interesting character insights into this headcanon, from Hachi (8'5"), who perhaps worked exceptionally hard in an effort to control his power and ended becoming incredibly skilled at kidou as a result (interesting that he, too, is not actually a shinigami). Or Oomaeda (6'11"), who gets by a lot on his family's wealth and clout, but is definitely on the weaker end of the lieutenant power scale. In his case, his large size kind of speaks to his entire "thinks he's classy, but is really just gaudy"/can't-even-tell-how-outclassed-he-is-by-his-peers deal.

Then, as a counterpoint, you've got Hitsugaya: immensely powerful from a young age, and one of the hallmarks of his character is how in-control of himself he is, down to having developed an actual visible power bar for his bankai. Whether this is some effect of his personality, or whether it's an intervention on Hyourinmaru's part, his growth has been choked off as a side effect. He's the direct opposite of Jidanbou, who additionally seems somewhat childlike in personality (crying over his axes, for example, or his attachment to his extremely dubious "rules of the city"). To me, it's very sweet that their friendship might have roots in opposite expressions of the same reiatsu-growth-fuckup.

Much in the way that the Shiba use some sort of magic that's distinctly different from shinigami-kidou, I guess I really like thinking about other ways power might manifest itself in Soul Society outside of the shinigami-industrial-complex. And also the way the Seireitei may or may not try to control those powers."Guard this gate!" they say. "We won't actually let you live in the city or give you city wages, but you can have a cool outfit and, uh...do it for the exposure?"

[trypo-p]

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[00fairylights00]

Hypersomnolence

Haha funny story, I was diagnosed with a sleep disorder in November after struggling with it unknowingly for give or take 18 months. Turns out I’m not crazy and falling asleep against your will multiple times a day is actually not a good or normal thing.

So permit me to write the puppet like a sap as I need this right now lol. Yes these are in fact all things I experienced but I am medicated for them now hooray!

One task, that was all you’d managed to get through today. You felt sick and heavy, opting to sit on the cold ground before your body made you, it was a battle to stay awake as sleep attacked you again.

It was only early afternoon and you’d struggled through your one task of sweeping, you were certain everyone at the hotel thought you to be lazy, even if they’d all told you otherwise.

You’d been sick like this for a long time, long before the petrification disease or the puppet frenzy, both events having a negative effect on the way you’d usually manage your symptoms. 

And while you appreciated the sanctity you’d been spared at Hotel Krat, the nagging feeling of needing to repay Lady Antonia for her kindness was not helping your case.

You sat with your head in your hands, slipping in and out of consciousness, losing the battle again. Usually, Polendina would find you, send you to your room to rest and that would be it for the day, once you were in bed you found it hard to do much of anything else. Which you supposed was good for your body but it made your emotional well-being an absolute wreck.

Lady Antonia had asked you time and time again to be kinder to yourself, to feel accomplished of the things you could do and that you were welcome here no matter how sick you were, and she would know a thing or two about being sick.

But, you had a bad habit of being nasty to yourself, and with your sleep-related illness only seeming to get worse you couldn’t remember the last time you’d spoken kindly to yourself.

You felt like shit.

A hand at your shoulder, delicate and tender shook you but it didn’t do much to rouse you. Your vision swam uncomfortably through the gaps in your fingers, your head being too heavy to lift up. Hands grasped your wrists, pulling gently to reveal your face that was then taken into those same hands, one soft and warm, the other firm and cold.

With the weight of your head now being supported by P’s hands you could somewhat force yourself to look at him. His expression was unreadable, as always, but his presence was a balm to your spiralling thoughts.

The friendship of Geppetto’s Puppet had been good for you, P didn’t care how tired you were he was just happy to see you, he didn’t expect anything but your presence and that was something you could give freely, tired or not.

He tilted his head in question to what you assumed to be your position on the floor, slumped over rather uncomfortably.

“It just came on, I had to sit down,” you mumbled, he seemed to frown, getting down on one knee and shifting you against him to pick you up.

With you cradled to his chest, he ascended the stairs. You burrowed down against his chest, relishing in how nice it was to be looked after. 

It was almost like the trip up to your room didn’t happen, one moment you were snug to P’s chest, the next you were under your sheets and propped up against the headboard. P took it upon himself to remove his shoes and coat and sit on the opposite side of the bed to keep you company.

“Sleepy?” P asked innocently, you nodded trying desperately to suppress another yawn. 

“I-“ he started, a thoughtful look crossing his face, “-want to help. How do I help?”

He gently took your hand in his own, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. The astounding amount of care he treated you with was sure to tear you apart in the best ways, making your exhausted mind spin.

“Just stay here with me for a bit,” You laid your head on his shoulder, “I think that’ll help.”

“Okay.”

He mimicked you, resting his head on top of yours, pulling the sheets further up your lap. Doing what he could to keep you comfortable, a concept he was still trying to grasp.

“Thank you P,” you mumbled, snuggling closer, “love you.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your head, nose buried in your hair, “I love you too.”

[chryblossomjjk]

just found out that jungkook interacts with people who aren’t me

[kanershuffle]

#TB: “It’s sad to say, I’m nineteen years old taking naps.” 😂 (x)

[bbonbonss]

My pony, Maven! She doesn't have a cutie mark and draws it on lol