#a study of life 🍃

[floral-triptych]

It was 13:00 system hours in the Genius Society's headquarters. It was a lavish office, more fit for royalty than for an interview to a society of geniuses. Lavish paintings hung on the walls, expensive woodwork, and a design philosophy that could put even the richest in debt, this office had it all.

"You're Herta, right? The Herta? Could you spare a few minutes to get me a glass of water? Slightly cold, or just plain cold will do."

Faisal, a slightly rotund male with slightly messy hair and a black jacket strewn on, asks the puppet genius. A glass of water could help him think on hard questions, or so he heard.

*Herta gives the young man a passive look up and down-- almost looking bored save for a small glimmer of interest in her eyes.*

"Of course it's me! There aren't any other Hertas in the universe, are there?" *The puppet-girl teases, although there is very clearly an underlying edge of bitterness.*

"...I'm a Genius. Number eighty-three, to be precise! I don't 'get' water for mundanites."

*Herta sighs resignedly, sparing the clearly worried man some mercy.* "...I'll send a drone to fetch you a glass. It should be back in a few minutes."

"I'm assuming you're here for the interviews?" *She asks curtly, tapping a finger against her desk.* "Well then. Sit down." *The puppet doesn't await an answer, pulling out a few papers and a pen before lying them in strategic places on her desk.*

[floral-triptych]

Mm, if I had the right equipment…

I'm bored I need women to perform experiments on me

[readychilledwine]

Selfcare Sunday

Summary - In an effort to have Lyria get to know his family, Azriel has her schedule them on her Sundays, forgetting it is her day with her brothers..

Warnings - None really for this part unless you count Azriel not liking her brother, but they're coming, trust me.

A/n - There will be a bit of Azriel after each character with how I'm planning and writing them and a second Azriel part that's longer, so don't worry about how short this is.

🍃Lyria and Azriel Masterlist🍃

✨️Master Masterlist✨️

Azriel sighed, relaxing fully as Lyria worked warm oil into his back, focusing on his sore shoulders. This had become their Sunday late night routine. Azriel laying on her table as she melted a week of tension away with those hands he was learning to trust.

He had emotionally healed significantly in the past month of her love. He had strictly asked her to use lotion in the beginning, but the past few massages, he's asked for her newest oil. An herbal mix Rhysand raved around, and Azriel could see why. It was made with yarrow and eucalyptus, turning his muscles into putty. He trusted her with his life already, and she seemed to trust him with hers.

“There you go,” Lyria whispered gently to him. “Almost have your mind shut off, don't you?”

He would only moan in response, feeling her fingers knead onto those layers of muscles. Azriel didn't know what he had done to be this blessed. To be so favored by the Cauldron that his mate's love language was acts of service, but he wasn't going to complain. Especially not as her hands moved to begin working the knots in his neck.

He knew they were in the last 15 to 20 minutes, and he would be lying if he didn't say that thought made him a little sad. “I was thinking,” his voice was low and soft, as if he was drifting off to sleep under her touch. “You're shy and most comfortable here?”

Lyria hummed to acknowledge him, “I am a homebody, yes.”

“And you always say massages tell you more about a person than talking?”

“Right,” Lyria confirmed as she continued working on the tension in his upper shoulders and neck. “Like I can tell you were in your dungeon far too long today by how tight your shoulders, collarbones, and neck are. Where are you going with this?”

Azriel took a moment to respond, having drifted off at the feel of her hands kissing his aching away. “How would you feel about my family coming on Sundays? 90 minutes, you and them. I'll pay you-”

“Sundays are when I see Eris and Lucien,” she whispered. She continued feeling what she was doing but not looking down at him, letting his body communicate his needs.

Azriel opened one hazel eye, “Only during the afternoon and evenings, though?” He studied her face, her lips pouted as she thought. “I will make sure it doesn't hurt your time with Eris and Lucien. Even if I'd prefer you weren't near them.”

She sighed, tired of this conversation. “We've discussed this,” she put a little more pressure on his neck. “I love my brothers. Whatever anger you hold towards them is between you and them. It's not like I'm seeing my father.”

“I'd lock you in my damn room at the House of Wind,” he immediately growled. “You may have that deal to see him occasionally but I could not stand that one weekly.”

Lyria pushed his head back down, “This is relaxation time, Mister.” His hands squeezed her plush thighs in agreement as she began massaging again. “I get to set the schedule. The times. The type of massage.”

“That's fine.”

“And I reserve the right to tell them to go away of they're mean.”

“Absolutely. Then you will tell me.” She smiled at his protectiveness. She was learning to love it. Learning to love her very instinct driven Illyrian male. “Fuck right there,” he sighed as she found the worst spot on the upper right side of his neck.

“Do you want a scalp massage too?” Azriel squeezed her thighs, communicating silently to Lyria's question. Her long nails, freshly done in a cobalt blue a day ago with his money, ran softly on his head. “You realize I already see Rhysand once a week?”

He hummed, “He will want to take part. Those massages are part of the bargain you two made. A business transaction. This would be different.”

She hummed in return beginning to play with his hair, “We talk about personal things, though.”

“Not the way you will with this,” his voice was heavy with sleep, “Can.. is it lay down time?”

Lyria nodded, “Come on, big bad shadowsinger.” She helped him stand, holding his hand as she walked him through her home. A home Rhysand paid for. A home she was slowly making more and more her own.

As soon as Azriel was asleep, she went to her schedule book, writing in names on Sundays. The next morning, she handed it to them. “I want them here 10-15 minutes early so we can consult.”

Azriel smiled at that paper, dimples coming through, “Absolutely.”

“And the weeks I took off are non-negotiable.”

“Of course, my fire,” Azriel pulled her to him by his waist, placing a hungry kiss on her lips. A knock on the door came, Monday arriving much too fast for their liking. “See you tonight?”

“See you tonight,” she confirmed and kissed him again. “Don't forget to give them the schedule.”

The week passed slowly, and Lyria smiled as another Sunday arrived. She placed stones in a warmer, lighting massage oil candles. Her magic dimmed the room, the scent of lavender soft and drifting as she readied the table.

“Hello, Lyria Darling,” Rhysand leaned against her doorway, a wide flirtatious smile on his face. He was twirling his spare key to her apartment. “Shall we begin our consultation?”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

Self Care Sunday Taglist:

(Let Liz know if you want/wanted your name here. Her list disappeared 😭)

[supernova41st]

Pics/gifs that remind me of them

(Fnf x reader)

Warnings: zaza, I hate this word but tsundere, insults but you guys are big girls/boys/things you can handle it

A/n: I’m gonna post shorter hcs for a bit cuz I’m working on this one req that has a lot of stuff, anyways ik this is cringey wattpad shit but who cares. Enjoy <33

Darnell

This is before you two were dating btw

All he wanted to do was doodle a bit 😔

“Oo whatcha got in there?”

“None of your goddamn business..”

grab

“Why are you hiding these they’re so c..”

This man was practically glowing mauve

It’s okay, you were blushing too

“…I won’t tell anyone if you let me keep it.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Really? Cuz this says otherwise”

“IT SAYS NOTHING”

No but actually, you stared at them almost everyday

It got to the point where you memorized them page by page

After you guys started dating, it became an inside joke that he was always embarrassed of

“Draw me like your French girls Darnell..”

“Oh my fucking-just-don’t remind me”

Once you tried drawing him and it def wasn’t up to his level of mastery, but he still loved it

He cut it out and hung it up on his wall next to his bed

Nene

You guys swap every now and then but she likes it more when you do it

“Y/n do me first plsplspls”

“Okay okay just as long as you take out your knives, I don’t want them to cut me again”

“That was one time 🙄”

“No nene, it was two times.”

Sometimes you’ll choose themes, like ocean or just a general color

You guys would get into funny arguments about the shades

“Nene this not purple that’s pink”

“It’s a mix of both!”

“The theme was purple so just do purple! It shouldn’t be a mix of anything 😒”

No wonder she always loses in dress to impress..

She would sometimes awkwardly zone out just staring at your eyes

(And if you have brown eyes and your eye does that one thing during golden hour, she’s immediately gone)

“…nene?”

“Yea?”

“The makeup.”

“Oh fuck, sorry”

You guys love face masks too

When she gets back from Ulta or Sephora she always brings something back for you

“Y/n guess what I got you!!”

“Lemme guess, another face mask”

“No! Sol de Janeiro scent 40!!”

“ gasp MARRY ME”

“OKAYY ^^”

Pico

(Big ass picture omg)

Guys, the makeout sessions.

Pico is an okay kisser when sober, but for some reason his tongue just gets ✨✨ when puffing that za

He loves going to his house, playing “doin’ time” by sublime in the background while making out with you on his bed

You guys have been doing it since your teen years

“Mom I need to go to my friends house to study”

“Okay hun just be back before 8:30”

Best studying session of your life

Sometimes you guys don’t even kiss, just 🍃 + cartoons

Or random convos, like really random convos

He’s not a fan tho

“You think the wind is ever trying to tell us something we don’t understand yet?”

“…I want you to stop saying odd shit.”

One time, he grabbed your belt to pull you closer and did his tango with the tongue

The butterflies you felt when he did that.

“Jesus fuck Pico..”

“What? Did you not like it? I’m sorry I just-“

“Do it again or I’ll kill you”

You guys were such horny teens

And it hasn’t settled down ever since

But since consent is sexy, you two never BOOMBAYAH’D while 🍃

“P-Pico I bet can kiss every freckle on that beautiful fffucking face of yours”

“You wanna bet? Giggle I’ll put 20$ on this table right now”

“Hell yeah, bring it on Ed Sheeran head ass”

Eventually your lips got tired

“Pico my lips are so tired now”

“Nuh uh, keep going”

“Hey you can’t tell me what to do, respect women!”

“Idc I’m sexiest now”

“I think it’s sexist”

“No, it’s sextile”

“…okay”

I don’t think he was with us at that moment

Bitch was seeing stars

[skuroddls]

Another environmental study based on the old cabin from life is strange 2 🍃

[floral-triptych]

Hmpf. Such behaviour is clearly unfit for the Genius Society.

kissomg him... feelomg hkm... I wanna kiss shim so bad... the warmtyl...mys kmatkmach...thinking abotj him putting his lips on kine... while I let him domkniate me...

[coichii]

MARLBORO NIGHTS - YUNJIN

pairing - badgirl!gf!yunjin ♥︎ nerd!fem!reader

genre - mostly fluff with comfort

word count - 0.6k

warnings - getting high + smoking

A/N - I’ve never smoked a day in my life or been high so I have no idea if I described it well🥲 also, I’m not a GG writer. I write practically only for Straykids, I just happened to cook this up.

—

new message from “yunnie💗”

8:03 PM

yunnie💗: my parents aren’t home

yunnie💗: wanna go get high🍃??

you: I’m studying yunnie -_- sorry!

yunnie💗: oh cmonn

yunnie💗: you’ve been studying all day

:(

yunnie💗: don’t you wanna see me?

—

You can feel the temptation burning at you, your hands itching at you to type “fuck yes!”, but the text book infront of you is screaming “ax^2 + bx + c =0”

—

you: im sorry bby </3 but yk ms.tuckers exam is coming up soon

you: i’ll see you tmrw, i promise

yunnie💗: her exam isn’t until wednesday!!

yunnie💗: plssss y/n :(( i promise it’ll be the best high of your life if you come with me

—

“Ah, fuck it.”

—

you: fine.. ok i guess we can go get high or wtv😒

you: can’t say i don’t want to see you <3

yunnie💗: I knew you couldn’t resist <3

yunnie💗: meet me at the park ok? im bringing the roll.

you: okay, see you there xx

—

“Here, let me light it for you, baby.” Yunjin proposes, bringing the lighter up the cigarette between your lips and lighting it. “There you go.”

You mumble a quick, “Thank you” as you inhale the bitter taste of the cigarette smoke, coughing slightly.

You never smoke when you’re not with Yunjin, so you’re not quite used to it yet, but you’re getting there.

You pick the the cigarette out of you lips with two fingers, setting it in yunjin’s as she breaths in a mouthful and blows it out, creating a satisfying grey cloud over the two of you.

“Yknow,” she starts, plucking the cigarette out of her lips to continue. “I hope im not being a bad influence to you. I’ve never had anyone accept me like this.”

You watch as she picks a peice of her hair from behind her ear and pushes infront of her face, wanting to hide the emotion that was becoming evident on her face. “I don’t mean to at all.”

“Yunjin, stop. I promise you’re not a bad influence on me. It’s my decision if I want to get high or not. My decision if I want to stop studying for the night. You’re all I need.” You try to console, but you can see it’s not doing all that much.

“You hear what everyone says around school. They say ‘yunjin is going to ruin that girls life’. And I don’t want that to be true.” She says between breaths of tobbaco. “I want to be good for you.”

“Yunjin.” You plead. “You are good for me. Those people don’t know what they’re talking about. They don’t see the real you or who you really are in the inside. They see a silhouette and think they know everything, but they don’t. I know you. And I love you.”

She can feel the weight of your words on her mind, and it’s bringing her comfort as they sink in.

“I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you y/n. I love you.” And she’s kissing you.

You can taste the nicotine on her tounge as you deepen the kiss, and it’s sending zings and buzzes to your brain.

Little did she know, you don’t know what you’d be doing without her.

She had no idea, that she was perfect for you and that was all that matters.

So you’ll teach her how to drown the voices out of all the people who said otherwise, who said you two weren’t meant for eachother.

You’ll do anything if it means you can stay with her, and you’ll spend everyday proving that.

[earthlybeam]

Secret crush without the mistletoe can be interesting..? Love your writing by the way I really like your view on Legolas on point!

how would the elves react to this?

↓

↓

↓

Legolas Version below. (You and Legolas well secret have a crush but either of you acted till now.)

🍃𝓛𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓼

𖧧 The great hall was alive with the warmth of firelight and the soft buzz of conversation. Winter had tightened its icy grip on the world outside, its frigid breath pressing against the thick stone walls of the castle, but within, there was only warmth. The air was heavy with the scent of spiced wine and roasting meats, mingling with the steady hum of voices and occasional bursts of laughter from the gathered guests. Shadows flickered and danced across the high ceilings as the fire roared in the hearth, and golden light bathed the hall in a welcoming glow. Yet for all the merry revelry around him, Legolas’s attention was entirely elsewhere—on you. The two of you had found a quieter corner of the hall, tucked just far enough from the main crowd to feel removed from the festivities but still close enough to hear the hum of life around you. You were speaking to him, animated as always, your hands gesturing as you brought whatever story you were telling to life. There was a spark in your eyes that seemed to catch the firelight, making them shine even brighter, and your voice—light, lilting, utterly captivating—filled the space between you.

𖧧 Legolas, however, couldn’t hear a word you were saying. Not because he didn’t want to, but because his thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way the soft glow of firelight kissed your skin, and the way your presence seemed to fill every corner of his mind. You had always been beautiful to him, but tonight, there was something about you that was simply… magnetic. And then his gaze drifted upward. Just above you, hanging innocuously from the archway, was a sprig of mistletoe, its pale berries gleaming faintly in the warm light. Legolas froze for a moment, his sharp Elven eyes narrowing slightly as he studied it, as if its presence alone were conspiring against him. His lips quirked into a faint, almost rueful smile. How convenient—and utterly maddening. The mistletoe dangled there like an invitation, and yet, you hadn’t even noticed it.

𖧧 Legolas tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking back to you. You were still speaking, your words tumbling out in a steady stream of thought that left no room for interruptions. He tried to focus on what you were saying—tried to ground himself in the rhythm of your voice—but it was no use. His thoughts were consumed by you. By the closeness of you. By the thought of what it might feel like to close that small distance between you and claim the kiss the mistletoe so temptingly promised. He cleared his throat softly, a subtle attempt to catch your attention. But you didn’t notice. Your voice carried on, weaving through one story and into another, your excitement undeterred. He smiled faintly, shaking his head to himself. Of course, you wouldn’t notice. He adored this about you—your passion, the way your words never seemed to falter, the way you could fill any silence with life. And yet, at this very moment, it was also driving him to distraction.

𖧧 Legolas shifted slightly, leaning just a little closer, hoping you might sense the change in his demeanor. When that failed, he cast another glance upward, as if willing you to follow his gaze and notice the mistletoe. Still nothing. You were utterly oblivious, your focus entirely on the story you were telling. Legolas let out a soft sigh, his heart pounding in his chest. He would have to act. His mind raced. What if you didn’t feel the same way? What if this ruined everything? But then his gaze found its way back to your lips, and his resolve hardened. Enough. If he waited for you to pause, he’d be here all night.

𖧧 As you launched into yet another animated anecdote, your hands gesturing to emphasize some point, Legolas stepped forward, closing the space between you in a single, deliberate motion. His movements were as smooth and graceful as always, but there was an uncharacteristic tension to his posture—a quiet urgency beneath his composed exterior. His hand brushed against yours, the contact so feather-light it might have gone unnoticed had it not sent a spark of warmth through your skin. The touch was enough to make you falter, your words catching for just a fraction of a second before tumbling forward again. But before you could recover or even register the brief interruption, his other hand came up, reaching for you with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. His palm cupped your cheek with a warmth that contrasted the wintry chill lingering in the room. His fingers spread gently, as if they belonged there, cradling your face with a reverence that made your heart skip a beat.

𖧧 “Legolas, what are you—” you began, your voice soft and uncertain as confusion flickered in your eyes. But the words never made it past your lips. Before you could finish the thought, he leaned in, his clear blue eyes holding yours for one fleeting moment, as if seeking permission—or perhaps steeling his courage. Then his lips were on yours, silencing you with a kiss that was at once soft and certain. The world around you seemed to stop. The golden warmth of the fire, the hum of laughter and chatter from the hall, the clink of goblets—all of it faded into the background, dissolving into a distant blur. All that remained was the quiet, intimate bubble of space the two of you occupied. His lips moved against yours with a gentle insistence, tentative yet undeniably purposeful, as if he were testing the boundaries of what you might allow.

𖧧 For a moment, you froze, your mind struggling to process the suddenness of his action. But the shock melted away almost as quickly as it came, replaced by a warmth that blossomed in your chest and spread outward until it filled every corner of your being. His hand on your cheek anchored you, grounding you in the moment, while his thumb brushed lightly over your skin in a touch so tender it made your heart ache. Slowly, almost instinctively, you found yourself leaning into him, your body responding before your mind could catch up. Your lips moved against his, hesitant at first but gradually growing bolder, matching the quiet yearning in his kiss. It was a mutual acknowledgment, unspoken but deeply understood—a shared step into something entirely new and uncharted.

𖧧 When he finally pulled back, it was as if time resumed its flow, though the moment between you still hung suspended like a fragile thread. His breath came shallow, and his clear blue eyes searched yours with a mix of vulnerability and determination. The expression on his face was unlike anything you had seen before—a delicate blend of hope, relief, and the faintest trace of nervousness. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the faint crackle of the fire and the distant murmur of the hall. Then, his lips curved into a small, sheepish smile, his composure faltering just enough to reveal the flicker of uncertainty beneath. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, though the faint flush on his cheeks betrayed him. “But you weren’t stopping, and… well, the mistletoe wouldn’t wait forever.”

𖧧 Your gaze flickered upward, finally following the direction of his earlier glances. There, hanging innocuously above you, was a sprig of mistletoe, its pale green leaves and pearly white berries glinting faintly in the firelight. A soft, breathless laugh escaped you, and when you looked back at him, your eyes sparkled with a mix of incredulity and playful mischief. “You mean to tell me,” you began, your tone light and teasing as your lips curved into a grin, “that you kissed me just to stop my talking?” His lips twitched, his own cheeks tinged with a faint pink that made him look more human than Elf in that moment. “I wouldn’t say that,” he replied, his voice carrying a note of playful earnestness that matched the glint in his eyes. “Stopping your talking was… a fortunate side effect.” A laugh bubbled up from your chest, incredulous and warm, as you shook your head in disbelief. “You could’ve just said something, you know,” you teased, though the warmth in your voice betrayed the fluttering in your chest. “Instead of ambushing me.”

𖧧 “Would you have stopped long enough to notice the mistletoe?” he countered, raising an elegant brow, his smile growing more confident now. His tone was gentle but carried a hint of teasing challenge, as if he already knew the answer. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. He had a point. Instead, you closed your mouth again, your lips curving into a grin that was equal parts exasperated and amused. Tilting your head slightly, you regarded him with a playful glint in your eyes. “Well,” you said softly, your voice tinged with warmth, “now that I’ve stopped, I suppose you should make the most of it.” Legolas’s smile widened, the relief and delight in his expression unmistakable. For a brief moment, he looked at you as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real, as if he had been waiting far longer than you could have imagined for this exact moment. “As you wish,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a tone that was both reverent and full of quiet promise.

𖧧 This time, when he leaned in, the kiss was different. Gone was the hesitation and caution of the first; this kiss was deeper, more certain, filled with the kind of longing that had clearly been held back for far too long. His lips moved against yours with a quiet passion, and his hand, still cradling your cheek, shifted slightly, his fingers tangling in your hair as if anchoring himself to you. The world around you seemed to fade even further, leaving only the warmth of him and the steady beat of your heart. In that moment, beneath the mistletoe and the golden firelight, everything else disappeared, leaving only the quiet certainty that this was just the beginning.

𖧧 The next time Legolas kissed you, it was not born of hesitation or surprise but something deeper—something deliberate. It came after a quiet moment, one in which both of you stood close together, the firelight casting flickering shadows across your faces. You were alone now, the hall’s festivities continuing on the far side of the room, the laughter and music muffled as if the world itself had given you this moment to be entirely his. His gaze lingered on your face, studying you with the quiet intensity that always made your heart flutter. The way his blue eyes held yours felt like a silent confession, a thousand unspoken words exchanged in the span of a single heartbeat. There was no mistletoe this time to urge him forward, no playful excuse to fall back on. This was different. This was him, choosing you, without hesitation.

𖧧 Legolas stepped closer, his presence a quiet but commanding thing, as gentle and sure as the forest breeze. He raised a hand, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch so tender it sent shivers down your spine. You leaned into it instinctively, your breath hitching as his thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone with a reverence that made your chest ache. His other hand found its place at your waist, his grip firm but not possessive, as though he were anchoring himself as much as he was drawing you closer. You tilted your head slightly, meeting his gaze, and in that moment, the world felt still again. He leaned in slowly, giving you every opportunity to stop him, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both soft and searing.

𖧧 From Legolas’s perspective, the kiss was everything he had imagined and yet so much more. Your lips were warm and inviting, moving against his with an eagerness that matched his own, and he poured everything he could not say aloud into that kiss. His fingers slid into your hair, threading through the soft strands as he deepened the kiss, his movements deliberate yet unhurried. For him, this was not just an embrace—it was an act of devotion, a quiet promise that he would give you every part of himself if you would let him. For you, the kiss felt like stepping into the unknown, but it was anything but frightening. Legolas kissed with the kind of care and intention that made you feel cherished, as though you were the only thing that mattered in the world. His lips were soft yet firm, moving with a rhythm that was both patient and insistent, as though he was memorizing every moment, every sensation. His hand in your hair was gentle, his fingers tightening slightly as if he feared you might slip away.

𖧧 The warmth of him was overwhelming in the best way. It was in the press of his lips, the strength of his hand at your waist, the way his body seemed to align with yours as he pulled you just a little closer. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, matching the wild rhythm of your own. The intensity of it all left you breathless, and yet you found yourself wanting more. Legolas pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between you. His hand stayed in your hair, his thumb brushing softly against your temple in a soothing gesture. His lips hovered close enough that you could still feel their warmth, as if he couldn’t bear to fully part from you just yet. His voice, low and steady but tinged with an emotion you couldn’t quite name, broke the silence. “Do you know,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your lips, “how long I have waited for this?” Your chest tightened at the quiet vulnerability in his words, and you reached up to place a hand over his, the one still cradling your cheek. “Then don’t wait anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but the meaning behind it clear.

𖧧 At your words, something shifted in Legolas. His lips found yours again, this time with more urgency, more need. The kiss was deeper, more consuming, as though he were pouring every ounce of restraint he had once held into this moment. His hand at your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the strength in him—not just the physical strength but the emotional depth, the quiet intensity that defined him. The room around you disappeared entirely, swallowed by the heat and tenderness of the kiss. Time seemed to stretch, the boundaries of the world reduced to the feel of him, the taste of him, the steady rhythm of his breath mingling with yours. It was a kiss that spoke of longing and relief, of promises unspoken but deeply felt. And when you finally broke apart, both of you breathless and trembling, you knew that nothing between you would ever be the same again.

[hey-august]

You're coming in… you're coming close

😌🍃 This is a continuation of Close your eyes, just settle, settle, just with a different title.

The first part was originally a one-shot (and could still be read as such), so this part ended up with more plot and less prose. Hopefully the overall tone carried through. (tbh, i struggled with that so much.)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Word count: ~3.5k ...more than double the first one 🙃 Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, no use of Y/N, partaking in the devil's lettuce 🍃, insertion sex, jacking off, facial, manual stimulation, a lil bit of an angsty fight A/N: Here's the opening line that I first wrote and discarded: "The slivered moon was high and so was Buggy."

Edit: Huuuuge amazing wonderful thanks to @be-not-afraid-gg for this suggestion!!!! 🩷🩷🩷

Title from "Great Romances of the 20th Century" by Taking Back Sunday

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The night is dark and full of creaks and groans from the ship listing in the slow rolling waves. Footsteps shuffle across the wood floor, adding to the ambiance. Buggy walks slowly, with bare feet tucked into untied boots, and moving in time with the subtle swells.

His hazy mind drifts in circles around the one idea that set his body in motion. A thought that had seeped from his head, down into his mouth, and settled on his tongue. There’s an absence under the taste of smoke and fire. An emptiness that calls for something flavorful.

Lost in the cyclone of thoughts, the illuminated sign of life doesn’t register until Buggy steps into the brightly lit kitchen. What he assumed was a beacon luring him towards his destination, was actually the mark of a haven for late night cravings. A haven you had already founded.

You’re leaning on a counter, midway through a bite of toast, and eyes wide at the unexpected company. Red eyes that match his.

“Sorry, didn’t think anyone would be here,” Buggy stammers, spacing out and forgetting that he’s the captain of the ship. 

Anxiety bubbles in his chest, turning over the hunger that brought him to the kitchen, and mixing it with a different desire. The warm scent of cinnamon joins the turmoil in his body. Buggy nervously rubs his jaw, the stubble scratchy against his bare hand.

“Smells good.”

You finish the interrupted bite and push a small plate towards the door. “Want some?”

Buggy walks over and studies at the slice of toast you offered. Scattered islands of cinnamon and sugar sink into pools of butter. The lush mixture spreads across the landscape, an impression of how it would feel in his mouth. Buggy swallows the excess moisture his mouth is creating in anticipation and nods. You nudge the plate closer, creating a soft rasp as the ceramic slides against wood.

It’s messy and flavorful. Soft and crunchy. Sweet and lingering. The flavored butter coats his tongue, the heaviness carrying away the taste of resin and ash. He glances at your glistening lips and wonders if they’re also coated in sugar and cinnamon. The thought is chased away with a dry bite of uncoated crust.

“I’m glad I washn’t the only one in the mood for a late night sch-nack.”

You stifle laughter as the remark is delivered through a mouthful of half-chewed food. Buggy cracks a grin as the restrained joy still finds a path to your eyes. Feeling a familiar twist in his stomach, he shoves the rest of the cinnamon toast in his mouth and hopes the food will tamp down the ache.

“D’you do this often?” Buggy asks.

It’s no secret that some of the crew has particular hobbies. While Buggy’s interests sometimes overlap with his crew’s, he prefers to indulge in a select few on his own. This feels different, though. He already partook in privacy, leaving behind the ash and resin before lumbering to the kitchen.

“Sometimes…you?”

“Sometimes.”

The silence following the confessions was infused by the cinnamon - warm and comforting. This wasn’t a joint activity, it was just two individuals in a concurrent moment. A shared experience that would be repeated the following week. And the week after. And the next, as well. It became a routine.

The evening sessions begin independently until the smoke carries you both to the kitchen. Together you fill the room with laughter borne from empty giddy thoughts, while filling your stomachs with whatever you could get your sticky fingers on. 

Grilled cheese sandwiches, where more cheese is eaten in anticipation, than put between the bread slices. Instant noodles that Buggy prepares when he arrives first. Apple slices started a playful argument when you say they taste better with a bit of salt, while Buggy disagrees and slathers his portion in obscene amounts of peanut butter.

One unscheduled night you show up at the captain’s quarters, wearing a sheepish expression and carrying a plate of buttered toast coated liberally in cinnamon sugar. Under the chill of sobriety, Buggy’s chest rapidly fills with drumbeats. There’s no heady fog to dampen the sound, so it reverberates in his head until your voice cuts through.

“I wanted a snack and thought that maybe you’d want some too.” 

His stomach turns, flipping so aggressively that he nearly feels nauseous. The soothing smell of spices drifts into the room, ready to confront the turmoil in Buggy. It talks to him with a soft murmur, saying this is no different than the nights in the kitchen. Fantasies are just fantasies. 

Finally, Buggy opens the door wider as his answer, welcoming this reality. Your eyes are red, and so are your cheeks as you enter the room, bringing a new addition to your weekly routines. 

These extra sessions happen without planning. Any night could be enhanced by a knock at the door from a giddy visitor bringing temptation. 

The first time Buggy went to your room, he over prepared for the trip. His body arrived before his mind. His thoughts trailed slowly and lazily, not making any effort to catch up until the time was right. Until he was sitting on the floor, surrounded by a carpet of smoke. 

Leaning against your bed, Buggy watched the small flame illuminate your face and listened to your deep breathing. When you looked over and caught him staring, all he could do was offer you a dopey grin and a bag of chips.

The late night rendezvous continue to happen at least once a week. A reliable respite, no matter how long the ship is at sea. If one person burns through their stash too quickly, there’s always some to share. What started as individual moments that eventually collided, turned into shared joints, passed between fingers and lips.

One night finds Buggy sitting in his usual spot on the floor of your room. His back is pressed against the bedframe and his head rests on the edge of the mattress you’re laying on. The hair from his ponytail is close enough to tickle your hand.

“We should stop doing this.”

In the broken silence, the words sound wrong and don’t fit in Buggy’s head. Stop sitting quietly? Stop smoking so much? Stop clearing out the kitchen? With eyes still closed, he hums a questioning response.

The bed shifts as you sit up. “We should stop whatever this is.”

Craning his neck, Buggy looks to see exactly what you’re talking about. You’re already staring at him, eyes searching his face for understanding that won’t be found.

“This,” you repeat, gesturing between you two. “Whatever we’re doing…I think it should- I don’t think we should-”

“Okay.” The response explodes out of Buggy’s mouth in an attempt to stop the painful words coming from yours. 

You want to stop all of this. Stop sitting in silence with him. Stop smoking with him. You don’t want him around anymore.

Even through the brain fog, your voice rings clear. His mind clings to your request, squeezing it and refusing to let go, no matter how much it stings. Buggy nods along to the replay in his head before pushing himself up.

With a hand on the doorknob, Buggy pauses. Questions tumble inside the pirate, fighting against each other in the haze and growing to take space from the weaker ones. He squeezes the brass orb. The metal is cool against his bare hand. One question takes advantage of the calm feeling and slips out.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

Buggy stares at the door before him. He doesn’t turn around.

“Why,” he repeats mockingly slowly. “Why do you want to stop now? Why did you put up with this for so long? Were you just putting up with me?”

Buggy’s voice rises and cracks as the questions overflow. His hold on the doorknob tightens in an attempt to keep himself grounded.

In the following silence, Buggy sucks on the venom of his words. They were bitter. Not strong enough. But also too strong. They taste of regret and all he wants to do is burn them away. Douse them in alcohol and set them alight until he’s too numb to taste anything.

“Is that what you think?”

The bed creaks as you stand up and Buggy spins to face you.

“Obviously. I thought this was fun. I thought we were having a good time, but clearly I was wrong. You don’t like doing this,” he spits. “I shouldn’t be surprised, really. Of course you weren’t having fun with me.”

“I am- I was. I do like this.” Breaking through his monologue, you keep his attention and step closer. “That’s why we need to stop. I like y- I like this too much.”

You stiffen as the confession falls out. The words are out and can’t be retrieved. There’s no room in your mouth to take them back anyways, so you release the rest of what you want to say.

“It’s hard to keep having fun with you when I want more.”

Buggy’s silent. His mouth opens and closes, but he doesn’t make a sound. He stares at you, waiting for a punchline he knows isn’t coming. Your eyes aren’t glistening with laughter, but with something else.

“You want…more. What-” he swallows thickly, “do you want?”

The air in the room is heavy. You look away, following trails of fading smoke, before returning to Buggy’s expectant face. And lower, to his lips. The face paint is long faded, leaving behind a subtle stain. Your eyes flick back up just as he licks his lips. Those lips.

“I want you.” Your gaze moves down again. “I want all of you.”

Buggy’s body moves before he realizes it, reaching for you as soon as you finish speaking. Your lips taste like cinnamon. There’s a hint of ash on your tongue. You’re delicious. 

His hands cradle your face, holding you close so he can continue to relish a treat he’s thought about countless times before. You stumble back slightly, pushed by his greed. Hands clasp around his wrists, holding yourself steady and keeping his touch in place. 

Neither of you are sure who pulled back first. It took a few tries before you successfully detangled from one another. A question hangs in the space between your bodies - do you still want more?

You sit on the bed and pat the spot next to you. The muffled sounds are attractive and inviting. Yes, you want more. You both do. Buggy sits next to you. Following the movement of the sinking mattress, he leans against you and lets his head fall onto your shoulder. 

His mind lags behind his body, continuing past the arc of his body and bypassing the containment of his head. Buggy’s thoughts pour through his skull, rushing so quickly that he can hardly tease them apart. Mixed within the surge are visions seen only in the depths of privacy. The false memories of your choked moans and flushed face rise to the top and his dick follows suit.

Even with a hazy mind, he wants to pay attention. To give attention to you and to the swelling between his legs. Shifting against you, Buggy presses his face against your neck, pushing his nose into you. You’re warm and smell good. Your skin is damp. He parts his lips and tastes the salt coating your body. While he wasn’t one for salt on apples, he enjoys the taste here. 

The extra moisture left by his sloppy kisses is cooled by his heavy breathing. The change in temperature pulls a hint of a moan. Buggy’s cock twitches in response, begging for relief. Instead of giving in, his hand moves to touch your thigh. Voices tell him to squeeze. To grab you. To delve deeper. He settles for running a shaky hand up and down your leg.

The touch does little to soothe his need, to satiate his desire. The strain in his pants pulses and aches. Buggy grunts against your neck as he palms his erection. It’s so hard, it’s nearly painful. He whines as he realizes there isn’t enough give in the fabric of his pants to properly wrap a hand around himself.

His mind is quickly brought back to you with a click and the scrape of flint. You inhale deeply. The moment lasts forever as he watches little bits of flame escape and float away. Once your lungs are full, you pull Buggy’s face to meet yours.

Lips grazing each other, you exhale slowly. The smoke seeps from your mouth into his. Tendrils escape and dance up before he inhales your kiss. It’s slow and delicate. Hot, but not fiery. Buggy takes all that you give until his head is spun into cotton. Until he’s full of you.

A hand pushes his away to feel his desire. A heavy twitch against your touch conveys how badly he wants you. How desperately he needs you. A whimper escapes from his empty mouth when you squeeze slightly. A sound he repeats when you pull away entirely.

“Take off your clothes,” you tell him as you start doing the same.

The sound of pants being undone and falling to the ground isn’t new, but he feels the soft thumb reverberate in his heart. A heaviness that pulls him into action. Leaning back, Buggy fumbles with his belts and pants before scooting out of them and kicking off his boots in one motion. As he’s working on his vest, you peer over your shoulder and say he could keep that on. The softness in his request makes him even harder.

A curl of smoke catches Buggy’s attention. The wrapped ember glimmers and winks as its essence dances overhead, joining the rest of the heady fog. You pick it up, creating a connection that allows Buggy’s eyes to drift over your naked body.

Sun-kissed shoulders give way to your bare chest and soft stomach. He looks lower and lower, his hand following the path on his own body until he’s fondling and caressing himself in admiration of you. You’re better than any treasure map he’s seen - worthy of intimate study until he knows every curve, every valley and peak, every nook, absolutely everything until he’s committed you to memory.

Time flows inconsistently and Buggy’s not sure how long you let him touch himself while simply looking at you.

“Sorry, you’re-you’re just…wow,” he stammers awkwardly.

“Just wow,” you repeat with the smile that he’s only ever seen during the nightly sessions. “I didn’t see you as a man of few words.”

“Well, they say actions speak louder than words.” The teasing remarks ease any tension in the room. 

With legs still hanging over the edge of the bed, Buggy leans back on his elbows. The movement allows his vest to fall open and expose his chest, while his thick erection rests against his lower stomach. You approach slowly and straddle his lap, finding a perfect seat on his thighs. Your ass is soft and warm against his skin.

You offer him the still burning ember, which he accepts. His body moves obediently, unable to do more than go with the flow of the evening. All of his senses are alight and high. It would be overwhelming if it wasn’t with you. Closing his eyes, Buggy takes another drag.

Meanwhile, he feels you drag yourself on his body. You position his sticky member against yourself, rubbing his leaky tip along the way. He cracks his eyes just as you slowly sink down. You gasp, just as he’s imagined, when his flared head stretches you open.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groans, releasing the smoke in his lungs. 

A floating hand drops the burning herbs in the ashtray on the bedside table and then finds a spot on top of your thigh. His thumb rubs soft encouragement as your body adapts to his size.

“Y-you’re doing so good.”

Your body reacts to his praise, becoming intoxicatingly tight. The pressure from your legs outside of his increases. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, kneading out feelings of sensitivity as you sit flush on his cock.

Buggy is captivated by your expression - both focused and unfocused. Knitted brows caught between concentration and loss of control. Hazy eyes that flutter, unsure if they want to be open or closed. Your bottom lip stuck between your teeth.

“S’big. Feels…feel really full.” The breathlessness behind your comment sends Buggy to the clouds. 

Do you feel so full that you can hardly breathe? Does his cock take up that much space in your body? He throbs in your heat, straining against the confinement.

“You said you wanted more. Is it too much? M-more than you expected?” Buggy teases.

You let out a weak chuckle and rest your head on his shoulder. “No, I can do this.”

Committed to taking all you want, you start rolling your hips. Slowly at first, with Buggy’s floating hands following your movement. You grind harder as his grip increases. His fingers alternate between digging into your flesh and massaging out the bruising touches. Focused on staying within the boundaries of his restraint, Buggy doesn’t catch the sound of your voice the first time. 

“Help,” you mumble again against his neck, “please.” Pushing yourself back, you look Buggy in the eyes. “Fuck me.”

If he didn’t always stave off his orgasms multiple times when handling his own business, Buggy would have exploded inside of you just then. Still, he would not be able to hold out much longer. 

Sitting up, his arms move to connect with his hands, wrapping you in his embrace. He spreads his legs further to brace himself. With one arm around your waist and the other crossing your back to your shoulder, he fucks you the way you asked for. The way your moans beg for. 

Buggy uses his hold to push you against his thrusts, burying his cock as deep as your body allows. But he wants more. He clings to you, pulling you closer to his chest, wanting to feel you everywhere. To continue having your lovely sounds brush past his ear, to have your hands threading his hair, to feel your body stick against his.

Floating in those thoughts, Buggy didn’t know how tight the tether holding his anchor was until it threatened to snap.

“S-shit, m’close. I’m gonna- fuck. Wh-where-” His movements falter along with his stutters.

The tension loosens slightly as you pull yourself off, but returns when you kneel between his legs. You wrap your hands around his cock, using the wet sex from both of your bodies to jack him off. Buggy struggles to keep his eyes open, wanting to remember every moment of this, rather than falling back into the fantasies he’s used to finishing too.

“O-open your mouth,” he begs.

You give him the most wonderful open-mouthed smile as you push out your tongue, eager for what’s next. A hold on your wrist pulls one hand down to cradle his balls. Your touch is gentle, following as his balls tighten and he falls over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck… Keep-keep going,” Buggy grunts as each stroke along his cock sends another jet of hot cum to cover your face and chest.

His orgasm directs your movements. As each pulse slows, so does the pumping, until the final one to ease the last few pearly drops onto your dripping fist. 

Ignoring his body’s cry for rest, Buggy pushes himself forwards and lets his trembling legs drop him to the ground. You ease back to give him space.

“C’mere, I’m going to make you feel so good,” he says in a shaky voice.

He advances until you’re laying on the wood floor. He hovers over you, trailing a hand along your body until it’s between your legs. Your gasp is captured by his mouth and more sinful sounds are coaxed by his tongue.

You still taste like cinnamon. There’s a hint of salt, again. Not from your sweat, but from his cum. Fuck, it’s good. His tongue pokes out of your mouth to swipe long your lips, seeking more of that combined taste. Meanwhile, your grasp at his wrist and grind against his hand.

Buggy follows your cues - rubbing, teasing, increasing pressure, going faster, easing up - whatever you want. He’ll do this for as long as you’d let him and he wants you to know. But when he tells you to take your time, it has the opposite effect. You whimper and cry out as you come to his touch.

“That’s it, you’re doing such a good job,” Buggy croons, carrying you through the wave, until it crests and you float back down.

You keep your eyes shut as you settle back into your body. You look wonderful. Dazzling. Breathtaking. Your chest is heaving and you’re coated in a sheen of sweat and strands of cum. His cum. His mark. A possessive fire lights in his chest.

“Just tell me whenever you want more,” Buggy says against your skin, pressing kisses to your shoulder and chest. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll take good care of you, promise.”

You laugh, seeing through the disguise of his kind ‘offer,’ to his own insatiable desire. The cooling liquid on your skin jostles with the movement, sending a shiver through your body. 

Buggy moves closer to you, wanting to share his warmth and feel more of yours. Always, to feel more of you.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

A/N: Also, I'd like to draw attention to the end of "Great Romances of the 20th Century," since it fits so well:

I'm in your room Is this turning you on Am I turning you on? I'm in your room Are you turned on? I'm on the corner of your bed I'm thinking maybe Are you turned on? Are you turned on?

[floral-triptych]

I could make your rubber duck animate. Then you could bestow it with a name.

I've been looking for a new test subject regardless, simply let me know if you'd be interested upon your earliest convenience.

I have a few rubber duck related questions for you, Doctor Ratio, on behalf of your fanclub. Feel free to answer or ignore at your leisure.

Do you like ducks as much as rubber ducks? Why rubber ducks, specifically?

Out of all the rubber ducks you have, which little quacker is your favourite? What makes it stand out amongst all the rest? Does it have a name that befits its greatness?

And how would you react if someone hypothetically filled your office up with a few thousand of them as a prank while you at your meeting today? Hypothetically.

Well,

Another question related to the bouncy and floating artificial ducks...

A bit baffling I'm receiving a sudden influx in questions related to this, but I'll humor you since you structured your message quite well.

I appreciate looking at the real animals, but I don't find them as interesting and surprising as their petrol-based counterparts.

It intrigues me how they always have different bouncing properties; despite being produced mechanically and with a supposed rigorous quality control.

As for my favorite, I think the little fellow currently partaking in this nice bath with me is the current winner.

It doesn't have a name, because I wouldn't be so silly as to give bame to inanimate objects; but this one bounces back in the air the highest when I press it down under the water.

As for this 'prank', I wouldn't find it very funny. Rather, very much annoying. I like my office neat and tidy.

~Dr Veritas Ratio.

[floral-triptych]

"Hey, Mei! Nows the time for a trick or treat~!"

Faisal showed up at the lab door, basket in hand, ready to fill it with candy. He decided to show up in a detailed Borisin costume. Made with metal, and combined with Faux fur to sell the illusion of a menacing wolf monster. He continues on, admittedly a little out of character.

"Like the costume? Me and the Doc made it together!"

( 🍬 )

”How amusing.”

*Ruan Mei smiles softly when she opens the door to her laboratory, taking in the intricate costume of her fellow Genius appreciatively.*

“The attention to detail on your costume makes for quite the convincing illusion.”

*She reaches out, brushing the tip of a gloved finger along one of the costume’s arms.* ”I’m sure any Foxians you cross during this time of year will turn and flee.”

”You and Mister Rabee must have had quite a blast putting it together— oh, and I mustn’t forget the treat I made for you.”

*Ruan Mei disappears within her lab for a moment, and reappears cradling one of her cat cake creations.*

*The cake is brown, white and green, ornate with small details to make it resemble its receiver and bearing large, shining eyes.*

*She sets it down into Faisal’s basket, where it jiggles, letting out a meow.* “I think it likes you.”

“Would you like to come in? You’re more than welcome here, as always.”

@heatedpirate

[au-sonic-smackdown]

AU Sonic Smackdown - Round 1, Right Side

Click to see full size image

Infested AU belongs to @hejjhug

Sonic Thunderstorm AU belongs to @delightrolls

Read more about them under the cut!

Infested AU-

Sonic, under the influence of a mysterious alien brain parasite, has become unpredictable and very, very dangerous. While all his powers remain the same, he now uses his speed to maim and kill anyone who moves. Sonic’s mental state has devolved to basic instinct, and, thanks to the parasite, he is in a near-constant state of feeling like a wild animal trapped in a corner. As a result, he will call upon impossible strength, reserved only for life-or-death scenarios. Pray you don’t catch his attention. You can’t outrun the fastest thing alive.

Sonic Thunderstorm AU-

Sonic the Hedgehog is an Egyptian Long-Eared Hedgehog. Sonic has major Electrokinesis and major Aerokinesis and major Cháokinesis. Sonic is an aromantic quoiromantic asexual aegosexual intersex pangender bordergender narkissigender genderspeed hedgehog with ADHD, BPD, and NPD who uses any pronouns, including storm/storms, ⛈️/⛈️s, thunder/thunders, 🌩️/🌩️s, gale/gales, 🌀/🌀s, bree/breeze, and 🍃/🍃s pronouns. Sonic is a result of the Ultimate Lifeform Project specifically Project Kinesis, a search to cure aging, discover the genes responsible for Kinetic Abilities, and grant Mobian Kinetic Abilities to humans. Many Mobians with Kinetic Abilities were kidnapped and bred to have their abilities studied resulting in the birth of Sonic, their pink and green siblings, and many others. Around the age of 3 - 5 Sonic and well as their mother and two siblings escaped the lab only to drown in the ocean during their get away leaving Sonic as the sole survivor and with an intense fear of water. After being saved from drowning they were put the foster system where they were they were often bullied or excluded by the other children and past around from home to home sometimes being treated well but other times being abused their adoptive families and that combined with never having a stable home leads to them developing BPD. Around the age of 12 - 13 Sonic gets tired of feeling unloved by both the foster homes they lived at and by the people who adopted them only to later throw them away so Sonic decides to run away in the hopes of finding someone who will genuinely care about them. While struggling to survive on their own the hedgehog starts to encounter Eggman and quickly becomes a thorn in his side. Also while searching for a home they encounter Tails, a DID system who is being abused by their family and bullied due to being Autistic. Sonic, sympathetic to their new friend's suffering, encourages them to run away with them to find somewhere better to live. While on their quest for a happy home the two become known for stopping Eggman's evil deeds resulting a couple named Darron Bolos Segaleh and Ilaiya Gotzone Nailah coming to adopting the two. The relationship starts of sweet but in reality Darron really only cares about using to two as mascots for his company and isn't above mistreating and abusing his children when they do something that makes his company loses money or negatively impacts their image. Being treated like a prince when succeeding and as worthless after every mistake leads to Sonic developing NPD. After growing up Sonic eventually goes on to live in a house with a number of their friends including Tails and Sonic is able to finally start recovering from everything that happened to them although they find recovery incredibly difficult. Sonic is a sweet person but is very emotional unstable which can lead to them make mistakes or hurting themself.

[floral-triptych]

I'm not quite sure about that.

This "cat creation" into which Mr. Aventurine has been transformed is most certainly not an experiment of mine.

I wonder who could possibly dabble in scientific research similar to mine, similar enough, at least, to create... that.

*turns Aventurine into a cat for the next 48 hour*

Wait, what~?!

*There is a puff of smoke around the blonde, and when it clears, a small cat cake is left on the floor, peeking out from under a hat, a pair of rose-tinted sunglasses lying haphazardly beside it.*

Meow~

*Aventurine looks up at the person and meows, jiggling like most of Ruan Mei's cat creations do.*

(Ooc: Image credits to @/sakuyumo on Tumblr. Full image here if you click ~ Mod)

[winryrockbellwannabe]

✨Get Ready with me...✨

for the second semester of my 3rd year of college

(all pics from Pinterest, btw)

Part 1: Academic life and free time

📚 My Classes: ☕

- Introduction to Biomaterials (IB) - Biomechanics - Informatic Systems (SI) - Electronics - retaking this class since i failed it last year I also have the bachelor's Project. The one i chose is about The role of internal states in everyday decision making.

📝 Academic Goals: ✨

- get better grades than last semester - try to understand early on the semester which way of studying works for me - go!!! to!! my profs!!! office time!!! for goodness sake, if you don't understand anything from your class, that's literally the best place to learn it - learn how to prioritize stuff - being up to date with my classes - maybe post my learning progress of all my classes?? idk if anyone would be interested in it, but i'll try to be more specific about what I'm learning

🍃🪻Free time:🪻🍃

I want to become much more intentional about my free time. Not just lying on the floor and doom scrolling. And also find ways to stop myself when I find myself going back to just waste energy doing stuff I'm not even enjoying

Specifically:

- read more books - keep watching some shows I've been putting behind bc i haven't feel like i was paying them enough attention. I've been saying this for over 2 years, get over it - exercise again. The cold always makes it so hard to exercise, but the weather is getting nicer, so i should go back to it soon

Part 2 (friendships and mental health) here

[yermes]

PAC: FOMO: I changed, I moved home it was several months ago and its hard coming to terms that the world moves on without you and to many people you are a whisper of a memory of somethings past. Its hard to let go and we have a need to hang on. How do we cope with letting go and not feel the grief of the past in its manifestation in the future 🪻

Disclaimer: please take what I say with a grain of salt and not as the gospel. I just want to share some ideas of practicing and giving advice using the medium as often as I can with school, work, and my own personal studies and practice. But I am working on sharing my notes soon so that will be exciting! Liking and sharing does a lot 🥰

Socials: Podcast | Follow me!

Pick a meme

1 2 3

The cards

Snake + mountain 🏔️ 🐍 

The seduction of your past is a complex obstacle of pride. Nothing will ever be the same and there is a sham and joy in that statement. To over come this personal challenge is to take a step towards personal wisdom and empowerment. It may hurt knowing they do not need you. However, you do not need them

Key + Person 💡 🔑 

It sucks to move on but you have only unlocked a better life for yourself with more opportunities and achievements. It is easy to fall into the lust of nostalgia, everyone wants to put shit kickers on, stay up late and do a whole lot of nothing and something at the same time. But you are in the action of change and betterment do not turn back.

Tree + Dog 🐕 🍃

Your friendships that you make in the past transcend time and space. The people you were there for/ people who were there for you left a permanent imprint on the sand flats in your consciousness. You will never miss out on the friends you make along the way and tbh they probably have fomo about you too

Extras:

I am literally so sad that I am just a face in memories past

[overgrown3d]

What do you need to hear right now?

✨How to select your pile?✨

1. Slow your breathing, taking deep inhales. Focus on feeling present in your environment.

2. Looking from left to right, use your intuition to pick the pile meant for you (what you connect most with.)

3. Doesn't resonate? No worries! Pick another, it's message may be just right for you.

• • •

pile 1 -> pile 2

-> Pile 3

Pile 1 ;

Cards: 6 of Swords, Queen of Wands, 2 of Wands, Knight of Wands, The Tower (base)

"You have the strength to move forward, Keep going!"

The biggest obstacle in your life right now may be your thoughts. Perhaps you have tried to change or improve certain aspects in your life, particularly the actions you perform to meet your goals, and feel burdened with insecurity as you face hardships and deal with your circumstances. Maybe you've tried to change your life in the past but got disheartened, believing you weren't capable of overcoming your struggles. It seems that you've nurtured an idea, business, relationship, habit, or any action that isn't serving you anymore now that you've grown outside of it. Like building a foundation on unsafe lands, only after an event happens do you realize that it is time to bring about change for your own sake, and rebuild your life on stronger soil. Realizing this may cause a great deal of pain for you, but this change will be fruitful in the end.

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There is indecision in what next step you should take, but know that you've overcome the greatest leap of all: The first step. You absolutely do have courage to shake off the shackles of your past, whatever they may be. What's next in store for you is a lot of action, but this time with the right decisions and choices.

We all have different circumstances in life, what we need to do is make the best out of it, with whatever we've got. 💚

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Pile 2 ;

Cards: 10 of Swords, The Emperor, Justice, 3 of swords, 7 of swords, Ace of Wands & The Fool (base)

"You must look like a fool before becoming the master."

Get to work, baby! The message you need to hear right now is get into action! You've got the m-fing chances to be successful! This signals massive career change or great profits. You may have healed or are in the process of healing from a catastrophic event, leaning into a lot of internal questioning, perhaps overcoming grief or loss. You may be exploring different careers you can pursue, or areas of study. You got to take action despite your hesitance to new beginnings, and there will be a great need for discipline, learning new techniques, acquiring skills to master your area in interest. Most likely you will need to sacrifice your hedonist tendencies, maybe even a person that is unbelieving in you, and whatever else is holding you back. I'm hearing "necessary sacrifice". I'm getting the vibe that this could be a business, freelance work, maybe a very demanding job that you considered doing. Delve into uncharted territories and keep reconsidering your career path if you question it being right for you. Your strength relies greatly on your ability to start, now you just need to GO! GO!GO!

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Pile 3 ;

Cards : 10 of wands, Knight of Pentacles, The Star, Knight of Cups, Ace of Swords (rev)

"You are your biggest investment"

Focus on yourself more, man! It's likely that you're burdened with too many tasks and responsibilities, possibly some from a partnership? Get more in touch with your emotions, your relationships, with yourself, dammit!!! I'm getting massive workaholic vibes here, and that applies to all forms of labor btw! Give yourself a break, you deserve it so much. Neglect your logical, ultra-efficient side for now, because I guarantee that getting a break from your responsibilities (Maybe you are the breadwinner, caretaker, student, or an ambitious person trying to kickstart a business) will produce greater financial success/less financial burden. It's possible you're stressing too much about money, but to you, that stress is reasonable. Let go of the thoughts that limit you to your area of work, and start exploring more of your identity and emotions. You will be able to make a lot of progress with this balance. 💚

~~🍃 You reached the end of the reading, 'till next time!