#everything i write i write for the punchline

[corviiids]

THANKS @kimdokjafan you are so kind and generous. ok im cashing in the first of three blank checks to talk about faith trust and pixie dust (most recent chatfic) because the last two directors commentaries were too serious so let's do a silly one.

some p5r spoilers, and this is mostly about sumire, and it's long again. do i need to keep disclaiming that these are long? you should know me by now.

i had this written for a while before i started formatting it because i wasn't really sure if i should post it? i feel like silly chatfic is something people go to for predominantly lighthearted nonsense so i was like, maybe there's too much plot and dramatic misunderstanding and i should just keep this one for myself. but then i was like well nothing matters and maybe someone will have fun with it. it's kind of terrible how much fully or mostly completed fic there is my docs that just doesn't see the light of day lol. write for yourself etc but i like sharing! too bad it comes with the mortifying ordeal etc. anyway that was a tangent

potato counter is a neopets game. there's no deep lore i just like neopets. i guess in this universe ryuji doesn't play neopets? or maybe he's just never played potato counter specifically. i also have a different fic where ryuji DOES play neopets. it's about neopets and ryuji and goro talking on neopets.

i think this might literally be the first time ive written sumi in a fic because i haven't actually written that much fic for royal, like, now that im looking, literally almost none? and none that had a group dynamic. so it was kind of fun to find her voice for the first time in a silly groupchat like this. i was worried people would find her exclamation marks annoying but i personally thought it was endearing so i added it in there.

every time i do a gag where a character corrects their own typo i have to code more stupid little bubbles to make it happen but i think it's worth it. all the effort that goes into making tgis look as much like a real chat as possible

this obviously doesnt take place in the canon p5/r universe, but im imagining sort of a postcanon sumi personality where she's more comfortable being herself and isn't borrowing kasumi's brand of confidence, but she's visibly a really anxious person without that kasumi veneer. i also think in this universe sumire is a fairly recent addition to the friend group, and while everyone likes her a lot and she really likes them, i kind of wanted to emphasise that feeling of being in a friend group where everyone's established and you're sort of a plus-one? you don't really fit yet. part of that is her being new, part of it is her anxiety, part of it is just the kind of person sumi is where she's so polite and self-conscious she ends up taking herself out of things with her own good intentions. stuff like her interrupting the flow of an existing conversation by greeting everyone instead of jumping straight in because she doesn't feel comfortable inserting herself, which means everyone else stops to greet her even though that doesn't normally happen in a friend group, or making a point of thanking everyone for being invited to events while the others take it as a given.

idk i love that she feels a bit out of place with the phantom thieves in p5r. and part of that is a natural consequence of being a new addition in royal who can't be naturally integrated with an existing dynamic but i honestly feel like the writing team realised that and acknowledged it, and really leaned into it, and that made it work incredibly well for me. like, it's part of her character that she's sort of an outsider. it's not like p4g's incredibly clumsy integration of marie and subsequent attempt to shove her down everyone's throat as the canon love interest in p4ga (knife). sumi has that outsider vibe on purpose and it makes me really like her dynamic with the thieves as an individual

goro also feels slightly out of place in these chats, but his conversational style blends more naturally with the other thieves at this point and he even uses their codenames sometimes. i keep saying my chatfic series isn't a real Series because the lore keeps changing, but if we accept that they're all kind of following a General Continuity, assume this takes place some time after the last fic in which ren added goro to the groupchat and they made an effort to integrate him into their friend group. he's kind of there now and has settled into being the weird boyfriend. that's his role.

every time goro says something like "ren and i" assume it's the text equivalent of him talking to the group with his arm around ren's waist.

ok i got really fond of this silly running joke where sumi brings up the weather when she's feeling uncomfortable. she's so polite. i like this thread because setting it up meant i got to tie it off like this:

this just made me happy lol i liked writing this. i tried to use it to demonstrate that despite goro's abrasiveness he obviously knows sumire pretty well, he's attuned to her quirks and knows how to tell when she's having a bad time with her anxiety, so he uses her little weather habit to ground her.

i honestly dont think goro and sumire could be considered close in p5r and as much as i like the "royal trio" in canon they're not really... like... friends? with each other? they're both attached to ren, so it' more a V shape than anything else. but that said, i really LIKE goro and sumi's canon dynamic. he takes a really grouchy but politely attentive supervisory role to her during their few forays into the palace as a trio where he doesn't really know her well but clearly identifies her as a harmless little tryhard who needs some guidance and steps into that role grudgingly, and she immediately looks up to him despite being very wrong footed by his ruthlessness, which i find incredibly charming. i think given time they could be good friends, they just didn't get much chance to know each other very well in canon. so i tried to kinda do that here.

once goro stops being evil and joins the group they all kind of tiredly accept that his role is to occasionally push a cup off a bench while smirking and refuse to clean it up. emotionally, i mean.

wait i need to backtrack chronologically to talk about akeshu.

in this scene they're in the same room lol talking and snickering while typing. im trying to get at that vibe of the annoying couple who is flirting with each other, via you. you know? like ostensibly they're talking to you (sumire) but everything they say to you is part of their stupid game. sumi is incidental to goro and ren teasing each other about flirting with someone else, goro is reporting everything ren says because his boyfriend is so eye-rollingly foolish in a cute way. they're very tickled by how amusing and charming they are. gross. disgusting. sumire im so sorry for putting you through this

anyway here are too many of my favourite jokes from the fic

[coridallasmultipass]

.

[ssreeder]

In honor of the ask asking for your top 10 atla scenes.... I now want to know the 10 scenes you just absolutely hate, despise, would want to delete from the show altogether.

(if you don't got 10 it's fine, even only one really)

Haha this is funny,,,

So idk if I would say despise or hate any scene but I can share my least favorite?

1. Aang kissing katara after she told him she needed space. It came off forceful & it really put a creepy energy around aang which I didn’t appreciate. I enjoy aang and i felt it was very out of character for him to do that. i don’t think the writing there was very well thought out and I’ve seen people call him very unkind words because of it,

2. Iroh pretending to be paralyzed so he could lay on top of a paralyzed June. I saw it as a conflict of character because he’s supposed to be this wonderfully amazing so wise uncle and yet he was a fucking pervert here.

3. Ummm I would have made some adjustments to the Zuko comes into azulas room to confront her and she acts oddly sexual around him which idk was very…. Weird to me? I think maybe the writers and animators didn’t have the best communication or something because i understood the direction I THINK they were trying to go but the execution was a little too seductive for my taste.

I’m not sure if there are any more I would remove (I could be missing something but I’m done over thinking it) I WILL SAY … there are some things I would have added to make scenes/plot points I disliked a bit better?

1. katara going up to Sokka after she told him he didn’t love their mother as much as him and apologizing. Like Wtf that was super cruel & the writers should have held her accountable for what she said and made her apologize.

2. Some fucking Ozai iroh background or SOME kind of explainatipn why iroh pretty much REFUSED to have any involvement with Ozai. Even neglecting after three years to tell Zuko Ozai was cruel and a bad father iroh straight up just avoided it in my opinion & then did this whole speech of “brother vs brother is not a way to end the war”

BUTTTT….

Teenager brother & SISTER is totally acceptable go fuck your sister up Zuko bring me back a t shirt. (Or die idk she can shoot Lightning you can’t sucks for you have funnn looovvveeee youuuyu)

3. Ok idk what this counts as (yes it’s a children’s show so I do understand the children had to be the hero’s but like….) WHYYYYY DID every white lotus member stay in BSS??? I think each CHILD soldier group should have had a fucking chaperone or something. Come on iroh for fucks sake dude.

4. I also wish they would have let katara keep her hand scars. It would be a good message that accidents sometimes carry heavy consequences & even if you��re sorry it doesn’t magically fix the situation. I think katara would have been able to be even more relatable & badass if she had hand scars. (I mean spirit water still gave aang a scar so….. idk this is my more person preference haha.)

Ok sorry this went a weird direction but all together I love the show :) obviously. Haha.

Thanks for the ask.

[brittlebutch]

hi there! Were you able to find any more chronic ill Vax fic in your drafts?

oh yes! I was able to find one other vax fic (set right after the ep where that demon guy tricked Vax into wearing the Flaying Coat & stabbed him - premise being that Vax is still cursed as he was in canon but it takes them much longer to catch onto that fact because he's so used to dealing with similar symptoms) and I'll share some snippets under the cut!

(TW i guess? This one was a lot of GI symptoms stuff which is probably a big reason I never finished it haha)

"Vax sleeps like shit and wakes up feeling even worse.

It isn't, honestly speaking, all that unusual.

He'd been on a streak of good days, before last night happened, but it really was only a matter of time before reality settled in once again. After all, Vax doesn't so much have 'bad days' so much as he has the occasional 'good one'.

His body has never done well to do its job as a body. By this point - even without added traumas - Vax doesn't particularly expect any differently."

--

"Vax staggers to his feet, dizzily pushing through the open space of his room until he can prop himself against the doorframe and breathe for a moment. The simple action of moving leaves him feeling wiped, already further exhausted than he had already been, but the change in orientation means his stomach is more unsettled than ever, and he doesn't have long to pause before he has to stagger onwards."

--

"This type of sickness was a once daily occurrence, and while it still happens far more frequently than Vax would ever like to experience or admit to, at least it isn't as bad as it had been once.

At least that's what he thinks, up until he realizes that the cramps in his intestines aren't alleviating, the sickness isn't letting up, but he can feel his mouth filling with saliva, a pressure against the base of his esophagus getting worse instead of passing.

'No,' he says aloud, for some reason. His strangled voice echoes strangely off the walls around him. He's frantic as he can be as he glances around the small room, his guts haven't settled, there's no way he can simply get up and change direction, regardless of how briefly, but there isn't any other receptacle readily available and he can tell there's no time to call for help. He can't, he just -

he leans forward and vomits all over the floor between his feet, nails digging into the sides of his thighs as he heaves, barely missing the fabric of his pants in favor of bare tile. The effort of puking makes his guts pull even sharper, and the pain makes him actually cry out, up until he chokes on another mouthful of sick.

Things haven't been this bad in a while. Vax hadn't missed it."

--

"It truly is bad enough to have to suffer through this, but it is far worse to have to know that other people are aware of it. Especially something like this, it's repulsive. To Vax it's simply one incident out of many, but he knows how the wider world sees it - anywhere from a vile secret to a childish joke.

Insult adds to injury, he feels his hands start to go numb, vision going grey at the edges. His stomach twists again, and he doesn't bother attempting to choke it back this time. The mess is already there, by now there's no point in trying to avoid a bigger one."

[thegroundsofbrooklyn]

tumblr have you MET me

[gyuuberryy]

trapped

READ THE FULL FIC HERE

pairing: hotel owner!heeseung x reader

genre: reincarnation au, supernatural themes, horror

synopsis: a road trip with your parents gone wrong lands you at a mysterious mansion in the middle of nowhere. after it turns out to be a hotel, your parents decide to stop over. everything about this place screams deja vu to you which is strange because you've never even heard about it. the hotel was not the only weird thing though, its handsome yet mysterious owner who looked like he stepped out of the 1920s is way too enthusiastic about your stay. every encounter with him leaves you feeling weirded out yet enamoured. but he is not who you think he seems to be. he will be the one to decide the duration of your stay here and it looks like it will not be ending anytime soon.

warnings: horror themes, suggestive content, slight yandere themes, manipulation, possessive!hee, more to be added!

note: let's ignore the fact that i have so many reports and essays to write for school rn !!!! because i HAD to release smth for halloween. this should be out by next weekkk

word count: 24.2k

comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist

ᨓ READ THE TEASER BELOW

heeseung’s words seemed to echo in the cavernous dining hall, each syllable hanging in the air like a weight pressing down on your chest.

you shifted in your seat, suddenly aware of how isolated you were from everyone else. your parents were somewhere outside, wandering the sprawling gardens with sunoo, oblivious to the tension brewing in this room. and you were here—alone with heeseung, who was studying you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

he leaned back in his chair, a slow, deliberate movement, his eyes never leaving yours. “this mansion has a long history,” he began, his voice low and smooth, like velvet. “it’s been standing for centuries, long before this area became what it is now.”

you swallowed, trying to keep your unease from showing. “centuries? that’s… impressive.”

heeseung nodded, his fingers tracing the edge of his plate in a casual, almost absent-minded way. “impressive, yes. but also… haunted by its past.” his eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t quite place. “you see, many who come here find themselves drawn in by the allure of the unknown. they come seeking something different, something unique. and often, they find more than they bargained for.”

you felt a chill run down your spine. the way he spoke—so calm, so composed—made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. it was as if he was telling you a story he had told many times before, one with a punchline you wouldn’t like.

“what do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice quiet but firm. you didn’t want to seem rattled, even though you were starting to feel like the walls were closing in around you.

heeseung’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “let’s just say this mansion has a way of revealing things… about the people who stay here. things they may not even realize about themselves.”

your pulse quickened. “that sounds a little ominous.”

heeseung chuckled, the sound soft and unsettling. “it’s not meant to be. it’s just… the nature of this place. it has a way of bringing the truth to the surface. you’ll see, in time.”

you didn’t like the way he said that, as if you were going to be here long enough for the mansion to work its mysterious magic on you. you were only supposed to stay until the car was fixed, and then you and your family would be gone. the thought of staying here any longer than necessary made your stomach churn.

“i don’t think we’ll be here long enough for that,” you said, forcing a small smile.

heeseung’s eyes flashed with something—disappointment? amusement? it was hard to tell. “you never know,” he said quietly, his gaze intense. “sometimes, plans change.”

you glanced away, focusing on your barely touched plate. the food that had once looked so appealing now seemed like a burden, something you had no appetite for. you just wanted this conversation to end, to find your parents and get out of this place as soon as possible.

as if sensing your discomfort, heeseung leaned back again, his demeanor shifting ever so slightly. “i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, though there was a glint in his eyes that told you he knew exactly what he was doing. “it’s just that… guests here tend to stay longer than they anticipate. this place has a way of… captivating people.”

the word captivating sounded too much like trapping for your liking.

before you could respond, the door to the dining hall creaked open, and you breathed a silent sigh of relief as your parents entered, laughing and chatting with sunoo, who was still wearing his unsettlingly bright smile. their carefree demeanor was such a stark contrast to the tension you’d been feeling that it almost made you dizzy.

“sweetie, you should see the gardens!” your mom exclaimed as she approached the table, oblivious to the undercurrent of unease between you and heeseung. “they’re absolutely gorgeous. i’ve never seen anything like it.”

your dad nodded in agreement, beaming. “it’s like something out of a storybook.”

you forced a smile, trying to match their enthusiasm. “that’s great. i’m glad you had fun.”

sunoo’s eyes flicked to heeseung for a brief moment, something unspoken passing between them, and then he turned his bright gaze back to your family. “i’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to explore the rest of the estate before you leave.”

you stiffened at his words, catching the subtle implication. you weren’t leaving any time soon.

heeseung stood then, smoothing down the front of his suit, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat too long before he addressed your parents. “i’ve arranged for the mechanic to give me an update on the car shortly. in the meantime, please, make yourselves comfortable. feel free to explore the mansion further if you’d like.”

your parents seemed delighted by the prospect, but you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest. you couldn’t shake the feeling that this place was trying to keep you here, that every step you took deeper into the mansion only tangled you further in its web.

heeseung’s gaze slid back to you, his smile as charming and unsettling as ever. “i’ll make sure everything is taken care of. don’t worry.”

but worry was all you could feel as your family began to follow sunoo out of the dining hall, leaving you to trail behind, your thoughts spinning. as you exited the room, you couldn’t help but glance back at heeseung, who stood by the door, watching you with that same piercing gaze.

there was something about the way he looked at you—something that made you feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

and you weren't sure if you could escape.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[agonized-aloo]

bitches be crying full on exploding silent screaming in the bathroom and not even know what they're crying about

[p0orbaby]

In Vino Veritas

summary: you’re drunk, aitana is missing and whose house is this?

warnings: alcohol

a/n: this is cute, and it’s made me want to write for tana more

word count: 2.5k

-

The music pulses around the house, loud and relentless, like it has a personal vendetta against silence, and you feel it vibrating through your bones. It’s some mainstream electronic track, too cheerful for the kind of reflective mood tequila usually grants you. Everything around you is a little hazy, a bit too bright, and you’re squinting at it all, like you’re looking at the world through frosted glass.

The wallpaper here is too clean, too deliberately “vintage,” with little pink roses blooming in neat, identical rows. You imagine, briefly, peeling the wallpaper back, layer by layer, finding more roses, more decades of them, stacked on top of each other like memories no one wants to talk about. But that’s a thought for another time, another you, one not stumbling over someone’s overly expensive thrifter rug and nearly tripping on a pair of boots discarded in the hallway.

Where the hell is Aitana?

It’s around the fifth time you’ve drunkenly circled the house when you spot Sunglasses Guy, a figure that almost feels like a test placed here by some malevolent spirit—an obstacle on your journey. He’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter like he’s in a photoshoot, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Indoors, sunglasses on, even though it’s dark outside. He’s got that air of self-importance, like he’s convinced that sunglasses are mysterious, that people look at him and think, Wow, who’s that? In reality, they’re thinking, Why is this guy wearing sunglasses in the dark?

He nods at you, a slow, deliberate motion, clearly trying to make you feel “seen” in some profound way, as if this is a moment the two of you will remember forever. But all you remember is your drink, the way it sloshes precariously as you shift your weight, and the way he leans in, smelling faintly of something vaguely woody and way too expensive.

“Do you know what NFTs are?” he asks, his voice low, a little sultry, like he thinks NFTs are the new “what’s your sign?”

You stare at him, and the words that spring to mind are “sunglasses,” “pretentious,” and, inexplicably, “parsley.” You’ve no idea where “parsley” came from, but your mind clings to it like smoke on cotton. “NFTs,” you repeat, as though it’s the punchline to a joke he hasn’t told. He takes this as an invitation to launch into what sounds like a memorised TED Talk, and you wonder, briefly, if you could just interrupt him by throwing your drink on his shoes.

“Aitana!” you yell instead, desperate, cutting him off mid-monologue, which he handles with a slightly indignant flick of his eyebrow.

“Where’s my girlfriend? Have you seen her?”

The phrase my girlfriend makes you beam internally. There’s a glow that forms when you think of her, a warmth that starts in your chest and blooms outward. She is, after all, the reason you’re here. The reason you even pretend to tolerate these kinds of social gatherings, with their sunglasses indoors and their endless monologues about digital assets.

He blinks, trying to recover from the abrupt derailment. “Uh, blockchain—”

“Ugh,” you mutter, interrupting again, giving him a very distinct dismissive wave, the kind of wave that says Please stop talking or I will find a way to escape this dimension entirely.

A girl nearby spills beer on your shoes. She mumbles an apology, not that you’re in a state to care; you brush it off. Aitana is the focus, the centre. Shoes don’t matter when you’re looking for someone who does.

Then, finally—finally—you see her. She’s leaning against the far wall, her posture so casual, like she’s posed there on purpose, like she’s an ad for the kind of life you’re pretty sure only exists in those short films that play before foreign films at independent cinemas. She’s listening intently to some guy in an aggressively patterned shirt, nodding along like he’s actually saying something worthwhile, and you can’t help but marvel at the patience it takes to look interested when you’re not.

“Oh my god, she’s so beautiful.” It’s supposed to be a whisper, but it comes out loud enough that a girl nearby laughs. You’re only mildly mortified; who cares? Aitana has just noticed you across the room, and now she’s looking at you with that expression, the one that melts your insides, that says, There you are.

You start walking toward her, though “walking” might be generous. It’s more of a determined stumble, like a baby deer on its first attempt at standing. Your brain registers that you’re approaching her, but your legs aren’t quite sure if they’re fully on board. At some point, you even have to pause and grab a nearby chair for balance, flashing a sheepish grin at a couple nearby who look half-amused, half-concerned.

“Aitanaaaa,” you call, drawing her name out like you’re serenading her. She’s already moving toward you, though, weaving gracefully through the crowd like it’s easy, natural. You think, Of course she’d come to me. Of course she’d know that I need rescuing.

“Hi, cariño,” she says softly, her voice lilting with that soft Spanish accent that, even now, sends a thrill up your spine. And it’s so gentle, so warm, like she’s wrapping you up in some invisible blanket. You lean into it, the warmth, her presence, like a moth to a flame.

“You’re so pretty,” you blurt out, your words tumbling over each other in their eagerness. “Like, stupid pretty. Like, why are you even with me?” Your voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, as if the two of you are sharing a secret in a room filled with strangers. “I’m a disaster. I can’t even find the toilet in this place”

She laughs, this soft, lilting sound that feels like honey, thick and golden, spreading warmth from your chest to your fingertips. Her hand settles on your shoulder, steadying you, pulling you closer, and you realise how desperately you want to bury your face in the crook of her neck and just exist there, where things are quiet, soft. She smells faintly floral, and you realise it’s that same perfume she always wears, the one you borrowed once and promptly drenched yourself in until she told you, with a smile, that subtlety might work better.

“Why am I with you?” she echoes, the question hanging there between you, laced with a smile, with that familiar mischief. “Because I love you. And because you’re funny. And because you make my life interesting”

“Interesting?” You narrow your eyes, leaning back slightly, pretending to be offended. “I thought I made your life amazing. Like, top-tier, VIP-section amazing.” You’re about to launch into a whole speech, but your brain hiccups, lost somewhere in a thought that doesn’t quite finish. You grin at her instead, and she just shakes her head, amused.

She grins, and it’s that cheeky, self-assured grin that makes you both melt and want to argue. “That too”

It’s at this moment, this little pause, that you get an idea. It’s not necessarily a good idea, but it’s there, persistent, because your tequila-fuelled brain won’t let it go. “If you were a sandwich,” you say seriously, “you’d be the kind with all the best fillings. Like, avocado and caramelised onions and, like, artisanal cheese. And I’d eat you every day and never get bored”

She laughs, that infectious, melodic sound, and you feel a swell of pride that you can make her laugh like that, even in your current state. Her eyes soften, that look of adoration flickering there, just for you, and she reaches up to brush a strand of hair off your face. Her fingers are warm, soft, and your eyes flutter closed for a moment as they linger on your cheek.

“Come on, let’s get you some water,” she murmurs, her voice gentle as she takes your hand in hers, and there’s a comfort in that touch, in the way her fingers intertwine with yours.

As she guides you through the crowd, you find yourself staring at her hand in yours, marvelling at how naturally it fits, how perfect it feels, as though it’s always meant to be there. The thought makes you feel almost childlike in its simplicity, but you hold onto it.

“You’re the best, you know that?” you say as Aitana threads you through a crowd that’s moving with the sludgy, undulating rhythm of a creature with too many limbs. Faces pass by in flashes of laughing mouths and narrowed eyes, pupils blown wide by God knows what, maybe tequila, maybe… more. None of them matter, though. They’re simply the backdrop to this little tableau: you, lit up and fizzing, tethered to the only person in the world who’d think to take your hand and lead you to salvation (water) instead of just letting you unravel on the sticky floor of someone’s overpriced house.

She looks at you like you’re amusing, like she’s doing you this great favour by holding your hand in public. “I know,” she says, her mouth quirking in that way that makes your chest feel both hollow and unbearably full.

And then you stop—there’s an odd elegance to it, almost like a dance, because she half-turns, looking back at you as if she knew this was coming. Like she’s been expecting you to stop her and do something wild, something foolish. The patience in her eyes, well, it almost feels like she’s giving you permission to make an idiot of yourself. Again.

“I want to kiss you,” you announce, dead serious, as if declaring something truly revolutionary.

“We’re in the middle of a strangers house.” She says this lightly, but she’s already leaning in, her chin tilting, the light catching in her hair just so, like it’s the climax of some impossibly chic music video.

You want to tell her that kissing her here, now, with people everywhere and the taste of cheap tequila in your mouth, is the single most important thing in the world. That nothing in this moment matters, except her—your Aitana, who has somehow, against all reason and logic, decided to love you back.

So, when she presses her mouth to yours, soft, barely-there, like you’re made of fine china, you think you might just melt into the floor. The crowd around you recedes; they fade away, just shadows in the periphery, and it’s as if you and Aitana are standing in a bubble, suspended in time. You’re floating, really, an ethereal, drunk ghost of yourself. She’s kissed you like this a thousand times, but right now, it feels so outrageously perfect that you think, absurdly, that maybe you don’t deserve it. Like you’ve somehow won this cosmic lottery.

When she pulls back, you’re vaguely aware that your mouth is still open, probably looking ridiculous, but she’s smiling at you, all fondness and amusement, as if to say, “Yes, you’re a total disaster, but you’re my disaster.” It’s a little terrifying, if you think about it too long.

“See? This is why you’re the best,” you mumble, clutching her a little tighter, almost swaying in place.

She tilts her head, giving you this look that’s so completely Aitana, so fully her, it borders on cliché. “You’re a mess,” she says, but her eyes are bright, shimmering with something almost mischievous.

You shrug, proud, defiant. “I’m your mess”

“Yes,” she agrees, not even trying to hide her smile, “you are”

And with that, she’s tugging you along, moving with a fluidity that makes you wonder, briefly, if she’s choreographed this entire evening just for you. You’re half-convinced she’s orchestrated the entire universe to align with this moment—the sounds of people talking too loud, the stickiness of the floor, the faint scent of stale beer and expensive perfume all melding into a cocktail that feels uniquely yours. Aitana, your perfect Aitana, leading you through this mire like she’s guiding you through a rainforest or a canyon, somewhere treacherous and fraught with danger.

You stumble into what you desperately hope is the kitchen, but honestly, it could just as easily be a poorly-lit hallway or an oddly-configured living room. Someone has drawn a Sharpie mustache on a framed photo of a golden retriever; the countertop is littered with crumpled napkins and red Solo cups, each one bearing the lipstick marks of strangers.

“I’m gonna drink, like, four litres of water,” you declare, full of bravado, as she hands you a slightly dented plastic cup that smells faintly of gin.

“Good idea,” she replies, crossing her arms and watching you with that expression she gets sometimes, like she’s trying to contain her fondness, keep it manageable, as if loving you too much would somehow be irresponsible. Like her heart could actually explode if she indulged herself too much.

You take a sip, but you’re not really tasting the water. No, you’re watching her, the way she brushes a loose strand of hair out of her face with her pinky, the way her eyes are this exact shade of dark that you’ve spent hours trying to name in your head. Like burnt caramel, maybe, or wet soil. It’s frustratingly poetic, the way she looks at you, like she knows every ridiculous thing you’ve ever thought and loves you for it anyway.

“Aitana,” you say, fully serious, as if you’re about to impart some life-altering wisdom. “You’re my favourite person ever”

“I know,” she replies, but there’s something so gentle in her voice that you’re pretty sure she means it as much as you do. She reaches out, smoothing a stray hair behind your ear, a little gesture, the kind that’s both tender and practical, reminding you of the time she told you to cut your nails because you scratched her during a tickling fit. Practical, pragmatic Aitana, the girl who brings you plasters when you’ve tripped up the stairs and curses in Catalan when she stubs her toe but tries to blame the wall for it.

“No, but like…you don’t understand,” you say, stumbling over your words, the alcohol making you louder and sloppier than you’d like. You lean in closer, conspiratorially, like you’re about to reveal some great cosmic secret. “I’m so in love with you. It’s, like, a problem”

She laughs softly, the sound low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. She pulls you into her arms, your head pressing against her shoulder, and you breathe her in, that familiar scent that’s all her—floral and a little musky, layered with the faintest hint of some expensive perfume you’ve never bothered to learn the name of.

“It’s not a problem,” she murmurs, smoothing a hand down your back. “It’s perfect”

And it is. Perfect, that is. You’re here, tangled up in her, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic, messy cloud of tequila and love, and it’s perfect in this fragile, unsteady way. You’re her mess, her drunken mess, and there’s something so intensely beautiful about it, you think you might actually cry.

“I’m never letting you go,” you mumble, your words muffled against her shirt, which is soft and smells like laundry detergent.

“Good,” she replies, holding you a little tighter, as if she means it more than anything. “Because I’m not going anywhere”

[endless-ineffabilities]

eclipsed (Aemond Targaryen x f!reader)

You loved him. He didn't feel the same. Until everything changed – but is it too late?

main masterlist ▪︎ word count: 1.7k

a/n: I envisioned modern Aemond as I was writing this. Also, the usual taglist is sadly not included for this spontaneous oneshot. I trust that the angst will find you if it's meant to be!

Aemond Targaryen was once everything to you. 

Your guiding light. Your sun and your stars. You knew you had a heart, you knew it was beating true, because it worshipped him with such a ferocity that would put a devotee to shame. Nothing and no else compared. You would have been content to simply exist in his orbit, to watch as he lived and loved.

He loved you too. You knew that. But as a brother loved a sister, as a friend loved a friend. 

And all kinds of love were meant to appear dim and pale in comparison to what he felt for Alys.

He doted on her. She was everything to him. She was his guiding light, his sun and stars. You could never compare. 

It was an unbearable truth, one you had tried for too long to ignore, but there came a time when you reached your breaking point. One evening, you asked to meet him. You knew you were about to ask for so much more – you were asking for something he could never offer.

You were asking to be seen. 

You could no longer sit idly by, watching the sun shine on the world while the moon was left in the shadows.

When you confessed, his reaction was as callous as it was predictable. Aemond laughed in disbelief, as though your words were at the end of some punchline. “Okay,” he said dismissively, “I love you too.”

“No.” You shook your head, looking away. You had to bite your lip to keep the tears from falling. “I love you, Aemond.”

“Yes, I know,” he smiled, taking a step closer, grimacing when you put your hands up to stop him from reaching out for you.

“I’m in love with you.” You had to take a deep breath before you continued. “I love you. Maybe you knew all along. Maybe you didn’t. But you have to know that.”

There it was, suspended in the atmosphere between the two of you, before the inevitable crash and crumble. 

“I don’t get it, darling.” He exhaled roughly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You love me?”

“What don’t you get?” Your voice came out sharper than intended, but you couldn’t be anything but honest. 

“I… this is… but you’re like a sister to me!” 

“Oh, fuck off, Aemond.” You waved his words away, trying to dampen just how brutal they stung. Just how much they cut deep. 

“Well, then,” he sneered, his eyes darkening with a defensive anger. “Thanks for that.”

“Is that…” You met his eyes once more, that heart-wrenching shade of blue. “Do you have anything else to say?”

His gaze hardened. “I’m with Alys.”

“I know that.”

“I love Alys.” He spat the words out like they were meant to be a scolding. Didn’t you know this? What exactly were you expecting from him? That he would cry and take you in his arms? I love you too… I love you too… I always have…

“I know that too.” The first bitter tear fell down your cheek. You inhaled sharply, wiping at your face with the back of your sleeve. You began pacing in an attempt to get a hold of your nerves. You did not want to have a complete breakdown in front of him. But then again, the worst has already happened. How much more humiliation could there possibly be?

“I’m sorry, darling.” His voice softened as he reached for you again, and this time, when you resisted, he simply caught your arms gently and pulled you against him. “Truly, I am. You have no idea.”

He held you, however long you needed to be held. He was good like that, he always has been. But it felt like a cruel comfort – mere scraps of affection when you wanted the entire feast. 

“I do love you, you know,” he murmured into your hair, his voice soothing as it broke your heart anew. “Always, I promise.”

And he did. 

But it was never going to be enough.

You were the moon to his sun, forever watching from a distance, knowing you would never truly share the same sky.

Aemond rarely saw you after that night. A week passed, then two, then a month. The silence between you stretched longer than he had expected, but still he thought nothing of it. Perhaps you were simply giving each other space, allowing the awkwardness to settle.

But then, when he tried seeking you out, there were no responses. He found out from a mutual friend that you had moved to another region. There was a promising work opportunity, apparently, one that had been too good to pass up.

You just conveniently failed to mention this to him. 

You drifted from his life without warning, and Aemond was not prepared for how deeply it would hurt. How lost he would feel. He was out of orbit, reeling, mourning the ghost of someone who still lived, but seemingly no longer wanted anything to do with him.

Alys was not blind to it. But there was nothing she could do. She could only watch as Aemond’s light began to dim, gradually fading until it barely reached her. She had no choice but to stand by as he became a hollow version of the man whom she thought loved her so fiercely.

An entire year passed before Aemond saw you again. 

It happened by chance, or perhaps some cruel twist of fate. You were there, with your adorable flushed cheeks and smile as bright as the sun. He did not know what to expect, but there you were, hugging him like the long lost friend he had become.

You looked better than ever, while he was barely getting by. 

“You look like you could use some sun, Aem,” you remarked lightheartedly, noticing how pale he got. “I can’t believe it’s been so long.”

You appeared carefree, but all Aemond could feel was the weight of the past year pressing down on him. 

“You left me,” he spat out before he could help himself. It sounded like an accusation, like a wound that never healed. How could you?

“I did leave, yes,” you say tentatively, confused by the venom in his tone. “But I don’t think I left you.”

“What would you call it then?” His tone was bitter, bordering on desperate. 

“I moved away,” you shrugged. “It happens. Friends move away, they move on.”

“You weren’t supposed to,” he muttered. His hands clenched at his sides when what he truly wanted was to reach for you.  

“I had to,” you replied, your voice quieter. “It was the only way.” 

Aemond frowned, his gaze fixed on your face, searching for something he couldn’t quite name. "The only way for what?"

You spoke again, slower, “It was the only way to get over you.”

He was hanging by a thread, and right then, he became untethered.

“I loved you, Aemond,” you continued. “And I couldn’t just stay there and watch you be in love with someone else. I’m sorry, but I had to leave. It was the only thing I could do to save myself.”

Your words hit him like a blow. He stared at you, the one who had been everything to him once – his anchor, his confidante, the one constant in his life. If only he hadn’t been too goddamn stupid to realise it then.

You reached over and squeezed his hand. He looked down and without thinking, he interlaced his fingers with yours. He felt you hesitate for a moment – a brief second where you considered pulling away – before you gave in.

The old you wouldn’t have given it a second thought. The old you would have held onto Aemond with everything you had, believing that if you just stayed close enough, he’d realise what was right in front of him.

But you were different now. Everything was different – no sunshine, just grey – because you said that you loved him.

Loved. Not anymore.

The roles were reversed, and maybe he deserved it. The bitter irony wasn’t lost on him as you pulled your hand away, offering him a soft, understanding smile. 

“And Alys?” you asked suddenly, your voice gentle but curious. "How is she?”

He stiffened. A part of him thought that staying with Alys was his path forward, the thing that would make sense of the chaos in his life. But it hadn’t. Not really. 

“We’re not together anymore,” Aemond finally admitted.

You blinked, visibly surprised. “Oh. I’m… I’m so sorry, Aemond. I didn’t know.”

He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It wasn’t… meant to be.”

You studied him, your brows furrowing in concern. “Even so, I know it’s hard,” you said softly, your voice full of empathy. “Breakups are… They’re never easy. But there’s someone out there for everyone. I truly believe that. I mean… I found someone, didn’t I?”

His entire body tensed, his breath hitching as his mind tried to process the full weight of your statement. You had found someone. You had moved on. There was the proof, hitting him right in the face. 

He had lost you. For good.

“You… found someone,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it more real.

“Yes. I did.” There was a tenderness in your voice, but it only twisted the knife deeper. “He’s wonderful, Aemond. He’s kind, supportive. I didn’t think I’d find something like this after – ” you paused, glancing away for a moment before meeting his gaze again, “after everything.”

“Are you in love?” The words came out before he could stop them, his voice tight with something like despair. He hated himself for asking, for needing to know, but the question was out there now, and he couldn’t take it back.

“Aemond.”

“Can you tell me this, at least? Do you… love him?”

There was a long pause, as if you were choosing your words carefully, and when you finally spoke, the answer was clear. “More than anything.”

You had become someone else’s sun. Someone else’s guiding light.

And he was the moon, forced to watch and drift in shadow. 

For the first time in his life, Aemond Targaryen understood what it meant to lose everything.

[zepskies]

Heyo! So not sure how youd even write this from a story perspective— maybe headcanons r easier idk— but! What would Current SB/Ben say to his younger self (your choice on age) about his future? Whether it be from an introspective place, him talking fondly about his future family, etc — all you boo👍 Hope youre doing well!

Hey there! Thanks, I'm doing well and hope you are too!

Strictly speaking on story/fic requests, I'm only doing full fic requests on my Patreon, but occasionally I'll be able to do a short imagine/HC when something strikes me. For example, you pose a really interesting question. I think the answer would depend on Soldier Boy/Ben's level of growth/character development.

Like, if we're talking about Break Me Down version of Ben, for example, I've actually thought about this a bit before! If he had the opportunity to talk to his younger self, let's say in the 80s (shortly before Nicaragua):

What (BMD) Soldier Boy/Ben Would Say to His Younger Self

"You just think you've got it all figured out, don't you?" Ben says, crossing his arms at his younger counterpart.

"What? I'm at the top of my game?" Soldier Boy says. He smokes a joint, blowing up smoke casually and arrogantly.

Ben chuckles. "That's what you think."

Soldier Boy frowns. "The whole fucking world worships me. Whatever I want, I get. Women, picture deals, a fucking statue in front of Vought tower-- Hell, I've got hit after hit record on the top of the charts, for fuck's sake."

Ben just shakes his head. His rueful smile irks the other guy, but not as much as what he says next.

"And you're bored," Ben says. "You've got it all... But nothing's ever good enough, right?"

Soldier Boy's lips purse, but he doesn't have an answer. Not one he's willing to voice. Ben nods in understanding.

"It's all right. One day you'll find it," he says.

Soldier Boy frowns, his brows furrowing. "What do you mean, find it?"

Ben doesn't want to give away the punchline. This guy hasn't earned it yet. Not the way Ben knows he'll need to. Otherwise, he'll never understand what it all meant. What all those years struggling alone in the dark, and what betrayal, loneliness, and pain were worth.

No, he won't give it all away. But he'll give him this, at least.

"It's the simplest thing in the world," Ben says. "You're gonna meet a woman."

Granted, the way he met you was anything but simple. The way Ben sees it now, though, it is simple.

Soldier Boy's frown fades, his face turning wry. "A woman, huh? Think I've got plenty of those. Any time, any place, any way I want."

"Not this one," Ben says. He can't help a small, reserved smile when he thinks of you. "Matter of fact, she's going to test your last ever-fucking nerve, every day of your life...but you're not gonna be the same."

Ben thinks about the life he's built with you. He thinks about his daughter, Lila, and his son on the way. Ben pictures the house in his mind--Christmases, birthdays, wedding anniversaries, along with missions gone awry, and the fights and arguments that reverberated on those walls. Moments where his temper got the best of him, or your stubbornness made you dig your heels in. All of it is worth it.

"Then one day, you're going to wake up and realize that you've got everything you need," Ben says.

Soldier Boy seems to take that in. He's still skeptical, but maybe secretly interested in the bright future lying in wait behind his older self's eyes, even though he doesn't want to show it.

"Yeah? And then what?" Soldier Boy asks, in a tone that scoffs, but Ben sees that he's serious too, and he's listening. He knows it as well as he knows himself.

Ben levels a pointed finger at him.

"All you need to do, is protect it."

AN: It's like the old Spiderman meme where he's pointing at himself. lol 💚

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(I've paired this down from the old list that seemed to have a lot of people/blogs that are no longer active.)

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@nancymcl @emily-winchester @sl33pylilbunny @chernayawidow @spnfamily-j2

@lacilou @mimaria420 @yvonneeeee @my-stories-vault @iprobablyshipit91

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@everything-is-all-clear @suckitands33 @cookiechipdough @trashmoutth @riteofpassage77

@jc-winchester @mxltifxnd0m @bleuatlas

[burningcheese-merchant]

A Thought About Burning Spice Cookie

I was kind of just going about my business today when I had a sort of... revelation, I guess? About Burning Spice. Looking back, I'm not really sure why it took me so long to think of this, but I like to live by the ideal "the best time was then, the second best time is now", so here we go.

Burning Spice was once the Herald of Change (or History, in the original Korean text). He was said to have fought for and defended fledgling civilizations in the distant past, protecting people and helping them in dark times. His throne decor even says he used to let people into his palace and allow them to engage in honest discussion with him about their problems, after which he'd get up and go out and do something about those problems. He sounded like a pretty swell guy... until he got bored with everything and went insane, of course. But here's the thing.

I think I understand why he ended up this way.

To put it as vaguely as possible, I do stuff in real life that may or may not have something to do with history as a subject. And I will gladly tell you all point-blank: history is fucking horrible. History is bleak. History is dark and cruel. The more you dive into it, the more it appears to you as a joke without a punchline. History is a drama, a tragedy, and a big fucking farce all at the same time.

Of course Burning Spice got tired of it. I get tired of it sometimes. Because sometimes, all history ever seems to be is a bunch of delinquents writing "I'm a bad kid" on the chalkboard repeatedly forever and ever. Just a bunch of bad people hurting each other for reasons that'll only come across as stupid long after they've all died at each other's hands. I'm sure Burning Spice started to think "what's even the point of building anything if someone is just going to come tear it down?" And it's hard to not think that when that's what ALWAYS happens. That's what history is a lot of the time. Brutal competition. A war of all against all.

The cure to the cynicism and melancholy history can and will inflict on you, at least in my opinion, is... to stop dwelling on it, honestly. At the end of the day, you have to remember that the past is gone. What's done is done. Things happen and sometimes, you can't do anything about it. You can't go back and save Lincoln from being assassinated. You can't go back and stop the Holocaust. You can't go back and save the world from all those wars and famines and disease epidemics. History both changes constantly and is unchanging at the same time. You have to make peace with what you cannot change - the past - and move forward, because time won't wait for you. We have to remember these things, these dark times; we all have a duty to do so, for the sake of those that came before us and those that will come after. But we also have to remember to live for the sake of those around us here and now. It is the present that shapes the world the most. It is in the present that we find true happiness. Not in the yellowed pages of old textbooks about the past and not in the pie-in-the-sky fever dreams we have about the future.

I think that's what fucked Burning Spice over. He forgot to live in the present. He was so focused on bringing about change, so absorbed in giving everything he had to everyone else, so invested in preserving the past and paving the way for the future, that he started losing sight of what was already there in front of him. His friends. His people. Too much time spent on the bigger picture and not enough spent on the tiny details that don't seem important at first glance, but when you look closer, you realize are what made the whole, entire picture as big as it is in the first place. He, like many do, like I do, began to see how cyclical and futile history can really be. He just saw people looking for reasons to hurt one another and destroy anything good they'd built together. Civilizations that were once grand and prosperous falling to anarchy. Clans with close ties turning against one another. Friend groups fracturing. All this hard work, undone, over and over again. And for what? What did they do any of this for? What did HE do any of this for?

I think his descent into villainy was slow, but sure. A little piece of his soul crumbling to dust with every person he felt like he failed because whatever great change he enacted was undone and everyone else suffered for it. And no one was ever really there to help steer him back onto the right path. Not his friends, not his family, not his people at large. Whether this was because they didn't know he was hurting like this (he seems like the type to keep things close to the chest anyway), they didn't know how to help or comfort him, or they didn't care, ultimately does not matter; regardless, it boils down to Burning Spice never being reminded to find solace in those around him right now, instead of constantly fretting over those before or after.

Maybe if he did remember, if he paid more attention to what IS and not what WAS or what WILL BE, he could've been saved. If he'd let Shadow Milk tell him more about his books and the little puppets he liked to craft. If he listened to Eternal Sugar play her harp more. If he sat and played a few more rounds of Go with Mystic Flour. If he had a friendly sparring match or two extra with Silent Salt. If he ate and drank and danced with his fellow spices like he probably used to like doing. If he stopped thinking he always had to be this larger-than-life figure who lorded over and protected society, and just let himself breathe and be a normal, happy person. It wouldn't make the ultimate folly of history sting any less, but he could have at least made peace with it and continued onward in spite of it.

But he didn't. He succumbed to history's poison, like so many have and so many will. And in an ironic twist of fate, which you will also often find throughout history, the tide of change swallowed him whole and drowned him. He let the failures of yesterday color his perception of today, and tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. More and more people came across to him as bad actors until the whole world was just a devil's stage play, and it was being performed at his expense. Hard work and self-sacrifice lost their flavor. He tried to keep going, tried to keep pushing. Maybe he knew what was happening to him on some level and fought desperately to save himself. Put duct tape over the cracks in a dam, because that's probably all it amounted to, because the wisdom he needed didn't exist within him at that time and he didn't/couldn't find it anywhere else. Pushed forward even when he couldn't see where he was going anymore. Until every muscle in his body hurt. Until he'd lived long enough to see everything he ever lived and worked for be taken apart for scrap, for a vendetta, for shits and giggles.

Until he started looking at those bandits and warlords and terrorists he used to help put away and thinking... "hey. Maybe they're seeing something I'm not. If nothing else at all, they sure look like they're having fun. Way more than I am right now." Until he gave in to despair and grew bitter, and thought "well, if nothing I do really matters, if destroying it all is what makes people happy, then maybe I should give it a shot."

And then he became a bandit, a warlord, a terrorist. He turned into all those people he hated and continues to hate today. He cut out the middle-man and just ended lives before they could begin. Razed civilizations to the ground because that was what was going to happen anyway, whether it be by his hand or someone else's. What does it even matter? What does anything matter? This is all history is. Pain and suffering. He's only doing what's natural. He's solving problems before they can even occur, really. He's doing everyone a REAL favor. Destruction truly is the only way.

The best way to make the world a better place is to make the lives of those around you better first. Even just helping the one person makes a difference in its own way. Think less about making history by winning a war or toppling a regime and more about making history in an old person's life by helping them up when they fall down. Or making history in a dog's life by volunteering at an animal shelter. Or making history in your friends' lives by having a fun day with them that they'll remember and cherish even on their deathbeds. Change doesn't have to be grand. It doesn't need to be an all-consuming tide that rises above the tallest buildings. It can just be gentle waves and seafoam, washing over the sand and kissing one's feet. That's enough, more often than not. More than one might realize.

Maybe if somebody made sure Burning Spice kept this in mind, he wouldn't have turned into a Beast in the end.

TL;DR: History is shit. Him losing it makes perfect sense. It probably would've happened to me, too. Somebody should've been there to keep him grounded. Everyone failed him and he failed himself. Remember to live in the present. YO SOCRATES, IT'S A FUCKING COOKIE

[drabblejester]

good day, mister jester :) I see youre taking request. sicne you yourself are a jester, might i ask how the archons would deal with having their own jester? (making silly jokes, harmless pranks etc) how they acquire said jester is up to you!

how the ARCHONS would treat you as their JESTER!

requested by: wonderful sillay anon!!

parings: all archons & jester!reader

content warnings: none!! just silliness

comments: take this as romantic(NOT FOR NAHIDA) or platonic idc HEEHEE!! this is a splendid ask thank u my liege <3 probably ooc

VENTI:

you’re jester’d by him after he found you on the street, while he was bumbling around drunk. thought you were funny, so he just tagged you along!!

and oooh he LOVES you!!! he writes so many songs for you to dance along to, happily singing and strumming his little lyre while you bust a move

if anything its the both of you that are the jesters… instead of you being in a ‘jester & god’ scenario, its more of a ‘jester & jester’ thing. you tell eachother jokes, sing with eachother, etc! and after yall have fun, you lay down in the grass together and snooze :3

ZHONGLI:

you’re jester’d by him after one of the millith recommend you to him, saying many good things about you and your antics!!! he meets you in person and it goes well!!

despite his strong and gentle demeanor, he will giggle and watch you happily. in fact, he actually HELPS you pull off pranks. ranging from replacing all of venti’s sugar with salt, painting on the hull of beidou’s ship, or snatching masks from fatuus, you’re having fun alongside him sometimes!!!

he treats you super well, lavishing you with yummy treats and delicious tea. he makes a little room for you somewhere in the inn, and always makes sure you’re happy and well taken care of.

RAIDEN:

you’re jester’d by her after miss sara almost puts you in jail. thankfully, your silly demeanor and joyous attitude captivated her. so you get to go free! as long as you can provide her some entertainment sometimes.

she actually doesn’t have you entertain her that often, just kinda keeps you around like a cool rock. more often, you’ll find yourself entertaining her guards and her loyal followers instead. which is still nice!

she’ll try her best to take care of you, but ultimately ends up just plopping you in the hands of the people she trusts. she isn’t too fond of your pranks but she loves your performances, so you’re equipped with props and costumes :3

NAHIDA:

you’re jester’d by her after you were grabbed by the scruff by a forest ranger, gently being ushered back into the city like a lost cat. which you might as well be! she saw you, you told her a few jokes and gave her some candy, and she got somewhat attached

she really likes your jokes!!! simple puns only, and the occasional riddle. a lot of the time, she’d actually be telling YOU riddles! sadly they’re very hard to figure out so good luck. you get to teach her about certain jokes but you have to explain the punchlines 50% of the time

life with her is very simple, she holds you as an equal (maybe even as a sibling figure?) unlike other archons like raiden or mavuika. you entertain her, and she entertains you! like a nice equal exchange of knowledge in the form of silly jokes.

FURINA:

you’re jester’d after being caught by the guardes for breaking some obscure law, probably related to a prank you pulled. you’re dragged into court (which breaks your silly heart…), furina sees you, and VERRYY dramatically calls for a halt. she runs away with you(and neuvillette on your tail).

she treats you like a secret, not in a weird way but in a.. whispers to you to go and check out the magazine selection and sends you off like her personal little scarab. it’s very obvious you two are hanging out because BOTH of you became 10x more dramatic, but she refuses everything.

your living situation is like roommates, despite her holding some power over you. neuvillette insisted that you get a separate apartment but you both complained enough to where you got to stay hanging out. you’re like best friends!! you eat sweets together, hang out, etc. she even teaches you some of her super secret acting techniques!!!

MAVUIKA:

you’re jester’d after you become hopelessly lost in natlan, miserably jingling across the floor, and winding up in a family of saurians. she finds you all sad and weeping and ue ue ue, and takes you in like a little baby birdie.

actually, you don’t do much entertaining with her! when you do, it’s usually her trying to train you to become strong. thankfully your little kicks and sad punches don’t do much to her. so to cheer you up, she lets you tell her riddles and stories and jokes. turns out she is a SUCKER for puns.

you get to hang out in natlan wherever you want, like tossing a bird in the air and letting it fly away for a bit. your best nap spot is in a very cramped little cave, all cozied up with one blanket to make the edges less sharp. surprisingly it’s very cozy! you can even curl up above on the rocks like a lizard!!!!

TSARITSA:

you’re jester’d by her after a few fatuus find you all sad and wet in the city, jingling about and being a general disturbance to the peace (as god intended). you’re dragged all the way to the palace, to get judged. you’re not put in as a harbinger but you get to be a fool one way or another!

speaking of harbingers, they either love you or hate you. the tsaritsa will always ensure your safety from the weirdness of dottore and the edginess of signora, but you can’t help but be a little upset by them. she’ll wipe your tears and allow you to dance around the palace to help you feel better :3

you get free reign over the palace whether the harbingers like it or not. curled up on lab tables, hunched under chairs, maybe stealing a fatuu grunt’s bed, etc. and they don’t get to say anything bad about you because you’re the tsaritsa’s special little jester! pierro is still upset that you stole his cool nickname though

eat up my liege… leave no crumbs either. i just swept the floor

[astonmartingf]

DEATH OF A BACHELOR ; F1 DILFS

the grid's most handsome and eligible bachelors— now taken? exactly this is that. i don't have time to think of a good punchline so it'll have to wait.

started: 03/01/24 ended: 03/23/24

amfg 8.6k words total. smau + written. contains angst, fluff, implied smut(?), crack(?), drama, controversy, and conspiracies. reader is faceless. can be read in any order. enjoy reading (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

ADORE YOU ; KR7

. . . your relationship with kimi was always civil, not too close like friends, but not too far apart like strangers. somehow you got stuck in a situation leaving both of you confronting your feelings for each other.

HAVEN'T MET YOU YET ; JB22

. . . slowing down as the high life of the party, jenson turns a new leaf and thinks optimistically about his plans in the future concerning his love life.

MISERY ; MW2

. . . fuck sebastian vettel and fuck his goddamn race engineer who he can't help but think about all the time. he's bitter, jealous and in misery.

GREEDY ; SV5

. . . at the height of his career all vettel wants is to win. with four world championships on his back, his ego- out of the world, surely that's enough for a room in your life.

VOODOO DOLL ; LH44

. . . hamilton is a penchant for opposing teammates, and after the previous one he somehow got stuck with another, but after years of dominance new emotions develop between the two.

NEW PERSPECTIVE ; FA14

. . . twenty years into his career, alonso faced a lot of changes. but it was all because of you, that he looked forward to at the end of everything.

amfg yay! to my first series ever finished... here's to more series and writing. i hope you enjoyed reading these as much as i wrote them 🫶

[oldwritingm]

congrats on 400 & i'm so happy to be here!!!

for the event, if you still write for south park, could i get headcanons of maybe the main 4 + butters receiving genuine, heartfelt compliment and love from their partner? male or gn if that's okay/needed!!!

i've been craving soft comfort qwq

- 🍡

Here you are love!

South Park - Main Four (+ Butters) Reacting to Genuine Affection

Kyle

Okay, so you guys definitely have quite a bit of banter in your relationship

So at first it takes him a minute to figure out when you're actually being serious

"Kyle, you're so pretty."

He'll just blink at you for a second

When you don't give him a teasing smirk or burst out laughing, that's when he knows you're being real

And then his cheeks turn a few shades darker, and he looks away bashfully

He'll mutter something semi-coherently, not looking at you at all while he says it:

"Yeah, well... you're prettier..."

It's not that he doesn't believe what you say, or that he's embarrassed, he's just taken off guard

He actually really loves when you surprise him like that

He will be thinking about it for the next week at least

He'll totally zone out, too—just replaying that moment over and over in his mind

A little smile comes to his lips involuntarily, and he might even start blushing a little

He's just got to be careful not to do it around the guys... he'd never hear the end of it

Stan

He's convinced you're being fake or joking at first

Especially if it just comes out of the blue

"I love you, Stan."

He'll just blink, waiting for the "just kidding" or the punchline

When it doesn't come his face scrunches up a little

"You're... being serious?"

He's not trying to sound rude, he's just having a hard time believing you

He struggles with insecurity :(

No matter how long you've been together, he still doesn't know why someone like you would ever love him

But when you just smile sincerely and tell him that yes, you are being serious, his heart flutters

He definitely gets that huge lovesick grin of his (you know the one)

And he'll look at you with the purest loving gaze

Be prepared for a bear hug :D

And maybe some happy tears on your shoulder

Butters

It doesn't even occur to him that you might be joking

He believes everything you say, unless it's ultra-obvious you're joking

And even then he's more inclined to take whatever you're saying/doing as genuine, if only for his own delusional enjoyment

So, even if it comes out of nowhere, Butters accepts your affection

"You're the best thing in my life, Butters."

He'll put on a huge grin, taking your hand and squeezing it excitedly

"You're my favorite ever, Y/n!"

Cue the tooth-rotting fluff

This is how you two often fall into bouts of sickeningly sweet affection; cuddling, hand holding, "no-I-love-you-more" competitions...

It is very cheesy

But Butters LIVES for it

He loves it when you can both be all genuine like that; it increases his own confidence, plus it gives him a chance to show his unending love for you :)

Kenny

I feel like Kenny's really good about reading your emotions

And matching them as soon as he's aware

So even if you're in the middle of the goofiest goof session, he'll flip the switch just as quick as you

He'll know you're being genuine right away, and wastes no time being dumbfounded or anything

"I'm so in love with you."

You can see his cheeks going a little pink, but he smiles the brightest smile and hugs you tight

Then he returns the affection in full; both physically and verbally

It doesn't matter if you were being verbal or physical with your affection, he'll give you both in return

"I'm in love with you, too."

Depending on if you're in a silly affectionate or serious affectionate mood (again, he'll know), you may or may not end up in a hybrid cuddle-tickle fight

Otherwise you'll settle down somewhere and just bask in each other's arms

Maybe playing with each other's hair, mumbling sweet nothings, listening to heartbeats and breathing

Cartman

He is NOT going to take you seriously (or at least that's how it'll seem)

Even when he realizes that you are, indeed, being serious, he's going to make fun of you

"I love you more than you even know."

He tries to play off the way his cheeks turn pink and the way his heart flutters

He'll look away, waving his hand dismissively at you

"Pff, whatever. You're so cheesy, Y/n."

In reality, he's internalizing what you said and it's getting him higher than the moon

And he can't help just hugging you, at the very least

Or pretending to suplex you as an excuse to get you laying on top of him with his arms around your waist

Then he'll start to think about what you said more, and after a while he'll mutter, almost inaudibly:

"I love you more, stupid."

He'll never admit that he said it (activate gaslighting mode), but he secretly hopes that you really did hear it, and that you believe he said it (despite what he'll try to make you believe)

Because he meant it, and he wants you to know that he feels the same about you :)

Thanks for this request! And thank you so much for reading, take care doves <33

(divider by saradika)

[chunniwritesalot]

lessons with the hamiltons - lh44

in which reader is a teacher, but hates kids

HIII OKAY THIS IS JUST A SILLY LITTLE THING I STARTED AND THEN I COULDN'T STOP WRITING LMAO!! i might make a part 2 if someone asks! dont mind the no lewis header i have no time to make one hahah

cw: ksi's new song mentioned, cursing maybeeee, lewis being a bighead

wc: many

“I hate kids.” You huffed as you walked into the apartment you shared with your husband, kicking off your shoes with an aggressive thud. “Hate, hate, hate them.”

It was ironic, of course. Being a teacher meant you were surrounded by children all day, one of the few jobs where you were supposed to like them—or at least tolerate them. Good thing you were also an amazing actor, masking your exhaustion with a smile every time you stepped into that classroom.

Lewis looked up from his laptop, raising an eyebrow. “You’re a teacher,” he said, as if reminding you of the obvious. “You’re literally paid to not hate them.”

You rolled your eyes, tossing your bag onto the floor before flopping onto the couch beside him. “Yeah, yeah, thanks for the revelation, Captain Obvious. Match my freak for once, would you?”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “What does that even mean? Is that… new slang or something?” He tilted his head, genuinely curious but clearly out of his depth with your words.

“Yup, some of the kids started saying it,” you replied with a sigh, running your hands through your hair. “I guess I picked up on it without thinking.”

Lewis chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You teach 12 year olds. Doesn’t it freak you out a little to be adopting their slang?”

“Nah,” you said, leaning your head against his chest as he wrapped an arm around you. His warmth and the familiar scent of him—a mix of cologne and home—started to ease the tension you had carried through the door. “What freaks me out is how much I despise them today.”

He smiled at your melodramatic groan, rubbing small circles on your back. “What happened this time?”

“Everything. The noise, the constant whining, the way they somehow always know how to get under my skin. It's like they have a radar for it.” You shut your eyes, sinking deeper into the couch. “It’s exhausting pretending to like them.”

Lewis kissed the top of your head, his voice a little softer. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

You let out a long breath, feeling some of the weight lift. “I know,” you whispered. “Thank God for that.”

There was a brief moment of silence, the kind that lingered just long enough for Lewis to think you’d finally calmed down. Then you broke it with a frustrated huff.

“You know what I had to deal with today?” You asked, your voice rising with the exasperation that had been bubbling beneath the surface all evening. You didn’t wait for him to respond before launching into your story. “Two boys in my class—two—decided to break out into song right in the middle of my lesson.”

You paused for effect, locking eyes with him to emphasize the absurdity of it all. Lewis raised an eyebrow, already bracing himself for the punchline.

“And they wouldn’t shut the hell up, mate,” you finished with a dramatic flourish, throwing your hands up in frustration.

He let out a low chuckle, trying to keep a straight face. “What were they even singing?”

You groaned, sinking deeper into the couch. “Something ridiculous. Some TikTok trend or whatever, something about being on a screen and then a ring... Doesn’t matter, though—they were so off-key I couldn’t even tell what it was supposed to be.”

Lewis shook his head, biting back a smile. “And let me guess, they thought they were absolutely killing it?”

You shot him a look. “Oh, of course. They were acting like they were auditioning for a Broadway show. Hand gestures, facial expressions, the works. Like, I was just waiting for them to ask for a standing ovation.”

Lewis laughed outright at that, the sound of it making you feel a little less annoyed, though you’d never admit it. “And what did you do? Join in?”

You gave him a deadpan stare. “I kicked them both out of class.”

He snorted, covering his mouth to hide his amusement. “Classic. Just no patience left today, huh?”

“None.” You sighed, leaning back and closing your eyes, allowing yourself to relax for the first time all day. “Zero tolerance for teenage karaoke. I just wanted to get through my lesson without a circus.”

“Well, Mrs. Hamilton,” Lewis teased, emphasizing your formal title with an exaggeratedly prim tone. “I’m sure you handled it all with grace and professionalism.”

You let out a scoff, shooting him a sideways glance. “Yeah, if ‘grace and professionalism’ means nearly chucking a whiteboard marker at them, then sure.”

Lewis chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m sure you’re everyone’s favorite teacher,” he added, a grin tugging at his lips.

You snorted, throwing your head back against the couch dramatically. “Oh yeah, I can just feel the love. Nothing says ‘favorite teacher’ like the daily chorus of, ‘Can we go home early?’ or ‘Miss, this is so boring.’”

“They only say that because they can’t handle your brilliance,” Lewis quipped, giving you a knowing look. “You’re too much for their fragile little minds.”

“Oh, definitely. I’m just intellectually overwhelming,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes. “How could they ever appreciate my passion for algebra?”

Lewis burst out laughing, pulling you closer. “Exactly. They don’t even realize they’re sitting in the presence of greatness. Legends are never appreciated in their time.”

“Legend? Please,” you said, swatting him lightly. “If anything, I’m the stuff of nightmares. The teacher who ruined their dreams of becoming TikTok stars.”

“Hey, at least you’re memorable!” Lewis smirked, leaning in a little closer. “In 20 years, they’ll be telling their kids about the time Mrs. Hamilton shut down their music career before it even began.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Fantastic. I’ll be a cautionary tale.”

“Better than being forgotten,” he teased, raising his eyebrows. “Plus, you’re probably giving them some quality meme material. They’ll thank you later.”

You shot him an amused glare. “Oh, so that’s my legacy now? Being the ‘meme teacher’?”

“Hey, memes are forever,” Lewis said with a mischievous grin. “That’s practically immortal in today’s world.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous logic. “I hate that you’re kind of right.”

Lewis leaned back, smug. “I’m always right.”

“You were just confused about slang 10 minutes ago,” you pointed out.

“Details, details,” he waved a hand dismissively. “The important thing is, your students secretly adore you. And if not, well…” He shrugged. “At least you’ve still got me.”

“Lucky me,” you muttered playfully, sinking back into his arms with a contented sigh.

“Hey, not everyone is in the presence of a seven-time Formula One World Champion!” Lewis shot back, puffing out his chest dramatically and poking your cheek for emphasis.

You groaned, shoving his hand away with a playful glare. “Your ego is huge, Lew. Like, it barely fits in this apartment.”

He smirked, unbothered. “What can I say? It’s all part of the package.”

“Oh, is that what it is? A package?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Well, I hope it comes with a refund policy because this ego is too much.”

Lewis laughed, pretending to think for a moment. “Nah, sorry, no returns. You’re stuck with me—and the ego. Non-refundable, no exchanges.”

You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes. “Great. Just what I wanted. A husband and his oversized confidence.”

“Hey,” he said, feigning offense. “It’s not confidence. It’s facts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Right. ‘Facts.’ I swear, if you had an award for every time you talked about your seven championships, we’d need a separate room just for the trophies.”

Lewis grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Funny you mention that. I was just thinking we could clear out the guest room and—”

“No,” you interrupted, giving him a playful shove. “Not happening.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “Fine, fine. But you can’t blame me for being proud. You did marry a legend, after all.”

You snorted. “A legend with an ego the size of a racetrack.”

“Hey, you’re the one who chose this life,” he teased, kissing the top of your head. “No refunds, remember?”

You sighed, leaning into him with a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I’ll just have to live with it.”

“Sooo,” Lewis started, drawing the word out with that familiar grin you knew meant trouble. “Ever think of wanting… kids together?”

You blinked, then slowly turned to face him, squinting suspiciously. “Kids? Together? Us?”

Lewis grinned wider, leaning in. “Yeah, you know—tiny humans that look like us, say funny things, and maybe, just maybe, follow in my footsteps. Mini-Hamiltons.” He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically, clearly enjoying the moment.

You raised a hand to stop him. “First of all, you’ve clearly forgotten the part where I just said I hate kids. Secondly, tiny humans that are half you? Lewis, I barely manage one of you.”

He laughed, completely unfazed. “Come on, you love me. Imagine—little curly-haired kids running around, making you laugh, driving you crazy. It’s the dream.”

You snorted. “The nightmare, you mean. I already have to keep your ego in check. Now you want me to manage a whole pack of baby egos that think they’re Formula One drivers straight out of the womb?”

“Exactly,” Lewis teased, poking your side. “Imagine—little racers, pulling wheelies on their tricycles, practicing pit stops with toy cars. We’d be unstoppable.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “No. Absolutely not. I already see it—them racing in the house, breaking things, you teaching them how to do donuts in the living room.”

Lewis gave a mock shrug. “Well, they’d have to learn from the best, right? Legacy, babe. It’s all about legacy.”

You buried your face in your hands, laughing in disbelief. “A legacy of destruction. Fantastic. Let me just call the furniture store now and order everything in crash-proof material.”

Lewis leaned in closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “Okay, but imagine this: family go-kart days, mini helmets with Hamilton written across the back, and you as the team principal. We’d be unstoppable.”

“Team principal?” you deadpanned, lifting your head from your hands. “Lewis, if I’m in charge, the first thing I’m doing is banning anything with wheels in this house.”

Lewis burst out laughing, pulling you into a hug. “Alright, alright, no go-karts in the living room… yet. But seriously, can’t you see it? You’d be an amazing mom.”

You paused, softening a bit as you looked up at him. “I don’t know, Lew. I mean, if our kids inherit your energy, we might need to hire a whole pit crew just to keep up with them.”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “That’s what makes it exciting. We’d make a great team.”

You sighed, half in amusement, half in surrender. “We’ll see. For now, let’s focus on surviving you, okay?”

“Deal,” Lewis said, laughing as he held you close. “But I’m telling you, one day, we’re gonna need matching family race suits.”

You groaned, but smiled. “God help me.”

-fin-

PLEASE SEND REQUESTSSSSSS IM BEGGING OMFGGG I'M FINALLY A LITTLE BIT FREE

[cosmicanakin]

hi kari baby. i’m feeling sad bc of a boy (i need to stop dating them and remember i’m bisexual) but i was wondering if i could request an anakin fic where reader is like “i feel like love is an inside joke that everyone else is in on” and anakin is like i love you and i don’t just need you i want you and love can be our joke and we’re laughing together. i just really need hurt/comfort right now.

love's cosmic jest ⎯⎯ ANAKIN SKYWALKER.

⎯⎯ the love you and anakin have for each other becomes your new favorite punchline.

YAP SESH! dedicated to my ALLY @spcncershasting. sorry that i took AGES to write this request for you, baby! but it's finally out. love u smmm. mi preciosa amor.

WARNING(S) emotional vulnerability | F!READER | JEDI!READER | self doubt | mild angst | fluff.

୨ৎ HAYDEN'S LIBRARY.

you find yourself staring out into the vastness of space, the swirling stars and distant galaxies a reflection of the confusion within you. LOVE, you've always thought, is a joke that everyone else was in on. it's as if the universe itself is laughing, and you're the only one not hearing the punchline.

you're on a ship, the hum of the engines a steady background to your thoughts. anakin is beside you, his presence both comforting and unsettling. he's an enigma, a whirlwind of contradictions that somehow makes perfect sense.

"what's on your mind?" he asks, his voice soft, yet it cuts through your reverie like a lightsaber through the dark.

"love," you admit, almost whispering. "i feel like it's a joke everyone else understands, but not me."

there's a pause, and you can feel his gaze on you, intense and searching. "you think it's a joke?"

"an inside joke—" you clarify. "—one that i'm having a hard time grasping."

he leans closer, his eyes full of a warmth that makes your heart skip a beat. "i love you," he says simply. "and i don't just need you, i want you."

the sincerity in his voice is undeniable. it's like a light piercing through the fog of your doubts, illuminating the path you didn't know you were searching for.

"love can be our joke," he continues, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "something only we understand. and this way, we're laughing together."

his words wrap around you, a comforting embrace in the coldness of space. it's as if he's offering you a lifeline, a way to be part of something bigger than yourself.

"anakin," you murmur, your voice barely a breath. "how do you make it sound so easy?"

he chuckles, a sound that resonates with warmth. "because with you, it is easy. everything else fades away, and it's jus' us, sweetheart."

you pull away to face him, seeing the truth in his eyes. there's no deception, no hidden agenda. just the honest, raw emotion that you've been yearning to find.

"i want that," you admit, the words tumbling out like a confession. "i want love to be our joke."

he reaches for your hand, his touch grounding you, anchoring you to the moment. "then let's make it ours," he says, his voice a promise.

you nod, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. feeling as if the universe has shifted, finally aligning in your favor, allowing you to finally hear the laughter you thought was beyond your grasp.

together, you and anakin sit in silence, the stars your only witness. it's a quiet moment, yet filled with a profound understanding that transcends words.

"you know," he says after a while, a teasing lilt in his voice, "i never knew love could be this... fun."

you laugh, the sound surprising you. it's genuine, a real laugh that bubbles up from within, a reflection of the joy you feel.

"who knew?" you reply, grinning. "love, an inside joke that makes sense."

anakin squeezes your hand, his smile mirroring your own. "and it's our secret," he says. "one we'll keep laughing about."

as you watch the stars drift by, you realize that maybe, just maybe, love isn't about understanding everything. maybe it's about finding someone who makes the confusion worthwhile, someone who turns the chaos into something beautiful.

with anakin by your side, you feel like you've finally found your place, your understanding of the joke that is LOVE.

and it's a punchline worth waiting for.