#i will upload to my ao3 too

[24-05txt]

In regards to the whole soul mate thing, Soap's been through all the phases.

He'd started curious, then confused, then mournful, then resentful. For now he's settled somewhere in the vicinity of apathy—maybe spite.

He doesn't have a soul-mark. Never has, never will, and that's... fine. He's far from the only one lacking that kind of connection, and that's enough for him to feel understood. Not alone. He's got plenty of good friends besides—with and without soulmates of their own—and he's happy that way. Really, he is; it took him a fair amount of work to get to a place where he could say that and it not be wishful thinking. He's got friends, family, dalliances, motion and company and light in his life despite the lack of a mark that tells him where his place is.

And then he meets Ghost.

The Lieutenant is huge in the sense that his presence alone takes up what space his height and muscle can't. He's quiet, too, at least before Soap makes the effort to worm his way under all that tacgear. (The man is intriguing, what can he say? Who else walks around with a honest-to-fuck skull mask day in and out.)

Ghost seems to tolerate him at first, then inexplicably starts to prickle and grouch whenever Soap comes within six feet of him. He could make up a few reasons for why that is, but instead contents himself with pretending he doesn't notice—pushing the implied boundary until Ghost mans up and tells him off.

He never does, though. And it's not long at all until Soap's found that the boundary has given way and Ghost is—well he's actually pretty pleasant to be around. He's funny, and patient, and gives way too much of a shit to be in a career that pretty much ensures the death of everyone he works with. (He likes to pretend he doesn't, but there's no other reason he would have been waiting up in that church for Soap—in fact he shouldn't have still been there at all, since he'd already scoped an escape route. The bastard's soft, is what he's saying.)

And that's when things start to backslide just a little.

They're sitting in the mess—only three of them, the Captain unable to grace them with his presence—and Gaz is talking about his sister's husband's new boyfriend being the result of a late-discovery soulmatch.

"Could you imagine," he says, pausing to chew his mouthful before he continues. "Going thirty years knowing there's someone out there for you, and not seeing them until after you're already married?"

"Could be platonic," Soap pointed out, not bothering with the same courtesy of chewing his food. Ghost kicks him under the table for it, but he honestly can't be asked to care for only three words worth.

"Could be, but still—could you imagine?"

"Nope." Soap pops the 'P' and grins. Ghost doesn't kick him this time since he hasn't taken another bite yet. "I'm a wee bit hopeless in that department."

"Ah, brother." Gaz reaches out and they clasp hands for a moment, then he nudges his shoulder. "You and me both. Never much got the fuss about it, but that does seem like some sort of cosmic irony yeah?"

"Issat irony?" Soap asks. "Don't think that's right."

Obviously, that incites a short argument that ends when Gaz pulls out his phone to look up the actual dictionary definition of 'irony', and Soap grasps to change the topic to literally anything else to avoid Gaz gloating on the off chance that he's right.

"Lt, what about you?"

Ghost blinks at him as if he hasn't been staring at the both of them through the whole conversation.

"I know what irony is, Johnny."

"No—" he can't help the scowl, and talks over Gaz's sudden jeering as he shoves his phone under his nose. Soap lifts his chin to avoid it. "You got a soul mark?"

"Read it and weep, Soap!" Gaz cheers, only slightly subdued in respect for every else in the room.

"I do." Ghost says at the same time, dipping his head in a tiny little nod, and Soap's world ends just a little bit, right there in the mess hall. Curls up, withers, and dies without so much as a squeal.

He's not able to ask if Ghost knows who it is, or if he's met them, or if they're still alive, or if it's romantic or platonic; he's not sure if it even matters, because Johhny knows right then that he will never be as close to Ghost as they are.

And it hurts.

It hurts in a way he wasn't entirely expecting.

He must hold it together well enough through the rest of dinner, and then through walking with Gaz back to their rooms, but once he's got the door locked behind him he feels the smile fall off his face. He sits down on the edge of his bed.

Ghost has a soulmate.

Ghost has a soulmate and Soap is pissed about it. Because that soulmate isn't him—it can't be, since he doesn't have a mark of his own.

It's just—it's unfair. They work so well together, on the field and off. He knows for a fact no one else can read Ghost as well as he can, no one else talks to him like he does, he doesn't hang around anyone else like he seems to hang around Soap. If anyone should be Ghost's soulmate, it should be him.

But he's not. Which means there's someone else out there that can watch his six better, understand him more, have more satisfying conversations—and it seems fucking impossible, because he doesn't even know how it could get better given the time they've known eachother... and yet.

And yet Ghost has a mark, and Soap doesn't.

It takes him days to get over it—at least enough to act himself when he's in company. Ghost tries to get him to talk about it three separate times before he can manage to get his shit together. He won't *lie* to Simon, nor is he about to admit to what's eating at him, and it leaves him snappish. Leaves the vitriol closer to the surface than it ever has been around Ghost and he hates to see how he reacts to it; he doesn't cower, doesn't flinch, doesn't avoid him, just stares—in a different way than before. John's temper will flare and Ghost will freeze a little, tilt his head, furrow his brow, and fucking stare at him until the moment passes. It might be better if he raised his voice in return, let it escalate into a proper fight—or even if he shut Soap down hard and told him to cool off. Instead Ghost looks at him like he's gone and become a stranger; like he's confused where he doesn't expect to be, and that hurts almost as much as finding out his place isn't next to Simon—or at least, he doesn't have any rightful claim to it.

[myokk]

Eloise is really, really bad at chess😐

(this is a scene from my fic & I typed it up here:)

"Milady, you cannot send him there! He will surely die a terrible death, and Murdoch is our finest knight!"

Eloise blinked her bleary eyes at the wizarding chess board, not really comprehending what the tiny pieces were yelling at her. The one that seemed to be doing the most talking was gesticulating wildly and jumping up and down, trying to get her attention. When she had taken the pieces out of the box Sebastian had lent her, they had immediately recognized her and started protesting, appealing to 'their benevolent lord's innate sense of goodness', but their protests fell on deaf ears. Eloise was positive that Sebastian took some sort of perverse pleasure at watching her lose at chess.

In the background, she could hear Ominis's laughter echoing through the Undercroft. His own pieces were quite happy at the moment, preening and occasionally sending rude gestures towards Eloise's, much to Sebastian's amusement. He was narrating their every action to Ominis, whose laughter was egging on his soldiers even more.

"Eloise," Sebastian said, propping his chin up by one hand (entirely too amused, infuriatingly so, why did he have to look so handsome when she was trying to be annoyed at him?), "maybe you should move the knight..." his other hand pointed to an empty space on the board, "...here."

This declaration caused an uproar. There were shouts of betrayal, tiny pieces gesticulating wildly to the carnage surrounding the board as they shouted in vain. She didn't see any other viable moves, so Eloise sighed and ordered the brave little Murdoch to where Sebastian had suggested. Chaos immediately ensued and Ominis's queen gleefully knocked his head off with a violent swing of her scepter. Eloise's pawns all doubled over, sobbing as their most valient knight fell, and her remaining bishop shook his tiny fist in outrage up at her.

After a few more minutes, much to Eloise's ashamed relief and the boys' disappointment, her pieces refused to move for either her or Sebastian. They solemnly collected the remains of their fallen comrades with as much dignity as they could muster and marched off the board and back into their box in a mourning parade of sorts.

Sebastian joined Ominis's pieces as they jeered the losing team off the board, causing Eloise to glare fiercely at him. "You were the one telling me what to do, and they're your pieces! Show some loyalty."

He shrunk away from the intensity of her gaze and held up his hands in protest. "I was suggesting the moves as a joke! After last week's fiasco, I didn't think you'd fall for it again."

Ominis was laughing so hard he was gasping for breath, and the two of them turned to watch him. Even through her irritation, Eloise couldn't help but smile at him - he was always so solemn and these bouts of mirth were few and far between. He managed to speak between bouts of laughter. "I...I couldn't...I couldn't believe it when you sent your bishops one by one into my trap! It was so obvious! And then...and then you..." Ominis dissolved into fits of laughter again and couldn't finish.

Eloise turned her angry glare to him. "We can't all be chess geniuses!"

"I've tried teaching you and you don't listen! For the next time, I'm only going to give you one piece of advice: don't listen to Sebastian." He chuckled once more to himself and then turned slightly to the board, addressing his men (and queen) and giving them a debriefing. He always did this after he won the matches; it was a strange sort of ritual that he seemed to look forward to.

[splynter]

The Dyemmit and Gossip Group document IS READY

IF YOURE INTERESTED IN GAY PEOPLE, SHENANIGANS, FOUND FAMILY, AND HURT/COMFORT, YOURE IN THE RIGHT PLACE

Ever since December I have been in THE PIT. Writing with my buddy @spiralled-fury. About DYODE AND EMMIT and by extension MY OCS. There’s a lot in there and the Google doc is huge and PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS IM BEING SO FR

You can check it out here :D

[amongsnot]

if we can't be together, i will leave this world behind (i'm a fool; i'm just a man) (8039 words) by Anonymous “I wouldn’t complain,” Timmy says with another innocent shrug of his shoulders. Jimmy shakes his head at his nonchalance, extremely fond for absolutely no reason. “I think saving Dimmsdale from dimensional distress could be a fun way to spend an afternoon. Way better than whatever we’re doing right now.”

“We’re saving Amity Park from dimensional distress,” Danny responds through the communicator in their ears, and Jimmy can tell that he is scolding Timmy with a smile on his face. “But, I have this really weird, indescribable, feeling that the two of you aren’t actually doing anything relevant to the mission. Which is really weird, because when I think of Jimmy and Timmy together, I don’t think of slacking-off at all. In fact, it’s probably the last word that—”

Jimmy presses his finger against the piece of metal in his ear with a familiar roll of his eyes. “Okay, we get it.”

-

JimmyTimmy Week 2025: March 14th, First Kiss ( Rated Teen for Swearing )

[lullaebies]

Hi, I love this acc sm!

Just asking if you could do a Jaehaera lives and Daenaera marries Viserys ii au? thanks sm!!

“You can eat it still. I’ll manage, Daenaera,” Jaehaera tells her good sister. Daenaera prances around the room as if she is a lady-in-waiting still, taking the fish dish she had been eating and putting it on the balcony for the morning birds to gobble up. 

“Your words are most kind, your Grace, but your scrunched nose betrays you,” Daenaera grins as she sits back down on their tea table. They most often have their tea times at the gardens, but Jaehaera’s fatigue had not allowed them such luxury. Daenaera had combed her hair, but they both agreed she is better off remaining in her comfortable nightgown for the day. “The smell of the Strumm fish wards off Viserys, too. Regretful I must give up my defences, but I’ll manage for my Queen.”

Jaehaera lifts her teacup to her lips, a thin smile stretched upon her tired face. “Newlyweds should be sweet on each other. Should I worry you want my good brother repelled already?” 

Daenaera laughs, her pretty smile accompanied by a playful gaze. “Oh, there are no concerns there. Should he have been any sweeter, he may have not allowed me to attend my duties to you on this fine day.”

Jaehaera shakes her head with a soft chuckle. “You are going to make Viserys resent me,” she says. They’ve come a long way since their initial meeting and the accusations of her ‘bewitching Aegon’, but Jaehaera’s matching of her good brother and Daenaera bridged them true. She hopes that it won't go to waste. “Regardless, you are not my lady-in-waiting anymore. You must remember to enjoy your own bliss; you needn’t attend any duty.”

“On the contrary, your Grace. You are my good sister now, and my duties are attended from the depths of my heart,” Daenaera says as if she is speaking out a poem, smoothly, and leans forward to bring a hand over Jaehaera’s palm. “On such exciting days I couldn’t bear not to see you, Haera.”

Jaehaera smiles gently, bringing her other hand to her belly. She had been anxious when the signs had started to show. The maester Daenaera brought from Driftmark in preparation for her wedding had also been the maester that confirmed Jaehaera is with child. The Grand Maester would’ve had to tell Aegon — but she had wanted to know for herself, first. They only made headway with their own intimacy this year. The changes are coming with such haste she hasn’t managed to internalise either her fears or her excitement. 

Swift knocks are heard from behind the door. “King Aegon the Third and Prince Viserys are at the door, my Queen,” Ser Willis Fell announces. “May they enter?”

Jaehaera snorts. Ser Willis wastes no opportunities to show his allegiance. Should Aegon have stood there alone, he could not make them ask for permission, but Viserys standing outside the door means he must mind her chastity. 

“Speak of the devil,” Daenaera’s smiles from ear to ear, turning her body around to the door. 

“Daenaera,” Jaehaera exclaims softly, amused. She clears her throat to raise her voice. “Let them in, Ser Willis.”

The door opens for the two brothers. Aegon’s dark amethyst eyes fall on her tenderly, and the hand that brushes on her belly moves to her lap. She nearby told him yesterday, when he embraced her to calm sleep, but had found him lulled to sleep before she could find the courage. It is always on the tip of her tongue.

“And here I thought you’d keep me out, good-sister,” Viserys says, walking over to Daenaera in steps that seemed more reflex than thought of. “Wife,” he says, planting a full kiss on her silver locks.

“If it was up to me, she would,” Daenaera answers, giving a kiss of her own to his chin.”The council went well, I’d hope?”

“As well as you’d expect from a council all due to be swapped,” Viserys says. “They take too long to make decisions as simple as deciding what establishments to be patrons of for The Smith’s Day. The answer is in the day’s name, for heaven's sake.”

“The Smith represents all labourers, good brother,” Jaehaera chimes in, leaning back against her chair. “There is some merit in that discussion, I fear.”

Aegon drags the chair beside her to sit down. “Let him complain. We all know the true reason he does,” he says. “He has been tortured to keep a charming smile for the entirety of it. A wonder the corners of his lips are not set in it permanently, by now.”

“Should you budge a smile for once, I wouldn’t have to blind the room with mine,” Viserys says, taking his own place with his wife. “Dear sister, I implore you to have him practice his smiles. He cannot leave you to endear the realm to the crown on your own.”

“I am certain the realm will soon be overwhelmingly endeared to her and The Crown in tow. His Grace is only aid, one way or another,” Daenaera chuckles to herself. 

“Pardon?” Aegon asks, tilting his head. The goblet of wine he poured for himself is held by his chest as he stops to comment. He poured herself one, too; she had been the wine fan of them two, but alas, she cannot allow herself to drink much. “I don’t think my wife needs any assistance in these matters.”

Jaehaera smiles. A few years ago all would doubt that claim entirely, but she supposes all things are due to change. She ought to embrace this possibility and make it true; the son or the daughter that are growing in her belly deserve to be loved by the realm, as they deserve to be loved by their father.

She looks at Aegon midway his sip, at the line of his restrained lips. Jaehaera raises herself on the chair, fixing her posture, hand coming back to her belly. “Perhaps, but assistance will come anyway. The babe will be of great aid, if my husband will not.”

Aegon’s wine spritzes from his mouth like a rush of rain. It stains the teal of Viserys’s doublet and furthermore his face, to Daenaera’s great laughter. Jaehaera cracks a wide smile at the display, and especially when Aegon turns to her whole. 

“Truly?” his goblet is left aside, reaching out to her wrist. Jaehaera nods gently, letting her eyes crinkle at Aegon in hopes his will return the favour. The king does not disappoint, his face coming to her own for a swift kiss that stamps his smile on her own.

“I am all congratulations for the both of you, and the realm,” Viserys says, trying to clean off some of the wine on his doublet while Daenaera brushes away his wet fringe from his face, still struck with giggles. “But you most definitely will have to rely on your wife and child in charms, dear brother.”

Aegon shakes his head, kissing her one more time before he turns to his brother. “We will see how you will take it when such news comes to you.”

Feeling at her utmost bravery, Jaehaera hums. “My aversion to the scent of Daenaera’s beloved fish dish had been a most important indicator. Perhaps we should check if you are due alongside me, dear brother?”

“Those damn fish,” Viserys’s ears turn a shade of pink. “I take it back. My nephew or niece will have to do the work for you both.”

Daenaera kisses Viserys’s flushed cheek; soon enough his face brightens. Aegon brings a hand to Jaehaera’s stomach too. Jaehaera hopes the son or daughter within her hears the joy they already brought forward.

[moonchild-in-blue]

Wondering why I am SO exhausted at this hour (literally when I'm popping and locking on tumblr) and then I remembered like. yeah girl!!! near-death experience today!!! whack!!

[saysflora]

If you ask Mush, winter is one of the best times of the year, but it seems he's one of the only people in the lodgings that feels that way. What starts as a way to take Blink's mind off of the now cold, dark months ends up being a bigger scheme than even he was imagining, and he's more than happy to take the opportunity to plan a celebration that'll have everyone raring with holiday spirit. With help, of course.

OR: Mush throws a Christmas Party.

[silliest-sideblog]

I made a podfic for the lovely graveyard shift AU by @aliferous-ly and @vesperaink for the fic chasing crimson, beta read by @dibs2win one of my favorite rancher fics <3

While I've done readings of fanfiction before I have never really made something that was recorded and edited and everything so I am quite proud of it :'D it's just the prologue but I'm fairly sure I might do more since this was a ton of fun!

Anyway, here is the link!

Everyone should also go read chasing crimson, it is seriously so good and will always have a special place in my heart <3

Link to the audio is also here, under the cut (I do not trust that I did it correctly on ao3 lol)

[peekychu]

Quitting my fulltime job to frost cupcakes at Sugarcube Corner and take naps in the clouds. Take my hoof, bestie.

[actuallyjustabiscuit]

…I finally did something again

Summary:

After completing the Candy Carrier Chaos adventure, Ragatha was certain that Pomni was finally coming around to her new life at the Circus. She had even made a new friend! It felt like things were finally going to be ok between them!

Then Gummigoo was deleted...and suddenly all of her hopes came crashing down.

Losing people is starting to take its toll.

[money-and-dandellions]

Of cold nights, slushies and how good it is to breathe; one-shot about Sunflower Siblings.

Less than 30. Sunset is less than thirty minutes away, and the sun has already gone behind the clouds. As if it hadn't spent the whole day there.

In addition to how lazy the sun really was, other thoughts flashed through Lester's head; most often they were lyrics from songs that, with annoying buzzing in his head, played on a loop for a few hours straight.

"...It seems to me that when I die,

these words will be written on my stone...

And I'll be gone, gone tonight

The ground beneath my feet is open wide.

The story of my life..."

The finger while not thinking much about the recent events, tapped out the rhythm of the song, words of which had glued to the skull.

Speaking of skulls, then it's better not to think about them at all, because he has managed to see of too many skinless heads in the last two weeks. This experience is finished for at least three eternities. No exaggeration.

Lester swerved to the right, trying not to hiss at the sharp surge of pain in his right temple. The black-blue dots continued to dance in his view.

Well, at least they weren't tap dancing. He hoped so.

"...There'll be nothing left for me to yearn.

Think of me and burn..."

'Burn what?'

There was no such event as highly-pitched scream, thank you very much.

Meg's eyes, somehow reflecting the rapidly decreasing in availability sunlight, were shining with candle-yellow which did not go along at all with her red, dimmed by a light layer of dirt, tip-tops. Her hair were as wet as the top of her bright green dress, lovingly handed by Ms. Sally Jackson.

Despite that the rain had stopped more than an hour ago, no one would say it if only looking at his master's clothes. Weren't she asleep, like, just now?

'Why would—' A pause. They will, for sure, discuss all the ups and downs of Bastille but Lester doesn't recall what was the last time he have seen the [liquid poison] fluorescent lights of any convenient shop, so—

'Were are going to be in Arkansas in an hour, near some gas station - in 10 or so, because the road is wet, who thought it would be a good idea to... Anyway, in 10 or so minutes. Any wishes?'

'A blue slushie and fries. With salt.' Meg answered, kicking the tips of her legs together with a soft bup.

A slushie and fries it is.

And aspirin, before Lester's brain will wave a white neckerchief, wishing all the best.

———— ———— ———— ————

As it was said before, the liquid poison of lightning bulbs is the least expected thing to happen to anyone, who is crossing the United States of America, even in a company of girl with unicorn-obsession. Even, if you were a god.

Alas, the gas station's advertisment was not so merciful to every unlucky person that ever visited it would it be a mortal, demigod, or a monster.

It would be unpleasant if it would be merciful to monsters.

Sitting on the hood of the car, Meg McCaffrey was very much pleased with apple-strawberry flavour of brain-eating (okay, not the best choice of words) cheap freezer also known as a slushie. Kicking the air, she looked almost peaceful, even counting the pinkish cut on her cheek, which, of course, was already healing.

The clouds were not so peaceful. The dark-gray, wet and multiple layered mass of water looked too intimidating for simple liquid.

Everything started to have a significantly huge amount of ozone smell in it. Choking, cold and crystallized pieces of something sharp scratched Lester's chest, tightening it.

Like rings of lubricous, narrow as cut dried wax, scales that would not stop and would be very much satisfied with crushing him until the last, shaky breath—

'It's cold.'

'What..?'

'I'm freezing, let's get in the car, dummy.'

Yes, breathing is good.

———— ———— ———— ————

Five minutes, ten fries and one boring song listened after, the sun had fully sat, shining at last in the front window of the car. For the next eight or so hours, headlights are going to be Lester's best accomplices.

Meg, her fingers suspiciously shiny, put knees to her chest, head - onto the cold window. Her glasses shifted a little, sliding more onto her right eye.

From time to time, taking his eyes off the road, Lester casted a glance at her, trying to figure out if his young friend is indeed asleep.

Judging by how strong was her grip onto recently bought blanket, she was not.

In twenty or so minutes, the girl shifted, wrapping herself further in the soft cloth.

'I'll go sleep.' The mumble was almost barely audible, but it was still there.

'Have a good night.'

'Don't tell me what to do, du—' She yawned, interrupting her own speech.

"All this time I was finding myself, and I

Didn't know I was lost.

I tried carrying the weight of the world

But I only have two hands..."

'You too.'

Lester smiles tiredly, staring at the infinite dark road ahead.

It's going to be a long night.

[harmoniouseclipse]

Half bird Jean character design sheet wip for a silly little project I'm doing 😋

[squarebracketsmileyface]

My omegaverse paper is ready to upload ehehhehehheh >:]

[kattricia]

i love being in this fandom. everyone's out here writing essays and posting brilliant analysis and i'm just sitting in the corner, head empty, teary-eyed and absorbing media like a mossy little sponge.

[dukeofdelirium]

finally uploaded my DN fic along w the newest chap to FF.net lol. I forget that even exists nowadays, bc I post on AO3. but figure what can it hurt to have it on both sites so now it’s on there too

[tl-hercules]

Fic authors is anyone else fucking losing kudos on fics????????? I’m so sad rn gang 😭.