#like that left an impact

[ozymandiasdirge]

funniest thing about house md is that house has like every flavor of trauma responses and is cut deep by shit so much in his life that he in fact creates new ones. except over getting shot. like someone literallly walked in and shot him twice trying to kill him. and then he never brings it up again after it happens. not like he’s burying it and repressing. like it straight up did not phase him and he went right back to ruining patients lives afterwards. king.

[vmkhoneyy]

I think if I could be the kind stranger in someone’s memory, that’d be enough.

[cubbihue]

A common misconception about Fairy Crowns is that it indicates the emotions a Fairy has. This is not true. A Fairy's Crown is purely an indication of their magical energy, as magic is directly connected to their health.

A crown losing its form is an indication that the flow of their magic is fluctuating, which humans often mistaken it as high emotions. Humans should be wary of Fairies with visible fluctuating magic, as it can mean that they are about to impulsively use magic in an erratic or dangerous manner.

Thankfully, crowns cannot do direct harm to others, and Fairies cannot do magic without a wand! Take their wand, and they won't do you harm!!

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

Instability: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[majunju]

dance partner

[heyimboredtalktome]

this scene was just straight up psychotic fr i was so shook

like look at her face like she's legit enjoying this shit 💀

and hunter b-15 when she finds them, and you actually hear the blood dripping in the background, the whole thing is just so terrifying

[inkkill]

“Everyone moves on…

… And I get left behind”

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.

and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.

✦ info: he didn't know he'd lose you so soon. (come back, please. even if it is just for five more minutes.)

✦ featuring: alhaitham.

✦ warnings: angst, character death (reader), heartache, 1.2k words, somewhat proof-read.

✦ notes: i cried so goddamn hard writing this. why is my first work after hiatus pain. why did i pick up the angst wip. but!! i'm writing again, so that's good. (more notes at the end.)

he didn’t know that it was your last day together. 

he didn’t know that the smile you gave him that afternoon, your eyes sparkling like sunlight upon the serene waves of the ocean, would be the last he’d ever see. that the playful light in your gaze would fade so very soon, slipping through his fingers like sand.

he didn’t know that last night would be the last time he held you close while you drifted off to sleep. he didn’t know that today would be the last time he’d wake up with you.

he didn’t think he’d lose you like this. 

he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to save you from that blow. 

“please, please,”  he begs, both to you and to whatever force that is just barely holding you together. “just stay with me for five more minutes, please. until i can get you somewhere.” 

the rain soaks him to the bone, clothes and hair sticking to his skin. your lips stay motionless, eyes shut.

“wake up, please,”  he bargains. “you can have all the five minutes of extra sleep you want later, i promise. just—”  his vision blurs, and something shines on the ground before it is gone, swallowed by damp earth, lost amidst drops of falling rain. 

desperately, he tears off parts of his traveling cloak to staunch the bleeding. deep inside, he knows it is futile. he knows your wound is too great. he knows what lies ahead. but he cannot help but press the cloths to your wound and pray. 

please, please tell me it’ll be okay. 

please stay with me, beloved. i’ll read you all the books in the world. i’ll sleep in with you everyday, even if we end up whiling away our time. 

please. stay. stay with me. i can’t lose you yet.  

“— just wake up, beloved.” 

by some miracle, your eye flutters. just a bit. just enough to set hope ablaze, just enough for the grip on his heart to loosen a tiny bit. he buries his face in your shoulder, resting his head against your neck, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes. your blood. on his clothes. his hands. everywhere. 

no. no. this can’t be happening.

he feels you strain beneath him, your unwounded arm gently, weakly brushing his back. he jolts upright, eyes trained on your face. you send a frail smile his way. he clasps your face softly as you nuzzle into his palm.

“alhaitham—” 

his full name. archons, how long has it been since you called him that?  

“— take good care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, chest heaving, your fingertips touching a tear on his cheeks. “i love you. so much.” 

those are the last words he hears fall from your lips. he presses a kiss to your forehead, to your eyelids, and to your cheeks and to your lips, over and over and over until he feels your breath slow, hoping they’ll say what he knows he cannot manage to choke out.

i love you. 

he stays there next to you for who knows how long, holding you until the rain slows and a faint rainbow smiles in the sky.

until he can’t smell camphor anymore.

—

every person has their curiosities. 

they’re just the little traits that set them apart from others, the things that make them tick just a little bit differently, the things that make them, them.

for instance, someone may be obsessed with collecting tiny furniture, while another eats the crusts off their sandwich before actually consuming it. someone may have an affinity for the most niche aspects of linguistics, while another can accurately predict the next raindrop that slides down a window pane.

after all, no two people are exactly alike, are they?

alhaitham knows he’s got his fair share of these curiosities himself. his aversion to soup and all things that resemble it, to name one. and with you, he’d noticed two things. 

number one: the scent of camphor that seems to linger on every inch of your person. 

he’d caught whiff of it almost immediately the first time you met. you were but one of his juniors in the akademiya, filled with bright-eyed curiosity and anxiety to match. you had tripped over a stair and bumped into his table in the library, bringing the mountain of books in your arms crashing down.

and with subsequent coincidental meetings, he learnt that the subtle scent of camphor dancing in the air meant you weren’t far away. 

you were, unfortunately, one of the poor souls who seemed to be cursed with constantly recurring minor illnesses, and almost always walked about with a stuffy nose. and so, you always carried a small disc of camphor in a handkerchief, as well as in your pocket.

you swore up and down, left, right and center that sniffing the vapors helped make breathing easier.

‘it’s my grandmother’s remedy, alhaitham! camphor always works wonders. well, that and eucalyptus oil.”

alhaitham may not know the validity of your claim or the legitimacy of the cure, but he knew to never, ever question a grandmother’s remedy. that, and he’d much rather refrain from starting a back-and-forth about something so small.

and number two: your neverending pleas of different variations of ‘just five more minutes!’ 

“five more minutes, ‘haitham. please.” you’d whine grumpily when he woke you up to start your day. “let me sleep in for five more minutes.” 

“five more minutes, habibi,” you’d ask when he put down the story you’d requested he read out to you before bedtime. “read me the part where she finds the music box?”

“five more minutes, baby,” is what you’d tell him when he asks how much longer you’d take getting ready. “you can’t rush perfection!”

those five more minutes were never five minutes long. 

but he’d always, always indulged you and those pleading eyes of yours. as stoic as he appeared to be, you lived in his heart. of course he could never deny you anything under the sun.

—

alhaitham remembers that silly little song you sang over and over, the one you’d learnt from a kid in the bazaar. he’d taken you to see one of nilou’s performances, and, friendly soul that you were, you’d struck up a conversation with some of the eager audience members before the play. 

“oh, how i wish i was a bird flying free,

i’d see the world, every mountain and every sea!

oh, how i wish i was a cloud in the sky,

wouldn’t you like to wave to me as i pass by?”

you’d hum that rhyme on every idle afternoon.

loss is inevitable. he knows that, with how logical and rational and straightforward he is. he’d lost his parents, but he was far too young to remember. he’d lost his grandmother, but she passed in her sleep of old age, serene and wise.

but you? he didn’t think you’d leave him this soon. a singular wish sits in his soul, making its home in his bones. 

a wish that you’d come back, somehow. 

he wishes you gave him five more minutes, just as he always did.  but he knows that you could’ve given him five more hours, five more days, five more years and five more decades and it would still not be enough time spent with you. 

a blue feathered bird comes to perch on his shoulder, interrupting his musings just as he raises his face to the sky. he sees the heart shaped cloud that floats idly above sumeru city.

 he thinks of the rhyme again, and something in him tells him to wave. and so he does. a scent so familiar lingers, faintly brushing his nose in the wind that picks up.

“alhaitham, it's time to go.”  kaveh calls his name softly.

 alhaitham doesn't move. “five more minutes,”  he says, echoing your favorite phrase. “i smell camphor in the breeze.” 

✦ extra notes: my alhaitham characterization for this fic stems from how i believe that when alhaitham is attached, he's attached. so i focused more on that, and less of all that rationality and whatnot. this one loves deeply, yk?

that camphor thing is a real grandma remedy in our household (my mom would tie some in a hanky and put some under my pillow and still to this day reminds me to do it when i'm sick) which is what originally sparked the idea for this

when i'd initially started this wip, i didn't expect it go this way. usually i write with my brain, but i think i wrote this one with my fingers working faster than i can think hsjhsj so sorry if it's kinda out of place lmao but yk what? i'm happy with it still even though i feel like it doesn't have my usual quality.

thanks for reading.

[scruus]

Stomach buldge with kaveh. Imagine tracing the outline of your cock on his soft belly while he's bent over his table. He's whining about how you're too big, and he can barely take all of you in him. Imagine thrusting gently in and out of him making him stare as his stomach shows off your cock with each and every thrust.

Belly bulge u say huh 🔔

notes: NOT PROOFREAD, amab!gn!reader x afab kaveh, belly bulge, office sex, self-degradation(?) by kaveh, creampie, pregnancy mentions. K bye

kaveh surprising his ceo!reader partner after days of being away from home due to work. He enters your cabin with a smile across his face and a bag full of your favourite snacks. You could almost feel the tears well up in your eyes when you see your lover standing a few inches away from you, lunging at him like he was a soft, comfy bed during a thunderstorm.

Showering him with kisses and pining his body so close to yours kaveh could almost sense your bodies melting in one but oh he missed you so dearly too. And this absence of loving intimacy surged into that of insatiable lust.

“a-am sorry kaveh, am really bu- ugh”, low groans escaping your throat as his tight cunt squeezed around your cock, still fitting perfectly around you while a flushed Kaveh was trying to cover his face with his neck scarf. An attempt to muffle his moans as well.

Irritated, you snatched the piece of cloth and threw it down. “Y/N! You gifted me tha-ahn!”, he moaned when a sharp thrust hit deep inside him, making Kaveh’s legs tremble a bit. You hooked an arm around his waist, pulling his figure up from the table and leaning down, mushing your bodies close again.

“Do you really think I give a fuck about that gift when all I want right now is you?”, your eyes a fiery passion, the underbags doing no justice to the emotion you’re feeling right now. “How I want to make you cum on my cock and see you cry for me after such a long time-“, you thrust again, balls deep and he chokes out a moan, “after not being able to even have your fucking fingers caress my face?”

Kaveh’s whimpers morph into a melodious tune, a songbird you wish only you were an audience to while the entire world were to be locked away from witnessing such artistry. You look down at his soft tummy and let out a soft moan, the shape of your dick clearly peeking at you through his insides.

Oh fuck, I wanna make him pregnant.

“Honey look”, kaveh follows your eyes down to his stomach and he almost felt his orgasm rushing over. Its so erotic and whorish, his body just can’t take your huge fucking dick yet his cunt stretches itself so easy like some slut just to swallow you all up. His body is way more hungry for you than he would like to accept.

“With the way my cock peeks a hi at me everytime through your stomach, I am resisting all I can to not fuck you senseless and crazy right now”, you mutter as your pace fastens and Kaveh knows your not joking because he is very well aware of how fast you can turn him into a whore. He surely doesn’t want that fact to be visible when he exits your office after all.

The way you both are clinging on to each other and rutting together as if bunnies on heat. His wails becoming louder and your moans becoming weaker. Kisses that speak more than words and actions and an “i love you” from both of you was enough to tip the other one over.

You rest your head on his shoulder while he tries to recollect his senses and boast a bashful color of red all the while trying to lecture a giggling you.

Al-haitham stands outside your door, loosening the tie around his neck and shuffling his pants to hide his boner after he just heard his best friends fuck each other like mad men. Horrible day for al-haitham.

A glowing bright day for you two!

[nicomoon69]

they r very dear to me <333

[theleeryder]

“Hello?” Crepus shouted into the storm, the downpour and lightning easily overpowering him. “Hello! Is anyone else out there?!” 

The small child in his arms didn’t react as the read-headed man hefted him up higher, setting the child on his hip. Barely clinging to his consciousness as exhausted and fatigue clawed at him. 

Crepus could feel how feverish he was even now. The boy was racked with shivers. Archons knew how long he’d been out there by the time Crepus happened to notice him. 

“Let’s get you inside and warmed up and then we’ll find your parents. Yeah?” Crepus shouted over the rain as he tucked his coat further over the child’s head. Keeping the rain off him as best as he could with the wind trying to yank the cloth off the both of their heads. 

The child said nothing. His visible eye dull and his fingers pale with cold as the clutches at the man’s chest. It was a haunted expression. One that spoke of horrors no child should know. 

Even as Crepus whispered reassurances and promises of finding the boy’s family, the feeling in his chest knew that they were only lies.

 As did the child in his arms.

Day 3. Storm

[coolname-ver3]

(cw: canonical mention of child abuse)

People will see that moment in Tanetane Island where the Flint hallucination threatens Lucas to beat him, and interpret it as Flint literally being a physically abusive father, but to me there's always been something a bit more subtle to it.

Because nowhere in the game has Flint ever actually been shown to be the type to be violent towards his children. At the start he's characterized as a stoic but reliable father, later on he's desperate and absent, but never violent towards his family. The only point in the story where we know Lucas has actually witnessed his father's violent side, the only time he would have seen him as an actual threat, is the campfire scene way back in chapter 1, where Flint completely loses control and starts blindly attacking people. A villager even comments on this, trying to reason with Flint (and failing) by reminding him his children are watching him.

Something like that can be terrifying for a child to witness, especially for a sensitive kid like Lucas, especially right after the loss of his mother. The one who's supposed to guide and protect him in that moment of need has not only completely lost control, but looks like a genuine threat to him.

That scene imo, like others in tanetane Island, isn't really meant to be taken at face value, but it's simply the representation of something that haunts Lucas. It's the mix of the survivors guilt that's all over Lucas' tanetane events, and the memory of his father at his most terrifying, the reminder of one of the moments that marked the end of his safe and happy childhood.

[shiningsunlighthalation]

Red-Faced Beauty

Summary: Your beloved, one of the Fatui Harbingers, is a figure of grace and dominance. Those around her regard her with awe or terror, either response appropriate when interacting with someone who holds authority second only to the god of your nation. But surely, she isn't as unflappable as she appears. You can definitely catch her off guard and fluster her enough to make the heat rise to her cheeks, right? Right?

Signora may have been a proud and arrogant woman with a heart she had claimed had long frozen over, but she still had her moments of acting as the flustered maiden she used to be.

Often draped over her like a lovely shawl, you were never too far away from her side nor did it take too long for you to find her once she returned from an assignment.

And for as haughty as she was, Signora adored that about you, something she made clear whenever she would pepper your face with kisses and left lipstick marks on your face. She rather liked how flustered you would get whenever she showered you with affection.

But should you manage to fluster her, Signora's face would redden to a shade worthy of her real name.

And she's as "irate" as you expected her to be. For how dare you reduce The Fair Lady, La Signora of the Fatui Harbingers, to the state of a blushing ingenue?!

After you coo at this rare this display of embarrassment from your lover, you're practically "chased" away while Signora regains her composure.

After returning from a diplomatic venture, Signora had retreated to her quarters for some rarely acquired downtime. Setting her signature funerary mask down onto her vanity and selecting a tube of lipstick to apply as she sat down in front of the mirror.

As she touched up her makeup, she was not oblivious to the sound of her door opening or your footsteps approaching her. You typically arrived not long after she did, eager to spend time with her whenever possible.

Watching you through your reflection, Signora flashed you a smile, at least as much of a smile as she was able to form while trying to perfectly apply her lipstick. "You certainly didn't waste any time, did you? Not even a full ten minutes since I sat down and you've alrea—"

You didn't say a word as you walked up where Signora was seated and calmly took the lipstick tube out of her hands before setting it down on the vanity. Before Signora could ask you what you were doing, you took her face in your hands and greedily claiming her lips with your own. You smirked into the kiss when she made a muffled noise of surprise and pulled away, taking a second to marvel at her speechlessness before planting a kiss on her forehead and painting her brow with a smooch with the lipstick that had smeared onto your lips.

The Fair Lady's kiss abused lips parted and closed at your spontaneity as a crimson hue spread across her face.

You couldn't suppress your laughter. "That's a really lovely color on you!" You gently cupped Signora's face in your hands, even squishing her cheeks for emphasis, while slowly turning her face back to the vanity mirror.

Signora let out a scoff of indignation as she shook her face free from your hold. "Such...! Such nerve!" Her face ablaze, she refused to face you, instead summoning her floating white catalyst with a wave of her hand and sending a flurry of snow your way that caused you to flee her quarters while both laughing and squealing from the cold.

You really hoped to make The Knave lose her composure? How adorable.

She loved you dearly and by virtue of being her beloved, you saw her in ways most others would not, but not even you have been graced by the sight of Arlecchino's vulnerable side.

She was still a master in bringing out yours, however. Every gaze, touch, and hum of her voice practically carefully designed to have you purring for her.

And yet, the most you would be able to accomplish is bringing a lovely smile to her otherwise stoic face.

But you would not be deterred! Arlecchino may have been a collected woman, but she was not above feeling the burning heat of excitement that she often induces in her lover!

It didn't matter if you had never seen her blush before. Surely someone who had flames coursing through her body like blood would be capable of it!

...And if she was, you wouldn't be able to see. No matter what you did, Arlecchino would be able to turn the tables on you and leave you a blushing mess instead, confused but entertained by your antics.

It wasn't often that the Knave had spare time, but whenever it wasn't spent with you, she would spend it in the House of the Hearth with a book. With the older children away to complete missions and the younger children off playing, she now had some much needed time to relax. Though she enjoyed the company of her children, Arlecchino was grateful for the quiet she now had to enjoy reading with only the crackling hearth breaking the silence.

Eventually, the sound of the door opening further interrupted the quiet. Glancing at the entrance, she noticed a bouquet of rainbow roses coming through shortly before you did.

"Welcome back," she greeted, returning her gaze to her book while she spoke to you. "Would those be for me, perhaps?"

You merely giggled in response as you strode over to her, plopping down next to her on the couch. Putting the bouquet down in her lap, you grabbed her face, your fingers messily brushing through her hair as you did so, and planted kisses on both of her cheeks. "Of course they are! I hope you like them!"

You expected—or more accurately, you hoped—to finally see Arlecchino blush, hoping that your surprise gestures would have lowered her guard just a bit. You had hoped that the Knave would redden from your gestures, that she would be more willing to display such a "weakness" to you, her beloved, now that the two of you were alone.

But alas, things would never be so easy when dealing with the Fourth Harbinger.

Chuckling, Arlecchino set down her book, hooked an arm around your waist to bring you into her lap, and grasped your chin between her fingers to draw you into a kiss. Her blackened fingers had slipped under your shirt and traced a pattern in your skin before gripping your side. After she broke away, she took a single rainbow rose from the bouquet you had gifted her. "Feeling bold, are we? I wonder what I did to receive such affection today." She gently trailed the rose along your cheek before tucking it behind your ear. "I'm flattered, my dear."

She did it again. She had you right where she wanted you and left you too sheepish to speak again. You could only groan and bring a hand to your face in frustration over having failed once again.

But because you were too busy facepalming, you didn't notice that Arlecchino's ear, made visible after you had mussed up her hair earlier, was bright red.

The blush that you had been longing to see on her face had been on her ears the whole time.

Unfortunately, you wouldn't find out because Arlecchino was quick to her fix her hair to hide her little secret while she watched you bemoan your "failure".

To be honest, you weren't sure if Sandrone could blush. You weren't even sure if she could even blink.

So beautiful and doll-like, there were times when you'd wonder if she as an actual doll with her near perfect composure and eerie smile whenever something amused her.

As a reclusive woman who was greatly dedicated to her work, you and Sandrone being in a relationship was a feat in and of itself, so getting her to blush would be a miracle.

Even though, she would always thank you for them, gestures and displays of affection seemed to have no effect on her. It was often a smile or a nod to acknowledge you.

Sandrone would never understand why you'd seem so downtrodden after doing something nice for her or why you would inspect her face so intently, but surely a pat on the head would make you feel better?

You were careful to tiptoe around the scattered blueprints that littered the floor of the Seventh Harbinger's workshop. Even if she had tossed them aside, Sandrone would occasionally pick them back up if she could think of ways they could be worthwhile inventions.

With her ruin guard attendant, Meilleur-Seymour, standing dutifully by her side, Sandrone was seated at her desk, hunched over while drawing up a new blueprint. Her gaze was as unblinking as ever and her rhythm was completely unaffected by your presence.

"I have something for you!" Though her back was to you, you held up a cup of coffee. Being so engrossed in her research, Sandrone would often forget to eat or drink. And if she didn't forget, she would claim to not be hungry. But after seeing how that worried you, she would allow you to bring her little gifts while she worked so long as you didn't make a mess.

"Leave it here." She didn't even bother to turn around.

Rather than simply leave the coffee and be done with it, you made your way over to her and slowly removed the pencil she was using to draw her new blueprint from her hand. Most Fatui agents had never even seen Sandrone, but if they had, and they were bold enough to do what you just done, they would've lost their whole hand.

Thankfully, Sandrone would not do such a thing to her lover. Instead, she looked at you in stoic confusion, curious as to what you were doing. Her expression did not change when you leaned in for a kiss.

After pulling away, you smiled and put the coffee in her delicate hands. "You deserve to take a break, don't you think?" You stood there and watched, waiting for Marionette's face to become a lovely red color that would complement her doll-like features.

But Sandrone only smiled and said, "In a few minutes."

Frustrated, you gently cupped her face. Narrowing your eyes, you desperately searched for a rosy hue, not wanting your efforts to once again be in vain.

To Sandrone, your inspection came off as you being upset with her for taking too long to take a break. "In... one minute?"

With a sigh, you hung your head at yet another failed attempt.

Sandrone had no idea what was going on, but she could tell you were upset for some reason. She wanted to reach out and pat your head, but she was reluctant to put down the coffee you so kindly gifted her, so she looked to Meilleur-Seymour and jerked her head in your direction, silently ordering him to pat your head in her place.

[mxliv-oftheendless]

Ok I know we all like to joke about how the Battle of the Five Armies is only a page long in The Hobbit but like. Sometimes I think about how what if Tolkien wrote it that way because he didn’t want his kids to hear about war.

[yardsards]

do people who have listened to taz balance but not graduation Know that it was HEAVILY IMPLIED that lup and barry eventually adopted a lil sorcerer child who got disowned by his family for his natural necromancy magic, and they taught him how to use his powers for good and were overall great parents that he looks back on fondly

(and said child grew up to be a dimension-hopping lich, caretaker of the dead, and very sweet adoptive father of a major npc)

[pain-tool-sai]

forever haunted by that quiz event from years ago where i learned diluc is left handed and has a pet turtle

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

Genuinely I think at least 80% of fandom toxicity would vanish overnight if people stopped seeing shipping as the primary way of engaging with media.

I would also personally have more fun and that is the real issue here.