#or maybe he is in the ship zone idk

[sinvulkt]

BG3 platonic fanfic recs (Gale-centric or others)

So (the Force help me) I recently fell into bg3's hole. And I fell deep. (Well only 19h of gaming for now XD. In the underground. But i don't mind spoils).

So I wondered if anyone around had any good Gale-centric fanfics? Or just Gen (=platonic, no romance or romance is not the center of the story) bg3 fanfic recs with any main character?

Yes I know this whole fandom is horny and no I have nothing against Astarion (who seem to be the center of 80% of the fanfics XD). I'm not a fan of self-insert nor smut though, and i dislike romance (yet i love bromance :p), but if the story is good the story is good.

Well crack and angst (or well action adventure plot) are the best in my opinion (not a fan of fluff either most times, i need things to be on the move). All lenghts are good but 20k—80k tend to be the best.

[nomaishuttle]

i need 2 start prepping for the hobbies i want 2 start

[elixirina]

Can I request a Jason Todd X Wondergirl!Reader where shes Wonder woman's daughter and side kick?

They were super close and started dating b4 be died as Robin, and they reunite after his revival.

The JL and Young Justice shipped them like crazy, Bruce looked at her like a daughter, and she was also close with Dick and Tim.

Similar to how Dick had Donna, Tim has Cassie, Jason has Reader 💓

It can be smut, fluff, angst, or a combination, I really don't mind, I love all of your work it's addictive 💕💕💕

If you don't mind, you can ignore this aspect if you want, but could WonderGirl reader have long voluminous ginger curly hair? Similar to how Greek Girls in renaissance paintings have? Idk it's just super cute for me.

Anyways, take care and keep doing what your doing 🫶🫶🫶

hello my beautiful anon! i really loved this idea, i incorporated most of what you said, minus the ginger hair (mainly because i want the reader to remain ambiguous)! however, i hope you like it, as i liked it very very much!

# definition of love — jason todd

synopsis — jason is found dead shortly after you began dating. it hit you like a train, and after a few years, you figured you had moved on. guess you’re proven wrong when you spot a figure who looks just like your boy.

warnings — nothing much, a timeline of events kind of, reader is diana’s daughter and sidekick. angst with a happy ending, reader literally having a mental breakdown twice, typical gf losing bf situation maybe a bit worse, reader has some amazonian features, reader's wondergirl suit is like diana's only the colors are like swapped so the top half is blue instead of red and the skirt is red, but the gold remains the same, as does the headband. this was proofread, but i probably overlooked a spelling mistake like always. i don't think there’s anything else

please please please reblog and like 🤍

© elixirina — all rights reserved. my work is never to be reposted, translated, modified, etc, even if i am credited.

seredipity (n.) finding something good without looking for it.

being wondergirl was like a dream come true. you couldn't lie that there were times you wanted to bash your head into a rock because of how stressful it was, but it gave you an excuse to spend time with your mother 24/7.

you were only 13, but your mother had started training you young. she claimed it was for your own protection, but you weren't necessarily sure that was the reason. nevertheless, you obliged and to be honest, it was fun.

getting to spend time with your mother and fight crime? hell yeah! plus, that meant you got to meet the justice league. the idea of it had always flown over your head, but when your mother finally came to you with the idea, you beamed.

luckily for you, that day had arrived as quickly as you had hoped. you were nervous to the point where you were shaking. you had met the young justice before and they were the nicest people you'd ever interacted with, given how close they were to your age. yet, this, this was different.

it seemed way more professional than when you met the young justice.

you stood beside your mother, as she showed you around the justice league headquarters. natural light streamed in through large, arched skylights and tall windows. the sun blared in your face, and it made you feel warm.

could this go any faster?

jason walked in beside bruce in his robin suit. he figured he looked stupid, but he always did when he put on the suit. when bruce had brought up the idea of meeting the justice league, he expected a much cooler headquarters. the hall of justice looked so...bland.

the walls were shade of cream, and a massive, glowing emblem of a shield stood in the main hall. the pair walked on the white marble floor.

in jason's eyes, he looked like a big ball of color surrounded by white. the boy had completely zoned out as bruce walked him through the establishment, talking and talking away.

he had completely forgot where he was when he spotted your flowing hair. he watched as you methodically fiddled with your red skirt. the blue and white on your bodice matched the skirt of the woman next to you. a woman he'd only assumed to be wonder woman.

bruce, unbeknownst to jason's staring, had led the latter over you and your mother, with plans of introducing you and jason.

your mother took notice of bruce's presence quickly, stopping her conversation with you. you watched as the two adults greeted each other with a smile.

bruce averted his gaze to you, looking down at your figure. "you must be y/n. i'm bruce. diana speaks highly of you." his words made your cheeks go warm and you smiled sheepishly.

"i would hope so." you rubbed your bare bicep, your nervousness coming back to you.

the man let out a chuckle, before turning over to the boy next to him. the boy you hadn't even noticed until now. and the minute you did, you felt everything stop. it felt weird, this had never happened before. whenever you met new people your age, you smiled and said hi, but you couldn't bring yourself to do any of that.

his presence hit you like the first bloom of spring after a long, harsh winter.

"this is my son, jason." bruce simply said, and jason's eyes widened, mainly because bruce called him his son, but also because this meant he had to say hi to you and he didn't even know if he could still speak.

you shook off everything you felt and gave the boy in front of you a smile. the three primary colors on his suit and the contrast between his and bruce's almost made you giggle.

the air seemed charged with something electric; tangible yet invisible. you gave him a wave which he very quickly returned. he quickly looked down at the marble floor and you watched him.

you couldn't stop thinking about that the entire day. and to be honest, it made you less nervous about meeting the justice league members. they were incredibly nice, but you just couldn't keep your eye off of jason.

you sure hoped you'd see boy wonder again.

best friend (n.) someone who will stand up for you in the times you need it most. keep your secrets close, and someone you trust with your life.

you were now 14. maybe you had a little crush on jason, but nevertheless, he was your best friend, so that didn't matter to you. what mattered was that you were with him, and he was with you; you sure as hell did not want to lose him.

the two of you sat on a rooftop, your feet dangling in the air. your gold headband held your hair back to the best of its ability as the warm summer wind began to pick up. the sun had set, making the sky a beautiful dark blue and the clock was nearing twelve.

you and jason had always spent your time on this rooftop. it gave you a perfect view of gotham and it was a perfect place for the two of you to escape your parents.

you got lost in conversation on this day, like always. hearing his laugh sent a shiver down your spine like always. you could never get used to it; it was like music to your ears.

in all those moments you'd spent on that rooftop, time slowed, stretching into something so ethereal. it made it so memorable.

talking to him was just so easy, one of the reasons you became friends. he just understood and so did you. he was like a piece of your puzzle you didn't know you were missing. and you loved it. you loved-

"if stars could talk, what do you think they'd say about us?" jason broke the short silence between the two of you. the random question made you chuckle.

you turned your head to face him with a smile, "what?" you tilt your head and jason swears it might just be the cutest thing he's ever seen.

jason grins like a cheshire cat, "i mean like, do you think they laugh at our problems and shit?" he always loved conversations like this. he only ever said stupid stuff to see you smile. every time you smiled, it felt like his heart was blossoming flowers.

"language. and you are so weird." you laughed, your hands gripped the concrete edge of the roof top.

"i am not weird. i just have a big imagination." he quickly defended, throwing his right hand in the air. his left hand, which sat on the concrete edge was lingering closer to your hand; none of you noticed.

you let out a snicker before sitting in a comfortable silence, staring at the sky. only a few stars were visible in the sky, mainly due to the amount of light.

you looked down at your left wrist subtly, a gold watch around it. it was a watch your mother had given you for your 12th birthday. you couldn't recall why you rarely ever took it off, but you were grateful you had it at that moment.

you averted your gaze to the boy next to you who was looking down at his lap with a smile on his face.

"happy birthday, jace."

he looked over, the wind blowing a strand of hair in his face. his eyebrows furrowed for a second before he realized it must've been the next day.

you smiled at him, laying your head on his shoulder. he couldn't keep his gaze off of you, and most of all, he couldn't believe you remembered.

god, he loved this.

lover (n.) 1. a person who is in love with another. 2. a person who has a strong enjoyment or liking for something. 3. a person who loves, especially a person who has or shows a warm and general affectionate regard for others.

"ow. ow. ow." the word became a mantra, a rhythmic complaint that escaped your lips as you lay sprawled on jason’s bed in the manor. the sharp sting in your thigh was unrelenting, a painful reminder of your ill-fated encounter with a kitchen knife and a tray of horribly cut brownies.

the room smelled strongly of antiseptic from the first aid kit jason had torn into moments earlier, the tangy scent mingling with the woodsy warmth of his cologne. that was one smell you could never forget. a crimson gash marred your right thigh, the jagged line oozing blood in slow paths that tickled even as they burned.

jason sat beside you, his expression torn between concern and mild exasperation as he worked quickly to stop the bleeding. the soft rustle of gauze and the metallic clink of scissors filled the otherwise quiet room, broken only by your repeated "ow"s and his hushed apologies.

"sorry, sorry," jason muttered, his voice low and sincere, though his hands remained steady. his jaw clenched as he pressed a clean cloth against your skin, the pressure sharp enough to make you wince.

"remind me to never put you in a kitchen again," he quipped, glancing up briefly with the hint of a smirk.

you rolled your eyes, propping yourself up on your elbows despite the dull ache spreading through your leg. "it was an accident," you retorted, a touch defensive. "i am perfectly capable of knifework."

he raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching as if to suppress a laugh. "yeah, sure. because slicing your own leg is totally a pro move."

"very funny," you deadpanned, though your lips quirked in a reluctant smile. okay, maybe you weren’t the most graceful person when it came to handling sharp objects. blades weren’t exactly in your forte, and your mom was usually the one wielding kitchen utensils with precision.

jason snickered, the sound soft and melodic but undeniably amused, as he leaned closer to inspect the wound. his focus was intense, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his dark lashes framed his eyes or the small scar that laid on his jawline.

the bandaging took longer than it should have—partly because he was extremely meticulous, and partly because he kept stealing glances at you, his gaze lingering a second too long. his fingers brushed against your skin, the contact feather-light yet electric, sending a shiver up your spine.

he tied the bandage in place with a precise knot, tapping your thigh gently to signal he was done. the touch was brief but warm, leaving a faint heat in its wake.

"there," he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "all better."

"thanks," you mumbled, sitting up fully and letting your weight settle into the mattress. your hand rested on top of your freshly bandaged thigh, as if testing the sturdiness of his work.

jason scooted closer, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. his presence felt larger than life, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in, a quiet tension settling between you. you could feel the air shift—charged, unspoken—but neither of you moved to break it.

he tilted his head, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before snapping back to your face. "so… do i need to keep you on knife probation, or are you gonna behave?"

you rolled your eyes again, though your smile this time was genuine. "depends. are you volunteering to cook for me forever?"

his laugh was soft, a little breathless. "if it means you don’t bleed all over my bed again? sure."

despite jason’s earlier declaration, the two of you found yourselves in the manor’s sprawling kitchen. you’d insisted on redeeming yourself, though he stood watch like a hawk, his arms crossed and an amused grin tugging at his lips.

“alright prince,” he teased, leaning against the counter. “show me what you’ve got. just… keep the knives far, far away.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, grabbing a whisk with exaggerated confidence. “watch and learn, todd.”

the two of you fell into a rhythm, the kitchen filling with the comforting clatter of bowls and utensils. jason couldn’t resist stepping in every now and then, fixing your grip on a spatula or adding a pinch of seasoning to your mixture.

“bossy much?” you quipped as he reached around you to adjust the temperature on the oven

“Just trying to save b’s kitchen from a second massacre,” he shot back, though his tone was light.

at some point, the two of you devolved into playful chaos. A light dusting of flour ended up on jason’s shirt—your doing, of course. he retaliated with a swipe of chocolate from the batter bowl, smearing it on your cheek with a triumphant grin.

“truce!” you laughed, holding your hands up in surrender.

jason smirked, stepping closer. his eyes softened as he reached out with a damp cloth, gently wiping away the smear. “you’re a mess,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

your breath caught as his hand lingered near your face. the playful energy between you shifted, the air thickening with something unspoken. his thumb brushed your cheek, the touch feather-light, but enough to send a jolt through you.

“jason,” you whispered, his name barely audible.

he hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, his forehead grazing yours as his eyes searched your face. “i’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he admitted, his voice barely above a breath.

then, without another word, his lips found yours. the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though testing the waters. but it didn’t take long for it to deepen, his hand cupping your jaw while the other found its place at your waist.

the world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

when you finally pulled apart, his eyes sparkled with a mix of relief and mischief. “you know,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk, “you’re even worse at baking than I thought.”

you laughed, your forehead resting against his. “we just made out and the first thing you do afterwards is insult me?”

“i wouldn’t call it an insult, just a mere fact.” he replied, brushing a stray hair from your face.

you shook your head, closing the distance between your lips once more.

grief (n.) deep sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death.

jason was missing. at least, that’s what it seemed like. the last time you saw him was two days ago. to say you were worried would be an understatement.

you’d even gone to the manor, desperate to find him, but neither he nor bruce were there. alfred, usually a source of calm and clarity, had only said, “i’m afraid i can’t explain,” before retreating into the quiet dignity he always carried. those words lingered in your mind, growing heavier with each repetition.

now, two days had passed. two painfully slow, gut-wrenching days where time seemed to drag its feet. sleep had become an impossibility, your bed feeling cold and empty. food felt like an afterthought—how could you eat when every thought spiraled back to jason? was he hurt? was he in trouble? was he…?

you didn’t dare finish that thought.

sitting at the kitchen island, you tapped your fingers against the cool marble countertop in a restless rhythm. the sound filled the silence of the house, a constant reminder of your unease. diana stood across from you, pouring hot chocolate into two mugs, her presence steady yet unable to dispel the dark cloud hanging over you.

she glanced up, her eyes soft with understanding. “it’ll be okay,” she said, though her voice wavered ever so slightly.

you didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the swirls of the marble as though the patterns might hold the answers you so desperately needed.

when diana moved to the refrigerator for the whipped cream, a soft knock echoed through the house. it was almost hesitant, as though the person on the other side knew the weight of what they carried.

your head snapped up, and diana caught your movement, raising a hand. “i’ll get it,” she said gently.

you watched as she walked to the entrance hall, her back straight but her steps slower than usual, as if she sensed what was coming. she opened the door, and the chill of the evening air rushed in, making the hairs on your arms rise.

there stood bruce, dressed sharply in a suit and tie, his presence commanding as always. but tonight, his usual stoicism was cracked, a melancholic look etched into his face.

diana froze, her hand still gripping the door. “bruce?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “what’s wrong?”

he didn’t answer right away. his jaw clenched, and he bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes avoiding hers. for a man who had faced countless battles and tragedies, this moment seemed to unravel him. his silence spoke volumes.

diana swallowed hard, her grip on the door tightening. she didn’t press him, though every second of quiet stretched unbearably. finally, bruce exhaled shakily, breaking the silence.

“jason is dead.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and final.

diana’s breath hitched audibly, and she let out a small gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. she reached out, pulling bruce into a hug. he stiffened at first, his shoulders rigid under the weight of his grief, but then he let himself lean into her, if only for a moment.

when she pulled back, her hands lingered on his arms. “what am i going to tell y/n?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

bruce didn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the ground.

how does one tell their daughter her boyfriend is dead?

how does one tell their son's girlfriend he's dead?

your voice cut through the air, startling them both. you stood a few feet behind diana, your brow furrowed with confusion. the cold wind from the open door brushed past you, sending a shiver down your spine.

bruce turned to look at you, and for a moment, the man who was always so unshakable seemed small. his lips parted, but no sound came.

“bruce!” you said, your voice rising slightly as panic crept in. “is… is jason here?” you tilted your head, your fingers fidgeting against your palm.

the way his jaw tightened, the way diana avoided your gaze—it was enough to send your heart racing.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, forcing a shaky laugh. “why are you both looking at me like that?”

diana finally raised her head, tears brimming in her eyes. she stepped closer to you, her movements slow and deliberate.

“mom?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

she reached out, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. her touch was warm, grounding, but the look in her eyes made your stomach twist.

“he’s gone,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “jason’s dead.”

the world seemed to tilt, the weight of her words crashing into you like a tidal wave. for a moment, everything blurred—the sound of the wind, the warmth of her hand, even the beating of your own heart.

“no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “no, he’s not.”

"y/n.." diana began.

you backed away, letting her hand fall awkwardly. "no. no. you're lying," you looked over at bruce who was staring at the ground with such remorse. "you're lying, right?"

his silence was enough to make you sob.

after that day, nothing was the same. the world felt muted, like someone had dialed down the color and sound until everything was a dull, lifeless gray. days and nights blurred together, each one dragging on endlessly but offering no relief.

sleep was an elusive stranger. you spent most nights tossing and turning, tangling yourself in the sheets in a futile attempt to find a position where the ache in your chest didn’t feel so unbearable. when you did manage to drift off, it never lasted long.

the nightmares always came—flashes of his face, his laugh, his touch, and then, nothing. you’d wake up gasping, tears already streaming down your cheeks before you were fully conscious. the pillow beneath you was damp most mornings, a stark reminder of the storm you couldn’t escape.

the days weren’t any easier. you locked yourself in your room, the blinds drawn tight to keep the light out. sunlight felt wrong, almost offensive. how could the sun rise and set when your world had stopped?

your phone buzzed occasionally with concerned texts from dick and artemis, but the effort it took to type a single reply felt monumental. ‘okay.’ that was all you could manage, even though it was far from the truth.

your chest felt hollow, as though someone had reached inside and carved out every piece of you that mattered, leaving behind only a raw, jagged void. every breath was a battle—a sharp, painful reminder that you were still here, and he wasn’t.

the leather jacket he left at your house hung in your closet, untouched except for that one night when the grief was too heavy to bear. you’d pulled it down, burying your face in the worn material, desperately searching for the scent of him, the smallest piece of him that you could still hold onto.

at first, the faint smell of his cologne brought a flicker of comfort, but it was fleeting. the memories came rushing in, one after another, relentless and unforgiving. you crumpled to the floor, clutching the jacket to your chest as sobs wracked your body.

even now, the jacket remained where you’d left it—folded on the floor, too painful to look at yet impossible to put away. It was a symbol of him, of everything you’d lost, and it seemed to radiate its own grief, mirroring yours.

the hours crept by, each one heavier than the last. you existed in a haze of sorrow, your body moving through the motions of life while your mind remained stuck in the past, replaying moments with him like a scratched record. every laugh, every glance, every touch—they were all there, vivid and cruel reminders of what you’d never have again.

a year went by. then two. hen three. the grief hadn’t left, not really—it had just learned to settle in the cracks of your soul. you’d found ways to cope, ways to live. for the most part, anyway. the ache was still there, but it no longer kept you locked inside your house, staring at the ceiling, waiting for answers that would never come.

you started spending a lot of more time with dick. he had been a quiet but steady presence in the aftermath, his support unspoken yet deeply felt. he never pushed you to talk, but he always seemed to know when you needed someone to sit with you in the silence. with him, the weight felt a little lighter, the memories a little less suffocating.

about a year after jason's death, you’d met tim. the new robin. It had been a shock at first—seeing someone else in that uniform, someone who wasn’t him. but tim was different. he wasn’t trying to fill jason’s shoes; he was carving his own path, and over time, you grew close to him. he became another thread in the fragile net that kept you grounded, kept you moving forward.

life continued, in its strange, fractured way. then, one afternoon, everything shifted.

you had decided to take a walk downtown—a simple attempt to clear your head. the streets were bustling, the noise of cars and chatter filling the air. you ducked into a quiet bookstore for a while, thumbing through a few titles before stepping back out onto the pavement. you hadn't been in this particular bookstore in years. the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city.

and that’s when you saw him.

at first, it was just a figure in the crowd. but something about the way he moved caught your eye. the familiar stride. the way his head turned slightly as though he’d caught someone’s attention. your breath hitched in your throat, your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

it couldn’t be. it couldn’t be.

but it looked so much like him. too much like him.

you froze on the spot, your body rooted to the ground as the figure walked away, blending into the crowd. you wanted to move, to call out, but your legs wouldn’t listen. your hands trembled as they clutched your bag, and your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes.

you stumbled back into the nearest alley, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. leaning against the cold brick wall, you tried to steady yourself, but the world was spinning. you clenched your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms against them as though you could will the image away.

it wasn’t him. it could not be him.

but the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was growing, fast and wild, threatening to overtake your rationality.

by the time you made it home, you were shaking. the moment the door closed behind you; the dam broke. you collapsed onto the floor, the sobs tearing through you with a force that felt almost violent.

“jason,” you whispered, his name a prayer and a curse all at once.

the pain you’d worked so hard to manage came crashing back, sharper than ever. you cried until your throat was raw, until your body ached from the force of it. the walls of your apartment seemed to close in on you, suffocating and unforgiving. you didn’t care.

the image of the figure haunted you, replaying in your mind over and over. you wanted to believe it was him. you wanted to believe that somehow, against all odds, he was alive. but you couldn’t let yourself hope. hope was dangerous.

two days passed before you felt steady enough to leave the house. dick had invited you to the manor for dinner, saying bruce wanted to discuss something. you agreed reluctantly, still shaken from what you’d seen, but knowing you couldn’t keep isolating yourself.

seated in the dining room, you looked between bruce and dick, their expressions unusually grim.

“why do I feel like this isn’t just dinner?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

bruce sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “we’ve been tracking a new vigilante in gotham,” he said finally. “calls himself the red hood.”

the name sent a chill down your spine, but you kept your expression neutral. “and?”

dick hesitated, glancing at bruce before speaking. “he’s... unconventional. brutal. we’ve crossed paths with him a few times now, and his methods are extreme.”

“extreme how?” you pressed, your stomach knotting with unease.

“he’s not afraid to kill,” bruce said flatly. “he goes after criminals with precision and rage. he knows things about us, about gotham, that no one outside the family should know.”

the knot in your stomach tightened. “what are you trying to say?”

dick leaned forward, his voice softer now. “we think he might have a connection to jason.”

your breath hitched, and you gripped the armrest of the chair. “what kind of connection?”

bruce’s jaw tightened. “we don’t know yet. but his tactics, his targets... there are too many similarities to ignore.”

the room fell silent as you processed their words. the figure in the crowd flashed in your mind again. could it really be him?

but no, it couldn’t. jason was gone.

and yet, for the first time in three years, the possibility lingered.

love (n.) an intense emotion of affection, warmth, fondness, and regard towards a person or thing.

you couldn't bring yourself to stop thinking about that day in the bookstore and the dinner at the manor. it hit you like a train. you had truly thought you were over it.

you believed that no reminder of him was going to make you break down ever again. that melancholy and remorse? you thought it was gone. why did it have to be back?

why couldn't you be normal about it? what made this so damn difficult?

of course, you still loved him. you would never stop. you knew that for a fact. but no one told you that grief was so hard.

it felt suffocating. the weight on your shoulders came back and suddenly, you weren't so grounded anymore. god, you wanted to believe he was alive. just to make everything easier. you just wanted the cure to all of this.

your mother noticed something was off when she came to visit you, but you immediately turned her comfort down, saying it was just stress.

she knew that wasn't the case.

nevertheless, she left you alone and later that night, you found yourself in your suit on that very rooftop you and jason loved so much.

your feet dangled off of the concrete edge, staring into the night sky. the sky above was an inky black, its darkness punctuated by a few stubborn stars that managed to shine through the haze of city lights. the hum of the city rose faintly from below, but up here, it felt like the world had paused, leaving only you and the endless night.

from the rooftop, the city stretched out in every direction, its neon signs and glowing windows casting a faint orange haze over the horizon. above it all, the moon hung pale and solitary, its light soft and distant, as though reluctant to reach the ground.

it reminded you so much of him. the ability to talk to him and never know when to stop. he never failed to make you smile or laugh. god, you missed his laugh. you missed his smile and you longed for his smell.

you closed your eyes, and his face came to you, unbidden. his crooked smile, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. the way he used to look at you, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. god, you missed him. you missed everything about him.

he was so good to you, and he was gone.

your chest tightened, the hollow ache inside you growing unbearable. you leaned forward slightly, your arms wrapping around yourself as though you could hold yourself together. the rooftop had always been your sanctuary, but tonight, it felt like a prison.

you leaned back just in time to hear a rather modulated voice come from behind you.

"i thought you would've stopped coming here."

you jumped at the voice, immediately standing up. you gripped onto your lasso which laid attached to your red skirt. the rooftop was dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights below. shadows stretched across the concrete, and the figure in front of you emerged from one of them like something out of a nightmare.

fortunately, the red helmet that covered his head gave it away and ultimately, you knew who you were facing. red hood.

"what do you want?" you simply questioned, straightening your back.

he made an effort to step towards you but stopped when you put your hand up as a way to stop him. he sighed, though it was barely audible. "i'm not gonna hurt you. i would ne-" he cut himself off, looking down at the ground.

you raised your eyebrows, letting your hand make its way back to your side. your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as your eyes locked onto the tall figure before you. you eyed him up and down.

he left no room for questioning when you heard a clank. you looked down at the ground and say that same red helmet that was just on his head, lying on the ground.

you looked up at him and your shoulders slumped. the grip on your lasso loosened and your breath hitched.

oh god, were you dreaming? surely, this couldn't be real.

standing before you was jason todd. your jason. your boy. he had certainly grown, standing at a little over 6'0, 6'1? you could see how toned he was through his suit. his hair was longer than before, and there were faint scars on his still beautiful face.

"baby..." he uttered out, biting the inside of his cheek.

how does one tell their girlfriend that they came back from the dead?

you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around him. you needed to touch him, to feel him. this was your chance. this was the cure. you felt him stiffen a bit under you before completely melting into your touch, wrapping his arms around you securely. it almost felt like he was scared to let you.

"i thought i-" your voice broke as you pulled your head back a bit to look at him. "i missed you, jace." the way his name rolled off your tongue so easily sent a chill down his spine. he missed this. he missed you.

his throat tightened as he looked down at you, guilt and regret written across his face. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but it filled your ears like a soft melody. you had missed hearing it—hearing him. just hearing him speak to you like this, like he still cared, made everything else feel less heavy.

you tilted your head, your eyebrows furrowed with confusion. god, he missed that. "why?"

he swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving your face. “i didn’t look for you first. i should’ve. and then… i did things. horrible things. i mean, i killed people, y/n. so many people. and i—i don’t expect you to forgive me. i don’t even know if you can.” he paused, running a shaky hand through his hair. “but, but i can change. for you, i can. i just wanted you to know that. i… i just wanted to tell you that i’m still me. i’m still your jason.”

"then, that's all that matters." you stated, placing a hand on his cheek. it felt so much better to touch him. "i can't leave you. not when i just got you back." you sniffled.

you smiled for the first time, and he felt himself turn into jelly. he missed you and he missed that damn smile.

a shaky breath escaped him as his hands cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheek softly. “fuck, i don’t deserve you,” he said hoarsely.

you shook your head, smiling through the tears that were now falling freely down your face. “you don’t have to deserve me, jason,” you whispered. “you already have me. also, language.”

he shook his head as he pulled you in close, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss, as though afraid to push too far. but you kissed him back with all the love and longing you had kept hidden for so long. when you pulled away, both of you breathless, jason rested his forehead against yours.

“i always thought you looked good in red. i could get used to this.” you remarked, referring to the red helmet that was still laying on the red.

he smiled softly, placing a hand on the fabric of your crimson skirt. “got it from you.”

god, you loved this man.

[nightsmarish]

Summary: as summer at hogwarts approaches, both you and Regulus build up your walls again, lose sleep, and are warry of saying yes to the offer to go to Potter Manor.

A/n: might write a pt.2? Would we like that? Maybe? Idk, I lost the plot halfway through and u can tell lmao. Also, have not written for this specific ship, so I may not be as good as the queen of this ship

Update!: pt2

Poly!moonwater x gn!reader (Remus lupin x regulus black x reader) | 1.6k words

Tw: allusions to toxic family, losing sleep, snippy bc of losing sleep, negative thoughts, anxiety, a nap dude

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆

History of Magic is usually an easy subject. Sit down, take notes, look over the assignment, complete it during dinner or before bed, and you're done.

But today everything but that is happening. You managed to get all the way to sitting down and pulling out your parchment and quill before the words Professor Binns says all mesh together. Nothing makes sense.

And you know it's due to the ache behind your eyes, the pounding in your head and the ache in your bones.

The last few nights you haven't slept, not really at least. It's nearing the end of this year at Hogwarts so everyone is preparing to go home. Planning what they will do with one another over break before the new year starts up. Talking about their family traditions, and a feeling of excitement takes the castle.

Despite this, a feeling of dread has been following you like your own personal rain cloud. The knowledge you'll have to return home eating you alive. Knowing you won't be able to contact Remus or Regulus, less your parents find out you're dating them, making you feel like you're choking on your heart.

The memories you've made this year really should weigh out the weeks you will spend with your family. In the stiff place, you're forced to call home with strict rules and expectations. Yet, you feel horrible. And it's been causing you to force yourself into your studies for the upcoming tests. Avoiding sleep due to nightmares that have recently plagued your mind.

Which leads to now, the room spinning slowly on an axis, ans Professor Binns slightly to blurry, even for a ghost. You know you need to zone back in, drink some water, take a vitamin potion or even visit Madam Pomfrey at this rate. Yet you can't make yourself do it.

Continuing to stay in your zoned out state till the end of class. And that's when even you draw the line.

Standing up from your seat as everyone filters out, albeit a little you're moving a little slower than usual, you exit in search of your boyfriends. Either or both. And it's not exactly a very long search, quickly finding yourself face to face with Regulus Black and Remus Lupin.

"Hey, dove." Remus' voice is sweet, per usual, like the comfort of a spoon full of honey on a sore throat.

Regulus doesn't speak for a full moment, analyzing you. To anyone else it would look judgmental, but the softness in his eyes and slight pull at the edge of his lips tell you differently.

"Hi, Rem." The boys look at one another, an unspoken conversation playing out.

"Why don't we go to my dorm?" Remus looks back to you, "haven't had much time for the three of us. James and Sirius have quidditch, and Peter is going to his study group."

"I'm down." Without another word, the three of you walk towards Gryffindor tower.

ᯓ★

Remus knows that Regulus tends to be a little quieter the closer to the end of the year, having been around the other Black brother for a while now. Already knowing how closed off Sirius would get when he still lived at the Black Manor, building up the walls early to protect himself when he left.

Even now, Sirius does it. Remus isn't sure if it's a habit or the fact that Regulus has been refusing to take the offer to stay at Potter Manor as well.

But you? You, he's not sure. Remus knows you and Regulus have known one another longer than he's known you, and that's never really bothered him. Remus knows all three of you love one another, and he's never felt left out. But know? Know he wishes you'd talk about your own home life.

Regulus doesn't like talking about his experiences at home; the only thing Remus knows is from old stories from Sirius. And Remus will never pry, not wanting to force either of you to do anything you don't want to.

But Merlin, he feels nearly useless right now, wishing to see the tension in your shoulders calm, wishing to see you and Regulus calm again. Wishing Regulus would take the offer to join them at Potter Manor. He wishes for both your safety more than anything.

The walk to the dorm is quite, but not peaceful. Everyone trying to stay calm and wishing someone else would say something. But no one knowing quite what to say to break the silence.

Once you do get up to the dorm, the Gryffindor's dorm, Regulus sets his bag by Remus' nightstand, you following suit, the emblems on your bags a contrast to the surrounding room. Regulus goes to find clothes he's left in Remus' closet before, while you sit on the lycans bed to slip off your shoes. Remus sits next to you, his hand resting on your lower back.

And finally, after far too long, Remus breaks the silence. "Dove..."

You glance up at him as you slip your shoes under the edge of his bed. "Yes?"

Remus sends a quick glance to Regulus, who's slipping on a long black sleeve shirt, one more comfortable than the previous Slytherin uniform. "I understand if you aren't comfortable with it, but..." He pauses for a moment, glancing back to look into your eyes, his thumb rubbing gentle strokes on your spine. "If you want to, you know you're welcome to stay at James' house."

Under his hand, Remus feels you tense, and from his peripheral, Regulus paused to listen.

"That's- that's okay, Remus. But tell James I appreciate the offer, please." You stand up far too fast for your lack of sleep, causing you to fall right back where you were sitting. Alerting both boys.

One of Remus' hands stay glued to your back, the other on your shoulder, as if your keen over. Regulus is quick to stand infront of you.

"Love, you should stay with them." Regulus' voice is full of worry. "It's better than any other option."

"You're not going." Your eyes shoot up to Regulus', far more defensive than you mean to be. Remus' hand, which was previously on your shoulder, moves down to the bed, the other hand continuing to run against your spine again.

"That's doesn't mean you shouldn't go." Regulus matches your defensiveness out of habit.

"You both should come." Remus talks before you can shoot back, hand on the bed finally moving to Regulus' arm, never seeming to catch a break.

There's a heavy pause. One that goes on for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"I'll think about it if you do." Your voice is more timid as you hold your stare at Regulus' eyes, his boring right back into you. Intense, deep, and so, so, loving.

Regulus sighs, "fine."

"Thank you, both. Seriously, you should come. James and Sirius want you guys there. Not to mention James' parents, they love new people." Remus kisses your hair line, standing up, hand leaving your back, before kissing Regulus on the lips. Both your bodies lossen.

Remus moves to change out of his uniform, and you quickly stand up to join him. Regulus' hand comes out to make sure you're steady as you grab a pair of sweats that no one truly knows who belongs to. They were probably once James, but at some point Lily stole them, and at a different point Sirius stole them back, and now so many of your friends have worn them at some point, it's probably weird.

Grabbing those and a jumper belonging to Regulus, you turn back to see Remus already curled around Regulus' back, who lays with enough room for you to join them. Both trying not to show just how eager they are for an afternoon nap.

You climb onto Remus' bed as well, using your wand to close the curtains, magically dimming the lights in the room before placing it on the bedside table. Curling into Regulus' front, leg thrown over his hip, you tuck your head into his neck. Yet your eyes remain open.

You definitely want to sleep, and you know you should, Remus is likely already asleep, knowing the bastard sleeps like the dead. Yet the knowing you could have another wretched nightmare makes you stay awake, staring over Regulus' shoulder the the golden brown hair tucked into his back, belonging to Remus, and letting the black hair belonging to Regulus slightly tickle your cheek.

"Go to sleep dove. Both of you. Please, you can't function without it." Remus' voice seems to startle both you and Regulus, both believing he was asleep, and believing the same about one another.

You pull back from Regulus neck, facing him, seeing the features of his face barely visible in the dark room. "We will, baby." Your voice is soft, as if you were telling a secret.

Remus merely hums and shift slightly before relaxing back into Regulus' back.

"Get some sleep, darling." Regulus kisses your cheek, "it's going to be okay in the end."

"I know. I know. We both need sleep; Remus is gonna kill us." Softly connecting your lips with his, slow and lazy, both smiling at the hum from Remus, confirming the empty threat you made for him.

You return to your being tucked into Regulus' neck. "'M sorry for being snappy with you." You mumble against his skin.

"You have nothing to apologies for, I understand where you're coming from darling." His hand rests on your hip and lower back, relaxing further into you and Remus, closer and closer to having a lovely nap. Of which, you join with the hopes of no nightmares.

[eluxcastar]

Dottore giving child reader a check up

── ୨୧：il dottore & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: nobody scares you more than the Doctor, and that's why you're wholly betrayed by Father tricking you into getting a check up right under your nose, but perhaps your worries are exaggerated by rumours

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, child reader, he's a lil soft (cause if he's not poor kid might explode on site), reader is mute, reader is also autistic (but tbh you don't have to read it that way), not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 2.9k

idk what possessed me to write this I just has the thought and decided it had to be done. I got in the zone and wrote it in a few hours 😭 this is kinda loosely based off one of my characters but ambiguous enough I think to be read as a reader insert. little ball of anxiety with legs reader hehe. they come from the house of the hearth so every instance of father refers to arle

You can't think of a single person able to scare you nearly as much as the Doctor can, whether it's the daunting trip to find him wherever he hid this time or the fear of knowing he tried to bargain with Father to have the more unimpressive children—as some would call you—shipped off to him to become experiments.

Father won't allow him to get his hands on any of you, but it hardly eases the fear that he may disregard Father's warning and decide to pluck the first child he comes across up and feign ignorance when she realises they've disappeared.

Father personally entrusted you with this letter, so you cannot turn back as you make your way to where she said he should be. 

The sleepiness might manage to numb you to the danger by the time you arrive and make it easier to stomach his presence, but most likely, he will only frighten you awake, and it will worsen with the shock to your system.

There's no turning back now and no declining when Father asks you to take letters, which she says are of great importance. You can't treat letters like this lightly, even if you fear the recipient.

Knowing who is behind it makes the door all the more daunting. Doors that separate you from Harbingers always make you nervous as it's not every day you find yourself faced with one armed only with a letter and shaking hands. If it were anyone else, you could've knocked in a heartbeat, but you pause to gather your bearings before raising your hand to knock.

One two, three…four. Spaced just as Columbina taught you to, and then you wait.

Several seconds pass in silence before you hear footsteps from inside, then a voice calling out to you. "The door is unlocked."

You reach for the handle, cautiously cracking open the door just enough to peek inside. Your eyes travel across the room from your left to your right until you spy Dottore seated in a chair facing away from you. He hears you, evident in the way he turns to look at you as you work up the courage to step inside and leave the door ajar behind you.

"It's you," he remarks, the closest to acknowledgment you expect to receive. You are about to make your way to hand him the letter when he interrupts you. "Close the door."

The door is always closed here like it's trying to keep someone out, but there's no one here that he would dread seeing who would knock and accept that the door is locked. He must not be trying to convince anyone of that, and if he was, maybe he'd lock the door for real and leave everyone stranded outside instead of talking.

Dottore makes you nervous. You don't know what he thinks or why, but you probably don't like it. It's the only reason why he would be here right now. Normal doctoring wouldn't get him far as a Harbinger, and the sounds you've heard coming from his lab are enough to deter you from wondering too much. 

Instead, you quietly spin yourself around to push the door closed before returning to your endeavour of handing him this letter from Father she entrusted you with.

"Who is it from?" he asks, a question you remember him asking before too. You concluded that he's trying to gauge how eager he is to read it, and your answer will set his mood for the remainder of your stay.

You turn the envelope over to show him the seal on the back, which you hold out to him. The mark of the House of the Hearth—Father's seal—is displayed so that Dottore can glean the answer from wordless actions. He accepts it from your hand with a stifled eagerness, the hopes of something he'll enjoy written there held back by the knowledge that, in all likelihood, it's a trivial matter.

The moment the letter leaves your hands, you retreat to the safety of the door, where you stand beside the frame to await a half-hearted reaction or collect his response. Father is always happy when you return to the House to inform her that Dottore sighed when he read her letter, even if she regards the news with her usual stoicism. She despises when he bothers to send something back to her, but she never tells you why, as usual.

He collects something off his desk just out of your sight, hidden behind him, and the sound of paper tearing follows. He drops the twice-folded paper into his hand, then unfurls it to read the contents.

You wait in silence, nerves evening out as you rub the sleep from your eyes with the back of your hand. Sleepiness does help you occupy yourself if nothing else.

Then, you are interrupted by a snap of his fingers and a motion of his hand to usher you closer. 

Keeping him waiting will only make him mad, though you're sure not enough time has passed for him to pen any cohesive message in the minute or two you spent waiting.

You look up in anticipation nonetheless, expecting him to hand you something or tell you something so when he reaches toward you, it doesn't alarm you. 

Not until he grabs you beneath your arms, picks you up, and sits you down on the table, much closer to eye level with him.

"Arlecchino has her concerns about your sleeping habits and your seeming lack of will to speak," he begins, reaching behind you to grab something you barely follow before he has it in his hands. It's only a light, small and thinner than the torches at the House.

Your mind races with every question you can think of as you try to find a way off this table back to the floor, but the only way out is blocked by Dottore sitting in front of you, unsympathetic to the fear in your eyes when you stare at him. You could swear you hear your heartbeat thrumming in your ears in a quickened rhythm.

What was written in that letter? Was it about you? It takes only a brief glance down in search of the open letter to realise exactly what makes this delivery so important. Father tricked you into coming here to see the Doctor after you so eagerly declined her previous offer to go willingly. You catch glimpses of your name in Father's handwriting and little else as it blurs into a messy sea of details, but you always recognise how Father writes your name.

You know better than to assume this is punishment but rather the manifestation of Father's worry as you keep oversleeping lately and need one of the older children to fetch you from the comfort of your bed. The idea that habit would land you here, presumably getting a check-up, might've inspired you to prize yourself out of bed a little earlier had you known.

Dottore seems to gauge your trembling as an obvious sign of fear, though a twitch at the corner of his lips is your only indicator, as you can't see his eyes beneath the mask. "Her explicit concern was whether or not you're ill." He rests his hand against your knee— they're cold, yet you almost expect it. It doesn't mean you especially like it. You can only interpret the action as a skewed attempt to comfort you. "As long as you're healthy, I see no reason to keep you longer than a simple check up."

He's not a real doctor, is all you can think, and he doesn't know what he's doing.

You have no choice but to steel yourself for whatever pain you're about to be subjected to. It might hurt, but you have no way out, no way back to Father, so you can curl up in a ball at her feet and ask why she would subject you to this torture—

"Don't tense your jaw," you suddenly hear, realising his finger taps your knee to grab your attention back from dreamland. "Open your mouth," he instructs you, and rather simply at that. It's something you can follow without getting scared he'll hurt you somehow.

He shines that light at you, inspecting something, though you can't say what. A slight tilt of his hand and, by proxy, the light he's holding is your only sign he's looking at anything.

The light is off before you know it. There was no pain at all, not even a hint of discomfort beyond what naturally arises from your ever-present anxiousness.

Dottore moves to set the light beside you, then appears to change his mind as he offers it to you. You take it from his hand and click it just as he had, the light coming on again. Another click, and it's off. Holding it just like that, an object of clicks and ridges and a light you can play with, is enough to give you something to at least take your mind off the fear of getting hurt.

"Lift your head." 

This time, compliance comes easier as you tilt your head up until the point his hand stops nudging you, and instead, he presses his fingers against your throat. It's light enough to feel only slight pressure; it doesn't hurt, but you don't like that feeling. Your thumb brushes over the exterior of the light, smooth against the pads of your fingers and satisfying to touch. You pull away before you can come to your senses and stop yourself, but he lets go the moment your discomfort flares, and you do the closest you can to telling him no.

Your breathing begins to even back out seeing his hands so clearly in the air in front of you, away from you, not touching you. It's silent reassurance that what you just did counts enough as revoking his permission to touch you as anything can.

Dottore doesn't feel like dealing with the fussy child that trying to force it would invoke for a mere favour to the Knave.

Instead, simply asking you like the fully grown child you are seems much more efficient. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, all yes or no," he begins. "They're all simple enough you can answer without speaking."

You interpret the ensuing silence as Dottore waiting, expecting you to nod or shake your head, and you quickly offer a nod in agreement.

"Do you know if you're able to speak?"

You consider his question carefully, unsure of the answer. Your hesitation prompts him to rephrase the question.

"Are you able to make any noises at all?"

You nod. You know the answer to that.

"But not speak in full words?"

Not words. Words don't work. You shake your head.

"Would that be because you're physically unable to?"

You shake your head. You've spoken before, but each time you try, especially here, something robs you of your voice before you get the chance. You know you can talk, just not here like this. 

"If not physical, then there's nothing wrong with you," he concludes. It feels sudden like there should be more, but he stops so quickly. "Nothing that I can fix," he promptly adds. That explains it.

Why not? He doesn't answer, unable to hear the things you don't say. To him, you remain as starkly silent as ever and as difficult to treat as you have been the past few minutes. You suspect he came to some greater conclusion between when you first walked in and now but neglects to share with you what it is.

You must look unsatisfied or just confused as he pauses to stare at you. You look away first, eyes drifting back to the light in your hands.

"Arlecchino only wanted to know if something was physically wrong with you," he says, briefly looking down at the letter as he skims a particular section again. "Your poor sleep may be the result of insomnia, or whatever is causing the mental block that also prevents you from speaking."

Mental block? Nobody ever told you about anything like that. 

You eye him curiously, though you again remain silent, watching him while you think he isn't looking back. It's easy to look at him as long as you don't consciously think of the fact that he's staring at you behind that mask.

Dottore holds his hand out expectantly, a motion of his fingers telling you he wants you to return what you have in your hands to him. You do so, but not without a sadness-driven hesitance to accompany it.

"None of the things you're describing imply a physical problem, but a paranoid 'parent' overattentive to the wrong facets of what could be wrong with an orphan." You don't like the way he says that as if he's speaking ill of Father, but like always, you keep your mouth shut. "If you couldn't speak because of a physical injury, you would have presented with one when you arrived at the House of the Hearth—not now. Trouble sleeping and an elevated heart rate, shortness of breath, intense panic and your tremors are more likely the symptoms of anxiety." 

That's a lot of words, but as he quickly lists every example, you seem to become conscious of it. Mental block, anxiety. Those are the two things you've been told that sound like explanations. You look down as if on instinct, hands held in front of you to investigate his claims that you're shaking. You are. Before your eyes, your hands are trembling, though you can't say why. You look back at him to see if he has anything else to say.

You thought your sleep troubles weren't the same, the result of bad dreams, but supposedly not. Dottore doesn't know anything about that, does he? No, he can't. You never told him, so he can't know. He knows lots of things he shouldn't, like your heart racing when you're scared or how you feel like you can't breathe at times. 

Dottore clicks the light on again, shining it down at your hands resting in your lap. He circles it in place, and your eyes follow. It clicks off again after a few seconds. "Distraction helps anxiety," he says, then sets it down on the desk beside you. "Do you know why you can't sleep?" he asks.

Yes. You nod. Dreams. On nights when they're at their worst, they keep you awake long past bedtime when all others have gone to sleep. By breakfast, you can be so tired and sleep-deprived that dozing off over your food is the only thing you can manage.

You half expect to sit through another round of questioning before Dottore finds the one that clicks the pieces perfectly together in his head, just as he did in the first round.

Instead, Dottore stands, and his hands find your sides to hook you under your arms. Your feet are back on the ground before you can fuss any more about how much you do or do not like it. With you out of his way, he flips the paper Father wrote her request to him on.

"If you know the answer, then you're free to go."

That's it?

You stare up at him for a moment, perplexed by the surprising lack of pain compared to the abundance of fear you felt. It should have hurt, but it didn't, and now you don't know why you were so against coming here in the first place. Dottore spared five or ten minutes of his time, which he already didn't want to give you, and is sending you on your way without injury,

You can't see his face as he's turned away, writing something down that you can't make out. If you took a guess what it is, it's probably about you, just like the first one was. Still, you can tell why Father is so annoyed to receive letters from him. You don't recognise your name when he writes it. You don't recognise anything he writes. His handwriting is awful.

He folds it and slips it back into the envelope it was given to him in. That's not proper etiquette, but something in the way he practically shoves it into your hands tells you that he doesn't particularly care. So long as it gets from him to Father, it doesn't matter how it gets there in his eyes.

"Give that to the Knave." That is his final instruction. You're very used to following those kinds of instructions by now, having heard and executed them many times. They're second nature to your mind.

You nod, pinching it between your fingers to keep the paper from falling out of the open envelope. If Father's was critical, so is this one, and you'll get it back to her quickly—more importantly, safely.

You can't help wondering why it felt so much easier to have someone briefly look at you and ask a few questions. The older children make it sound torturous and barbaric, like being used as a lab rat to spite Father for her refusal with his only opportunity to access the children of the House.

Perhaps seeing a doctor to ease Father's worries isn't as scary as you believed.

[insomniasdelusion]

wait idk if you do poly ships but can i have fruitcake x reader.. (if you don’t do poly just sprout or cosmo separate)

AHH I LOVE HOW U WRITE :3 (dandy’s world!)

RAAAH YOU DONT KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE THESE TWOOOO!! (I’m a Cosmo main-)

Fruitcake x Reader!

Warnings: none!

A mix between small drabbles and head canons!

———————————————————————

Head canons!

-Cosmo is in all other sense a little clumsy and nervous except for when he’s baking! He takes a lotta pride in his work.

-Sprout.. is the exact opposite- he’s really chill and relaxed when doing anything except for when baking and can be a bit clumsy! It’s why they work so well together!

-you try to occasionally help, although normally don’t when not asked. You do like to watch them though, you think it’s cute to see Sprout slip up a little when he’s always so self-assured and see Cosmo take charge! Definitely a trip sometimes though.

-Cosmo loves nicknames! Love, gumdrop, baby cakes, sweetheart, sugar, etc.

-Sprout only uses nicknames in intimate moments when the three of you are with each other in private, it’s just a preference!

-Sprout can get easily jealous, which sometimes leads to him jumping to conclusions.

-Cosmo however likes to ask and get his facts straight before anything!

-Sprout can be a little hot headed-

-you all very with each other’s energy, Sprout the normally calm and sassy one, Cosmo embodies anxiety and worry, he just wants yall to be okay! And you are the most excitable and can be a little reckless, although will always stick up for them! There your boys!

-Whenever you three go on runs you always check on each other, seeing if anybody needs to be healed, how they’re feeling, and then move onto the others in the elevator.

-While Sprout and Cosmo are best friends, some other close friends of there’s are Vee and Shelly funny enough- Cosmo and Shelly have always just kinda clicked, they rambled to each other about whatever, Vee and Sprout were those two friends who insulted each other like siblings- but immediately bark back at someone who tries to insult the other.

-now for you- your close friends with the craft siblings! You help out Goob with making sure Scraps doesn’t get in trouble, because despite being the older one she definitely has her moments more often than not. Goob is just silly and always willing to help! Although he sometimes throws people off with his extreme friendliness.

———————————————————————

“Come on bud! You can’t be scared to talk to them?”

“I know I know! Just- what if they laugh at me? I love them a lot I don’t want ruin what we already have..”

You pouted, curling up a little on your bed staring at the wall.

“You won’t know if you don’t try! And they would never laugh at you Cosmo and Sprout aren’t those kind of people, besides sometimes it could be better to take a shot in the dark?”

Goob insists, he wanted you to confess, thinking you’ve been mulling over it a little too long.

“Maybe..”

“Come here bud, your besties got you!”

You chuckle, moving to wrap your arms around the fluffy toon.

“You sound so dorky..”

You mumbled to him, the toon using his multi-colored paw patting the top of your head.

Neither of you noticed the watchful eye from the door.

You had been in the kitchen, it being your turn to make dinner today, you were sifting through the cabinets trying to find what to make.. hm, maybe you could make salads? No.. oo! You could make pasta and cut up some fruits as a side!

So that’s what you did, you pulled out the necessary ingredients, grabbing the utensils needed as well. You started to boil the water, humming quietly before you heard voices coming down to the main entrance of the kitchen. In came Cosmo and Sprout, you weren’t fully zoned into their conversation deciding to focus on my task instead of the heat in my cheeks.

The two stopped noticing you, they had momentarily forgotten it was your turn to cook tonight. Cosmo called out your name, making you turn to look at him.

“Hmm? What’s up Cos?”

You chirp, grinning at him making sure to keep an eye on the food though.

“I was just wanted to ask what you were cooking? Maybe me and Sprout could help.. only if that’s alright with you of course!”

He said, his words a little quicker at the end.

“Sure! Could you two work on cutting up the fruit while I make the pasta?”

You ask, Cosmo nods, Sprout stares for a moment before nodding being oddly quiet.

The three of you work smoothly, you and Cosmo chatting while Sprout only gives input when asked. As time passed by being like this, you gave Cosmo confused glances wondering why Sprout was so.. distant? The cake roll gave a shrug in return, just as confused so you decided to just ask.

“Hey Sprout”

“Hm?”

“You okay..? You’ve been a little quiet?”

“..fine, just thinking.”

“You sure? You know you can tell us right?”

You say, taking the time to set down what you were working on to walk over to him. Gently setting a hand on his shoulder, making the room jump in surprise.

You blink, gently taking your hand off him as he sighs frustrated setting down the knife he was using.

“Question.”

“Ehm..”

You glance at Cosmo who is now standing beside, just as concerned.

“Shoot..?”

“Are you dating Goob?”

“HUH-“

“..wha?”

You raised your voice in surprise and Cosmo mumbled his own confusion, looking at Sprout bewildered.

“Are you. Dating. Goob.”

Sprout repeats, staring at you intensely.

“What- no! He’s just my friend-? Why?? What I’m the world brought this up!“

“I saw you to hugging in your room when I went to go get you! What was that about??”

Sprout huffed back, crossing his arms. Cosmo looked to you for an answer, now even more confused.

“He was helping me with something.. besides! Goob aroace! He doesn’t like anyone period-“

You grumble, now annoyed with Sprouts behavior.

“What was he helping you with?”

Sprout pushed, what was Goob helping you with that him and Cosmo couldn’t?

“It’s private.”

“Well I wanna know! What was so important you couldn’t tell me and Cosmo?”

“It’s.. wait, are you jealous?”

You ask, looking at him surprised. He avoided your gaze now, looking at the floor with an embarrassed blush.

“Is that what this is about..? You being jealous?”

You ask, brows furrowed looking at Sprout.

“…”

“Sprout??”

You say his name exasperated.

“Maybe..”

You sigh softly, shaking your head. Better now than never you guessed?

“If you really wanna know what me and Goob were talking about.. it was how I should confess to you and Cosmo..”

You murmur, a soft red dusting your face.

“Wait what-“

Sprout looked at you surprised, Cosmo staring at you wide eyed cheeks flushed.

“You- I- I’m sorry”

Sprout said weakly, his face blazing. Oh berries was he embarrassed now.

“I- I got Jealous.. cause I- well.. me and Cosmo like you to.. but then I thought..”

“I was with Goob?”

You chuckled, glancing at Sprout and then Cosmo who was just standing completely baffled on the events that had happened over the course of two minutes.

“Yeah..”

“Well.. everything’s cleared up now right?”

“Right.”

“So.. you guys like me to..?”

“Y-yeah!”

“Mhm..”

You let out a relieved laugh, smiling at the two.

“I’m really glad we got that out of the way then!”

“Um.. you guys..?”

Both you and Sprout turn to Cosmo, you tilt your head and Sprout hums.

“This is nice and all but uh- the stoves on fire-“

“Oh-“

“MY NOODLES-“

———————————————————————

Annnd there you are! I do hope you enjoyed! :D

[milksuu]

RAHHH APHELIOS FANS RISE 🦅🦅🦅🦅

i need… I need him to whimper during sex… idk how… idk when… but I know he whimpers I can just feel it… do with this as u please

❥ prompt: He made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake. Aphelios thought since you were such a cute shorty, the bedroom would be his domain. How did he end up being bottom, pinned, with you on top!? ❥ content/warnings: nswf 18+, cute!softdom!reader, teasing, light-bondage ❥ characters/pairings: Heartsteel!aphelios / f!smol!reader (minor implied poly!sett/phel/reader)

He met you on the bustling train. Jammed packed after rush hour. An uncomfortable place to be. With no seats available, he took the reigns over head. Another stop. Another wave of bodily masses rushing in. It sent you colliding against him. He dropped his phone in the process. He wasn't too happy about that. It was too cramped for him to reach down and get it.

"I-I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologized. With your short stature, you were able to crouch and retrieve the phone. Why was he paying so much attention to your petite hands?

Nevermind. There weren't any cracks on the phone screen. That was good. He merely nodded as thanks. With each bump and sway of the tram, there you went. Like a marble in a pinball machine. With much effort on your tiptoes, he watched as you tried to reach for a free reign, but it was a long shot. It was cute...maybe in a slightly pathetic way.

Aphelios sighed. It was only a matter of time before you were underfoot of some sweaty salaryman. Time for his good deed of the day. He slipped his phone inside his pocket and encouraged you to hold onto him. Stumbling a bit, you took the invitation. You grabbed onto his shirt with both hands. Slowly, you rolled your head up. He made the mistake of looking down.

He hated to admit it, but you were too cute beyond words. The top of your head barely made it to his collarbone. Your eyes were big, soft---absolutely soul sucking. If he was back in 5th grade, to keep himself from admitting he liked them, he'd draw an insect with huge bug-eyes and point it at you.

He forced his sight elsewhere. Your work bag. Attached to one of the zippers was a handful of plushie keychains. He recognized them to be from the same crane game arcade him and Sett went to often. He was a master at those technical grabs. You were probably some casual player. Maybe you had some other guy win them for you. Probably had to spend more than he bargained for. Unimpressive. (This boy is trying real hard not to like you.)

Well, he was wrong about that. You were a professional crane game player. And managed your own business of shipping those adorable plushies overseas to customers. You even had a pretty popular stream going on Twitch showing you doing it all. (Alright, he caved).

When you two started dating, your collection of plushies rivaled Sett's anyday. When his own bed started matching his roommate's, he wasn't sure whether he should be concerned. Again, he gave up. You enjoyed gifting him plushies specifically won for him. And he enjoyed seeing you happy on his bed.

・❥・

"You're so cute like this, Phelly~"

Ah. That was it, huh? You fooled him. Utterly and completely. It should've been the other way around. With him on top, you blushing pink, and shyly asking for him to take you.

But here he was, pinned naked underneath you, mask off, and his chin tossed away. Hating how flushed his own cheeks felt. Hating how his whole body felt like it was melting from your touch. Hating that just on the other side of the room, Sett was fast sleep, back turned. For now, at least.

"Hmm? Wonder how quiet Pelly can really be," you whispered cutely, sadistically. "You wouldn't want us to be caught. Unless...you want to?"

Aphelios swallowed for a breath. Seriously. How did it end up like this? He was the one who initiated. Trying to impress you by getting out of his comfort zone and doing it while his roommate was sleeping. But this was beyond the scope of how he thought this whole thing would play out. He made a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.

It was made more apparent when you grabbed the long ears of a rabbit plushie, and tied his wrists securely above his head. Oh no. How did he not notice? His demise was planned from the very beginning. All these plushie's were here to lower his guard. Thinking he was safe. Thinking he had any control of the bedroom in the first place. No, these weren't just stuffed animals—these were your diabolical sex minions. And they served the most cute cruel mistress.

"I won't let you cover your mouth. No matter what. So you gotta be extra good tonight. Okay?" You positioned his tip already glistening with precum to your entrance. His breath hitched. Not a good start. You giggled softly, "I don't think Phelly's going to be good at all. Oh, well~"

You pushed your hips down slowly. Spreading around his shaft till you sat deliciously full. Oh, shit—Aphelios clenched his eyes tight. His hands fisting together till his knuckles turned white. He bit down hard on his bottom lip. He refused to let you milk any noises from him.

Suppressing your own moans, you leaned down, pressing your breasts against his chest. "So cute how quiet you're trying to be. But for how much longer, hm?"

You claimed his mouth, sucking and pulling on his lips. Sliding your tongue into his mouth, you worked yourself on his cock. Covering him with your warm fluids. His pelvis now slick and sticky between your thighs. He heavy panted between your kisses, his breaths shuddering.

At this point, he was getting closer to his edge. Not sure exactly how he'd been able to hold back for this long. He couldn't think of anything but how good your insides felt. So hot and tight.

You slipped off his head phones, abandoned his mouth, and sucked on his earlobe. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. Your warm breaths and cute moans against his ear sent him spirling. He couldn't hold back anymore. He whimpered, he whined, whatever—he didn't care anymore. He just wanted to come inside you. No, that was wrong. It wasn't a want anymore. It was an unbearable need.

He bucked his hips, slapping against you over and over again. Now you both were whining and whimpering. You jolted, your walls clamping tighter, and tighter. Feeling you swell and come around him so hard, Apehlios thought he saw stars. His cock throbbed and pulsed. He muffled his fluttering cries between your shoulder and neck, pumping deeper, filling you completely up. Coming down from the high, relieved pants filled the finished after silence.

"Geez. Can't a guy get some quality sleep over here?" Sett groaned out loud, turning over. Aphelios almost launched you off the bed when he scrambled to untie himself and cover you both up. "Pfft. Chill out. Nothing I haven't seen or done before," Sett said, rolling back to face the wall. "You guys owe me. I'm keeping you both up tomorrow."

You giggled and rubbed your cheek against his arm. Aphelios groaned. Of course things had to turn out this way.

an: listen listen, yall aphelios degens i just wanna say.... *smooches* thanks for the req. anon.

[goodolddumbbanana]

Hoh boy... I can't believe I laughed that much from this episode with Sun still holding the idea of him having hair.

So we have some answers.

First, even if Sun dies, Sun's model is still the same. It is really the shame although understandably, because Sun and Moon is the face of the show.

Though, I don't know if they keep mentioning Sun would die it is to claim that Sun will not die or he will die. Because Moon also mentioned about how he keeps Sun's backups but Solar also says If Sun dies he will just go back in a month. (October takeover maybe?)

Secondly, they mentioned shipping and how family works. I guess the VA is tired of seeing how we keep fighting over the shipping things and throwing some statements about They don't even care whatever ingredients we cooked as long as it doesn't hurt anyone. At first I thought they are protecting the shippers because it is the biggest part of the fandom but then they also stated that Sun and Moon are 9 years old and how Solar friend zone everyone in celestial family even with Nexus.

So I guess they want to say neutral and honestly, let them be.

Thirdly, Who is the person that Solar gets a crush on? I need to find the answer carnally.

It is such a shame, because I just thought he is also having no game like Sun and Lunar.

And it is funny that Sun wants a partner too, although he doesn't want that person to be human. It is also really hilarious because I just wrote a fic about Miku forcing Sun to marry him. (Idk if they had found me yet and I do not totally regret writing this crap)

And Sun is a twink. We have some confirmed, boy yo. Damn, the ton of dirty jokes that I can make.

And it is good to see Sun get more relaxed around Moon and Solar to the point they can joke around like that without feelings like both of them don't care if Sun likes it or not.

I would like to see those episodes more. Man, Sun is really brutal, he has no mercy and asks straight up about Solar's death? And he really gets more comfortable when talking about Nexus?

Good for him... Good for him

[its-all-papaya]

Okay hear me out. Landoscar & 18 but like. It's towards the end of an exhausting triple-header, they're both tired as hell and have seen more of each other than any other breathing thing (because of the jetting around the world to get to races and because they're both idiots not confessing their feelings to each other). So. They say goodnight to each other as always after idek, playing Fifa, but this time one of them steps in and in their exhaustion accidently doesn't only clasp the other's hand but presses a kiss to the corner of the mouth as well. Without noticing (?) and with the other one only noticing after a few seconds (?). Gay panic follows. Idk what happens before or after but. Do you see the vision.

I SEE THE VISION, anon. don't you worry.

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

18. casually | landoscar | 1.1k (lol)

In theory, Lando’s probably been doing this long enough to know better. He’s been in Formula 1 for six seasons and he’s been driving in time zones outside his own for more than twice that long, but coping mechanisms don’t grow on trees. Or they do, maybe, if he thinks about it… Jon had given him a packet at some point about sleep schedules and adjusting, and paper comes from trees, and so if he thinks about it kind of sideways, maybe his healthy coping mechanism had grown on a tree, and he’d just failed to read it before losing it in a drawer somewhere. Or maybe (and this is his leading option), he's just really fucking tired.

In his defense, Oscar isn’t doing any better.

They’d kept up pretenses exactly one day into the doubleheader, then Lando’d received the hey, are you awake? message at 1:45 a.m. local time on Thursday night in Baku, and who was he to ignore that kind of thing? He’s just a man, really. He receives a ‘you up?’ text and his sweatshirt is zipped over his bare chest before he can blink. Pavlovian, or some shit. Even if it’s not actually like that. He’s too tired to know the difference. Or something.

At any rate, if neither of them is going to sleep anyway, it doesn’t really matter if they’re lying in their own beds with their eyes closed or if they’re lying on a couch together playing Fifa. Or not lying together, but, like… both on the same couch. Lying down. Playing Fifa. The point is, it’ll be 4 a.m. and they’ll both be up either way, at least this way they’re less miserable. And Lando won’t tell Kim if Oscar doesn’t tell Jon and neither of them tell Zak or Andrea.

By the time they hit Saturday night in Baku, they’re both kind of adjusted, which is good. They don’t even make it to the part of the night where he can lay his head on Oscar’s thigh and blame it on the proximity to sunrise, which is really cool. Lando sleeps, like…a normal amount ahead of the race. That’s important.

But see, Lando’s not going to not go home between races, and he’s not going to sleep at 5 p.m. in Monaco either, so it’s Thursday night in Singapore and he’s up the fucking creek again, and if Oscar’s asleep, he can totally just ignore Lando’s text. Again, Lando is just a man. A sleepy one. Who would rather be exhausted on Oscar’s couch than exhausted anywhere else.

Oscar’s up on Thursday night, though, and he’s up on Friday night, too, except by then they’ve skipped the texting part and Lando’s just showed up at Oscar’s hotel room a few hours after dinner. Oscar rolls his eyes when he opens the door, but he’s smiling when he does it, and he’s already got Fifa up when Lando reaches the living room, so he’s not actually any fucking better than Lando, the muppet.

On the bright side (or, like… one of multiple bright sides, if Lando wants to be honest, which he doesn’t, thanks), they’re both pretty decent at Fifa now. They’ve played enough rounds in barely over a week that they’re getting kind of predictable to one another, and that makes Lando’s chest feel kind of stupid. Just the thought that Oscar knows him that well. Again. Tired. Just a man. His brain is basically mush, everyone’s lucky he’s even hitting the right buttons. It does eventually get the tiniest bit boring, though, at like 1 a.m., so Lando turns to Oscar after losing his second straight and asks want to watch a film, or something?

He makes Oscar choose which one while he flicks the lights off (for the best viewing, obviously), then settles back next to him on the couch a really, really normal distance away. It’s something he’s seen before, so he’s following the plot but drifting a little, too, until the next thing he knows, he’s jerking awake with a sharp breath in. Oscar’s looking down at him apologetically – down because Lando’s head is on his shoulder – and thumbing over the ball of Lando’s knee.

“Sorry,” he says, and, “didn’t mean to startle you. You should go to your bed, though.”

Which, like… makes sense. Even if Lando was definitely having the best nap of the doubleheader, hands down, just now.

Oscar probably wants to go to sleep too, though, so Lando picks himself up off the couch and yawns and makes a show of stretching before putting his shoes back on, just to make sure Oscar feels a little bad for how he’s putting Lando out.

He reaches the door while Oscar’s still doing something in the living area. It becomes apparent what when he appears with Lando’s phone in hand, sleepy smug smirk on his sleepy smug face. Ugh.

“Might want it for your alarm,” he wiggles it between his fingers and pads over to Lando and Lando’s still half-asleep, which is his excuse for forgetting to hold a hand out for it, but it really doesn’t matter anyway, because Oscar just slides it right into the kangaroo pocket of Lando’s hoodie for him. Really cool. Mint, actually.

“Mint,” Lando says.

Oscar laughs. His eyes are especially crinkly past 2 a.m. He says “thanks for coming by” - even though Lando’s the one who started it tonight - and holds out his hand.

Lando clasps it. “Meeting’s late tomorrow, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, like 2:00 or something,” Oscar says.

“Mint,” Lando says. It makes Oscar laugh again, and Lando can’t really tell why, but, like…whatever works.

“Yeah?” Oscar’s smile is so nice around the word.

“Yeah.”

Oscar squeezes his hand, which is how Lando realizes he’d forgotten to let go in the first place. Oh, well. Late and all. Time change, jetlag… yeah.

He finally does let go, though, then pats Oscar on the hip and kisses him on the side of the mouth and says “Night, Osc.”

“Night, Lando,” Oscar says back. Then his eyes narrow. It’s a funny sort of expression that Lando hasn’t seen on him before, so he tilts his head a little, trying to figure out what’s put it there. It takes a good few seconds longer than it probably should, but Lando makes up for it by blushing twice as bright as is reasonable when he finally clocks it.

“Ah, damn,” he says through a giggle, which is probably not the appropriate response, all things considered, but that makes Oscar laugh, too, so everything’s good.

Oscar flattens his hand on Lando’s back, then, and kisses him square on the lips and says, “too tired to even kiss a mate properly, remind me to kick you out earlier next time,” which is an objectively much weirder way to respond than Lando’s. So, like… they’re even. And Oscar’s still smiling when he pushes Lando out the door. It’s mint.

[ckret2]

What your thoughts on other bill ships? Like Kryptos/Bill or Stanley/Bill. I love your Wasting Away Again in the Goldilocks Zone fic on ao3 and this is my first time using Tubmlr, so I’m not sure how it works here, so sorry if I sent this wrong place 💔

u found the right place

I don't ship him with any of the Henchmaniacs (except for saying an eye-bat is his ex because it's the funniest possible option), but I think he's hooked up with half of them. I'd say "casually hooked up" but I don't think there's anything casual about it, the Henchmaniacs are fueled by petty drama and rancid vibes.

I acknowledge Kryptos is easy for ships because he looks like he could conceivably be the same species as Bill and we know so little about him you could give him almost any personality, but i'm not interested in it myself. Especially since it feels like a lot of what I've seen with Kryptos/Bill goes for "Kryptos is the one nice guy in the gang and Bill is tsundere for him" and that doesn't do anything for me.

I occasionally contemplate "wouldn't it be fucked up if Bill hooked up with Stan so he could pretend he's with Ford and Stan knew but still went with it for some reason (idk why, maybe Stan's super lonely, maybe Bill's currently wearing a smoking hot human body, the point is we want DRAMA so any excuse will work)" but outside that, nah. I think Stan and Bill would be VERY fun partners in crime and they're GREAT to bounce off each other, but I prefer them platonically, I don't feel a romantic or sexual spark between them.

You wanna know what Bill ships I'm fascinated with?

Bill/Trembley. it's GOTTA be one sided though, Bill's gotta be head over heels for this weirdo like a teenage girl for her first celebrity crush while Trembley never even notices

Bill/the howling void he totally lied about not dating in TBOB. Here I am 15,000 words deep into writing their entire relationship start to finish... I was literally already writing about Bill dating a black hole, who happens to howl, prior to TBOB; so the book just took my OC and made her canon??? yeah sure fine I'll take it, damn.

Bill-possessing-Silas/the 100-something wives he stole from his cultists according to thisisnotawebsitedotcom. weeks after that reveal this is still the funniest & most fascinating thing to me simply because Bill had ABSOLUTELY NO REASON to do that, truly enthralled by his potential motives, I cannot believe this triangle is married

Bill/the shaman. I just think something was going on there. I can feel it. The shaman taught him a bit of magic, how often do you think that happens to Mr. Trillion-Year-Old All-Seeing Eye? Probably not much!

[instantpansies]

top sfth couples/ships bc it's 2:49am and im thinking about them again

oopsie daisies (marianne and jacques, oopsie daisy bulge). idk if anyone else calls them that but they're my oopsie daisies and i love them so much. if oopsie daisies have 100 fans im one of them if oopsie daisies have 1 fan it's me if oopsie daisies have 0 fans im dead. they make me ill. handsome butch mayor and her pretty scientist husband.....they love their town and their kraken and ethically dubious transhumanism!!!!! and i am patting them both on the head and tucking them in. i am making this post so i can ramble about them but it felt weird to just do that so i made it a list. they're childhood friends to lovers, marianne definitely got all embarrassed giving jacques flowers after school, they prob graduated and were friends for a while and then decided "wait duh of course we're gonna get married" so they dated for a while and then marianne ran for mayor so they waited on the wedding until after she won and then they honeymooned the next town over bc they couldn't bear to stay away from le bulge for more than two weeks and they bicker and marianne brags about being the mayor and pretends to know what jacques is talking about when he's explaining his genetics work. and they're always working together bc jacques' tech is their main line of defense and she sits on his lap during briefings and all 12 of the other residents are a little annoyed when they enter a room both bc marianne is kind of bossy and needs total focus when she's addressing a room and bc jacques is just staring at her and zoning out and thinking about cell division the whole time. and jacques probably only sustained mild injuries from that gunshot wound so he's fine. he's fine and he definitely didn't die. because that would be silly and pointless. but marianne THINKS he's dead or dying so she harnesses her grief and rage to literally snap the neck of the king of england and tbh i think that's very sexy of her. what am i talking about again

pergephone (persephone and geoff, wild wet and worrisome). i love their dynamic so much, the pining is both silly and very earnest, and i have a bunch of headcanons about what happens when geoff leaves but feels like there's something missing....i like them very much. especially if persephone has some monstrous stuff going on, like huge sea beast or fanged and clawed siren. that's the shit.

ditch (derek and titch, the unrelenting aubergine). derek i love you so much, never stop being yourself. it's requited unrequited, it's got drama and pacing, it's sweet and hits home. what more could u want (except maybe a half mime half giant octopus)? they're the most popular ship in this fandom for a reason. and i concur. titch struggling with his feelings, derek setting boundaries and giving titch time to work out his shit on his own, margaery doing her best to sort out their drama. wonderful

[purple-striped-shirt]

lol I thought of a rarepair and would like your opinion on it! It’s hellucard (not the real one ofc) d Eduardo. Before you say anything let me explain.

We all know hellucard likes Edd, whenever he sees him he goes “hey Edd!” But Edd ignores him. Since the neighbours are sort of opposite to the Edd crew maybe Edurados dynamic with Hellucard would be opposite to Edds. Like since Edd ignores hellucard maybe hellucard ignores Eduardo, gets his name wrong and all around doesn’t acknowledge him (or friends zones) while eduardos like “OMG IM COOLER THAN EDD NOTICE ME”

Idk I just like the idea of Edd fanboy x Edd number 1 hater lol.

I just wanted to know an opinion on the ship! (It’s ok if you don’t like it ^^!)

He’s just trying to get him some attention. :)

[neddea]

Some days ago I made this post with some concept art, so here’s a little bit more info about my No Man’s Land! (Disclaimer about the details below the cut: I’m just an artist and in no way, shape or form a scientist, even less so an astrophysicist, so the chances of some of this info being wrong or dubious are very high lol)

Just as a little bit of context, Kepler-47 is an actual “solar system” with two host stars. We’ve been able to find three planets so far, and the outermost (47c) lies in the habitable zone. All three of them are gas giants (or rather “puffy giants” since they’re surprisingly not very dense and temperate).

I’m not gonna give too many details about the real 47c, I’ll leave that for the long post I’m working on (if I ever get to actually publish it, let’s be honest), but the only thing to keep in mind is that Nomans would be a moon orbiting this planet. Also, I decided that people would shorten “No Man’s Land” to “Nomans” overtime, which is the name I’m gonna be using. The question is: how do we call the people living there? Nomanians?

So here are the main points of my design!

-I’ve given 47c several other moons because I wanted it to match the canon as much as I could, and I think it might even help the stability of the orbits if they’re in a specific resonance? Idk, maybe an actual astrophysicist could give me some advice on this (please do)

-The interesting bit about trying to make it match the canon is that I had to make Nomans tidally locked to 47c just to have an excuse for why we never see the big planet on the sky. The idea would be that most of the Seeds ships crashed into the outer face of the moon, and since the other side, the one that’s always looking at 47c, has more extreme conditions precisely because of the influence of the host planet on it, not many people have ventured too much into these lands. At least until now…

-Speaking of the other moons, which one would be the best candidate for the Fifth Moon incident? (Spoiler alert for Maximum and ‘98: Knives forces Vash to use his Angel Arm and he ends up firing at the fifth moon, which leaves its surface marked with a big crater) We have two options: It could be one of the outer moons (the ones whose orbit is beyond that of Nomans) since those are the ones more likely to be present in the visible sky; or it could be Moon II, whose regolith would be launched into space from the blast and form the rings…

-The surface gravity is almost identical to ours here on Earth, although slightly lighter (9.66 m/s^2 compared to 9.8 m/s^2).

-Nomans is somewhat bigger than Mars but smaller than Earth.

-One day lasts for almost 27 hours, and one year would take almost 270 Nomanian days (I swear this was a coincidence). Also, a fun fact on which I’m basing the calendar system (still working on that): it takes 6.6 days for the two stars to orbit around each other. People probably noticed this and were like “Sure, that’s the seven days of the week if you ask me”, probably so that they didn’t have to figure out everything from scratch (I’d do the same). It would be fun to see different cities and places to develop their own weird and wonderful systems (not me spending several hours yesterday to understand all the Maya calendars and wondering what they would come up with in this alien planet moon…).

-And speaking about time, here’s a visual explanation on how the times of day work on the side facing 47c! I realized the other day that at noon the light would probably be tinted slightly red (or some other color, depending on the elements found on 47c’s atmosphere), just like it happens on our Moon when there’s a lunar eclipse. Please make as if you didn’t know this and let’s move on. Also, as a Spaniard I have the right to declare noon time in this part of the world the Sacred Siesta Period.

(Also, shout out to @norageonlypancakes because my main inspiration for these BGs is Chesley Bonestell, he was The Space Artist™️ of the 20th century and inspired so many people to become space nerds or even scientists!) (Also x2, thank you everyone for the lovely comments and tags on the previous post <3)

[d4rkdi0rrr]

First off I just want to say I LOVED you’re other Leo x reader writing 😭

Could you write a sort of enemies (they just argue a lot lol) to friends to lovers with Leo on the Argo. Like maybe he’s blasting country music like 24/7 while he works and the reader hates it (sorry to any country music lovers lmao). Or like the reader is one room down from him and she just hears the power tools going all night. And maybe the reader ticks him off too because she like keeps breaking her weapons, or starts playing loud music to retaliate idk. But then one day they are paired together for night patrol or cleaning duty. Leo’s like “dude why do you hate me so much??” and the readers like “who said I hate you??

(Sorry if this is long I’m horrible at explaining things lol 😭)

he hates me, he hates me not

(im glad you liked the leo x reader fic and thank u sm for this request! it was a little rushed so i apologise in advance but it was rlly fun to write <3)

leo valdez x fem!reader

cw: arguing, enemies to lovers, swearing, reader cabin not specified, not proof read

_______

Leo Valdez was infuriating to say the least.

You had agreed to join the quest, thinking that you and Leo could become good friends. What was there to dislike? He could be funny (at times), cared about his friends and had a nice face (something you would never admit out loud). But boy were you wrong. He held some sort of personal vendetta against you, ticking you off on purpose, making your life a literal living hell. You had no idea why he hated you so much.

"Maybe he likes you," Piper giggled, fanning her freshly painted nails. You two, along with Hazel and Annabeth were in Piper's room, having a girl's night.

"Me and Percy were like that before we got together too, y'know," Annabeth agreed, grabbing a cookie from the box that was sat beside your position on the bed.

"Oh please," you scoffed. "You guys know how much he pisses me off. It's too bad he has such a pretty face - oh shit." Realising what you'd said out loud, you immediately covered your face with your hands. "Please forget what I just said."

"Aww, someone's got a crush!" Squealed Hazel, throwing a pillow at you, "we are never letting you live this down."

You rolled your eyes at her. Just as you were about to grab the last cookie, the door flew open, along with the sweaty grime-covered bane of your existence.

"Pipes, have you seen Buford? He ran off with my tool belt. Are those cookies?" He reached an arm out towards the cookie box faster than the speed lightning, and before you could stop him, he'd taken the last cookie. Darn it. He looked around the room before his gaze fell upon you, to which he wrinkled up his face. "I wasn't aware that we let aliens in on this ship."

"Fuck off, Valdez," you grumbled. You weren't in the mood to argue with him right now. He'd taken the last damn cookie and now your evening was ruined. "Says the abominable fuck face. Buford isn't here. Go away before I punch your face in."

"Alright, alright, good night to y'all." Leo winked before saying, "except for you, Y/N, of course." You threw a pillow at the closing door.

_______

It was currently 1 am on the Argo, and Leo had been tinkering away in his room beside you. To be honest, the occasional sounds of the metal clinking and clattering was quite relaxing. It was the loud country music blasting, making you want to crawl under your bed and stuff cotton in your ears that was truly insufferable.

You weren't about to let go of the absolutely appetizing thought of sleep escape you, so naturally, you got up and knocked loudly on Leo's door.

"Come in!" you heard over the loud music. You entered his room and looked around, disgusted. The ground was absolutely trashed and looked like the equivalent of a war zone. "Oh, it's you."

"Can you please turn this horrible music down?" you tried to yell over the obnoxious music. "I'm trying to sleep."

"No can do!" he yelled back. "It helps me concentrate. Get out of my room!"

You huffed (which Leo thought was absolutely adorable) and slammed the door closed.

Back in your own cabin, you accepted the fact that you were going to wake up looking like a sleep deprived rat. However, maybe you were hallucinating or delusional but you swear you heard the volume lower before drifting off to sleep.

_______

"Not you again," you groaned as you saw the first locks of Leo's curly hair from the top of the ladder. "I thought I was on duty with Frank."

"We're stuck with each other I guess," Leo shrugged cheerfully, plopping down next to you. The night breeze was cooling on your face and you felt like the main character in a movie as the wind gently kissed your hair. For once, you actually didn't mind his presence. Then: "Dude, why do you hate me so much?"

"Hmm?" you hummed, unsure of where he was going with this. "What do you mean? I don't hate you."

"We can't stand each other!" Leo protested. "I'm always insulting you, and you're always insulting me back. This is probably the most civil conversation we've ever had!"

You were starting to feel defensive. Wasn't he the one that'd always started tormenting you? You'd only wanted to get back at him for everything he'd done to you. "You start all of it though! I wanted to be friends with you but you just wouldn't let me! I tried, Leo, I did but you were just so infuriating with your jabs and pretty face and pretty everything and- "

"Wait, you think I'm pretty?" Leo looked starstruck by your words. He was gazing at you with the softest look on his face. "Can I tell you something?" You nodded. "I acted like I hated you because you were too beautiful, definitely way out of my league. I'm so sorry."

You grew flustered at the sudden proximity between the two of you.

"Can I kiss you?" He breathed softly.

"Okay."

He leaned forwards and placed a hand around the back of your head, the other finding yours and intertwining your fingers together. His lips were slightly chapped against yours but you felt like you were in heaven.

Breaking apart with a small giggle, you mustered up your courage and asked, "Can we do that again?"

[ellecdc]

Hello you beautiful human, to be honest I really should be working right now but the ADHD is getting to me. I have never really been into poly reader before, besides the marauders idk there just something about them yk?

Anywayyyy, I hope I’m not intruding on your day or night (time zone yk) but I can’t stop thinking about wolfstar and reader. Sooo I was wondering if you could pretty pleaser share your headcannons for wolfstar and reader, in terms of ship dynamics, animagus form, pure blood va half be muggle born, and roles in the relationship and ect.

If you fancy it, if not I completely understand!! Also I ramble and do apologise, but um could I be this anon 🍄? Hope you have a wonderful night or day 💗💗💗

I never really realized that I have different ideas of who these ships would date until you asked me!

Ship dynamics:

I always see Remus being sort of 'in charge' but like, gentle and casually dominant....if that makes sense? makes sure everyone is taken care of etc

I see Sirius as a bit of trouble; maybe a brat in bed? but fiercely loyal and protective/possessive - you hardly ever see reader or Remus around without him near by, and anyone who's around Sirius will likely hear him talking (bragging) about his loves

I think reader would have to have a pretty solid personality in order to deal with these two lol, especially considering the friends they keep? I do see a shy reader working with them (because they'd just dote all over them), but ultimately I think they'd learn to stand their ground with them

I think reader would sometimes play referee between the two? if they got into an argument etc

Remus would definitely get after Sirius if he felt he was being too harsh with reader

animagus form:

this is super self indulgent but my favourite animal is a fox (for quite personal reasons) and I know that they are a) found in the UK, b) also part of the canine genus, c) would sort of fit within the packs dynamic [Sirius = dog because of loyalty, protectiveness, etc vs. reader who would have to be sly/cunning to manage with those two? idk if that makes sense] and d) would just be stinking cute and I love them 🥺

blood status:

tbh I've always imagined the reader in wolfstar fics to be either muggle born or at least half-blood, idk why. I think Sirius would like collecting things that would piss his parents off (lol)

I hope this answered your questions?? thanks for asking sweets 🫶

[xaeyrnofnbe]

hits jay and chip with the catification beam

btw don't like without reblogging

(talking a lil about this idea under the cut)

getting my silly little design ideas out there. i guess i kinda picture them as some strays (chip being raised by feral cats in a barn or something. maybe he's a ship cat? jay is a runaway house cat who was probably owned by a wealthy family, on account of her being a fancy breed.) going on adventures together in a little seaside suburb? unfortunately i'm not sure where gillion fits in this at all

the great thing about the names of the characters is that they don't need to be changed for aus. cause don't even try telling me that chip and jay aren't 100% the names of some cats in a tween animal xenofiction novel. they just have such good names for literally whatever setting

is it warrior cats? ehh not really. i've seen some people calling my catified jrwi designs warriors aus which isn't really accurate, but i'm not gonna act like warriors isn't where i got my start in art. idk, cats are just fun to draw. they're my artistic comfort zone. and i find it really fun translating human characters into cats ¦]