#star unasks

[actuallyitsstar]

headcanon asks for Bradley: 1 and 19?

✨ send me a number + a character for headcanons! ✨

1: holiday headcanon

christmas was always one of bradley's favorite holidays, all throughout his childhood. every adult in young bradley's life, all with varying backgrounds and types of childhoods of their own, could come together to agree on one thing: bradley's christmases should be magical. carole, trying to keep the magic of those first three christmases with everyone all together alive; mav, trying to give bradley the kind of happy memories he never had; ice and slider, woven into the family by carole's steady hand, determined to give this little makeshift family what it needs. bradley remembers holiday baking with mom, learning about the traditions of ice's family, so different from theirs; neatly-wrapped gifts from santa, much lumpier gifts that were also "from santa", supposedly, but he knew those ones were from uncle mav- it would be fair to say bradley was a little spoiled when it came to the holiday season.

after carole is gone, and it's just he and mav, those years are empty and feel meaningless, but they try. they try for carole's memory, for each other, and for ice and the others. bradley's eventual disillusionment with the holiday doesn't start there- no, it starts after.

once he and mav have their falling out, it's like someone has flipped the light switch. the last few chrismases were quiet ones, lonely without mom, sure- but he and mav got thru them together. after losing mav, too, though, it's radio silence. bradley goes from loving and enjoying the christmas season to hating it, overnight. the first christmas after is bleak. a long december and a somehow even longer december 25th. the only accompaniment that he has for the next four years of college are the cards and the letters he doesn't open. he spends it in the dorms alone while everyone else goes back to their families.

once he meets phoenix in flight school, things start to look up, just a little. she has a lively, bustling family full of extended relatives and family friends, and they're happy to fold in one more. it still doesn't feel right. it doesn't make him feel at home. for all their effort and kindness, phoenix's mom is nothing like carole and phoenix's dad is is nothing like goose- and as much as he hates himself for thinking it, more importantly, is nothing like mav- and the traditions and energy are all so different that it just feels unfamiliar. though it tugs painfully on his emotional aches and pains, he is grateful to have somewhere to go and happy to be included, even if it only exemplifies to him how alone he really is, and how he really doesn't seem to belong anywhere.

post-mission, post-reconciliation, bradley isn't sure what to expect. he imagines that mav would have built a life without him in it by now and is dismayed to learn this is not the case. he isn't sure if mav will want him around for the holidays after everything he's done and said. phoenix pushes him, telling him that of course he's welcome at the trace family table again this year, but you really ought to stick around and sort this shit out. through much hesitation, bradley does.

the post-reconciliation christmas is not lively or bright or boisterous like the christmases of old. it'll never be the same, without mom, without uncle ice, when the other flyboys have families of their own to worry about now. but mav welcomes him, wants him to be there, and it's more at home than bradley has felt in fifteen long years. it's not about the food or the gifts or the decorations. it's about the people- person, actually. it's about being invited into mav's life and heart even when he knows he can never deserve to be in those places again. at the end of the day, the old christmases were always about family and love and connection, and even though they're quite different on the surface, the new christmas is about all those things, too.

19. favorite photograph headcanon

photos were and are such an important part of the bradshaw-mitchell family. bradley knows it- and it's a part of why, when he leaves, he doesn't take the photos of himself and mav. he knows that to mav, that will say something, loud and clear, and he wants to be hurtful- he wants his emotions to be heard and understood. instead, he takes with him only the photos of his mom and dad, and a couple with the flyboys that mav took, and subsequently was not in; but bradley tells himself that he doesn't need the pieces of a relationship that there's no point in trying to salvage, so he leaves all of those pieces behind.

except for one.

it's a somewhat dilapidated polaroid, taken with his dad's old camera, snapped by carole as she'd stood on the back porch of the little bungalow house that bradley grew up in. in it, a six-year-old bradley sits in mav's arms, held up at eye-level in one strong arm as mav points up with the other. bradley has one hand fisted into mav's shirt, and his gaze and rapt attention are locked overhead. mav always used to tell little bradley to look up at the stars if he missed him, because it's the same stars- they always have that between them, at least. in the photo, mav points out the constellations they share even when apart, and bradley listens intently, trying to commit the names to memory. when he became old enough to have one, bradley used to keep it in his wallet.

eventually, when it's all fallen apart and those connections between them have been severed, bradley gives a new photo the place of honor in his wallet, a photo of he and mom- but he can't just throw out the old picture, no matter how angry he feels when he looks at it, no matter how badly he wants to. it goes into the box with everything else, with letters and cards and artifacts that mav sends him or that he can't bring himself to throw away. sometimes on a quiet, lonely night aboard a carrier or on leave, floating adrift in the world with no anchors to speak of, he thinks about it. he looks at the stars and he sees that image in his mind's eye and he remembers being six years old and thinking mav would always be there, and he wonders sometimes in the most empty moments if the old man still remembers all that shit about the stars. if he ever still looks at them, still thinks of it, of bradley, if he ever wonders anything about bradley the way bradley wonders about him. deep down inside, he knows that he mustn't. deep down inside, he tells himself that there's no chance in hell mav does. because, if he does, it means bradley threw away something that was still alive. it's a fate he cannot bring himself to accept.

when they've reconciled, bradley will find that old beat-up picture in the box. he'll show it to mav. i never forgot, he'll quietly admit. i always thought about it. i- i guess i thought that you probably didn't even care to look at them anymore. i just- i thought it was over. mav will take the photo, tattered and much-handled, from bradley's outstretched hand, studying it with a reverence that bowls bradley right over. i looked at 'em every night, baby goose, he'll admit. always hoped you might be looking, too.

tysm for this ask !!! and for your infinite patience in my disastrous ability to reply 😭😭but i loved answering this ask sm !!! and i definitely did not answer it in longhand at my job and i also definitely did not accidentally write so much about the christmas thing that i had to chop it way down for this ask because it accidentally kind of became a chapter of something lol. i am a disaster. but thank u so much and i hope u enjoy and are well!! <3<3<3

[a-ko-ge]

Gepard if hyv made him physical type

[thesconesyard]

Another day, another five Scone otp questions answered

16. Who cooks most?

McCoy, though Scotty has a few dishes he’s master of.

17. Morning rituals?

Scotty wakes first, and he’s very careful and quiet because McCoy has doctor on call reflexes and can wake up instantly. When they aren’t on for work Scotty is likely to gently press kisses to McCoy to wake him slowly. Some cuddles, maybe some love, then up. Probably a shower together, then Scotty cooks up some eggs while McCoy brews up a good, rich coffee and makes toast. Scotty likes marmelade on his and McCoy will have his with just a thin spread of butter unless they’ve been to Earth recently and he’s stocked up on some homemade peach jam.

18. Evening rituals?

First task is to get each other to stop working. Next is brushing teeth, deciding on pajamas, and getting snuggled in together under the covers. Scotty sets the alarm for the morning and McCoy grumbles about it. Some quiet whispering about their days, love yous, and they fall asleep tangled together.

19. How are they at parties or gatherings?

Scotty is having a ball. He’s laughing and chatting and having a great time. McCoy is more relaxed than normal (did people see him actually smiling and laughing?!) He’s at Scotty’s side and neither lacks for a drink in their hand.

20. Most cuddly? 

Scotty. McCoy loves a good snuggle and Scotty is perfect for it.

[elen-aranel]

I wish we could express our love for one series or generation of Star Trek without having to dunk on others.

Trek has been produced over a span of almost seventy years. Trek has been produced in multiple different formats. This means that every show has a different story to tell, and for me that means there’s a lot I really love, and a lot that really isn’t for me.

I’m not saying that any show is above criticism, because it isn’t and I have criticised trek on here lots of times in the past. But if you’re recommending your favourites, maybe just focus on them and not the others?

[wolveria]

Is the ask game still on? If so what about 9,10,13?

Ask games are always on! I'm going to go with the SW fandom because of your icon :))

9. worst part of canon

Not enough clones. Need more angst. No one talks about Fives. Need more post-Order 66 Jedi stories. Someone talk about Fives.

Ahsoka killing off hot Inquisitors after they've only been on screen 2.5 seconds. Please, Ahsoka, we need to be fed.

10. worst part of fanon

The fandom lol or 90% of it. It's an incredibly hostile, intolerant, sanitized, purity-driven garbage fire. You have to find the few kind folks that exist, and ignore the rest.

13. worst blorboficiation

You are not going easy on me LOL I've already talked about Fox and how folks see him as a Palpatine-killing, good-boy hero. I want to see him as a cold, ruthless, boot-licking Imperialist soldier. Maybe he eventually realizes the truth about the Empire, and it breaks him. That's a much more interesting story to me. I like that Fox.

Aside from that, the worst blorboficiation I've seen was almost canon. After learning more about the unfinished Boba bounty hunter arc, I'm actually glad they never completed it. Boba is a furious, vengeful child, who was being trained by his father to be a hired killer. After watching his father die, he would be even worse. We saw that when he literally tried to blow up Windu.

But in the unfinished arc, they tried to turn him into the people's hero because Bane was mean to a few randos? Weak. Foolish. Him changing and growing as an older man after suffering in the Sarlacc pit and being taken in by the Tuskens, that makes sense. Kid Boba suddenly changing his tune, does not.

Ask Game

[ossidae-passeridae]

8!!!

Hi Anon this was actually the first question I got asked today but I wanted to think about it Extensively so I saved it for last, thank you for waiting <3 I've been noodling with it for the last uhhhhhh few hours!

Question from here

8. There should be more of this type of fic/art…

Well, in the footsteps of @tideswept, if you wanted a preview of my WIPs you just needed to ask :3

A Hagiography (demanded by the Senate) of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. Objections that this is against the Jedi religion have been overruled, as per the Chancellor's Office.

CNC obikin, in which Anakin is a brat, and Obi-Wan is kind of an asshole, but Anakin is really into that.

TMA crossover part 2: Electric Qui-Gon

Mandos-are-vampires AU part 2, this time with more worldbuilding ft kabuki, even more ways to use blood in cookery, and a Tense Conversation In A Public Place

Body horror WIP focused around Fox, for once not caused by Sidious in any way!

Two more obikin fics, one of which is the lobotomy fic I've been talking about for approximately forever, and the other is a secret :3c

On the whole though, I'd love to see from others: more niche kinks lovingly rendered, more playing with canon in fun and interesting ways, deconstruction of tropes (I'm a sucker for that specific flavour of worldbuilding), body horror (P L E A S E I'm starving to death over here), and vampires. Dude I love vampires, I love the intimacy and the sensuality and the pain and the pleasure and the horror and just *clenches fist*. I read Dracula as a child and Bram Stoker rewrote my brain chemistry from beyond the grave.

(All opinions expressed above are solely those of pass e. ridae and do not express the views or opinions of any affiliates or associates, passerine or otherwise)

[i-dont-know-how-but-i-got-here]

Listing to one (1) hozier song on repeat rn.

[badjohnspeakeasy]

"I know you're gay, and I don't care. Just stay away from that no-good four-eyed nutcase Psykos."

-Tatsumaki

"...Uuuuuuuuuuuh so funny story about that..."

-Fubuki

Fubuki from One Punch Man

[djarinova]

[07:23 am] — rafayel x reader

a soft morning with Rafayel - inspired by the "before sunrise" 5 star memory - wc; 387

The faint call of your name stirs you from your slumber, a warm hand inches along the side of your body and settles on your jaw as your eyes flutter open and attempt to focus on the blurry figure in front of you. You instinctively nuzzle your face against the palm that cradles you, a small hum leaving your lips as you do so.

“Hi, baby.” You whisper, your voice still thick with sleep—similar to how the clouds on the horizon continue to cling to the sea just beyond your bedroom window. “Did you just get into bed? I thought you said you'd only be an hour or two?”

Your attempt to chastise Rafayel's actions pairs poorly with how utterly adorable he thinks you look right now, with sleep still etched into your eyes and the absentminded way you're pressing yourself against his hand there isn't much you could say or do that would wipe the lovesick look from his face.

“Don't worry about it, angel.” He leans closer to you, his hand dropping from your face to your waist, and he plants a delicate kiss onto your forehead before speaking quietly. “I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry.”

You hum, your eyes are already droopy, and Rafayel knows that in a few minutes you'll be fast asleep again. Only this time he'll be by your side.

“M’kay.” You sigh dreamily, “as long as you're coming to bed now…”

He answers your unasked question by lying his head down next to yours and slipping one arm beneath your neck—he places the other firmly across your upper back, enveloping your sleepy frame completely. When he pulls you flush against his body the smell of paint and cologne washes over you and the last remaining wakefulness drains from your features as you breathe in his scent.

“I'll show you everything I was working on later, all right cutie?” Rafayel whispers against your head, before pressing another soft kiss to your forehead. “Sweet dreams, you.”

Rafayel's eyes flutter closed as your head nuzzles further against his neck. He feels your lips leave a gentle kiss just below his ear, and the tips of his ears redden surprisingly quickly. The sound of waves crashing against the shore fills the room, the perfect white noise to lull the artist to sleep.

divider by @/saradika

[actuallyitsstar]

headcanon asks for Maverick: 4, 9, 13, and 20 + Goose?

✨ send me a blorbo + a number for a headcanon! ✨

⇢ 4. driving headcanon

i remember reading a fic once quite some time ago (for the life of me i cannot find it or remember what it was called or who it was by) where post-reconciliation mav and bradley need to go somewhere in kind of an emergency and mav gets into the drivers' seat of the bronco. and bradley is like woah. hold on. i thought mom always said you couldn't drive??? and mav is like, no, she said i shouldn't drive, which is Different (tm). and then proceeds to give bradley the most harrowing ten minutes of his life. and boy if that doesnt summarize my thoughts on mav's ability to drive, then tbh, what does 😅

no but seriously. he does probably drive kind of terrible. not like, unsafely, or in a way that is like. Actively Harming people or something, but if you are a passenger in a car maverick is driving then you are aware of the 'oh shit' handles and you are using them. he's always liked to go fast and he's always felt Pretty Confident in his own reaction times and ability to maneuver and he is not going to prioritize a few minor traffic laws over Doing What He Wants.

also, he taught himself how to drive when he was a teenager because no one else was doing it, probably in a vehicle owned by a foster parent whose car he was not authorized to be driving and he definitely got into trouble for this and paid for it later. due to this, he didn't actually get his license until much later than that- after meeting goose, in fact. my personal favorite take is that goose had to help mav with actually getting his license (stuff like when to signal and when to check your mirrors for merging and what types of turns/parking/etc the instructor was going to ask him to perform during the driver's test), though mav new how to drive physically just from getting into a car and figuring that shit out. i like to headcanon that mav had a permit for his motorcycle before this, though i'm not sure that it makes much sense realistically, because i know that most states these days require you to have a driver's license before you can even consider having a motorcycle permit (let ALONE a motorcycle license), but hey, i don't really know how to find out about the motorcycle permit laws in the late 70's in california or wherever they were at the time, so. i have taken creative liberty, lol

⇢ 9. general physical contact headcanon

hands down, in my opinion, mav is a physical person. he spent the majority of his childhood without it, and he gained somewhat of an aversion to it when he was young. outside of the context of the occasional romantic escapade, he did not experience any physical contact after his mother passed that wasn't negative, except for a few nice foster families that he didn't have the blessing of staying with, and even then, those are bittersweet memories, because they were brief and padded by worse things, and it's a little melancholy to think of what ~could have been~. so, admittedly, he's relatively opposed to the idea of physical affection of any sort by the time he meets goose. in fact, he's pretty much opposed to all affection by the time he meets goose. it's what defines their initial meeting and their first few flights together. mav is determined to shake goose off of his tail, to fly so fast that he loses him somehow, even though they're strapped into the same aircraft. he's cynical and certain that the entire world is out to get him, and goose is just the opposite.

goose is a sling-an-arm-around-your-shoulder, sit-on-the-couch-leg-to-leg-close with your friends, ruffle your hair in a slightly-annoying-but-also-endearing way as a greeting, hug-you-tight-before-you-say-goodbye-even-if-we're-both-men-and-it's-the-80s kind of guy. it's just another thing that initially makes mav raise his hackles and lash out. it's not because mav is diametrically opposed to this kind of affection. in fact, arguably, he craves it, and he's never had it, and physical touch is one of his primary love languages (platonically and otherwise). but goose is persistent and kind and fierce, and he's the kind of guy to find a lost kitten on the side of the road and decide right then that he's keeping that cat forever, no matter how much work it is, without even considering what it's like to raise a cat- only in the context of goose's life, the cat is Maverick and the rest is history. goose breaks down maverick's trust issues and fear and loneliness slowly and determinedly by just being himself and treating mav how he would want to be treated because that is his nature, and because he doesn't give up. mav learns to be a good friend and a dedicated member of a ~family~ from goose, and it's because mav already is a good person who has love to give, and goose is the first person to encourage and not punish him for it.

in the context of life, even after everything- after goose dies, through bradley's childhood and teenage years, through his developing friendship with the flyboys and being woven continuously into the family by carole and later the others as well, even after losing bradley, after meeting hondo- mav remains a tactile person. it's one of his primary ways of showing affection. you can see this in the movies- how often he and goose sling an arm around each other, grab each other's shoulders or arms, the way he sits with his arm around carole in the diner, the hug to ice at the end. and in tgm, too; in the hug for sarah and for ice, the hand on ice's leg and the laying with penny and talking and the (of course!!) multiple hugs to bradley at the end. it goes both ways, too; it's one of the more important things that the others can do for mav, that he'll process and understand.

plus, mav can find a way to misinterpret or talk himself out of even the most direct affection/compliment/etc, but he will understand a hug, or a hand on his shoulder. it's the primary thing that used to calm him down in the midst of a panic attack or after a nightmare, the first thing he'd reach for in greeting getting home off a deployment, the primary language that he speaks in relationships. in a way, he passed this along to bradley, too, by participating in making the bradshaw-and-company family so tactile, though perhaps it's a little less natural for bradley due to his own years of self isolation. but he was always sure to make certain bradley knew he was loved, in words and in actions. he never wanted bradley to grow up unsure of such affection, like he himself did.

there's a long span of time when mav is alone, for the most part. after bradley leaves, before the mission. he has the flyboys, but they are all scattered and confined to just letters and phone calls most of the time. more consistently, he has ice, but there is the distance and the lack of postings nearby and the increasing business of his wingman's life as he is moving upward through the ranks and meeting and marrying sarah and having kids. there is hondo, with whom he becomes very close, but hondo is not the most physically affectionate person, and mav knows how to respect others' boundaries in that regard. it's not until post-mission and post-reconciliation that he is fully able to unpack his ways of thinking and loving, to begin living a life where he gets to love and be loved consistently again.

with bradley, with the daggers, in his rekindled friendship/brotherhood with the other flyboys, many of whom are retired or moved on to other careers but who are happy to catch back up with the little found family they'd built over the years. maverick is a hang-off-your-shoulder-why-he-tells-you-a-story, hugs-in-greeting-and-goodbyes, rest-a-hand-on-your-arm-or-at-your-back, squeeze-your-hand kind of person, because he always has been, and also because it's the love language that makes sense to him, that he's always known how to speak and understand, that he learned from the other half of the single most influential relationship of any context (other than being a parental figure to bradley but that is Different) he's ever experienced, the one that still defines so much of his adult life even three plus decades later. it works out very well for bradley, who is desperately touch starved after fifteen years of self-isolation, and who is still reveling in the concept that it turns out mav loved him the entire time and the whole mess was of his own creation, and lives in disbelief of that love and affection all the time. he can overthink and twist-into-anxiety anything that mav says, just about, but there's only one way to interpret a hug. he and mav have that in common- as it turns out, much to his chagrin and also his comfort, they have a lot of these things in common, after all.

⇢ 13. nickname headcanon

mav is not necessarily the type to give new nicknames to people he knows, but he is absolutely the type to use people's nicknames. always ice, never iceman and almost never tom, usually sli instead of slider and never ron, care instead of carole. he's full of even more nicknames for bradley, though, and that came from goose, actually- goose was absolutely the originator of all the nicknames and terms of endearment. it was honey and hotshot and kaz (a nickname for ice that ice "hates" but does in fact allow with minimal glaring). goose is the creator of half the names that bradley gets- baby goose and brads and gosling. mav just keeps using them, and more of them, of his own creation, eventually sneak into his vocabulary, because he learned how to love and be loved via goose, initially, at one of the lowest points in his life, during the time that he was still formatively figuring out how to transition from a child to an adult, and their friendship shaped him forever. inadvertently, it means goose helped to shape bradley, too- since mav was there, and goose didn't get to be.

as far being called nicknames, he's alright with that. as long as he knows that it doesn't come from a place of making fun of him, or of distaste. if he senses that its in good fun or as an expression of friendship/good faith/etc, he'll lean into it. slider has long since bullied him with things like shortstack and trouble, for example, and he's allowed it. if it were a stranger and the tone were just a little different, well, he's started fights over much less. besides, mav is a nicknames sort of person, when it comes to his identity. he's never felt much like peter. "pete" was a scared, skinny kid with no designs on his own future, shuffled around with little to no positive experiences, defined by negative experiences and being duke mitchell's kid, the one who got thrown out of the academy and beat up in school and locked in the closet at the boys' home and chased out the front door of a foster home or two. he never did like pete very much.

maverick, though it started as an insult-turned-callsign-that-stuck, is dangerous and confident and sure of himself, capable and strong and cool. maverick is something that he became on purpose, that gave him agency. he pushed himself to become maverick and make the insult something of his own, to finally take control of his own narrative, because he couldn't control what people said but he could control what it meant- and that's been the name he prefers for a very long time now. very few people in the movies- even of the people who are civilians and not fellow officers- refer to him as pete. he is almost exclusively maverick or mav, and that is 100% by his preference.

⇢ 20. relationship with/thoughts on: goose

goose is and always will be mav's brother.

i read a post recently about how we as readers/writers/etc can do a disservice to the different kinds of platonic love and relationships that exist by trying to shoehorn all platonic relationships into a "they're siblings!!" archetype when there are so many other options out there, and i 100% agree with that- so i want to make it clear that when i say mav and goose were brothers, i mean that intentionally. mav and ice were best friends, ride-or-die, dedicated and as close to each other as anything, but goose was mav's brother in all but blood, maybe even moreso than if they had shared dna. goose was genuinely the first person in the context of mav's adult life (and by that i mean after he finally got into the navy, which to him is the defining line between his ~childhood~ and adulthood) to treat him with respect and love and kindness. mav learned much of what he knew about life and relationships and how to express and understand himself through goose, his older brother, the one who swooped in to protect him and teach him and stick by him, and he didn't even have the privilege of knowing goose that long- as we know. they met and they fell into their relationship fast. it took a while for mav to warm up to goose, of course- but setting even that aside.

and, well, we all know how mav feels about goose, these days. i know someone, in real life, who did lose a sibling when they were both young, and it really is much the same thing. goose still defines a lot of the things about mav, and the memories of him and their time together are still some of maverick's favorite. he still looks at something and thinks "goose would love that", he still has an experience and wishes he could tell nick about it, he still lives his life with the concept of goose right there by his side, even though the man has been gone for thirty some odd years. of course everyone handles grief and loss differently, but it makes me think of the experiences and people i have seen and encountered/read about who have lost siblings, too- the permanence of brotherhood, even in the wake of the impermanence of life.

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Sarcasm's DPxDC rec list

{I have no else to blame but myself for how long this could have been. I don't discriminate between ships in the fandom. If I'm curious, I'll read it, but I do have a particular love for Hardcover if you haven't somehow guessed. }

Main Masterlist Regent Series Mundane Macabre

[Hardcover/Anger Management ship]

I’m Picking You Up by Clouds

Unfortunately, the Bad Guys Are Human by aggiepuff (With sequel, "Welcome to the Neighborhood" in the same series)

Premeditation by Chromatographic (With its WIP sequel, "The Mercy of the Fallen")

The Wonderous Beauty of the Statuesque Scarlet by Elizabehta_Beilschmidt Unwanted Farewells by TheStarfishAlien (Not sure if this should be in this category or in general)

When All Other Lights Go Out by suzukiblu

Slap-A-Soulmate by Bewitched_Forest

Blood On the Crown by SkylarkSky (WIP)

[Demon Twins/Damian and Danny are Twins] Phantom Assassin by Kanereader765 (WIP) (An incredible view on an assassin trained Phantom who escaped the league)

Cain and Abel Wept by Katlover98 The Fenton Twins by AceFace98 (Twist on the usual demon twin formula) Twin Stars by CrescentCyan

The Bat Trap by Threee (One of the best works I have ever had the pleasure of reading in this fandom. Still reread it every now and then because I love it so much.)

[General Recs]

Ghosts In Gotham by Sivan5733 (Technically two out of the 5 works contain Hardcover content, the fifth work is the longest and its a great series.)

Robin's Egg by Calix (WIP) (Hilarious)

TWINcognito mode by nerdpoe (Double the unasked for gremlin.)

let the mourners come by PorcelanaRota (RIP twitter)

I’m King Boo by TourettesDog

Ghostly Delivery by WeirdNCrazy

The Misadventures of Cosplay Man by Shynnohwen

Midnight Blues and Late Night Tunes by halfagone

Hatred at First Sight by Sagoberattare

If I had a nickel… by bongo_balderdash

Somebody’s Gonna Love You by DisillusionedDanny

Danny Fenton, Hero Helper Extraordinaire by aryelee

You Look Like You’ve Seen A Ghost by ShootingFromAfar

You’re Gonna Be Sooo Haunted by ReverseNecromancer (WIP)

Death In the Hometown by Bad_Wolf_CDS (WIP)

Who Hurt My Baby? By OneDayITooWillChallengeGod (WIP)

Raising Phantom by Imp_y (WIP)

Blood Sons by Katlover98

Bask In Our Cosmic Insignificance by DisillusionedDanny

A King’s Prerogative by SugarPhantom

[Dead Tired]

Still Into You by DisillusionedDanny

The Rebirth of Tim Drake by Bewitched_Forest (WIP)

Family Introductions by Half-dead Ham

[Dead Silent]

Full Time Hero, Full Time Disaster by halfagone

[Dead On Main]

Lightning In A Bottle by DisillusionedDanny (WIP)

Like Betta Fish Do by PaperPuffin (WIP)

Empty Graves by Binaberries (WIP)

I Killed The Who? By Petite_Phthora (WIP)

[kerryshifting]

EXCLUSIVE: princess daenys on fashion, royal duties, and hogwarts life.

1995, DAILY PROPHET. by the daily prophet’s correspondence, colette morvain.

PART I: A FASHION DIVE.

we have celebrities. and then we have stars. it is not every day that one has the honor to sit down with royalty, let alone a princess who, despite having to be in different countries for various purposes, still graces the halls of hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry (to learn more about albus dumbledore, go to page 12). today, i bring you a rare, intimate interview with none other than princess daenys, full–time heir to the throne and best student of her year, whose fashion sense has bewitched the entire wizarding world. one can’t help but be amazed at her exquisite style, which has raised questions far and wide: where does the princess shop? how does she decide what to wear each day?

let me assure you, i left no question unasked. and as you can imagine, princess daenys answered with all the grace and poise of a future monarch.

“it’s no secret that i adore fashion,” the princess began with a soft smile, her voice as enchanting as her wardrobe. “for me, clothing is more than just fabric — it’s a statement. who am i, what i stand for. my mother, the queen consort, used this technique during the war against you–know–who. even if you are denied of words, the clothing you wear will speak for you. my mother taught me everything about this”

indeed, the dresses queen rose wore are still studied at the wizarding academy of arts. the princess seemed to not only have taken her mother's eyes, after all! teenagers love to speak, and it is hard to deny the profound sense of elegance that follows the princess wherever she goes, be it in the great hall for dinner or during one of professor mcgonagall’s transfiguration lessons. every ensemble seems perfectly curated, as if it tells a story of ancient royal lineage and modern wizarding sophistication.

and where does such an icon of style shop? princess daenys laughed lightly at the question. “i’m often asked that. i prefer bespoke designs from artisans both magical and, even if a certain demographic of people wouldn’t agree, non-magical. some of my favorite robes come from small wizarding boutiques that handcraft each piece with the utmost care.” she pauses, her eyes sparkling. “but i also adore muggle fashion. there’s something enchanting about the blend of both worlds, don’t you think?”

readers, the princess is a woman of many worlds—hers is not a wardrobe restricted by the boundaries of her crown or the limitations of magical design. “i like to shop in paris, milan, even new york when I have the chance,” she continued, twirling a strand of her silver-gold hair as she spoke. “there’s a certain thrill in exploring fashion beyond our magical world, where i can mix couture with traditional wizarding wear. my stylist helps me blend them together to create something entirely unique.”

but how, we all wonder, does a busy princess—who, let us not forget, has classes, royal duties, and a throne to inherit—find the time to meticulously select her outfit each day?

“mornings can be tricky,” she admits with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “it depends on my mood. some days, i wake up feeling like i should wear something regal, the classic red and black of my family. other times, i prefer something more understated but still elegant for classes—or just walking around hogwarts. something practical yet beautiful.”

and practical she must be, for her schedule is as demanding as any head of state. balancing the responsibilities of royal life with the rigorous academic standards of hogwarts is no small feat, and yet princess daenys carries it all with remarkable ease. “it’s about balance,” she reveals. “i might spend my morning in a defense against the dark arts class, but in the afternoon, i have to attend to royal correspondence or meet with my advisors. what i wear must reflect my role in both worlds.”

for those of you wondering what the princess wears wherever she rides her dragons in the skies, the answer is far more down-to-earth than one might expect. “mainly robes that do not make me freeze in the sky,” she confesses with a laugh. “you see, when i was claimed by meleys, my first dragon (of three—i want to add) i was seven. back then i only wore things that would protect me if i had accidentally fallen from my dragon. but now,” her eyes seem to have a warm light “it’s a second nature. i feel free in the sky with all three of my dragons. i usually use my dragons to go to meetings with other nations, and i wear my house colours”

even in her royal stature, the princess remains refreshingly grounded. when i pressed her on whether there were ever fashion faux pas (after all, even the greatest of us have had them), she gave me a laugh that was nothing short of charming. “oh, absolutely! haven’t we all had one or two questionable looks in our past? but that’s part of the fun of fashion—it evolves as you do. i try to embrace each stage of my style journey. at the end of the day,” the princess said, her voice filled with wisdom beyond her years, “fashion should make you feel like the best version of yourself, whether you’re sitting in the royal court or in a classroom at hogwarts. it’s a way to carry your heritage with you while embracing the present.”

the enigma of princess daenys’s fashion choices, laid bare in this exclusive interview. a royal who has enchanted the world not only with her clothes, but with her heart.

PART II: THE ROYAL DUTIES.

it’s clear that her fashion sense is only part of her mystique. behind the silk robes and perfectly tailored ensembles lies a young woman with a weighty responsibility—heir to the throne of a powerful kingdom. as if being a student at hogwarts wasn’t challenging enough, princess daenys is also the future queen, destined to rule her realm. how does she balance such monumental royal duties with the pressures of academic life? well, i got all the answers straight from the princess herself!

“it’s certainly a challenge,” princess daenys began with a serene smile, her composure flawless despite the whirlwind of responsibilities she faces. “my duties as heir to the throne are not something i take lightly. my kingdom expects the best from me, and rightfully so. i’ve spent my whole life preparing for the day when i will eventually take the crown.”

ah, the crown. few of us can comprehend what it means to be born with such a weight on our heads, but for princess daenys, it has been her reality since birth. between classes on transfiguration and studying for O.W.L.s, she is also in constant communication with her advisors, ambassadors, and the ministry. one has to wonder, how does she manage to balance these two very different worlds?

“i’ve always believed that my time at hogwarts is as crucial to my royal training as anything i’d learn back home,” she explained. “the people at hogwarts are the people i want to protect during my reign. and, magic is not only a part of my family’s heritage but also an essential tool in governing. i’ll need to understand how both the magical and non-magical communities interact and co-exist. hogwarts provides the perfect environment for that.”

her duties, however, extend far beyond the walls of the school. as the princess revealed, her days often begin before sunrise, reviewing important documents, attending meetings with council members, and making decisions about state affairs. and, if you can believe it, she still finds time to attend classes and participate in hogwarts life.

“i have a dedicated team of advisors who assist me in my duties,” princess daenys shared. “but at the end of the day, the responsibility is mine. i need to understand what’s happening, and understand how i would act once i’ll be queen. sometimes that means spending my free period reading economic reports with notes made by my father, instead of studying for my next charms exam!”

imagine the pressure of not only studying for your N.E.W.T.s but also dealing with diplomatic tensions and state decisions! but princess daenys, composed, insists that both roles strengthen each other.

“there are days when the balance is hard to maintain,” she admitted with refreshing honesty. “i might have an urgent issue that requires immediate attention, but i also have a potions exam the next day. in those moments, i rely on time management and prioritization. being near other slytherins helped me a lot, in this. i learned quickly that both realms require your full attention, and you can’t neglect one for the other.”

of course, one wonders how much pressure comes with knowing that one day, she will no longer be just a princess, but a queen. i pressed the princess on whether she ever feels overwhelmed by the looming reality of the throne.

“it’s not something i lodge on constantly,” she replied. “i’ve been prepared for this my entire life, but i also understand that i need to experience life as a fifteen years old. being at hogwarts gives me the chance to grow and learn without the immediate responsibility of ruling. it’s important to enjoy this time while also keeping in mind what’s ahead.”

her diplomatic answers were filled with grace and wisdom far beyond her years. princess daenys is nothing short of remarkable—a young woman already well-versed in statecraft, diplomacy, and leadership. yet she still finds joy in the little things—studying in the hogwarts library, chatting with friends in the slytherin common room, and, yes, enjoying quidditch matches.

“i mastered the art of being patient and resilient, thanks to my father,” she reflected with a laugh. “it’s a unique position to be in, he always says. but it also teaches you to think critically, to consider every possible outcome before making a decision. whether it’s a decision about the kingdom or about which club to join at hogwarts, both require a steady hand.”

but don’t think that this princess is always business. there’s still a lighthearted, playful side to her, one that enjoys the magical pranks her friends pull in the hallways or the thrill of learning new spells. “i think that everyone loves spending time in their dormitory, hearing about the newest singer or french fashion magazine”

and when i asked her about her plans for the future as queen, she smiled softly. “i want to ensure that my kingdom is a place of peace and prosperity,” she said. “that has always been my goal. but for now, i am focused on learning as much as i can. there’s no rush to the throne. when the time comes, i’ll be ready.”

a princess who is not only fashionable but formidable, blending her royal duties with the everyday challenges of being a hogwarts student. one thing is certain: the future of her kingdom is in capable hands.

but what other secrets does princess daenys have? could there be more to uncover?

PART III: HOGWARTS LIFE.

inow, we dive into the chapter we’ve all been eagerly awaiting—the princess’s life at hogwarts, particularly her place in the most cunning and ambitious house of all: slytherin. yes, you heard that right! princess daenys, heir of the throne, is part of the green and silver house.

“hogwarts is my second home,” princess daenys begins. “slytherin may have a bad eputation for its ambition and pureblood ideals, but there’s so much more to the house. it’s about loyalty, strategy, and understanding one’s own strengths.”

it’s clear that the princess feels perfectly at home in slytherin, but one can’t help but wonder how she navigates the house’s complex social dynamics. after all, this is no ordinary school year—not until harry potter (to read more about the boy-who-lived check page 27) is walking the halls, and allegiances are being tested in ways unseen for generations.

“i was sorted into slytherin because i value ambition, cleverness, and strategic thinking,” princess daenys says, her tone measured but confident. “but that doesn’t mean i share the same views as everyone in my house. like any hogwarts student, i have my own opinions, my own path to walk.”

indeed, rumors have swirled about the princess’s neutrality in the brewing conflict between dumbledore and you-know-who. is she a supporter of harry potter’s cause? does she sympathize with the headmaster of hogwarts, or perhaps—merlin forbid—has she aligned herself with darker forces?

“i have great respect for harry potter,” daenys says, with a glint in her eyes that betrays her diplomatic nature. “he’s extraordinarily brave, and what he’s doing takes incredible courage. especially, with his past. but i’ve always believed that you can’t rush to take sides without fully understanding the bigger picture. my position, as both a student and a future ruler, requires me to see beyond immediate conflicts and think about the long-term effects.”

a masterful response, wouldn’t you agree? it seems the princess is not one to let herself be drawn into the chaos of teenage rivalries, no matter how heated the rivalry between harry potter and her house members may become. that said, i couldn’t resist asking about her relationship with the more infamous members of slytherin, particularly the malfoys.

“draco and i get along well enough,” she says. “but my circle at hogwarts extends beyond just slytherins. i believe in getting to know everyone for who they are, regardless of which house they’re in.”

and this is where the true brilliance of princess daenys shines through. unlike so many others, she refuses to be confined by the traditional house rivalries. she has been seen speaking with students from all four houses—yes, even gryffindors! but don’t let her friendliness fool you; the princess is nobody’s pawn. as a future queen, daenys has learned the art of diplomacy and strategy. her actions speak of careful calculation, not unlike the cunning slytherin traits she embodies.

“it’s important to stay grounded in who you are,” daenys continues when i ask her how she deals with the rising tension in the slytherin house. “i know what i stand for. i understand my values. that’s what guides me, not peer pressure or the politics of the moment.”

of course, it’s not all serious politics and diplomacy at hogwarts. even a princess needs time to relax. so how does the future ruler of an entire kingdom spend her free time?

“the classic answer should be spending time with my friends, but when they have their things to do, i enjoy reading by the black lake,” daenys reveals, her eyes brightening with the admission. “there’s something incredibly cozy about it. books and poems are, of course, integral part of me; but staying in nature and hearing other students practicing for quidditch, it’s something that relaxes me”

ah! yes, the princess herself is an avid supporter of slytherin’s quidditch team, though she seems to prefer keeping a low profile in the stands rather than soaring through the air with a quaffle in hand. she’s also, of course, a frequent visitor to the library, often spotted reading advanced tomes on magical history.

“hogwarts has given me the opportunity to learn in ways i could never have imagined,” she says, her voice softening as she reflects. “it’s not just about magic—it’s about understanding people, cultures, and how the world works”

when i inquire about her favorite subjects, her answer comes without hesitation. “history of magic and ancient runes,” she says with a grin. “i love history and reading about people who once stepped in the same places where i am today, and i love ancient runes because of the concept of each rune, and their significance. understanding ancient magic helps me understand the foundations of our world”

it’s hard not to be captivated by the sheer depth of wisdom that flows from this young royal. while many students at hogwarts are concerned with passing exams or navigating social hierarchies, princess daenys is preparing for a future that goes far beyond the walls of the castle. she remains grounded in the present, balancing her time between her duties and her academic life.

ALSO READ harry potter, targaryen prophet, min…

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ does the future queen have a future king consort? ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ how daenys targaryen became the mother of dragons. ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ministry of magic vs. targaryen dynasty: is it war? ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ a day in a life of princess daenys targaryen. ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ TARGARYEN PROPAGANDA OR TRUTH? ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ will we-know-who get the targaryen’s throne? ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ inside the house of the royal family! ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ LUCERYS TARGARYEN FOR HIS SISTER’S THRONE? ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ DAENYS TARGARYEN SPEAKS ABOUT ‘THIRD SIDE’ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ daenys: realm's delight or whore?⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ EXCLUSIVE: KING DEAD. DAENYS AS QUEEN.

[itsabouttimex2]

Eclipse Kings

Part Five: Constellations

(Part One: Mountain Monkeys) (Part Two: Barbed Dusk) (Part Three: Wild Dawn) (Part Four: Sweet Little Star) (Part Five: You Are Here.)

(Ask box has been wiped, and requests are open again! Also, my fandom list has also been updated! And, uh , the yandere requirement has been removed! You can just ask for anything now!)

…there are three empty bowls stacked together in front of you, scraped bone-dry and set aside.

The room quiets as the clatter of your empty bowls echoes softly against the pristine walls. MK, still warily munching on only his first bowl of porridge, barely halfway through.

…he’s never seen you desperate before. You had made sure of it. And here you were before him, blatantly broken and weak.

Your breath hitches, hands trembling slightly as you adjust the sleeves of the borrowed hanfu. A flavor of rich sweetness lingers in your mouth, but so does the bitter taste of shame.

You are so well-worn with the veil of sacrifice that having has become foreign, leaving bitter want to settle beneath your tattered skin.

…you want to cry. Or scream. Or gag out an apology to ensure that you are truly in the good graces of these kings.

But the silence stretching on is greater than any word your tongue could manifest, so all stays quiet, uncomfortable and pervasive.

You’ve spent so long carrying unasked and unexpected burdens, wrapping yourself in the notion of necessity as though it were armor to the worst thoughts in your head, yelling at you to abandon or betray or run.

And now, here you are, stripped bare and vulnerable, finally tended to and… safe.

Bathed, patched, clothed, fed.

All in just a day.

Just a sparse day ago you’d be lucky to pick two a week.

Macaque watches you, golden eyes unblinking, his tail swishing, slow and deliberate. Sun Wukong leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. There’s no teasing grin, no sly remark—just the weight of his gaze, heavy and set. The two of them aren’t looking at you with judgment. It isn’t pity either. It’s something raw, something you don’t have the experience to name.

Neither of them- nobody, in fact- dares to speak.

The dread silence turns your stomach, causing the contents to churn and bubble in discontent, thickening the bloat of your skin as the room grows steadily more and more uncomfortable.

The breakneck speed of the day had prevented any true pooling of discomfort, always evaporated by the next urgent thing coming around to keep you occupied, to keep the worst of your thoughts at bay, never able to break for only the fact that every time your mind and body tipped one way, another event came hurtling in to smack you back on beat.

There is no such safety line here.

You are simply tired.

Have you ever been this tired?

Even once? Have you ever been so marked by fatigue that you would sincerely consider resting in front of strangers- demons at that! without covering your throat?

Your fingers curl slightly against the fabric of the borrowed hanfu strung around you, the sensation unfamiliar- not rough or threadbare but soft, clean, smooth. It feels too delicate for hands like yours, hands that have spent too long gripping at survival with bloody knuckles and busted nails.

When have you ever had the chance to rest on a full belly?

There was never a chance for both. You were always hungry and scrounging for the minimum, or somewhat fed and looking for more to take. Even on the rare case that satiation found it's way to you, you simply had one more task to perform, one more resource to scavenge, one more “another” dangling over your head, threatening to overwhelm you, as a sandcastle is swept up and crumbled by the rising tides.

It was not a metaphor that most would've used, casting your efforts as something childish, fleeting and ephemeral. But you were nothing if not your harshest critic, and you had zoned in on a budding "weakness".

The desire to be secure.

And here, in these windingly long and dazzling halls, there was at least some slivers of sanctity to be found, a surplus of supplies to be plundered with, you hoped, relative ease.

"Plundered".

What a strange word.

Had you not made a humble (though distinctly criminal) living for yourself and your brother through plundering? Had it not been through the low brooks of Flower Fruit Mountain's rivers that you had gone, carrying with you what meager portions of bread and rice you could pilfer from the stable? Did you not go scurrying through the thorny bushes wound round the houses of the rich, with their glass-bottled fruit jam and spice-cured jerky? Was it not by this method that you had endured and found your stomach sated?

And was your brother not home, always, an ever-glittering beacon drawing your steps back to the woods, back to that crumbling hut?

Now there was a horde of treasures before your hands, strung just as magnificently through the fur of the stellar kings as it was veined through the marble under your feet.

And you hadn't the stomach to take even a bit of it, for the greatest treasure in the world was sitting before you, lid-eyed with sleepy delight as he worked to sloppily spoon porridge into his mouth.

There had been a changing of the guard, it seemed.

No longer were you to stand tall as the sole guardian of what innocence and softness the darling boy of gold eyes possessed, no longer was his satiation and safety solely held in your hardworking hands.

Now he was a prince, heralded between ecliptic kings.

It was not as severance of family, for there could be no force grand enough to split from you your love of the sweet child.

If he was a thorn in your heart, then you were content to never unweave from him the snag of your fibers.

The thought of losing him to these kings was... unspeakably agonizing. Even though you were tired, full to the point of sickness, verging on tears, -and, frankly a little tired of this awfully gaudy castle!- you were certain that he could not be sundered from your arms.

If preserving the sweet sanctity of his being meant both killing and dying, then you would let bleed and be bled.

With this thought your muscles coil, an instinctual urge to gather MK close, to spirit him away from the opulent and alien warmth, pulses beneath your skin.

You draw deeply in your lungs to steady your breath, but the motion doesn’t come easily. It shudders through your throat, a raw, splintered thing like the fracture of bone. Your grip on the fine silk beneath your finger tightens as you glance again at this boy -your boy- and watch as he softens enough to grin, blissfully unaware of the gnawing dread tunneling holes through your gut.

"I'm done," he says, grinning from ear to ear, proudly presenting his empty bowl.

Your heart clenches, a sharp, involuntary squeeze that sends a jolt of cold comfort trickling down your spine. I’m done, he says, so simple and carefree. Like it’s just another meal, just another day. Like everything about this moment isn’t so earth-shatteringly foreign that you can hardly breathe around it.

MK sets his spoon down with a soft clink, licking stray flecks of porridge from his lips, completely oblivious to the war raging behind your eyes. His shoulders are loose, his golden gaze bright, his tail flicking lazily as he leans back against his seat.

Sated. Happy.

You should feel relief.

You don’t.

Because there’s a weight pressing against your ribs, wrapping around your lungs like a dreadful creeping ivy. The weight of knowing that you have nothing left to do. No next step, no urgent task, no next meal to hunt down, no fire to keep from dying out. Just- this. Sitting in a grand, gleaming room that isn’t yours, swathed in silks that aren’t yours, resting on a full stomach that, if past has say to the future, won’t be yours for long.

Your dread goes unnoticed, or otherwise ignored. Macaque smiles, soft in spite of his extended canines, and leans in close to his son, his baby. Softly he presses a kiss to MK’s scalp, only for the boy to pull away the moment he feels cold lips and colder fangs upon his brow.

Macaque schools his expression almost immediately, but you manage to catch the first glint of a heartrending fracture in the aureate field of the king's eyes, like he's living through the loss of his darling son all over again in just a single second.

Sun Wukong notices too. His tail stills, rounded ears twitching ever so slightly. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, but his gaze lingers on Macaque, reading him the way you read the sky before a storm.

The moment stretches long, a dangerously delicate thing poised on the edge of breaking, right until the sage reaches over to wrap a hand around his mate's.

"We'll get there, Bud," he comforts, sounding for all the mountain like a farmer in the garb of a king. So simple, so soft, so sincere. For a moment he is dethroned and uncrowned, and in the place of that regal man is now only a monkey, gazing upon his dearest mate.

Macaque twitches, just barely, expression unreadable even as his tail tightens around Wukong’s. His free hand remains where it is- limp against the table, unmoving. It's a wonder if the man even realizes he’s holding his breath.

"Maybe it's about time we turned in for the night, Mac. You're tired, I feel like I've been hit by a wagon, the kid needs his sleep... and we have a guest that needs to be shown their room, yeah?

Macaque looks up slow, biting back the wobble of his bottom lip. "Let's-," he starts, voice rough, "-let's lay down. I need- I need to go. Please, Wukong."

The king does not hesitate. He stands, keeping his tail wound around Macaque’s as he offers a steadying hand. Macaque takes it and allows himself to be pulled up. His ears flick back, throat working around words he can't bring himself to say.

You, however, are stuck in your seat, unsure if you even have the right to move.

Remaining still, you watch as the kings stand shoulder-to-shoulder, their hands laced together in a quiet show of unity. The sight should be reassuring. It should ease the tension gnawing at your spine. Instead, it only makes your stomach twist harder.

They belong here.

MK belongs to them, and he's already established enough of a rapport to casually jump up from his over-cushioned chair and kick both feet into his new shoes, reaching out to grip the sleek black of Macaque's robe. Affection on his terms only, not unlike a cat.

In time he would surely grow accustomed to forehead kisses and cheek nuzzles, and assimilate back into the loved little prince that was named for all the little streaks of light strung together through heaven, Qi Xiaotian, the Golden Star of Flower Fruit Mountain.

But for now he is only MK, sweet "monkey kid", little brother to the mountain's littlest thief, and his hand beckons for you, each tiny finger wiggling like a hooked worm. He's gleeful now, bouncing on the heels of his feet as your own hand awkwardly extends, shifting into the itty-bitty palm before you. With his frail grip as reassurance, you rise from the ornate chair and steady your gait.

It dawns now that the four of you are somehow connected, you to the squeeze of MK's thin fingers, MK to the sleek curtain of Macaque's robe, Macaque to the muscle of Wukong's hand.

A chain by which you are lead, last in line, down to the door of the mess hall and taken down another massive way of black and gold.

You are pulled along carefully, MK sure to never break his grip from you or his father as they trek through these halls, only pausing once when a door- the only door on that side of the hall, in fact- has cast under the inch-tall gap a silvery ray of light that catches your eyes. A treasury, perhaps, or at least the holding chamber for something very important.

Perhaps important enough to be worth a visit, then. It wouldn't hurt to have a little "nest egg" stashed away in your little sash, should events turn for the worse and fleeing became a very necessary course of action.

A scrap or two of gold, of silver, or even a little jewel... it couldn't be so hard to find something small enough to hide in the palm of your hand, could it? Something just small enough to go unnoticed...

You weren't going to be able to sleep, after all. Not with too full of a stomach, too heavy of a heart.

A steady ease settles over you as some measure of peace comes to your heart at the familiar feeling- the weight of a goal, immediately in sight.

They would leave, eventually, return to their own chambers to rest, and you'd be alone for the night, wouldn't you?

Well, how hard could it be to sneak into one unguarded room?

[jakesangel]

unrequited love w jake - 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 event request

preview : he is always putting you first, why can't he be his girlfriend. allas, you're only his childhood best friend

word count + genre : angst ( i tried to ) . 3.1k ( word vomit so it's not proofread

warning : dorm roommate, childhood best friends, confession, rejection, happy ending, reader gets in her head easily but never cries, jake is a sweetheart

having jake as a bestfriend is the best thing possible in the world. the sweet australian boy who always help you for your physic exams or who's being his dog layla when you're on your period. but it's also the worst thing because of random girls asking you for his number or being hugged by him because you're his cute little sister. it's even worse because no boys are hitting on you, being too scared of to hit on the leader soccer team's favorite girl. so you're jsut left to watch your love story inexist, daydreams of kissing jake the only thing you can do.

baby y/nie ? are you listening to me ? he said with a pout when he realized you werent listening to his usual lego rants while doing lego. sorry jaeyunie, i just keep thinking about our last exam, but i'm here now, you say as you try to convince him tho the pet name made you sadder than what your thoughts did. y/n ? youre okay ? his worry overtaking his body, dropping the lego piece comming closer to you, you know im here for you hm ? his round eyes searching yours. yes, i promise yunie ! im sorry for worrying you, please tell me about that star wars lego set ? to pretedn to the fullest youre acrually okay, you finish your sentence with your hand on his cheek, smiling softly at him but it wssbt needed as hearinf the wors star wards and lego set together pearked his imaginary puppy ears. he goes back on the set, talking about how excited he is for the pieces to arrive tomorrow, indirectly asking you to do them with him tomorrow . i'm studying tomorrow yunie, i’m not done yet with the last chapter, you reply with some sadness filling your voice, not believing of what you gonna say next, but you could do it with emma ? he gives you a confused expression that can only warms your heart, emma ? why would i do lego with her ? its our thing baby y/nie, he answers nonchalently, as he places the last piece on his now finishes thor hammer. finally ! its looks so good isnt it ! he shows you the piece finally done, come on we need to put it up, it's the best one we've ever done ! he excitedly said, jumping on his feet to go to his bedroom. you followed smiling to his puppiness but also from his unasked reasurance. wouldn't it be better in the living room ? i want to see it too, you say w round eyes too, genuinely wanting to see you guys work everyday. which he is more than happy to comply, his love for your happiness alwaya taking over when it fomes to you. omg yes ! always having good ideas, y/nie !, kissing your cheek as he goes to tje round tbale in the center of the kivinf room.

it comes to a shock, coming back from classes to see the said emma on the sofa, checking the lego pieces done just a day before. oh hi y/n, i didn't hear you coming, she said staying on the sofa, just turning around, not even greeting you properly. she has that arrogant smile of hers, paired w her high knee boots and mini skirt. you smile back, going straight to your room, studies waiting or you, you know i should thank you for talking about me to jake but it would be hypeocite of me to do so. we all really really hate you, so please, once jake is mine, stop bothering me hm ? she warned me before turning around to reapply your lipgloss. you can't even defend yourself as jake comes back from his room, smiling at you. baby y/nie ? how was your day ? he asked as he comes for a hug. just classes, you know how it is. you ? you hug him tighter to piss emma even more. as much as he will never date you, he is still your jake and everyone knows it, that she likes it or not. dont wait for me tonight, im having dinner with emma. but i made you your usually study snack and ive made a study plan waiting for you on ur desk. please use it well hm ? he softly says, detaching from you, see you later baby y/nie, domt stuyd too late! he says, coming closer to her, not even looking at her but taking the girls hands, making her proudly smile at you, winning the mental battle you both had. he doesnt even see it as he waits for you to bid him goodbye, which you gladly do, not forgetting to add the baby innfromt of his name, makimg him giggle and getting a frown from her. finally gone, you enter your bedroom, plopping on your bed, softly sighing, taking in everything that had happened. why would she hate me ? ive never ever talked to her, but when she asked me his phone number. and who is we ? are the girls threatened by you ? do they think i have a chance with jake ? or even the boys ? that would explain why none of thek ask me out ? but what about him ? is emma even his type ? she is pretty and seems smart but she is also so arrogant and entitle ? cant he see it ? or is it actually what he likes ?

trying to study is useless, your thoughts belonging to jake, you can only take a shower and pray for the best tomorrow. but even as you shampoo your hair, you can't help but think about emma's reaction. was she really scared of you or is it just her usual self ? so you've been standing there, the water hitting your scalp, for 30 minutes, trying to figure out what you should do. if she was really scared of you that means you can actually have a future with jake as your boyfriend. all the baby y/nie or little gesture will come out as romantic and not as his little sister anymore. as you realized you have a chance, you finish your day in peace, eating the snack jake made you, his infamous ramen, heating it up before going the watch a movie on the sofa. it's only mid movie in, you hear the keys in the door, announcing jake's arrival. i'm in living room ! you whisper yell, letting him know of your presence. y/nie ? why are you still awake at this time bby, he say wrapping his arms around your neck, are you done studying, he finally whisper in your ear, making you all fuzzy. not really, but i saw your study plan, i'll read it before sleeping. join me ? the movie is almost done. you offer, your head titling so you can look at him, i also want to cuddle with you and you can tell me about your date ? you ask cutely, knowing jake wouldn't never say no to cuddles with you. anything you want bby, he says with a kiss before detaching himself from your back. he would smile as he lay on your belly, indirectly asking you to play with his hair, which isn't even needed to be asked. he rubs his face on you, almost cat like, and hums finally getting comfortable. did you have a bad day yunie ? you seemed okay earlier. you softly ask, still brushing hair hair. yeah, it's just emma. she isn't how i thought she was and she talked bad about you so im just disappointed. i could never date someone who doesn't like you bye y/nie, you mean to much for me he says, his head finally lift up, looking right at you. besides she is too much of a diva, i prefer someone like you. someone who wouldnt judge me for playing legos or playing with my hair without needing to be asked to, he smiles at you. i'm really lucky to know you y/nie, he finishes, his head finally going back on the rubbing, acting as if those words were normal to be told, but you know jake is someone really vocal, specially to you, but you can't help but hear something else. like he wants you. and more than just friends. me too yunie, im really really happy to have you by my side. besides who wouldn't want to play with your soft hair, i love them so much. you say making the both of you giggle. and it's like that, the day ends, jake laying on you and you playing with his hair, comfort filling the living room.

omg jake wake up ! we're gonna be late for the exam ! is how up you started your day. but you're now, here, almost tearing where you were soothing jake yesterday who is now the one comforting you, which is something you hate the most. i'm okay jake, we don't have to talk about it, let's just order pizza please. jake knows you aren't the type to talk about your feelings, specially when you feel like crying but for some reason today he can't stop pressuring you, come on y/nie baby, we can talk about it. im sure u didn't do that bad, you'll do better next time, he tried to reassure you, his hand coming to your hair, stroking it. jake, you said, going back, leaving a inch between the two of you, i do not want to talk about it. are you gonna order them or should i do it, you reply almost too coldly. y/n please, i know you, you don't have to keep it in. i'm sorry you feel disappoint- if you know me you'd know i don't want to talk about it nor do i enjoy being in this position right now, jake, you cut him off leaving the living room to go in your bed room, leaving a sad puppy by himself. you feel awful for snapping at him, but you couldn't help it as your nerves are already hanging w a thin thread because of that exam. and having jake all over you, interrogate you with question over your feelings is too much.

you didn't realized you zoned out, right here, sitting up on the edge of your bed, until you hear jake's knock on your door, y/n ? can you open the door please ? you hear a scared jake on the other side of the door, yeah come in, making him enter your bedroom. he never looked this sad, your best friend never wanted to make you sad or be the cause of your distress. ive ordered the pizzas do you want some ? he softly ask, slowly coming towards you, scared to do the wrong thing. it's in the kitchen if you do want it. he is finally in front of you, kneeling up to see your face. i'm sorry if i pressured you, y/nie, i know you don't like being vulnerable. i don't know why i pressured you. he softly tells, his finger lifting your chin to look at him. my apologize baby. he finishes with his eyes asking for forgiveness. i'm so sorry too, i shouldn't have lashed out on you, you say as you throw your arms around you. you're always so so nice to me, i shouldn't have snapped at you. i'm sorry jake, you really dont deserve it, as your arms thigthens around his neck. hearing you, only made his heart sadden, he picks you up by your thighs, to make you more comfy in the bed w a come on baby,let's get you comfy. you can only giggle to that making his heart and mind happy again. once settled, your head on his chest, his on your pillow, a comfortable silence falls upon the both of you. his arms encircling you and his thumbs softly stroking your skin, his soft scent filling up your nose, made you feel such at peace. cuddling with jake is always so calming and comforting and it's somehow making you fearless to tell him your true feelings. jaeyunie ? you say looking up to him, asking for his attention. hm ? he just replies , already looking at you. always looking at you. i feel really good with you. i love being in your arms or playing with your hair. you're confident jake likes you back, he wouldn't be here if he didn't right ? me too y/nie baby, me too, he softly chuckled, happy that you arent mad at him anymore. no jake i mean it, i love it all. youre so nice, and smart and i just can't help but want to be more than your best friend. you expected to see a jake smiling at you, but you're faced with a jake with a confused furrowed brows. what ? as he detach himself from you, to actually look at you, looking for any joke in your face. i hate it when you go on dates with others girl or when you call me baby because im a year younger than you, i want to be the one holding your arm on friday nights or being called baby because you like me as your gf, you explain yourself, the end of the your phrase said in a whisper. and the once comfortable silence became anxious to you, jake processing your tirade. do you not feel the same way ? you asked scared of his verdict, but that only made him leave the room, shock overtaking him.

since then jake been avoiding you. the once nights fulled of braiding jake's hair and legos are now replaced with the living room empty, the light always turned off. jake spent his time either at practice or in his room, even avoided you in the kitchen, going in when you leave or leaving you when you go in. you on the other hand, is busying yourself with studies trying to do your best for the next final but it's mostly to stay in denial of your current situation. you've lost your best friend, and every time you come out of your room, the thor hammer keeps reminding you of it. he even stopped offering his help for any studies, or prepared you any study snacks. he stopped looking at you or mentioning you. the girls also stopped coming to you for his number, sensing the shift of your dynamic with him, but going straight to him. it even more painful now to see so many dolled up girls all over him, all of them knowing you aren't in the picture anymore. so here you are, spending a friday night by yourself after the long week full of studying n repressing your feelings. you know jake isn't going to be here tonight, surely in one of many dates he has, so you snuggle yourself on the couch along with snack you bought yourself earlier. but it came to a surprise, to see jake arriving at 7pm. he stops when he sees the tv light on, not knowing if he should greet you or not. he simply stay frozen, the both of you staring at each other, but like a week ago, he leaves you alone, going into his bedroom. and you thought all of this didnt affected you that much, but as you have nothing to focus on anymore, you can only cry, right there, in front of the movie you picked earlier, for the first time in a long time.

the tears keep failling down as the movie goes by, the tv light the only thing linking your mind and reality together, you can't even hear how loud you are. your sobs doesn't go unnoticed by jake, coming out of his room. you don't even hear his first y/n ? your back the only thing he can see. he never saw you nor hear you crying, and the scene in front of you is way too funny to make you cry. so he calls again, louder, with no answers but the slightest from the movie. he tries one last time, with a hand touching your shoulder, making you leave that weird trance you were in. jake ? you say as you wipe your tears. wha- what do you want ? you ask, failing to pretend that you are okay. he doesn't reply right away, coming to sit next to you. he opens his arm, a sign of an invitation not sure if you're okay with it or not, but still wanting to offer. you on the other hand were craving his touch, so you juts crawl on his lap, hand clenching on his hoodie, tears automatically coming back.

he lets you cry for a while, still trying to soothe you with hair strocks and shhh, even rocking you side to side but as he seems your tears don't fade away, his hands leaves your hair to hold gently the both side of your face, y/nie look at me please, he whisper. but as you can't even dare to look at him, a mix of shame and sadness filling your body, he'd just start kissing your tears. come on y/nie,as he keeps on pecking your face, i want to tell you something but i need you to look at me first, the long time per names finally coming back. you slowly turn your eyes to his, only to see adoration on his, speaking silently to you. i am so sorry of how i reacted this entire week. i was so shock when you told me you liked me, i genuinely saw you like my little sister, my long time bestfriend i've always had. i couldn't possibly imagine myself dating you. but i should have told you that instead of being a dumb ass. and then i felt so so ashame, i couldn't even face you in the kitchen. how i could i make the most important person in my life,so sad and, he stops, a hand coming to his hair, trying to find his words, i just couldn't bear it anymore. that time away from you made me realize that i in fact like you too y/nie. i cant live without you baby. who will i do my legos with ? or go home to, to have my hair played with ? or eat my not so good ramen whne i make them, he says between chuckles, making you laugh too. what i wanna say is that, i dont want any of those activites to be done with anyone else. i just want you y/n.

notes : hai anon, i've never written any fic before, n im not even gonna talk about the angst, i hope it feeds you well tho > < i actually didn't want to write it as i don't write anything fictional but i somehow liked ur request so here it is <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🍓୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ tag list : @dreamiestay @jakesprincess1

perm tag list : @allurecile @luvj4key @stwrjvke @amouriu @neos127 @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @jaeyunpinkyring @pockettwinzz @jwsdoll @heeheeswifey @sjylouvre @txnwvc @oopshee @luvlyhee @en-ner-jay @en-chantedtomeetyou @erenmyman @driedflowwr @hoonion . @enchive @enhablr

[tangibletechnomancy]

Doing It Wrong On Purpose: Episode 1 - The Un-Ship

Today's experiment: What happens if I prompt for something, and then negative prompt all the main keywords, plus various synonyms and related words?

The answer: Some gloriously weird stuff.

For example, let's look at a negative cat:

Positive prompt: A cat on a windowsill during a storm

Negative prompt: Cat, feline, felidae, kitty, kitten, animal, pet, windowsill, window, glass, pane, house, storm, rain, water, lightning, thunder, clouds, torrent, downpour, snow, blizzard, wind, windy

Interesting! Let's get a little more fantasy with it and try for an anti-deer:

Positive prompt: A deer in a peaceful flowery meadow, crystals, midnight, fantasy, colorful

Negative prompt: Deer, cervidae, animal, elk, moose, stag, doe, fawn, reindeer, antelope, cervid, antlers, flowers, night, dark, trees, foliage, bloom, stars, night, tranquil, fantastic, vibrant, cool, magic, blue, moon, sky, crystal, stone, statue, topiary, floral, blossom

Between these two experiments, including a few dozen other generations that remain unposted, one thing I can say for sure is that for living subjects, it's a great way to get the kind of anatomical wonk that older models are (in)famous for - and it makes sense why, the model is trying to make something that looks like a certain subject...but once it starts to look too much like it, well, shit, we told it NOT to do that! Break something up! Given that I love that kind of wonk, I think I've found a useful tool for myself.

One more living subject, and let's get even more abstract with our direction here:

Positive prompt: mind horse

Negative prompt: horse, equine, colt, filly, mare, stallion, bronco, pony, mind, brain, thought, essence, psyche, intelligence, consciousness, imagination, dream, soul, visualization, intellect, wit, cognizance

Now let's try something that isn't alive. One thing I love AI for is surreal settings and landscapes - lets try one now!

Positive prompt: A magic palace garden made of crystal and gold

Negative prompt: Palace, magic, crystal, gold, fantasy, castle, estate, stronghold, temple, garden, flowers, plants, blossoms, bloom, blooms, trees, grass, stems, foliage, leaves, greenery, branches, bush, bushes, hedge, hedges, metal, luxury, stone, glass, brass, rose, polished, jewel, prism, courtyard

I then tried to see if, learning from the animal subjects, I could make it more likely to return one of my favorite "mistakes" - making it impossible to discern the point where a water area ends and a sky area begins. I wasn't immediately successful, but I came up with some results I found pleasing regardless-

Positive prompt: Secret hideout in a cave behind a waterfall in the foggy forest on a floating sky island in fluffy clouds

Negative prompt: hideout, camp, campsite, home, abode, house, dwelling, rest, shelter, waterfall, water, cave, grotto, forest, woods, woodland, trees, fountain, cascade, pond, stream, lake, river, brook, puddle, creek, pool, beach, ocean, sea, cloud, clouds, sky, cumulus, cirrus, nimbus, fog, storm, rain, sunshower, falls

It seems that with landscapes it's got a much clearer and more specific "idea" of what a [SUBJECT] without [SUBJECT] looks like; it's more inclined to invent very specific, very consistent unasked for related elements. With the animals, I was tweaking the weight on the positive prompt to avoid getting straightforwardly just what I had positive (and negative) prompted, but with landscapes, I just get... almost something else entirely.

So how about inanimate objects? Let's try a ship, perhaps?

Positive prompt: A huge sailing ship with brilliant prismatic crystal sails on a stormy, turbulent sea of sunset clouds

Negative prompt: ship, boat, sailboat, sailing ship, pirate ship, galleon, ketch, schooner, sloop, cutter, sail, sea, ocean, storm, wind, rain, water, waves, cloudy, clouds, fog, sunset, dusk, dawn, sunrise, twilight, evening

...okay, I'm in love with the un-ship. It truly does manage to consistently give me results that look like, yet entirely unlike, a ship. It is everything I love about AI as a medium. More than that, it is my friend.

At lower positive prompt weights, they only get even more beautifully chaotic.

I want to live on one of these (in an alternate universe where they're geometrically possible and structurally sound, that is).

Failing that, I will be featuring them a lot from now on.

All images generated using Simple Stable, under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

[a-major-love]

The Time Will Pass

Pairing - Darryl x Neutral!Reader

Summary - The future was coming faster than Darryl would have liked...

Word Count - 742

Warnings - no use of y/n, angst, comfort, established friendship, reader and darryl are 18

A/N - remember how I said this was going to be a fluff piece, well I'm a liar apparently.

1988

Clutter was strewn about all over your bedroom floor, narrowly missing the box with the word DONATE scribbled in thick, black marker on the front. From well loved books with their pages bent, to miscellaneous items of clothing that were hiding in the back of your closet for a year. A pile of notebooks sat on your desk, along with the game Isolation that had somehow lost its two pawns. The board game was now useless, and had a thin layer of dust settled over it. Darryl sat, on a worn out bean bag shoved in the corner of your room, soaking up the sliver of sun that was peaking through your curtains. 

Then there was you, lounging on your bed, lazily flipping through an old Fangoria issue that had been haphazardly shoved in the back of your dresser for three months. 

“I thought you were cleaning your room.”

“I am cleaning,” you said, not bothering to glance at him. “I’m inspecting this magazine, to see if it needs to be thrown away.” 

Darryl scoffed, amused. “Your room looks like a tornado hit it.” 

“Now you’re just being dramatic.” 

He sighed, shaking his head. Yet affection swelled in his chest, quiet and overwhelming. Darryl stretched, reaching his arms toward the ceiling that was littered with blue prismatic star shaped stickers. He remembered one afternoon, walking in to find you balancing on a ladder. When he asked what you were doing, you glared over at him. “I can’t even see the stars from my window, Darryl,” you had complained. “It’s just nothingness, how sad is that?” 

He then spent two hours that day helping you, dragging that ladder across your dull, carpeted floor. Darryl found that the longer he stared up at the stars now, the more he noticed the edges were beginning to peel and curl inwards.  

Nothing gold can stay, right? 

He stood up, and slowly approached your bed, feeling your gaze burn through him. The bed dipped beneath his weight as he sat by your outstretched legs. You peeked up at him, from behind the magazine, expectantly. 

“You’re leaving this weekend,” he stated, fiddling with his thumbs. 

You sighed, setting the magazine on your stomach. “Yeah, on Saturday.” 

Darryl felt along the words in his mouth, how they sat heavy on his tongue, and contemplated swallowing them. “Are you excited for University?” 

“Of course,” you said, “it’s my one chance to get out of Brooklyn, you know that.” 

“Right,” he mumbled, staring at the floor. A long, stuffy silence hung in the air, as every unasked question between you two began to swell up. 

“You’re headed for Princeton next week, Darryl,” you mentioned, leaning forward to catch his line of sight. “It’s all you talked about growing up, like it was the only University in the entire world. You can’t tell me you’re not excited either.” 

In truth, Darryl was looking forward to attending Princeton. Years of late afternoons and nights spent hunched over textbooks, with notes and pencil shavings cluttering the surface of his desk had paid off. You were there for so many of those nights, a warm presence against his back, with your own nose stuffed in a book. The sound of your pen scratching against your notepad, as you would absentmindedly hum to Jody Watley playing from your headphones. All the while, he would be curled over his desk, muttering equations to himself like a madman. 

He didn’t want to think about you not being there anymore, lounging on his bed as if it were your own, the mattress hugging your already imprinted shape. 

“It’ll be different without you,” he admitted, shrugging as if he could somehow shake off years of your friendship. 

“We’ll still talk, and see each other Darryl,” you said, approaching him. The bed dipped as you curled up beside him, placing your head on his shoulder. Blush rose to his cheeks as your familiar warmth rolled over him, quelling his thoughts. “Long distance isn’t the end of the world,” you assured, intertwining your fingers with his, the curve of your palm fitting perfectly over his own. 

He faintly smiled, and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. Acutely aware of the familiarity coiling around in his stomach at the floral scent of your hairspray. Darryl bathed in the prolonged silence between you two, ignoring the sheer weight of memories pressing down on his hunched shoulders. 

The world spun on.