#they just wanted those trinkets y’know

[lovelysakuryay]

My roman empire is how back in 2018, I went into a natural pool by the ocean wearing jewellery (a necklace my parents gave me when i was a baby, a silly pandora crown ring right hand and a cheap pearl ring from primark left hand) and I sat on the ledge of the natural pool. Like I normally did. Coincidentally that was also the one and only time that the tide turned rough and knocked me. I fell into the actual ocean and almost drowned.

I remember actively fighting to stay afloat. I just kept getting hit with waves to the face, the closer i got to the ledge of the natural pool the more tired i got. But i kept trying to get to the ledge, no joke you guys, I felt both of my rings slip off my hands and suddenly I wasn’t drowning anymore. The tide calmed and I easily got back up on the ledge.

Needless to say, I have not gotten in the water with jewellery again. I was CONVINCED that the mermaids or sirens saw the jewellery and had to have it. Everyone kept telling me that it was just sheer bad luck and to not sit on the ledge anymore. But that didn’t sit right with me and so I held onto the memory, even journalled about it a few times.

Fast forward to 2023 when I stumbled across this tiktok. I still go back to the tiktok quite often AND for real this was my reaction:

Now, anytime I go to the ocean I’m careful as to what I’m wearing, I leave the mermaids and sirens little offerings. And talk to them a bit.

Makes me feel at home y’know? It’s like a massive groupchat with Lady Aphrodite, mermaids and sirens. I love it.

Moral of the story: don’t get into the ocean with shiny glittery things and if you absolutely have to, you should leave the girlies an offering

[criminalamnesia]

ending 2 for tolerate it! this was my original idea for the ending!

I just wanted to clarify that I’m writing these two endings bc of the feedback I’ve received. The first ending is for those who wanted them to reconcile/make amends, and I wanted to give those readers some closure.

this ending is for those who want reader to be happy without him (which was my original idea lol). anyways I know a lot of people didn’t like ending 1 and that’s okay!! but here’s ending two, I hope you like it better :)

[ also, this takes place in between the time that reader leaves simon/price and the last line of part two! ]

part one here, part two here, ending 1 here

your friend graciously let you live with them for a few months while you got back on your feet.

you went to therapy. stopped crying whenever you thought of him or even his name. started taking care of yourself again.

you move out and find this cute little house. it’s small, cozy. you adore it, and your friend helps you move in.

you make it your own with colors and trinkets and pictures. there’s nothing in that house that serves as a reminder of your time with him. you’d gotten rid of all the pictures, all the gifts he’d bought you before things turned sour.

fuck him. he didn’t deserve to see your growth and your happiness. he didn’t deserve anything from you.

you get used to being on your own again. it’s nice. you don’t worry about a man who is halfway across the world. don’t worry about baking a cake for his return or setting up streamers. don’t worry about how damaged he’ll be when he walks through the door.

you’re happy. you love your job, your home, your friends. you treat yourself to coffee every wednesday afternoon, and that’s when you meet him.

you’ve ordered your coffee and are sitting at one of the cafe’s little tables, scrolling on your phone, when a man clears his throat.

you look up, and he’s got the kindest smile you’ve ever seen.

“hi,” he says, and you give a small smile as you click off your phone.

“um, hi?” you say, a little unsure of why he’s speaking to you.

“not to sound weird or anything,” he begins, and you give a small laugh.

“y’know, whenever someone says that, whatever they say next does tend to sound weird.”

he nods, that smile on his lips growing a smidge wider. “right. so, I guess this will be weird then, huh? but I’ve noticed you here every wednesday, and I just wanted to tell you you’re beautiful.”

you blush. you don’t think a man has ever been so straightforward with you, and although you do think it’s kind of weird, you try to just focus on the compliment.

but your guard is up. you don’t know him.

“oh, thank you. that’s sweet,” you reply, and he’s still looking down at you.

“can I sit?” he asks, which takes you by surprise.

“um, sure? I guess?” you say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement, but he’s sliding into the seat across from you.

he introduces himself, and you tell him your name. he says it’s pretty. you’re starting to think he’s coming on too strong.

but as the two of you begin to talk, you start to realize that’s just who he is. he’s a flirt, a flatterer, but it’s good natured.

it’s easy to talk to him. he keeps the conversation going, and he seems generally interested in what you have to say. it’s a stark difference from your last relationship.

but then he tells you he’s military, and your heart nearly stops.

“oh,” you say, a small frown on your lips.

“that an issue?” he says, and his tone is teasing. he doesn’t know— how could he? but your face says it all.

his brows furrow, and he gets serious for the first time since he’d sat across from you. he starts to reach for your hand, but decides against it. again, the two of you don’t know each other, and he’s aware of that.

“I don’t have a good track record with men in the military,” you tell him, trying to lighten the mood. he can tell something’s wrong, but he doesn’t push. he takes the bait, and you’re grateful. it makes you like him even more.

that’s why you end up talking until the place closes. the employees are practically shooing you out as you and the military man apologize profusely.

you’re on the sidewalk now, and he’s smiling at you. you find yourself smiling back.

“d’you mind if I get your number?” he asks.

as much as you enjoyed talking to him, you’re still unsure. you just recovered from everything that happened— are still recovering. you don’t want to rush into anything. so, you shake your head.

“if you’re serious,” you begin, looking up at him. “I’ll see you on another wednesday.”

he nods, a mischievous smile on his face. “im up to the challenge.”

you give a small laugh, then tell him goodnight. you turn and begin to walk towards your car, and you’re smiling like an idiot.

you don’t want to get you hopes up, but that little naive part of you— a part of you you’d thought was dead and gone— is making you. you try to stamp it back down.

next wednesday, you don’t see him, and you’re a little sad about it. you don’t see him the wednesday after that, either.

you don’t see him for a few months, actually. and after a few weeks, you’ve stopped thinking about him.

but then one wednesday, you’re sitting in that coffee shop, and there he is.

he’s wearing a short sleeve shirt, and you can see fresh cuts and scrapes along his arms. he asks if he can sit, and you oblige, gesturing to the seat across from you.

“sorry for disappearing on you,” he says, and you shake your head. he doesn’t owe you anything. you barely know each other.

“that day we talked, i ended up gettin’ deployed a few days later. didn’t have your number, so…” he trails off with a cheeky smile, and you grin as you roll your eyes.

“so im to blame, hm?” you say, and he nods.

“oh, absolutely.” he’s teasing, and you laugh.

“then let’s amend that.” you hand him your phone and he lights up. he taps his number in quickly before handing the phone back to you. you send him a quick ‘hi’ so your number will pop up in his phone.

“didn’t forget about you, though,” he says, and you blush. this man certainly has a way with words. “that’s why im here. glad to see you’re still a creature of habit.”

“is that a bad thing?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“nah, I don’t think so.”

your phone chimes then. it’s one of your friends, asking you if you can come over. you type a quick reply and start to gather your things.

“leavin’ so soon?” he says, and you give a small nod.

“friend emergency.”

he nods. “understood. well, I’ll see you around then, yeah?” he smiling as he pushes himself out of his chair.

“you do have my number now,” you remind him. “we don’t have to wait on chance encounters.”

he hums in agreement. “that’s true, but I prefer face-to-face, y’know? especially since yours is so pretty.”

“you’re a flirt,” you tell him, but you’re blushing, and he chuckles.

“guilty.”

you bid him goodbye and walk towards the exit, your mind instantly shifting gears to your friend. you don’t think about the military man again until he texts you that night.

‘friend okay?’ he types.

‘all good.’ you respond.

he’s typing back for a good minute. the bubble disappears, then reappears.

‘if there are no more friend crises for the foreseeable future, and im not shipped off to fight bad guys, how about a proper date?’

you smile as you read the message.

‘sure.’ you respond, and he sends back a smiley face.

a first date turns into a second, then a third, then a fourth. they’re spread out over a year because of his job, but you don’t find yourself minding that much. he treats you so much differently than the last man did.

he eventually asks you to be his partner, and you say yes. of course you’re a little hesitant— things with your last military man started off good, too. but you feel like it’s different this time. he’s different.

you don’t know it, but every time he’s deployed, he talks his squad’s ear off about you. tells them you’re the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and that you’re so funny. tells them he’s gonna ask you to move in with him.

but he never mentioned your name. maybe he forgot, or maybe he just didn’t want to share that piece of you with them.

“you never shut up about this lover of yours,” simon/price says one day while they’re eating in the mess hall. although they’re not in the same squad, they’re friends, and they happen to be on base at the same time. “no way they’re real.”

your man just grins and holds out his phone, showing off his lockscreen. it’s a picture of you with your head thrown back in laughter. he’d taken it on one of your dates.

simon/price’s face darkens almost imperceptibly before he masks it. that’s you. he hadn’t thought about you in ages, but he knows that’s you in that picture. now everything comes rushing back.

your lover doesn’t notice the other man’s expression shift. he doesn’t realize that the man across from him knows you.

you had told him more about the man who broke your heart, but you’d never mentioned his name. you didn’t want to risk him knowing him.

it’s a good thing you’d never mentioned the name, because if your lover knew, he’d punch him in the jaw.

the conversation eventually shifts away from you, and simon/price is grateful. your man is none the wiser.

when he gets back home, he asks you to move in. you tell him no at first. you’re still a little broken. he understands, and doesn’t hold it against you. he takes it in stride, and you’re grateful.

you don’t know how you got so lucky this time. you don’t know how this man, who was so understanding, so kind, so caring, had practically fallen into your lap. maybe it was karma from your last relationship.

the universe crushed you once, and to make up for it, they dropped this man into your life. whatever it was, you were thankful.

the second time he asks you to move in with him, you say yes. he helps you with everything, and the whole time he’s smiling like an idiot. even when you almost drop a shelf on his toe, or when you argue with him about where to hang a picture.

you two end the night eating take out on the couch and watching trashy tv. he decides right then that he’s going to marry you one day.

a few months after you move in, he tells you he wants you to meet his friends.

you’re nervous, but he reassures you it will all be fine. tells you that they’ll love you. so, you get yourself ready and then he’s helping you into his truck, and your leg is shaking the whole way to the bar.

he puts a comforting hand on your knee. gives you a dazzling smile.

“they’ll love you,” he tells you. you nod.

when you get to the crowded bar, he leads you by the hand inside. you’re towed along behind him, so you don’t see his friends until you’re standing right in front of the booth they occupy.

you scan their faces, and you don’t recognize any of them. you’re thankful— a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. he introduces you to them, and you fit in easily.

the night is going well until your man mentions simon/price’s name. he couldn’t know, you’d never told him. he was telling the story of how simon/price hadn’t believed him when he was talking about you.

the rest of his friends were laughing, but you were tense. he noticed immediately, shoulder nudging yours as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“you okay?” he murmured, and you nodded.

he could tell you were lying, but he didn’t push it. didn’t even bring it up again until the two of you were home.

“how do you know simon/price?” he asked you as you hung your coat up on the rack. you frowned as you turned to face him.

“he was the one I dated before you. the guy who broke my heart. the one I told you about, remember?”

your man goes silent. he’s looking at you, his fists clenched at his sides. he believes you. there’s not a doubt in his mind, even for a second, that you’re not telling the truth.

“I didn’t want to tell you his name,” you admit, taking a step towards him. “in case you knew him. didn’t want to make things complicated.”

he’s still silent, his eyes trained on you as you slowly approach. an expression you can’t name paints his face.

“I understand if you want to end things,” you tell him, and that gets him moving again. he’s shaking his head. “I don’t want to come between you and your friends.”

“fuck him,” he spits, and he reaches his arms out to you. you step into his embrace and take a shaky breath. “fuckin’ bastard. I showed him a picture of you, and he didn’t say anything. I was gonna invite him tonight, but he’s on assignment, and—” he inhales sharply as his hands rest on your back. “and now im gonna break his fucking jaw.”

you push yourself back, your eyes finding your lover’s. you shake your head. “it’s not worth it. besides, don’t make any enemies within your base. you’ve got enough of those already.”

you can tell he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. he nods after a moment. silence fills the room.

“we don’t run in the same circles, usually,” he tells you, his voice quiet. “known each other since enlistment. got assigned to different squads. kept running into each other, though. kept in touch.”

“you can still—” you begin, but he interrupts.

“no, fuck him. I can’t be his friend when he’s treated you like shit. fucker will be lucky if I don’t blacken his fuckin’ eye.”

you don’t say anything. you pull yourself back towards his chest, and he holds you tight.

you don’t say anything, but your heart swells. this man, the one in your arms, is everything that he wasn’t. he doesn’t tolerate you, he celebrates you. loves you unconditionally. communicates and compromises. doesn’t pull away.

that’s why, when he asks you to marry him a month later, you say yes without thinking. because you don’t need to think.

the ceremony is small. friends and family gather and celebrate the two of you. you laugh and dance and drink the night away with the love of your life by your side.

and you don’t think of the man that broke your heart anymore. don’t give him the time of day, because you’ve moved on to something far greater. you’ve moved on to what you deserve.

a few years down the road, when your husband has finally retired, you’re making your way down the road to meet him at the coffee shop that brought you together.

someone calls your name, and your blood runs cold. you know that voice, and although you haven’t thought about who it belongs to in years, you doubt you’ll ever truly forget it.

he’s calling your name from somewhere behind you. you don’t turn around.

instead, you pull open the door of the coffee shop, step inside, and smile when you see your husband sitting at the same table you’d met him at all those years ago.

——————————————————————

author’s note:

ending 2 is finally here! while writing this, I originally pictured the reader getting with Gaz/johnny; however, I wasn’t sure how that would turn out.

how would they still work with simon/price after knowing everything? how would you go so long without hearing about/meeting gaz/johnny’s squad mates?

I didn’t know, and that’s why I scrapped the idea. You can still picture them, though! but I thought it best to have the love interest someone kinda detached from the 141.

anyways, hope you enjoyed :)

[zaephix]

l'avoir elle, c'est avoir les étoiles / / wriothesley . . .

wriothesley considered himself a pretty selfless man, until it came to you. wouldn’t you indulge him in his selfish desires for a moment of your time?

warnings: inspired by veil (manga), blind!reader, f!reader, ooc wriothesley?, wriothesley’s pov, mentions of smoking, mentions of neuvilette and sigewinne, fluff, domesticity

w/c: 1.25k

authors note:  i reread veil and i need an aleksander to call my own hmu if ur a russian police officer w red hair Plz. art cred: ルル on twt

“wrio? what’s wrong?”

wriothesley fully opens his half lidded eyes, noting your appearance as you lay on the table before him, not wanting to disturb his contemplation.

the only sound at this time of the night being your voices, the distant echoes of droplets from the pipes in the wall, and the soft jazz playing from his gramophone. you slowly get up and approach him, light steps clicking against the stone floor.

your hands find their way to his face, a light stubble itching against your fingers. he sighs, leaning against you. “...nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about.”

you hum, obviously not believing his lie. you drag your fingers to the back of his head, lightly scratching his scalp. you lean in towards him, the couch dipping ever so slightly. “mhm. is it the fortress again? ‘nother fight?” 

he chuckles, leaning his head back. the one thing he loved about you was your attentiveness. you’d read him like a book, or rather,  feel.

you tilted your head in confusion, your pretty and ever-so-long lashes fluttering while closed against your skin. “what?”

“nothin’ angel. just admiring you.”

“y’know, if you wanted to distract me it’s not working. the way to my heart isn’t just built on flattery. and anyone could see through those big sighs of yours.” and you go again, flashing that cheeky smile as you always did, the same as when you two were younger.

he laughs lightly, “of course 'ts not. i know you better than that.”

“and i know you better than that,” your hands stop, and you look at him with the most serious face you could muster, “tell me.”

he sighs and shakes his head, “it’s a lot more complicated than that sweetheart, don’t wanna bore you to death.”

and with that you relent with your own deep sigh, leaning back into the couch and off of him. he misses your warmth.

“don’t be like that (y/n).” he looks at you through the sides of his eyes, then gently reaches for your hand, caressing it with his thumb. “you got so much to worry ‘bout already, with how many are coming in all roughed up.”

“yes…” you mumble, “but, it’s just us now.”

he can’t see your eyes, as they’re closed, but he was sure they’d be glossy now—he wishes you’d open them once more. wriothesley leans in and plants a small kiss against your forehead, then leans his own against it.

he knows your weakness for touch, for physical contact. 

the way your delicate hands would softly caress every nook and cranny of a trinket he’d get you. the way you’d feel for a lamp when you thought things were too dim for your liking. the way you’d toy with the jewelry hanging on your neck, ears and wrists. it seemed like you couldn’t get enough.

he also knows about your compassion for him. always keeping tabs throughout the day, sending little sweets and snacks for him. you’d handle patients with sigewinne with gentleness, even when they were somewhat undeserving of it. and when you’d have work above ground, you make sure to send letters to sigewinne, keeping up with her updates about him. 

wriothesley knows you miss living up in the city. he knows you long for the soft tunes that would be performed in the dim-lit streets at night, tossing a few mora into their hats lying on the sidewalk. he knows you miss keeping up with the latest fashion trends and splurging your money on tens of dresses. he knows you miss your old life with him.

and so in spite of this, you still stood by him. ever so selfless and caring.

but he couldn’t help himself out of his own selfishness.

wriothesley pulls you into his lap, his rough hands pushing back the few loose strands of hair in front of your face behind your ears. to everyone he’d be known as the fearless duke of meropide, to you, he’d just be plain old wriothesley. your loving, plain, old wriothesley.

you’re reluctant at first, a pout standing firm on your face. your delicate features almost give you away as he slowly snakes his arms around you. he pulls you closer by your waist and you give in just like putty in his palms. 

your eyes are still comfortably closed, hands making their way lazily to his shoulders. you sniff the air around you two, scrunching your nose. “you’ve been smoking, my lord?”

“...no.”

“you’ve got all these rules around the fortress about extending prison time if anybody ever so as brings in a lighter, and yet you’re here, in your office, all cooped up and–”

you squeal as he puts his lips to yours to shut you up. you taste like crepes and jam, courtesy of neuvillette. the soft velvet feel of your lipstick smears against him, some even getting on his teeth. sigewinne was in his office just a day ago asking about what shade of red or pink would suit you. it appears she chose well. he smiles into the kiss, hands digging their way into your hair. he makes a note to thank both for the gifts.

you pull away with a slight gasp before resuming like the sly fox you were. you were always able to catch on quickly, as you’d learn a few things from him yourself. 

you nibble on his lip. he lightly bites yours’ back.

you stifle your giggles at first, but then you laugh, and suddenly, your complexion was glowing — and he swore he’d seen an angel. 

wriothesley looks up at you with a fondness in his eyes, hands now at your waist. he was sure he looked silly, with the reddish pink all over his lips, but he knew you wouldn’t care. really.

“shutting me up with a kiss… how original of you.”

“but you liked it, no?” that earns him a flick against his forehead, ouch.

you sit up straight, wiping the edges of your lips, “if you’ll excuse me, sir, i promised sigewinne i’d help her in stocking the medical cabinet. we’ve just received our shipment of gauze from fontaine.”

he knew you wouldn’t notice it, but he couldn’t help but look at you with longing in his eyes, wanting to shield you away and coop you inside his office, inside his arms.

but he lets you go with a sigh on his lips and a gentle kiss of his thumb on the apple of your cheek. “yes, ma’am,” he pauses before he adds on. “you want me to walk you there?”

you stand up and he gets up synonymously with you, tugging and fixing your clothes without a word. “it’s fine, i can get around the place myself, i’m not a damsel in need of help all the time.”

you turn on your tippy toes and press a chaste kiss to the side of his mouth before quickly grabbing your coat and leaving. “i’ll see you again soon, okay?”

he smiles after you, watching as you leave with your shoes clicking against the stone of the floor. he looks back at his desk with grimace, the piles of paperwork enough to sour his mood.

he grabs a cigarette and reaches for his pockets, trying to find the cool metal of his lighter. instead, it appears, he was met with something else.

“what…?”

he realizes now that you truly were too sly for your own good, as he was met with the very same lipstick gifted to you.

cheeky.

[munson-blurbs]

PLEASE MAKE MY MEET CUTE DREAMS COME TRUE BUG!!

What IS my personality? Hm... Generally I'm pretty upbeat, fun-loving, and compassionate, but around Eddie?! 🙈 I'd be a lil shy I'm not gonna lie haha

Hobbies include bird watching, thrifting trinkets, and graphic design (oh and writing FILTHY SEXUALLY EXPLICIT STORIES, can't forget that). No need to incorporate all of this, just giving you ✨variety✨

My pronouns are she/her.

And I'll just leave you with some emojis I like 😌

🪻🪺🐀🪿🐞🫐🥨🏕️🪕

As meta as it would be to have Eddie reading the smut you wrote about him, bird watching was what caught my eye. Hope you like this!

CW: mention of drug use/dealing WC: 628 Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

It had stormed in Hawkins for a week straight. Seven days of dodging raindrops and spending your free time cooped up in the house. You were on the verge of going stir-crazy until the sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds this morning. 

Plucking your binoculars from their spot on your shelf, you head out into the woods. Before the storms, a pileated woodpecker had made a nest in one of the trees, and you were anxious to see if it had survived the lousy weather. 

Mud squelched beneath your boots as you trudged towards your favorite picnic bench. There wasn’t anything special about it per se, but it stood out from the others because of the JH+JB carved into the table. Whoever JH and JB were, you hoped their love was still strong. 

You adjusted the focus on your binoculars, aiming your gaze at the tree where you’d seen the nest just over a week ago. A soft sigh of relief slipped through your lips when you saw that it was still intact; in fact, there were now three little eggs inside of it. 

Hours felt like mere minutes as you soaked up each moment outdoors, following the calls of the sparrows that populated the tiny forest. Hawkins wasn’t a bustling city, but it was still nice to have a reprieve from the normal sounds of the suburbs. Out here, there were no car horns honking, no tired parents scolding their mischievous children, no—

“You here to buy or sell?”

The sudden noise startled you; if you didn’t have the strap looped around your wrist, you almost certainly would have dropped your binoculars. That would have been embarrassing. Just like the yelp you let out when the man spoke. 

“Whoa, didn’t mean to scare you.” He gave a sheepish grin and held up his hands in surrender. “Just figured if you wanted to buy, I could offer you a sweet deal. But if you’re selling…well, you’re kinda in my spot, so…”

You collected your thoughts, trying to keep from getting lost in his deep brown eyes. “No. I mean, neither. N-Not buying or selling. Just, uh, birdwatching.”

He cocked a brow. “Birdwatching?”

“Y-Yeah.” You scrambled for more words, unused to being tongue-tied. “Y’know, just…watching birds.”

“I gathered that much.” He sat next to you, placing a tin lunchbox on the table. “So what kind of birds are we watching?”

You explained the whole nest-surviving-the-storm saga, expecting him to roll his eyes or get bored. But he didn’t. Instead, he looked at you with those beautiful doe eyes and gestured to your binoculars. 

“Mind if I take a look?”

You nodded and handed them over, hoping that the time he spent looking through them would afford you the chance to conjure up some actual conversation topics. 

He peered through the binoculars. “I see the nest! Holy shit, there’s about to be some bird babies.” He looked at another tree. “Here we’ve got some sort of brown bird just kinda…doing its thing.” Keeping the binoculars pressed to his eyes, he looked directly at you. “And here we have a really pretty girl who’s gonna let me treat her to ice cream.”

“Sure. Yeah, um, that would be great.” You felt your body tingle with bashfulness. An insanely cute guy was asking you out. “I love ice cream.”

The guy looked surprised, like he couldn’t believe that line worked. “Me, too.” He stood and held out his hand to help you up. 

You accepted it gratefully, but before you stood, you looked at him. “I just realized that I don’t even know your name,” you mused. 

He laughed. “That would be good information, huh?” He shook his head at his own blunder. 

“I’m Eddie Munson. And you are?”

--

[circe69]

[𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒] - 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 “𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓”𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

taking a break from requests for a moment… need to make sure my brain still works 😵‍💫 you guys have been the sweetest to me lately and i do not deserve it!💕

tw/tags: very fluffy, strong tension, touching, sweet!ghost, you help put black paint around ghosts eyes.

꧁ ꧂ part 2 here!

you scurried your way down the dark hallway, trying to professionally remain calm but also escape from the ghosts and/or monsters that could potentially be chasing you. ghosts door was right as the end of the hall, all you had to do was make it there.

the door swung open before you even step within 10 feet of it, and you felt yourself take a few steps backwards as a result of how fast you halted.

your lieutenants masked face was the only thing you could see peeking out the door. “a pack of deaf dogs could hear ya coming from miles away,” he remarked, trying not to pay attention to your chest rising and falling as you placed a hand on it to quiet your heartbeat.

“it’s just” you took a minute to catch your breath, “so dark in here. it’s terrifying.”

his blank stare wasn’t as scary as it was attractive for you, but you could see the sarcasm just brewing. “you chose this job, and you’re afraid of hallways?” ghost stepped out of his door slightly, leaning against it with one shoulder and crossing his arms across his chest.

you rolled your eyes and placed two fingers on the bridge of your nose; not only at his comment, but at his stance. always asserting dominance, as if he needs to. the man could breath and people would run away in fear. he unfortunately loves it, lives for scaring people. but something about your presence made his exterior more calm, and somehow hilarious as he tries his best to flirt.

“yeah well, i was just coming to wish you good luck on your next mission. your heading back home, aren’t you? the ol’ manchester?” you tried to joke around, imitating a poorly constructed british accent, but it only made ghosts eyes close shut out of embarrassment.

once his eyes opened a few seconds later, they met yours. like truly met yours. his were deep brown, almost black crashing against the perfect white surrounding them. after a few seconds more of strange tension that only seemed to be building by the minute, he nodded his head towards inside your room.

“since you’re here,there’s something you could help me with, i suppose.” without another thought, you followed him inside his living quarters. as gruff and disorganized as the man seemed, his room was pristine; kept in almost perfect condition. a few pictures and souvenirs that i’m sure he’d argue “everyone else was getting one, so i had to” but the truth was, he loved collecting things. from seashells to postcards, he wanted them all. you wanted to ask about all his trinkets, but before you could, you were distracted by ghosts loud footsteps and the shedding of his outer layer.

he took off his vest and jacket, leaving only a black tee and his camouflage pants, and the sight made you almost anxious. seeing your lieutenant get comfortable? it was as unsettling as it was exciting for you, and the sight of his bare and inked forearms was enough to make you insane.

ghost walked over to his sink and mirror, and pulled the first drawer open. after digging through it and incidentally dropping a few things on his carpet, he grabbed a tube of black face paint and held it out to you.

“i need to put it around my eyes,” he said while pointing at his face, “for y’know, the mission.”

you smiled at his awkward but genuine words. it meant you were finally getting through to him, and that maybe all those times you tried to start conversations only for him to seem uninterested, maybe they were working.

“sure. sit down somewhere, you’re too tall.” you said, taking the tube of paint and following him to where he sat on a small couch.

it wasn’t until now that you realized what was about to happen. in order for you to put face-paint on ghost, he would have to take his mask off. therefore, you’d get to see what he looked like! therefore, he’d probably kill you if you ever told anyone or brought this up ever again.

you paused to look at him for a moment, "are you really gonna let me see you?"

he looked back up at you, eyebrows shooting up at your question. it conveyed that he didn't realize what he had to do either. no one had seen his face in years, he barely ever saw it himself. but regardless, ghost nodded and slowly slid off his mask after taking a long deep breath, showing his face in its entirety.

you shuddered out a breath before swallowing it, you hadn't thought you'd ever have the chance to see his face, but all of it made perfect sense. his features aligned with another as if he was painted, or sculpted from clay. you had to control yourself not to run along the lines of his thick cheekbones and strong jaw.

squeezing out a bit of blank paint, you took it between your fingers and hesitantly started going over his eyes. they closed once your fingers made contact with his face, and an involuntary sigh of pleasure escaped his mouth. after years, you were all he could think about. he almost hated himself for it; there hadn't been a single person or thing that distracted him from his work as much as you did. but as time passed, all he wanted was for you to touch him and not be afraid like everyone else was.

you carefully smeared the staining liquid along his upper face, being sure not to get it too close to his eyes. he couldn't remember the last time someone was this gentle with him, but he wouldn't have expected anything else coming from you.

once you finished, you took a minute to just gaze at him. eyes closed peacefully, as if he had never known fear or danger, as if you were the safest person he could think of. he'd never admit it, but he would run to you from danger in a heartbeat out of pure selfishness and admiration, and you'd do the same for him.

you tapped him on his thigh to signal you were done, with the paint as well as the staring. you tried to memorize every part of him, every inch that was covered in freckles or scars that he probably hated but that you loved.

his eyes slowly opened, finding yours immediately. "thanks," he said in a quiet tone, trying to break eye contact but just not being able to. there's no where he'd rather be right now, and the fact is, that he planned the whole thing. you running down the hallway, you wishing him farewell, he knew you'd do it so he prepared, knowing very well this could be the last time he ever got to see you.

"y/n, i need to tell you something." ghost said as you stood from your spot on the coffee table across from him, wiping the paint off on your jeans. the question caused you to pause and slowly sit back down, "yeah, what's up?"

he cleared his throat a few times before carrying on, “i think-”

all the sudden, his door was banged on before captain price entered.

“ghost. get your things, we’re leaving early.”

[sock-pot]

Man I just reread that one medieval/fantasy Scott the Woz fic on AO3 and AKSJAKJSJAKA now I have so many thoughts about my own fantasy au and I just have to share. INFO BLAST GO:

Scott, the Virgin King. A kind, if troubled, ruler whose weekly speeches of games and plays from far off lands draw huge crowds outside the palace. Although loved by the commoners, there is tension among the nobles as he has shown no interest in finding a betrothed, much less an heir. Rumours have begun to spread among his detractors as to why his eyes don’t linger on even the fairest of maidens…

Rex, Jeb, Jerry, The Employee, and Terry are under the cut. I don’t want to clog up the Woz tag with a big ass text block y’know?

Rex, the Kings Bodyguard. He is incredibly passionate about following the rules. Someone has to be if the King keeps trying to sneak out of royal duties to mingle with commoners in the town square. There have been multiple times he’s had to practically drag Scott to important meetings with ambassadors and try not to giggle at him staring daggers through lengthy trade speeches and other boring official talks. As much as Rex sometimes bickers with him over menial things, him and Scott are very close, having grown up alongside each other in the palace walls. In a life or death situation he would fight honourably for the life of not only his king, but his friend as well. Maybe sometimes Rex will let Scott leave the castle. As long as he tags along to keep an eye on him.

Jeb, the Royal Messenger. Wether it be delivering news within the palace or bringing the thoughts of the townspeople to the court, he always has something to share. His messenger bag is always packed full of parchment rolls, each scrawled with news from both the town and the lands beyond. Because he spends so much time running around the town, he’s gotten to know each nook and cranny like the back of his hand. This comes in handy when the King and his bodyguard decide to skip out on their duties and need an alleyway to slip into to avoid the eyes of the public. Jeb is surprisingly close to Scott despite just being a messenger, as the King enjoys getting word of new exotic games he can use to entertain the public, and Jeb is happy to deliver, even sometimes relaying extra gold to travellers in the shipyard willing to teach him of their land’s own games and customs.

Jerry, one of the King’s Royal Advisors. Nobody is really sure why he still holds this position. The man has long since gone mad, and his advice is mostly nonsensical, not to mention the copious amount of liquor he drinks is troubling. Other nobles suspect he is kept around to entertain the King, much like a Jester in some other court. In reality he’s been a close friend to the King for a while now, and Scott couldn’t imagine throwing a friend out of his palace just because he sometimes gives bad advice. Plus, he’s the only one who speaks to the King as if he has no regard for his status, and sometimes that’s refreshing.

The Employee, a common goods vendor. Him and his twin brother were left on a doorstep as newborns, and the couple that took them in never bothered to name them. They were put to work as soon as they could walk, and grew up working in their adoptive family’s two booths in the town square. While his brother worked in the butcher’s booth across the way, he worked in a general store, trading and mending clothing and selling trinkets and curiosities traded to him over the years. His brother was killed a few years back. He was jumped by thieves while making a delivery to the palace one night. They stabbed him and looted his cart, leaving him to bleed out alone in the street. The Employee now keeps a distance from the butchers stall where his brother used to work, as he’s not fond of digging up those memories. Despite this misfortune, The Employee keeps a cherry demeanour, preferring to focus on the positives in life. He feels the happiest when his favourite customer visits his stall, though it happens very rarely. This customer hides himself in a dark cloak, although the extravagant blue embroidery on the collar and hem are nothing like the Employee has seen on other commoners…

Terry, the palace Apothecary. He isn’t much for company, usually spending his days alone tending to the plants in the palace greenhouse or bent over journals detailing recipes for herbal remedies and elixirs. Sometimes Jeb will bring him word of new plants discovered in other lands, accompanied with sketches, or even rarely some seeds to plant in the greenhouse for him to observe.

Ok cool. Thank you for listening to my INFO BLAST. Have a good night.

Maybe I’ll think of more characters idk there are still like 2 or 3 more I have ideas for but yeah later sometime

[hal-monitor]

Tips on drawing rooms??

Here’s what I always keep in mind for rooms:

1 - PERSPECTIVE!! You want the room to feel tangible and follow the basics. Find a nice horizon line to suit the mood of the piece, usually birds eye is fun for getting a good view of the room. Just make sure you’re using your guidelines and that things line up y’know?

2 - WHO LIVES HERE?? Are they messy as shit, clean to the point of being annoying, do they work in their room or is it just sleeping, what do they like to do? Rooms are just characters without the figure in them, so make sure that comes across regardless of if people know the character or not.

3 - COMPOSITION!! Plain walls are pretty not fun to look at. I like cramming a bunch of shit on my walls, filling them up with postcards or photos or drawings, but not every room is like that! Just make sure if there’s a big blank wall or a large empty space that it works with the composition, or else it’ll draw way too much focus!!

4 - MAKE IT LIVABLE!! Things are crooked a lot! If you’ve got perspective lines, not every little trinket is going to match those. Spill some garbage on the floor, knock a book over on the shelf, leave a cup out in a weird place, just make it feel lived-in! Unless of course your character would line everything up along perspective lines.

5 - LIGHTING!! Are we seeing this room at night, only being shown what the single lamp in the corner is willing to share? Or are we in the midafternoon with a full load of sunshine blasting in through the window? Is it raining, snowing, morning, evening, make it real!! The lighting can change so much about the piece, and it’s usually the hardest part.

Sorry if this was a bit long winded but thats usually what I keep in mind when doing interiors. If there’s one major thing I can recommend it’s Point Number 2. Spaces are characters, and they can tell us more about an individual than the clothes they wear.

Hope that helps (or just makes sense) :>

[gliyerabaa]

‘Corvid’s are friends’

Okay but doesn’t Elphaba keep crows? I feel like that’s how they meet, somehow. She comes out into the yard one day and there’s just a guy trying to talk to her birds

Took me a good ten minutes to realize the “corvids are friends” thing you mentioned is from the werewolf instincts post

Ok but this is SUCH a good idea. I envision this gliyeraba werewolf/vampire au taking place in a modern setting— even modern au elphaba would befriend crows though. Leaving out food for them and they bring her trinkets in return.

One day she goes out to feed the crows and there’s a guy just standing there trying to talk to them. The birds don’t mind— they’ve grown used to human interaction— but Elphaba approaches the situation with a fair amount of snark.

-

Elphaba steps out onto the porch, morning coffee and biscuits in hand. She had heard the crows making a ruckus outside and decided to take her breakfast outdoors. It’s a beautiful morning, no sense wasting it inside.

She’s caught off guard by a man leaning over the fence of her yard, seemingly trying to talk to the crows. He’s a scruffy man with shaggy hair and blue diamond tattoos covering his dark skin. He’s wearing a flannel that’s a slightly different shade of blue than his tattoos. It’s an annoying clash, further aggravating Elphaba, as if the presence of a stranger on her property wasn’t annoying enough.

“Hey man, go find your own murder to befriend— these crows are mine.”

“Oh, sorry” the scruffy man looks up, “Just trying to see if these birds have any intel on the mailman. Can’t stand the guy.”

“The mailm- Boq? What do you have against him?”

“Nothing. I just like chasing him. I mean— my dog. My dog likes chasing him. Not me. That would be weird.”

“Right.” Elphaba sighs. It was too early in the morning to be dealing with a weirdo like this.

“Those biscuits look good.” The man leaps over the fence effortlessly and lands on all fours. “Can I have one?”

Elphaba’s first instinct is to reach for her phone and call the police— but her phone is inside and even if it weren’t, she knows better than to call the cops on what she assumes to be a homeless man. As off-putting as the stranger’s presence is, she casts aside her reservations and hands him a biscuit.

“Thank you!” He accepts the food and devours it quickly, “My name is Fiyero, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Fiyero. What exactly brings you to the neighborhood, aside from hunting down poor Boq?”

“Y’know, I’m still not too sure. I’ve been a bit of a lone wolf for a while, I’m still trying to figure out where I want to go and who I want to be.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Though maybe you should refrain from inviting yourself into other people’s property.”

“Ah, yeah…” Fiyero smiles sheepishly, “Still haven’t quite figured that one out.”

Elphaba offers him another biscuit. It’s strange, she thinks, how Glinda had to be invited into Elphaba’s home, but now this man practically invites himself in. Two mysterious encounters in the span of only a few months…

“Elphie, what’s going on out here?” Glinda steps outside, making sure she stays in the shade of the porch. She looks at the man sitting on the porch and smiles, a rare grin that shows off her pointed fangs. “Fiyero!”

“Glinda!” Fiyero leaps up and practically tackles her in a hug.

Elphaba raises an eyebrow, “You two know each other?”

“Of course we do— we went to the Academy together. Didn’t see each other much, considering I was in the Vamp dorm and he was in the Lycan dorm, but..”

Oh. All of Fiyero’s odd mannerisms made sense now— he was a werewolf!

[hippolotamus]

Tagged by the talented @giddyupbuck @buddierights @eddiediaztho @wikiangela @spotsandsocks @911onabc (make sure you check their posts!)

Posting a lengthy snippet of you're where I wanna go under the cut because: I can, I have no impulse control, and I'm hoping this will make me write beyond this stage and get Buckaroo a little relief. Or at least, y’know, less sad 😘

No pressure tagging @shortsighted-owl @alyxmastershipper mi cariña @disasterbuckdiaz @honestlydarkprincess @jesuisici33 @wildlife4life @stereopticons @elvensorceress  @monsterrae1 @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @heartshapedvows @loserdiaz @spaceprincessem @thewolvesof1998 @chaosandwolves @statueinthestone @eowon @the-likesofus @barbiediaz @cowboy-buddie @your-catfish-friend @forthewolves

“Evan? Is that you?”  Even with walls of plaster and heartache between them he can hear the obligation in his mother’s tone. The hollow echo of concern that reaches for him before bouncing off and landing with a dull thud on the oriental carpet in the foyer.  He removes his jacket, draping it over his arm, and walks towards the parlor, finding her sitting with her back to him in a favorite chair. His late father’s matching one still exists stoically beside it, a reminder of the man’s presence, even in death.  The faint scent of peppermint tea drifts through the air, coupled with the tinkling sound of her spoon against the gold rim of a hand-painted china cup, stirring stirring stirring.  “Good evening, mother.” “You’re late,” she comments, not bothering to turn around.  “I was out walking.” It’s not untrue. And it’s not as if she actually cares what he was doing. He leans with his shoulder against the doorframe, waiting to hear if there’ll be more than the impatient sigh he’s sure she means for him to notice.  “That girl should really be more considerate of your time, Evan.” That girl.  Margaret Buckley has never shown interest in knowing more than she absolutely has to regarding the details of Buck’s romantic life. Truthfully, he almost prefers it that way. Less ammunition for her to cut him down with. Not none, but less.

The soft parts of him that yearn for a mother’s affection do want her to show genuine curiosity. But her current disregard for Ali sets off a flare of annoyance that makes his jaw tense.  “Miss Martin,” he corrects. When she doesn’t answer, he adds, “But that won’t be a problem going forward. She’ll be leaving to pursue other opportunities.” The spoon makes a halted clink. “I suppose it was only a matter of time. She never did seem very reliable.” Margaret pauses to sip from her tea. “We’ll start fresh tomorrow then.” Tomorrow. Meaning that In less than twelve hours she intends for him to be meeting and charming potential new partners. As if he’s seeking a trinket. Something inconsequential. The spark of annoyance tips into a full bodied discontent.  His fingers curl in, nails digging into the fleshy bits of his palm. Selfishly, he wants the skin to break open, allowing his frustration to drip on the imported rug. To then wipe away the excess on each hand-embroidered curtain and stain them with his misery. He wants to pull his wretched, broken heart from his chest and set it on his father’s chair. Maybe then it would be worthy of inspection. But, of course, he doesn’t do any of those things. “Nevermind that I might need some time before going off in search of the next Mrs. Buckley. That I might want just a- a breath before seeking out the unsuspecting person who has to spend the rest of their life with me a-and this family.” “Evan.” Margaret turns to him then, wide eyed with her mouth set in a tense line. “You're being dramatic. You have very few obligations to, as you say, this family. What’s left of it anyway. You are provided for and need not lift a finger if you don’t want to. The only thing required of you is to find a suitable wife, and to grow up. Is that so impossible?” Buck is suddenly twelve years old again, desperate to please his parents. To diffuse any contention that stands in the way of him being loved.  “N- no. I’m simply asking for a little time. Not much. Not even a week. Just a few days to recover so I can have a clear head to think with. Please.” Margaret’s deep scowl relaxes to a more neutral air of indifference before she turns away from him again.  “One,” she says. “I will allow you one day.” The room falls silent as it was before. The only exceptions are a silver spoon resuming the task of stirring what must be lukewarm peppermint tea, and the grandfather clock ticking in the corner.  Buck silently excuses himself, taking the dismissal for what it is.

[thetragicallynerdy]

Hi, I'm here from the tealoranges tag! Fic title meme: Are You Going to Scarborough Fair?

Alright alright, I finally had the brains to think about this and write something! (For those who haven't heard of it, this meme is that you send me a fic title, and I sketch out the fic I think would match it. I am not accepting further prompts for this meme at this time.)

I know that this one would go really nicely as a like, farmers market au, but hear me out: post-war au and farmer’s market au. Because the canticle aspect of Simon & Garfunkle’s version of Scarborough Fair always, always makes me think about war (because, y’know, it’s about war). But, because it’s Jim and Olu, and I really wouldn’t ever write an actual war type fic, lets go with “Canon time - Jim, returning from their holy mission, and Oluwande, who sells his wares at the market.”

When I started typing this I was going to say it was more vibes than plot (the Vibes being an exhausted Jim who’s killed a whole lot of men and then returned home to find that they’re still not at peace, and then they meet Oluwande) but now there’s like 1000+ words of plot so here u go:

Jim never made it to Nassau as their first stop in their mission. They don’t meet Oluwande, and they instead spend ten-fifteen years tracking down every last member of the Siete Gallos. Alfeo de la Vaca is not their first. He’s closer to their last, which is the main reason that they keep at it so long – a) there is no one to encourage them to stop, and b) they haven’t killed the one that matters yet.

Somewhere along the way, they have exactly one run in with Blackbeard and Stede, who we can presume are still doing their romance off to the side. They see a handsome Black man with a teal earring on the crew who catches their eye – but then they forget about him.

Oluwande, meanwhile, got out of Spanish Jackie’s for other reasons, about the same time as he would’ve in canon. He finds Stede, and has a rather successful career in piracy before he finally settles down and buys a home. He learns how to make jewelry, and sells it. Tiny trinkets, that sort of thing, to keep his hands busy. For some reason, he really liked St. Augustine the last time they were there. He settles down.

Jim finally finishes their hit list. They return to St. Augustine, scarred and hardened and hoping to find some semblance of peace, because all they feel is a hollowness in their chest and a bone-deep weariness. They come home to a home that’s still empty and ruined, overgrown after decades of neglect.

Whether or not Nana is still alive is up to you. If she is, her exuberance over Jim being done their mission grates against the disenchantment they’re feeling. If she’s not, there’s a point of grief over ‘she was the one I was doing this for, and she’s not even here to see it.’

Either way – Jim is not doing great. They try and fix up the farm, but mainly fix up the house enough to live in, and wallow. The Beautiful Life they were promised afterwards hasn’t happened, and everything feels like dust. Very ‘returning from war and finding yourself at odds with the world’ type vibes.

But then they wander into the market one morning when they’re coming in to, I dunno, buy food, and they happen across a tiny stall, run by a beautiful man with a teal earring. He sells jewelry, and it feels so frivolous, so unnecessary, but they can’t help but stop and look at it. Jewelery isn’t even their thing, but they can’t help but reach out and touch the intricate little earrings.

Oluwande recognizes them. And, in true Oluwande fashion, blurts out “holy shit, I know you.” This is not immediately a concern. Most people in town know them, by rumour at the very least, of the Jimenez child who lived. It’s a small place. However, then he says “we met on uh – The Gentleman Pirate’s ship, you killed that guy –“ and Jim gets very defensive very fast. And maybe runs away a little, wondering if they need to just pack up and go because they don’t really want people recognizing them for all the blood they’ve spilled.

(And then they remember the handsome man with the teal earring, and kick themself a little for not being able to place him immediately. He's still just as handsome, all these years later.)

Later that day Oluwande shows up at their door, with an apology on his lips and a small earring in his hand. “Didn’t mean to scare you off,” he says sheepishly. “I just got excited. Not many people here that know what I used to do.”

Jim reluctantly lets him in, and offers him a drink. They talk. Or, Oluwande talks, and Jim listens.

It’s not love at first meeting. But so many people in town avoid talking to Jim, and he doesn’t seem to care about the blood they’ve spilled. Hell, he was a pirate. He’s spilled just as much. So a tentative friendship is born.

They start seeking him out. Wandering to the market just to talk and pretend to browse his wares. They keep the earring he gave them, but their ears aren’t pierced, so they don’t do anything with it. They start bringing small food treats that they pick up at the market, so they have an excuse to sit and share it. Oluwande brightens every time they show up. He starts having tea or something else to drink ready every time, to share with the food.

Jim keeps trying to fix up the farm. But every time they do it just feels pointless, and makes them sad. They don’t really need a job for the money, but they’re starting to get restless, like they need something to do.

They take up whittling instead. It’s hard, and they cut themself more than they have since they first learned how to handle knives. Their first clumsy attempt at a bird gets given to Oluwande. So does their second, their third. A few more become toys, given to the family down the road. It takes time, but they get good.

“You should let me sell these,” Oluwande muses, running fingers over an intricate crocodile. “They’re really good.”

Jim shrugs. “I don’t really need the money.”

He raises an eyebrow and nods at his jewelry. “Neither do I. Why do you think they’re so cheap?”

Jim lets Oluwande sell their carvings. It’s a good partnership.

Eventually they kiss him. Of course they do. He’s handsome and sweet and the only person who makes them feel like a person again, and not the assassin they’ve become. The only person who teases them about their hat and their long coat and tells them they’re not as scary as they think they are.

And it’s good. It’s so good, this little romance. Easy, in a way very few things in their life have been.

A few weeks, maybe months after they add romance to the mix, Jim admits, late one evening, how much they hate living at the farm. How they still think about leaving, all the time.

“Could move in with me,” Oluwande whispers, voice just audible from where Jim is plastered to his back. “I’ve got the space.”

Jim leaves the next morning and tells him they need to think about it, promising they’re not running away, that they just need time to think. They go, and sit on their farm, and then disappear into the woods like they did as a child. When they come back two days later, it still feels just as empty and barren and broken as it did when they first set foot back in St. Augustine, just as lost as it did when they were a child. The healing they were hoping for is happening, but it’s not happening on this farm.

So they pack up all of their things (there aren’t many), and walk to the village. The sun is just setting, and there’s a candle already burning in Oluwande’s window. There’s no hesitation before they knock.

Oluwande opens the door, and sees them, and their bag. He smiles and holds the door open wider.

“Welcome home.”

That’s it! Look I will never actually write this, so if anyone ever wants to write the thing, have at! (Just give me credit for the idea, and please for the love of god send it to me so I can read it XD)

Anyway thanks for the prompt anon, this was fun!! Sorry it took me a while XD

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

Hello please use this ask to ramble about the lab rats au it sounds interesting!

OH OK

So basically the idea is that instead of… the rest of the finale happening after Punz and Dream corner Clingy on the power tower, they instead decide to keep the two of them as permanent test subjects in captivity in exchange for their lives. They claim this is to research the long terms effects of revival which they can’t do on themselves since they’re dying every other week (and Punz believes this), but in truth Dream put forth the idea because he’s cripplingly lonely whenever Punz is dead and y’know, the whole Primeboys thing.

So, Tubbo is killed and revived, and the two of them are put through a ton of psychologically and physically exhausting tests with no regards for ethics. They’re not intentionally done to be cruel, they’re given anaesthetics and stuff for the practical reasons that it’s hard to do live vivisection on a subject who's thrashing in agony, but also neither of them are doctors or psychologists and as such aren’t exactly very good at the whole thing- Dream nearly stabs Tommy through his muscle the first time he tries to take blood from him because while they know What to do they don’t know How to do it. So ClingyDuo are pretty beat up, and they’re covered head to toe in scars, and are in a pretty constant state of pain from poorly treated injuries, but they’re not like actively being tortured. (Well, Tubbo isn’t, Primeboys are still Like That).

Most of the time, though, they’re just kinda hanging around with their assigned member of staged duo. Dream with Tommy, of course, and Punz with Tubbo, though when one of them is dead the other babysits their emotional support kidnapped teenager for a few days. They’re absolutely not treated as equals- they wear hospital gowns that Tommy was forced to sew, and they are meant to be referred to by a number and not a name (Dream is terrible at remembering that one)- but they're treated much more like friends than anything else.

Punz is relatively cold, until he bonds with Tubbo over them both being interested in science. He views the whole thing mostly as a necessary part of research, and while he sees Clingyduo as valuable test subjects and genuinely does admire them for the roles they play, he doesn’t see through that facade. This, however, also means he lacks the petty cruelty and sadism Dream often displays. He feels some jealousy towards Tommy specifically, since Dream's been much more distant ever since they got their hands on the test subjects, but he doesn’t try and let it show (except for when he vents to Tubbo about how he feels neglected and used by the only friend he has anymore).

Dream is… well, Dream. He's ecstatic to finally have his best friend finally with him at all times, and he… tolerates Tubbo, though he eventually warms to him (this is a bad thing for Tubbo). His time in Limbo has left him paranoid that the people he sees are hallucinations, since he had a lot of those in Limbo, so he's got basically no sense of space because the only way he knows to test if someone’s real is physical touch. He's a lot like he was in exile, only like a million times worse- he's soft and kind when he's pleased, showering Clingyduo with meaningless trinkets and minor privileges to lovebomb them, and shifting into shouting, violence, and gleeful cruelty the second they so much as breathe wrong around him.

Tommy defaults to fawning obedience as a survival strategy, which Tubbo finds incredibly disconcerting, as it’s so unlike what he’s grown to expect from him. Tubbo, of course, plays along too, but it’s cold, emotionless following of orders, shutting himself off from feelings and disassociating from himself, while Tommy is very clearly not doing that- he’s acting like a trusted friend, trying to endear himself to their captors, and when the two of them get rare time alone he's the first to show pity and sympathy to them (though he still definitely wants to get the fuck out), whereas Tubbo has nothing but contempt in his heart- at best, a grudging respect for Punz as a scientific partner.

Tubbo basically ends up being a third researcher with Dream and Punz solely because discussing science is one of his few solaces in his life at this point, while Tommy's able to navigate the waters of being held captive with a disturbing level of competence, like it’s more familiar to him than most things, and he's able to divert some of the harm done by Dream and Punz by talking them out of it (or if he’s desperate, getting them pissed at him so he'll be the only target for their wrath).

[unsleepingtales]

Ey life got chaotic but we press on. First up is Ravening War episode three reactions, hopefully soon to be followed by Ravening War episode four reactions, and, if we’re lucky, Ravening War episode five reactions. Let’s go! (also this is a long one just a heads up)

First combat episode this season I am HYPE

My partner prefers the role play episodes and I get that I really do but something about all the numbers and mechanics and trinkets in the combat episodes really tickles my brain

Colin :D

Aabria’s makeup on point as always

Fruity you say 😏

(Distant screams of ambushees)

Different degrees of strong and loose?? Malleable battlefield?? Ey??

Raphaniel so fucking ruthless Jesus

With a lot of swagger!!

Karna sweetheart

Karna why you gotta kill someone

Come on Provolone!

Aw lil Karna and Colin moment :)

You didn’t bring a carriage. You brought starfruit.

Awww everyone’s mini reveals

So excited to see Amangeaux fight

Gang it is once again Rick Perry Appreciation Hours

Sorry Aabria a WHAT kinda gal

Bloodthirsty radish yeesh

Karna is so real because if I had magic I also would just use it all the time regardless of how much danger I would be putting myself in if someone saw me

That looks like a real orange. Are you telling me that’s not? A real orange?

DOME ANTICS

I really hope that they do like. A series of destination/travel posters for Ravening War with the art they’ve been putting on the dome. I think those would be sick.

The camera movement this episode!!

God I want to work for them

Augh poor little cherries

The character choice “Actually no, she’s gonna be dumb” is so important sometimes.

A little fuck with your mind cantrip?

Mind sliver oooooo

It’s really hard to see a woman spiral like this 😔

This is happening TO me sir no it is not shush

COLIN DEALS NECROTIC DAMAGE????

Nothing can heal this person from this blade????

Oh my god.

Oh my god that’s fucking horrifying. As someone with GI issues? The visuals of that Eldritch blast are horrifying.

A little guy??? You can’t add a wrinkle to the encounter!

Y’know, if you wanted the rowboat guy to not notice anything. Maybe you shouldn’t have thrown a guy into the river?

Banana has the highest initiative???

You *feel* pretty hidden??

“Please full die”

Brennan was really trying for a Beardsley calling to Helio moment there and Did Not get it.

Like a delusional mary poppins <3

A Cody level turn!!

Pulling arrows out of her own body, still goes oof.

Chess jokes!

Ohohohoho intimidation

Oh god

Gonna kill Brennan with his own box!

Grape IS the worst candy flavor thank you Aabria for speaking the truth.

Pamela!

Brennan looks like he’s losing his mind lmaooo

Is Deli just gonna flat out kill her in one turn

Ooh that’s a cool ability ngl

Pompous Mockery? Neat

All the multiclasses this season are so cool! Giving me so many ideas!

Don’t kill Colin :(

Horrifying. Horrifying!

Everyone gleefully watching Brennan squirm is so fun

Oh time for some Raphaniel lore!

Oh my god??

Oh does that end his turn?? Does it?

Oh dear lord

That’s our third “how do you want to do this” in like 15 minutes jesus

Karna! So creepy! Love u bb

YOU. DIED. FOR. NOTHING.

Babe WHAT

Ohohoho the political intrigue

“No secret was worth this” Colin honey

Raphaniel is just so unhinged huh

Spiesssss

What. What’s up guys. What? Hello what?

TWO NAT 20S on this poor fucked up apologetic skeleton thing?

SPORES?????

If karna’s bardic just saved him that’s beautiful ngl

Zombies?? Calorum’s got zombies???

On a 22 arcana he’s got no clue? Damn

Oh god what if that’s what Karna would turn into if she didn’t cut the rot out of herself?

Hive mind? Mold hive mind?

How many people have visibly used magic now?

Ooh camera antics

And we go back below the food pyramid!

Sanctus Putris means holy rot jsyk

Oh god oh fuck oh no

Oh this is so reliant on shame. That has so many thoughts attached to it.

Guilt is being utilized so effectively here

I also feel crazy!

[sesshous]

love language: dim sum [gaming x reader]

summary: gaming always pays the bill, you don't like that, you make him food instead

genre: fluff (no prns)

a/n: he is literally the cutest. seriously. wtf.

gaming had always been easy to get along with - you felt like you could talk to him about anything... apart from the tiny crush you’ve been harbouring on him for a while now (just a small one you tell yourself!) you really couldn’t tell if he liked you back or not. gaming was friendly with, well… everyone. you didn’t think you were any different.

so you tried your best to push those feelings away.

(but it was definitely not helpful when you were asked by local merchants how gaming was doing, or when you bumped into other transport agency guards, and they teased you about if ‘you and gaming were going on a date later’ - you don’t really spend that much time with him, do you?)

earlier in the morning, gaming had gone out delivering goods to liyue harbour, telling you he’d be back during the evening, which also meant he would be back to join you for dinner.

it was pretty common - for you and him to get meals together when you weren’t busy. going out and getting dim sum with him was the highlight of your day - or rather, highlights with it being sometimes multiple times a day. okay, maybe you did spend a lot of time with him- but how could you not? you really enjoyed his company. one thing you didn’t enjoy though, was gaming always playing the bill. 

you like to think you were responsible with your mora, (and you will argue that those little trinkets that catch your eye are not a waste!) so it wasn’t like you couldn’t afford to pay in full or split the bill for the two of you or anything. still, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about not contributing to help pay, despite gaming’s constant reassurance that he could handle it and that it wasn’t a big deal.

so you devised a plan where none of you would have to pay.

… not by stealing, of course-

by making your own!

and while cooking wasn’t the strongest suit of yours, you thought the steamed dumplings you made tasted good, testing one to see if it was, indeed, edible. and with the clock now reading a few minutes past six, you store the dumplings in a container insulated with pyro slime condensate, and leave your house to head off to the transport agency. clutching the container in your hand, you can’t help but feel a bit nervous. you really hoped he’d like the dumplings you made.

as you reach the entrance, you peer in from the gate into the courtyard seeing gaming speaking with another guard. he must of just gotten back from liyue harbour. you feel a bit weird standing there just watching them, but you didn’t want to interrupt his conversation. 

the guard gaming was speaking to saw you, giving you a knowing look then turned to gaming, pointing him in your direction. he patted gaming on the back and whispered to him that caused gaming to splutter out something, making the guard to laugh and give him a wave goodbye, walking off leaving just the two of you. gaming looked back over at you, giving you a friendly wave and smile, jogging over to you,

“hey there!” he leaned in close to you, making you flush at the sudden proximity, “no need to spy on me, y’know? you could have come up and joined us.”

“i- i wasn’t spying on you! …i didn’t want to interrupt your conversation!.” you stammered out, causing gaming to let out a small laugh.

“you know i’m only messing with you!” he waves his hands defensively, giving you a cheeky grin. you let out a sigh, 

“so… are you finished up with work for today? we can go eat dinner together if you are.” you ask, wanting to make sure he didn’t get called on to help with other deliveries.

“yep! all done. heh, normally i’m the one taking you out for lunch, haha! where do you wanna go?” he says teasingly. you try your best to ignore the heat building up in your stomach at his words,

“actually!” you begin, getting gaming to become intrigued, “instead of going out to eat…” you lift up the container and hand it over to him, “i made food myself!”

gaming’s eyes averted down to look at the container and took it from you. he slightly opened up the lid as to not let the heat out, and peered in. dumplings varying in slightly different sizes, and some a bit misshapen were inside. he could smell a fresh aroma of pork. gaming couldn’t remember the last time someone made him a homemade meal, that must have been when his mother…

gaming shook his head dismissing the thought- which was definitely not the best reaction while staring at the food you made him. you internally panicked. did it not look good? and gaming was being a bit too quiet while looking at the food… maybe you messed it up somehow..

looking discouraged, you reach your hand over to take the container back.

“does it look bad? you don’t have to eat it if you-“ your words were abruptly cut off by your hand that was going to take back the container being enclosed by gaming’s.

“no, no!” quickly realising his mistake, he squeezed your hand a bit tighter, “it looks good! more than good actually- they look great!” he quickly reassured you, “… thank you.” you nodded at his words, too stunned to say anything. a few seconds passed by in silence. gaming’s eyes dart down towards your hands.

“oh, sorry-“ gaming loosened his grip before being interrupted by your voice.

“you can still hold it... if you want to.” you mentally cringe at yourself with how awkward that came out. gaming gave you a comforting smile, going back to hold your hand - a bit more gently this time. he closed up the container, speaking up,

“...there’s a nice place- it’s on the outskirts of yilong wharf and has an awesome view of the city! …can i take you there?” a very noticeable blush creeps up on his face. you stifled a breath, nodding,

“... sure- yeah! that sounds… nice…” you couldn't help but reflect back the smile on his face. gaming pulled you along, leading you off to the outskirts of yilong wharf.

huh, maybe you were a little different from other people...

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

Higurashi Month 2023, Day 24: Affection

Higurashi Month prompts archive: AO3 

Mion showed her love in touching –a grimy arm wrapped around Rena’s neck and a grin shared between the two of them, a half-mocking scruff of Kei-chan’s hair as he howled about his latest punishment game outfit, scooping Satoko-chan up and holding her high like a trophy…

There were other moments, quieter ones, where she would touch a callused hand against Shion’s shoulder, press her palm reassuringly against  Rika-chan’s back as she hesitated before picking up her practice hoe, or even just step between her friends and danger –but Mion showed her love in contact, in showing and demonstrating just how much she was there for her friends.

And she received her love in time spent with them –in basking in the presence and joy of her friends, in knowing that they wanted to spend their time with her, that they wanted to have fun together. Her daydreams of going out walking with a faceless boy –eventually not quite so faceless, as Kei-chan grew more and more into her life– featured them going out shopping together, buying little matching trinkets that they could wear as expressions of their love, and then spending their time at an amusement park or arcade. Something fun, y’know?

Something that could ease the gentle emptiness that wrapped around her heart. Something that could prove that she was still feminine, something that could feed the heart of the girl she had been before getting marked with the wrong name.

She wanted those little accessories that she and her boyfriend bought, something that could show how much she was loved, something she could wear all the time that would demonstrate to everyone –and herself– that she was beloved of someone.

~*~

Shion showed her love in her words –in the things she had never received. When she was loved, she spoke it boldly, and no one who listened to her words could doubt for a moment the depth of her feelings. She’d never heard someone tell her how much she was loved, wanted, needed, not really, not truly, and she selflessly gave those feeling back out to those that she cared for. They, at least, would never know that feeling. She would make sure of it.

She loved in fierce words and stubborn speeches, never backing down an inch. If those she loved could not protect themselves, then she would protect them, using whatever weapons came to hand. As a Sonozaki, Shion had learned words first and actions to follow, and as Shion, she had learned that there were few who would back her up or support her if she acted alone.

So she crafted her arguments with every inch of experience that she had, used words like blades to slice away the problems that threatened those she loved. She spoke to her friends, to Satoshi-kun, to Satoko-chan, to Mion, with a playful tone that never gave a hint of her troubles, or used her words to bring them up out of the gloomy clouds they had sank into.

And she received her love in reciprocal acts –there was a tiny miracle contained in someone doing something for her, only for her, solely for her, because they cared about her. Every time it happened, it was something new and wonderful, and her breath caught and her heart soared as someone did something for her, showing that they loved her in the sheer reflex of the act.

Satoshi-kun had stepped in to save her and thought nothing of it, because it came to him so naturally, and Shion’s heart had stuttered in her chest. Kasai was her silent shadow, and yet his every word and act was centered around helping her, and it was second nature to him by this point. Mion was her twin, her other half, and yet she shed her name and dropped her identity in a heartbeat, if that was what Shion needed, and all she had to do was ask.

And when someone looked at her, hugged her, made her the sole recipient of an act of touch, Shion’s world was rocked again. She could count how many times she had received physical acts of affection, Satoshi-kun’s hair-ruffles and Mion’s shoulder-pats included. It was something almost magical, and she savored each and every time it happened.

~*~

Keiichi showed his love with his actions, as befitted a man. When the club called for help, he was there, wielding a golf club in place of a bat –temporarily, at least. When one of his friends was in trouble, he was there, planting himself solidly in the thick of it and using his charisma to the utmost as he strove to undo the knots of whatever problem plagued them.

If Mion needed someone to help set up for the festival, he’d be on site, pulling on bunting and hauling lumber. If Rena saw a teddy she wanted during the festival, he would shoot down the targets and win it for her. If Satoko-chan needed a surrogate to replace her big brother, he would invite her to his house for shared meals and have her back, no matter what. If Rika-chan looked lost and afraid, murmuring about doomed fates, then he would take that fate and snap it between his hands like a fragile chopstick.

If someone he loved wanted something, Keiichi would do something about it. If they needed him, he would be there for them. It was quite that simple, and he thought nothing of showing his affections in this way. Words –however skilled he was in using them– were too bold, too much. You made a commitment with words, crossing the line to an intimacy he had never dared venture into before. Words were… frightening.

It was easier to do things, silent and unobtrusive, but persistently be there for his friends. He wouldn’t turn away from them, wouldn’t flinch, no matter what he had to do to make them happy. That was much easier than saying what he felt, exposed far less vulnerabilities.

But hearing someone tell him how they felt, how much they cared, was like an arrow lancing through to his heart. He didn’t expose his vulnerability, and yet they struck for it all the same, piercing deep and lodging their love there as his heart fluttered and soared, his whole being welling up with new, strange, giddy feelings.

And someone giving something to him was even more so, a physical investment of their feelings that they gave to him to make him happier. Tickets to an event, food that they made, books that they found that they thought he’d enjoy. They acquired these things because they were thinking of him, and they handed them over to give him a spark of joy.

~*~

Rena showed her love in gifts. When she wanted someone to be happy, she thought about them, she studied each and every one of their facets like a gemstone that she wanted to polish into a flawless sparkling state. And then she used all that knowledge to tailor her approach; she baked treats for them, she accompanied them on walks, she honed her knowledge to its sharpest needle point to find and give the perfect gifts.

To Rena, this made perfect sense. She gained her enjoyment of the world through the treasure and trash she found at the dump site: to that small pop of cuteness or eccentricity that made life just a bit more interesting. Bestowing that on someone else –painstakingly researching what they would like the most, what would make them tick– was the greatest gift, the greatest show of love, that she could give them.

It wasn’t enough to understand and to give, though. Rena showered the targets of her affection with joyful words and shouts of encouragement, with chatty conversations that danced like beams of sunlight through their entwined hearts. Her love was a light, floaty, happy thing, and it flowed over the people she cared about in a babbling brook. She could talk about anything and everything with the members of the club, and she loved nothing more than to tell them how amazing they were.

She received her love in knowing that her loved ones felt the same –that even if they didn’t study her with such intensity, they wanted to spend time with her, to indulge her own hobbies and desires as they happily walked with her. It was enough for them to move side-by-side, hips brushing, hands –perhaps– clasped together, humming and talking. They were there, and they would not leave her.

Perhaps it was based in no little part on how that woman had left, and how her father had stayed, and done his best to be there for her. Rena had seen how the lack of someone was a severing of affection, how her mother had tried to use that quality time to drive a wedge between Rena and her father, how she had refused point-blank to see or speak to him afterwards. For Rena, as a child, the conclusion had been obvious: people who loved each other, or who tried to fake it, spent their time together.

It's why she loves her friends so dearly. Because they are together, every day, fearlessly spending their time with her without a single care, a single concern, a single wish that it would be otherwise. There is nowhere any of them would rather be than here, together, and Rena carries that love with her like a shining jewel.

~*~

Satoko showed her love in acts, in deeds, in things that she could control. She knew the pain of an empty belly or a sub-par meal, and so she cooked all her love into her food. Saying she was a skilled cook would be rather immodest, but –she could cook her food well, make it wholesome and flavorful. Wasn’t that enough? Wasn’t it merely good enough that she could make something warm and filling and good, and give it to those that she cared about?

She rather thought so.

Satoko did things for other people, to show her love, because her childhood had taught her that that was the greatest and most noble way to show one’s love. Standing between a loved one and pain, getting up despite her shaking legs to step between an enemy and those she cared about… there was no higher act of love that she could understand. To be there for someone, to say with every breath and every moment that she cared more for them than she cared for her own safety.

She expressed her love for her friends, for Satoshi, by staying here for them, by blessing them with her presence and her visible happiness, showing them that everything was okay. She may be a Hojo, of the accursed line that no grown-up in the village liked, but she would be there for her friends, show them that she cared for them despite everything that their parents said.

And her friends gave back to her in the same way, practically smothering her in affection, sometimes, as they sought her out and piled on. Shion in particular was rather persistent, but as much as she might grumble on the outside, Satoko soaked that love up like water in the desert. She was wanted, she was cared for, she was loved, and Shion-san showed that in every moment she spent pestering to be by Satoko’s side.

Their words, too, especially in some worlds –rare worlds, but worlds that some particle of Satoko’s being could still never forget– when they all but shouted their love at her, refusing to give up, refusing to give in, refusing to do anything but bully the world into letting her be safe. They told her over and over again how much she meant to them, how much they cared, until Satoko slowly began to believe it.

And that desperation for affection, too, was born of her childhood, was born when the words I love you seemed strange in any mouth but her brother’s, when strangers were enemies that hadn’t showed their true colors yet and her life was a near-constant stream of misery. Hearing those words directed at her was a balm laid on the scars of her heart, and Satoko could never get enough.

~*~

Rika’s way of showing affection was simple, all the intricacies squeezed out of her by long eons of eternally repeating the same life. Gifts bored her –she had gotten pretty much everything one could get in Hinamizawa or Okinomiya, at some point in her preternaturally long life. Acts of service meant nothing, because they had no effect on anything as her world continued to spin relentlessly back to the beginning, over and over again.

Words of affirmation meant nothing, but no matter how someone’s mouth moved, no matter what platitudes they poured out onto her, Rika had heard it all before –she had been beloved by everyone she knew for as long as she could remember, and what did her friends’ words mean in the end, even though she loved them so desperately? They loved her; they loved her, and they would forget all the same.

Physical touch meant very little, because she had always been far too young to be touched in that way, and she was so adorable that everyone in Hinamizawa had a tendency to treat her like a life-sized doll. Rika had lost count of the times she’d been scooped up and squeezed by Rena or one of the others, or had her head patted by random citizens.

These things did not mean nothing to her. She was not –quite– such an empty shell as that. It was just, they did not mean as much to her as they should –as they clearly did, for some of her friends. It was far, far too easy to take such constants for granted, to huff and wave them aside, knowing that more would inevitably come later.

But Rika showed her love and received it in all the same way, and that was by spending her most precious resource: time. Having so much and yet so little, her making the effort to stay with someone, to share a moment with them, was Rika’s most powerful connection. She loved the club members so fiercely because her time with them was never boring: because alone, out of everything in Hinamizawa, the club had still never managed to repeat so many times as to be dull.

They almost never played the same game the same way twice, and that normalcy was something that Rika clung to and loved desperately. Her precious friends were her precious friends because she spent enough time with them that they did not seem like a mocking clockwork automaton, a mere shell of a person that repeated the same basic lines, followed the same basic script. They were wild and free and whimsical, and Rika loved them so, so much for livening up her days because of it.

[isolated-bug]

The Great Debate: Is Silco Bad for Jinx?

Am i obsessed? Yes. Do i care if that annoys people? Nah XD

ARCANE SPOILERS - DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVENT WATCHED THE FULL SERIES

(this rambling was originally written before the Therapist Reacts video about Silco and Jinx came out :P ) So i have been starved for more Arcane content and thus taken to re-watching the series (8 times now). Watching specific scenes upwards of 30 times, etc. And, of course, twitter and tumbler for arts and head cannons and memes and the like. A common thread i am seeing all over the place is a huge disagreement about Silco. The fandom is divided. There are the people who think he truly cared about Jinx and those who think he only saw her as a tool or a weapon. The thing is... i understand where both sides are coming from, but i firmly stand with the side that says he cared. My first watch-through of Arcane i 10000000% thought Silco was just manipulating Jinx into being his tool. Isolating her, making sure she felt that she could only form a bond with him, etc. And then the bridge scene happened after the Ekko fight and i was like.. wait.. does he care? but i quickly thought, no... he just wants the weapon and she is the only one who can do it. It wasnt until when Silco was having his negotiation with Jayce and responded to the demand to hand over Jinx with "Those were not her crimes, she was following my orders" that i really started to give thought to the idea that Silco actually cared about her. And then, I had nothing else to go off of until the end of ep 9 and i thought.. hmm y’know... maybe? shit... maybe he actually does care? But i still wasnt sure. I still was leaning towards... ok, maybe that stuff he said at the end was just a big manipulation. maybe his dying breath was used to make sure she will continue his legacy. A big "fuck you" to Vander and Vi. This is where i think all of the people saying Silco didnt care ended their opinions. I think that they had the same perception of it that i did from my first watch. I wonder if any of them have watched it multiple times and paid attention to Silco’s body language and expression in his eye and tone etc. in his scenes to really understand him. I have re-watched the series a good 8 times now and the specific scenes with Silco and Jinx in them dozens of times. I am firmly of the belief that Silco cared. From the first scene we see him with Jinx, at the end of ep. 3, when she is crying in his arms he immediately hears her words and looks at Vanders form lifeless on the ground, then back to Jinx. He relates to her pain immediately. He sees his own struggles in her and wants to help and protect her. Now we dont get to see how he raised her; we dont get insight into those interactions. But we do get a handful of journal entries from Jinx on the council archives in which she firmly believes Silco loves her and she has a clear understanding of him and how broken he is. These ramblings show that she did not immediately trust him (his eye isnt so scary *anymore*) etc. I dont see these reflecting as manipulation. She sees he is broken and hurt too. She has real honest insight into him.

We also visually see that he lets her draw all over his desk and his ceiling and his possessions. We are shown that he keeps trinkets and the monkey mug that obviously could have only come from her. Why do this if he is a big tough crime lord and doesnt care? Doesnt this show weakness? shouldnt he not have those around? He could EASILY make up an excuse for why he wont have them there about how it would ruin his boss-man image.

When he says he needs to find Jinx, we hear Sevika ease his worries about Jinx's safety and whereabouts - why do that when Jinx isnt around to hear it if its all just grooming and manipulation? Jinx also has ZERO hesitation in approaching Silco. There is not a power dynamic relationship between them. She gets in his personal space, she climbs all over him. She does NOT flinch or give dirty looks when he grabs her wrist to get her attention. She does not show any signs of discomfort or fear with Silco. And he does not show signs of aggression with her, he holds her wrist gently, just enough to get her attention to re-focus on him. When she apologizes she doesnt recoil.. she leans in. She feels comfort over her mistake with the person who the mistake cause a disruption to. So we can tell from this body language and interaction that he was never aggressive or abusive with her. And was always very patient and receptive. Creating an environment and relationship in which she felt safe with him, even when she fucked up. Which, by the way, Vi did NOT do. Now, this is NOT a “Vi Sucks” perspective. Vi had her own issues and a lot of pent up rage etc. Vi had to grow up fast. I totally understand why Vi was how she was. but *regardless* of that, Vi was not a safe place for Jinx at all times. When Jinx made a mistake she hid behind a door eavesdropping to see how bad it was to figure out if she could approach her sister or not. There was definite hesitation/fear. I am not saying Vi abused or intentionally made Jinx fear her. But it is obvious that Silco was very careful to always regulate his appraoch with Jinx in consideration for her needs and be a safe space. Vi did not.

So we can confidently establish there is no physical abuse or any sense of lack of trust or discomfort in how Jinx perceives Silco. I already see the argument coming of how he yelled at her in her workshop and grabbed her tool as well as grabbing her wrist in his office. He raises his voice when he was frustrated and she was blasting music. LIKE A DAD. He grabbed her tool for the same reason he grabbed her wrist. She was getting distracted and he needed her present in the conversation. He was redirecting her attention. He was not aggressive. He did not squeeze her wrist to cause harm etc. Its like when you have a 5 year old bouncing around. you grab their hands and say “look at me, i need you to hear my words”. If you think those things were abusive then you lived a VERY cushy life. Do you know what he does with others when they fuck up? he shoots them o-or... idfk, turns them into shimmer monster experiments. He makes not-so-veiled threats about what will happen next. He gives them an icy stare that says “try me bitch, i dare you”. He doesnt do that with Jinx. He is very vulnerable with her. He even openly speaks his mind about his concerns knowing she is in his rafters and can hear him. With the ONE exception of Vi, he doesnt hide anything from her. Ok so we have now solidified Jinx does not perceive her situation as being manipulated, abused, trapped, etc. and her body language, demeanor, and even speaking cadence with him shows she feels safe, loved, and comfortable in his presence. So Silco. If Silco was trying to isolate or groom her, she would have been more behaved and she would have been on a shorter leash. We would have seen her complain about how he controls her etc or, if we want to go with the whole “she doesnt know she is being groomed” mentality than we would see, at the very least, that she is still very insecure on her own. Instead, we see that he gave her an entire workshop to do whatever the hell she pleases with it. Furthermore, that workshop was strategic in keeping his bomb loving daughter safe with its big ravine below so if an explosive she was working on went wrong she had a place to safely dispose of it. She is CLEARLY able to wander around wherever and whenever she wants. She goes back to old haunts like the arcade, freely wanders around the Last Drop, etc. and her graffiti can be seen in tons of scenes so we know she goes wherever she pleases without any restrictions *or* monitoring. How do we know that she isnt monitored? We see it. Silco would have known her whereabouts if she was being followed and monitored. He trusts in her to move about as she pleases. If anything, the only worry i think he would have about it is if someone attacks her and tries to harm her. But this is why he raised her to be strong and independent and a good fighter etc. He wanted her to be able to protect herself *without* him. If Silco was trying to isolate her as a form of dependency manipulation he would not have allowed that level of freedom. And he could have had easy excuses again of “i have a lot of enemies and want to keep you safe” etc. I mean, look, if you still arent convinced, at one point Jinx even stabs him MULTIPLE TIMES in the face. He shows NO signs of irritation or aggression at this, and instead just endures the pain. All he is focused on is assuring Jinx he did not betray her trust and did not know about Marcus hiding Vi ALIVE in prison. And trust me, these animators focused a LOT on portraying unspoken emotion in expressions and body language and the voice actors added to that with exceptional talent in character tone and delivery. It would have been there to see if Silco was just trying to manipulate in that moment. So we take all of that into consideration and then we have Silco running to Jinx and picking up her dying body, cradling her so gently and so close to him.. his fingers stroke her hair and he gently leans her head against him before moving his hand on her back to collect her and stand. Now this next bit is my interpretation, but i really think when he saw the hextech stone in her hand there he thought something along the lines of “she got hurt and did all of this for that stone?” I really believe he is starting to see that stone as bad for his daughters health at this point. Like the sacrifice wasnt worth it. And even feels guilty. After all, the scene between them right before this was him telling her he needs her now more than ever to finish the weapon after she had calmed down from stabbing him. But at this time Silco didnt know she had lost the gem to the Firelights when they took Vi and Cait. And him telling her that Vi and Cait were there for the gem made perfect sense to her awareness of the events that had occurred. So Jinx was on that bridge looking for round 2 and to redeem herself and get back the gem that she assumed Vi and Cait were returning to Piltover. And that whole scene met her expectations. Vi, Cait, and the Firelights (Ekko) are working together to take the stolen gem back. That is what she sees. She resolves in this moment to fight, feeling betrayed and deceived, yet again, by her sister and to recover the gem for the weapon. So anyway, bridge scene. Silco rushes her to the doctor. He does all of this himself. He doesnt have his goons carry her. He does. And we know he carried her the whole way as fast as he could because he bursts into the doctors door out of breath and looking panicked and disheveled. When she makes a noise on the table he rushes to her side and gently strokes her head and gives her a soft kiss on the forehead. There is no need to put up an act for all of this. if Silco didnt care, he would have ordered his goons to carry her there. He wouldnt be so gentle with her unconscious form. Some people think that this scene plays into “he sees her as a weapon” because of what we saw shimmer do before and the monstrous form it gives people. But you have to recall that Silco puts a variant of shimmer into his own eye DAILY for its healing properties. This scene is years after the prior shimmer monsters we had seen. Shimmer is more developed now with variants for different purposes. Hell, people in the wealthy area of Piltover use it as a drug. We dont see signs of ANY Piltovians turning into rogue monsters. So he was not JUST trying to preserve her life for himself as a tool. He was taking her to someone whom he knew had developed a reliable healing aide to restore his daughter.

Ok, outside perspectives in case you are thinking Jinx is manipulated and cant see through it and Silco is too power thirsty to have emotions The two people that know Silco best, aside from Jinx, are Sevika and Singed (the doctor). BOTH of them in their talks with Silco clearly view Silcos care for Jinxs as a father-daughter dynamic and both of them say as much to him. Singed by saying “i too once had a daughter” and Sevika with her speech about how she and Jinx arent too similar but she relates to the perspective of having a fight with your father. Sevika ALSO tells Vi in their fight that “she’s like a daughter to him” though arguably that could have just been Sevika trying to manipulate and shock Vi and throw her off her game; which it did, congrats.

I truly truly believe that Silco loved and cared for Jinx the best he knew how from the moment she cried in his arms. I think that Silco was intentionally written to be misleading and make you think otherwise so that his relationship and closeness to her towards the end of the first season would have a bigger shock factor and we would view him as a  slimy villain for longer. I think when Silco confronted Vi about how he originally thought ‘Vi was the prize of the family but Jinx is so much more’ was not a power grab but more so him telling Vi she will never live up to Jinxs potential in angry vindication of his daughter. Much like how a parent might tell another parent "well your kid might be good at sports but MY kid is going to be the president one day". It was him trying to hurt Vi and raise up Jinx above her. Telling Vi she didnt see the worth in Jinx and made the wrong choices leaving her. He was spitting poisonous words and cruelty with a calm and intimidating demeanor to get back at the sister that abandoned his beloved daughter and caused her this lingering pain and suffering. In the tea party scene, he desperately tried to free himself, in my opinion, to help his daughter from having a psychotic episode and suffering. i think he shot the gun at Vi to protect Jinx from Vi’s words as he watched the painful effect it had on Jinx. She likely wasnt moving around as much as in her vision.. but i guarantee you it was all over her expressions and in her dissociative eyes and her eyebrows. Now, to the credit of the people who still feel he is a slimy bastard, I DO think Silco wanted to get rid of Vi out of a fear that Jinx could possibly abandon him as well but i think most of his motivation was to protect Jinx as he knew Vi’s return would cause some serious mental fuckery and he didnt want her to have to face that. I also think that his last words were to try and reassure her.... Silco knew Jinx struggled with the guilt of being responsible for her family and friends deaths... he didnt want his death to be another source of blame and fault and guilt. I feel that he honestly wanted to let her know she was loved and forgiven and to try and ease that burden from her mind. Thats what "you're perfect" meant... it meant "dont blame yourself, you didnt do anything wrong". And maybe, even, Silco was proud of her... because even in her state of mind, being haunted by her demons, she still was able to react well enough to protect herself. So maybe, just maybe, he felt a little bit of peace in dying feeling confident that no one would be able to hurt his daughter... she was strong enough now, he did what he could to support her and she was perfect. Even Silco himself couldnt fight like she could. He had to surround himself with a criminal empire to be safe. Jinx will never need that. So parenting... is Silco a good dad? Personally i think yes. I understand people who say no. He definitely helped his daughter grow into a criminal who was comfortable with violence and murder and definitely didnt take her to a therapist or get her meds for her madness. He absolutely could have done better. But we have to take into consideration where they were. They were in the slums where violence was like currency and a necessary survival tactic. We have seen no proof of therapists even existing in Piltover but if there are any, i am certain Zaunites dont have access to them. But within their circumstance, within the understanding that BEFORE having this daughter he had already built up a criminal empire and the foundation for being a drug lord, he did what he could for her. He tried his best to meet what he perceived to be her needs. he taught her his coping methods for what he perceived to be his similar trauma. And he did a pretty good job at that. He saw that she didnt want to be left behind and abandoned. So he left his space wide open for her to intrude on whenever she wanted. She felt insecure about being weak and unable to help so he taught her how to fight and defend herself in a place where that is necessary to survive. She wanted to feel like she was helping? He gave her a job, made her a valuable part of the team even if others didnt want to work with her. He tried his fucking best to fill ALL those gaps and insecurities and give her strength, independence, and confidence. And notice, btw, in scenes with Silco EXCEPT for the final scene we NEVER see Jinx have a full blown mental breakdown. She is always calm and collected and confident and comfortable and safe with him. She doesnt have visions of the dead around him. She isnt haunted by her guilt and her fuck ups with him. Yes, her insecurities cause visions as a result of his conversation about Savika cleaning up a mess. sure. and yes, when she TELLS him about a freak out she has a mini pull back to it in her head and he immediately helps her snap out of it back to reality. Yes, she went to the bridge to recover the gem because she “needed to complete the weapon” and she didnt want to seem like a fuck up to him. And yes, she thought he was going to choose the nation of Zaun over her and turn her in. but those were because of her internalized fears. Because she had been abandoned and left behind by those she loved and trusted before. So she could never really be 100% confident that it wouldnt happen again. but Silco did his best to support her and be there for her at all times and to never make her feel that way. To me, a HUGE contrasting difference is that every time she is with the firelights or with Vi we see her struggle and grapple with her mind. There is not a single time she DOESNT have visions with those interactions.Villain or not, at the end of the day... i think that Jinx was better sticking with Silco. I think her mind had a better chance of healing with Silco and she had a better chance of feeling truly valued and loved with Silco. Vi would not have accepted adult Jinx as she is and would have brought back her lack of confidence 10 fold, telling her she needed to be different. We hear it, MULTIPLE times that Vi had that intention. She didnt see Jinx as who her sister is. She saw Jinx as a manipulation that needed to be reversed. She told Silco she would “erase whatever fucked up delusions” he put in her head. She told Jinx “its okay, you did what you had to to survive” from the perspective of assuming Jinx was forced into this behavior otherwise she would be killed. Even at the tea party Vi says “You’ll never have to see him again”. All of Vi’s statements come from this idea that Jinx is something that needs to be undone via removal from Silco. She never ONCE considers that Jinx IS Powder. This is who Powder is when she is empowered and confident and can handle things herself. If Jinx would have stayed with Vi when younger, in the aftermath of the death of Milo, Clagger, and Vander, i think Vi would have had trouble controlling her rage and would have let outbursts of blaming Jinx slip. And much to Jinx’s detriment, Vi also would have always tried to protect and shield her from the cruelty of Zaun and never really let Jinx thrive and grow into someone who could fend for themself. Vi says this herself as well. She tells Vander she grew up knowing she was less than them (Pilties) and her place was in Zaun. She wanted more for Powder and a different life for her. And thats fine, i understand the love of wanting to protect your little kid sister and hope to give them better than what you had. That would have been Vi's way of loving her sister. Trying to protect her from the cruelty of the world. I get it. But i dont think that was realistic... Vi would have known how hard it was to get out of Zaun and how unlikely that was to happen... and Jinx would have grown into someone who cant survive in Zaun without her sister there at every turn. She would have continued to be insecure, scared, etc. At the end of the day i really think Silco was a great father to Jinx and really truly loved and cared for her. Vi not being able to see that because she had her own predetermined notions about Silco... when she tells Jinx "its okay" in response to Jinx killing Silco vs "you're a jinx" and blaming her for Vander and the others... It just saddens me how much that must have hurt Jinx further... how that was like salt in the wound. Jinx hears Vi perceive THIS death as okay. because it didnt mean anything sad or bad to Vi. It was what Vi wanted. But all of those deaths meant something to Jinx... all of them... and whether Vi liked him or not, Silco had been in Jinx’s life a long time through significant developmental years. He was important to her. He was so important to her that she immediately threw down pow-pow to run to his side. Knowing that Cait was on the floor and could grab it again. Knowing Zapper was on the floor by Silco. She made herself completely vulnerable to rush to his side. Hurting him snapped her out of her delusion. And she immediately had pain and fear and sadness in her voice. Vi would have seen and heard all of this... She would have seen how much this death meant to Jinx... but still... her response was “its okay”. I wish we could have seen more of Vi's face in that scene... from what we do see and based off of the dialogue before his death, i think Vi is glad Silco is dead. I think she said "it's okay" as a celebratory "it's okay, you are free now" not a sympathetic "it's okay, i understand your pain right now over this persons death" In the moment Jinxs bangs are covering her face and Vi says “its okay” you can see.. just for a moment, that Jinx goes from the heavy breathing of processing her grief to a moment of a huff at that comment and it just doubles down in my mind how painful this scene is for Jinx... she just realized her sister doesnt see her.. not really. Her sister wants something they can never get back. Everything Vi said in that tea party scene.. Jinx had an expression of... not quite disgust and not only disappointment. Maybe contempt or disdain? i cant think of the word... but it was like “yeah, of course... whatever”. But every time Silco spoke to Jinx at the tea party her expression softened, she felt truly loved and impacted by his words, it was just so hard for her to let go of the idea of Vi. Im really curious to see if Silco becomes one of her headspace buddies or not... i imagine if he does, it will be a comforting one. Encouraging her rage and violence? sure. but not to make her doubt her own thoughts... to make her double down on them and feel more confident. I know a lot of people think she built Fishbones for Silco... and i LOVE that sentiment... but unfortunately Jinx had Fishbones way before. The council archives i posted above have a reference to Fishbones and there are screenshots of her kid drawings in The Last Drop when she was little of Fishbones’ early designs. But i like to think that the fucked up eyes were an addition she made to the original design from childhood as paying homage to Silco. And she could have turned any weapon into the one to take the gem. She CHOSE to modify fishbones.. maybe because of Silcos love of the creatures.. at least that is what i like to think. Either way, i am so very excited for season 2. Sorry - long rant is long lol  

[shyrose57]

Y’know what? I kind of want a fic where Snowchester’s just...filled with strange beings. Charlie and Foolish are gods, Jack is either some kind of demonic entity, transformed after his stay in hell, or willingly possessed and co-existing with whatever’s doing it. Puffy could be some sea deity or siren, or something. 

And maybe they’re trying to hide it, maybe they aren’t. Either way, Tubbo doesn’t notice. Charlie holding a conversation with the bees? Cool, he does that too. Foolish has almost abnormal amounts of Totems? Hah hah, man must seriously grind, huh? Jack staring ominously into the flames and them randomly turning red or blue. Oh, wow, he sure is thinking intently. How’d he get the fire to turn into soul fire? Tubbo totally has to ask later, that was cool. Puffy randomly giving cryptic warnings about not going out to sea, and it starts storming super badly later? Huh, being a captain sure is handy!

Maybe even Michael just like leaving mysterious little trinkets in Tubbo’s room along with strange symbols drawn in crayon and looking at him with eyes far too old for a child, and Tubbo just...picking him up for his nap, thanking him for the drawings.

Snowchester’s just this...little odd town down by the snowy sea. Some rumors start to spread. Some people start getting shivers passing by that don’t have anything to do with the cold. Strange things start happening around. It becomes one of those things.

But that’s for a bit of a spooky vibe. For a funnier one, everyone thinks Tubbo’s the weird being, since it always happens around him, and he’s completely oblivious to this. Techno looked at Tubbo slightly menacingly and he’s had bad luck ever since. Tommy suddenly isn’t getting attacked by mobs. Bad tried to corner Tubbo with the egg and not only caught on fire, but found all of his valuables missing the next day. 

Obviously, it must be Tubbo, who else could it possibly be? Certainly not the slightly protective people who live with him after he gave them a home.