#the days without writing

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[konjiang]

Headcanon:

SQH is a great writer who knows his audience well and needs money. The first time SQH showed SQQ his new work, SQQ started crying. The details in the worldbuilding and lore were so vivid that he could clearly visualize them. The plot had little to no plot holes and was well thought out, with an unexcepted plot twist that left SQQ gripping his fan. He remembered why he even started PIDW before it became popular. He began to imagine what PIDW could have been. Of course, he yells at SQH for ruining such a good novel for money and wacks him with a fan.

[fantasykiri5]

Day 3 of HADM: it’s Tango Tek! Of the Create series variety, since he doesn’t have a season skin and this one fits his base theme too well.

[cracklewink]

Harmony Syndrome Part 5/5

The last chapter of my mlp infection AU! Thank you to everyone who followed along. Some final thoughts on my twitter @cracklewink if anyone's interested : )

[mournfulroses]

Anne Sexton, from The Complete Poems of Anne Sexton; "Eighteen Days Without You,"

[sodaneko]

writing reader inserts is so funny because it's like. yeah you would NOT say that but now you do and you're gonna enjoy it. it's inevitably pouring a part of you into this fic. it's describing your dissociative daydreams in overly detail to everyone searching specifically for food to feed their dissociative daydreams. it's coming up with a hundred different scenarios on how to get railed by your favorite 2D man and yeah his dick is always big and he wants you so badly. it's playing barbie with Y/N who is like an universal OC at this point. it's going on silly little adventures in my mind and taking you all with me. reader inserts i love you so much.

[serpentface]

The pylidaigh, a type of vampiric snow ghost, as imagined in folklore in and around the Highlands.

This is a ghost believed to come into being when a person dies in the snow and their body is not found before their soul (still trapped without its funeral rites) 'freezes' inside of it. The body then reanimates into a pylidaigh's twisted form. It looks like someone who slowly died of starvation, just a thin layer of flesh over bones. Its skin is as white as the snow itself, so pale it can blend seamlessly into a blizzard. Most of its body appears subtly stretched and lanky, save for its exceptionally unsubtle long, skinny arms, which drag on the ground behind it when it walks. After a big meal of blood, its belly swells like the abdomen of a tick.

A pylidaigh can only tread across snow and ice, and so doorways and windows are best kept clear of snowfall during the winter in order to prevent it from reaching inside. It mostly comes out to hunt during blizzards when there is little that can prevent it from catching its victims.

In spite of its fragile appearance, a pylidaigh is supernaturally strong, and can run at great speeds when it wants to. No mortal weapons can pierce its body, nor can any bonds known to craftsmen hold it in place. It is usually said that chains forged like iron but made out of ice can bind a pylidaigh and render it immobile, but this smithing technique remains tragically elusive to the average joe.

This ghost is either cast as a wildly dangerous but tragic figure, or one that is more simply malicious. In either case, it is described as experiencing nothing but bitter cold. It shivers endlessly. It retains distant memories of what it was to be alive, and it is motivated by a futile desperation to experience the feeling of warmth again.

In more sympathetic framings, it is described as using its freaky gibbon arms to capture its victims and pull them into an embrace, rather innocently trying to warm itself against their body. This inevitably fails, and the embrace becomes a bone crushing squeeze. When that too fails to warm the ghost, it rips out the person's throat and drinks their blood until the victim is as cold and drained as the pylidaigh itself.

In other cases, this more pitiable narrative of a ghost seeking warmth with no comprehension of its actions is discarded in favor of making it purely monstrous. Here it is a type of vampire with an insatiable thirst, practically a physical manifestation of the worst of winter itself. Some tales acknowledge both variants, suggesting a pylidaigh's violent attempts to warm itself may be initially devoid of malice, but turns into an act of furious jealousy of the warmth of the living after years of suffering.

The only (more or less) surefire method to permanently kill a roaming pylidaigh involves trapping it with fire. They are attracted to any source of heat, and will attempt to warm themselves with the flames (if not tempted away by a juicy living human body). The fire itself cannot kill them (as the sheer cold of their body is more powerful even than flame) but they can be trapped if kept near the fire long enough for the snow it depends upon to melt. This does not kill the pylidaigh either. The monster will remain in stuck in place (and potentially become a threat again if it snows more) for the duration of the winter. Only when the spring comes and all the snow melts does it revert into a normal human carcass (though mysteriously invulnerable to decay), at which point it can be cremated.

Pylidaigh in the wilds also revert to a human corpse during the snowless seasons, but will roam again each following winter unless it is burnt in the interim. It is of critical importance that any human corpse found in high mountain pasture is cremated- not only out of respect for the poor soul trapped as an earthbound ghost, but to prevent the threat of the possible dormant pylidaigh emerging next winter.

[neoheros]

the miya household is always the go-to household for all kinds of celebrations alike. you name it: birthdays, anniversaries, friday night dinners – check, check, check.

atsumu has always grown up in a home where his mom would host the parties for all her grown-up friends, and he’d always be the type of teenager to hide away in his room until the last of the guests finally leave.

it was a silly thing to do looking back on it now, but that was the old miya household.

in the new miya household (population: you and your husband), the two of you can’t just hide away in your broom closet until the last of the guests leave — it is your apartment after all.

at first, it was the big things: msby jackal’s celebration of their first tournament win (where hinata broke a window because he claims bokuto pushed him into it) or akaashi’s job promotion party (where the champagne bottle was so unfortunately aimed that when the corkscrew came flying, it hit the other non-broken window).

two broken windows later, it eventually died down to the little things: small get-togethers, a friend too intoxicated to drive needing a place to stay, or one of your favorites: friday night dinners.

“we’re home!”

there’s the sound of shuffling keys and shoes being taken off at the doorway, rustling of brown paper bags and footsteps.

you pop your head out from the kitchen and it isn’t a surprise at all to you when you see all four of your best friends (one being your husband) standing by your door way, all adorned with cheeky smiles and chinese takeout.

you call to them, “coats here, everybody!”

hinata goes over to you first, still as sweet as ever, and gives you a tight embrace (the same one he gives you every friday night), and you take his coat with a light smile on your face.

bokuto gives you his coat next, paired with an embrace of his own, your smile widens as you immediately recognize the coat you bought him for christmas last year, well and taken care of.

sakusa isn’t wearing a coat or a jacket tonight but still, he approaches you next to the coat stand anyway, and he embraces you just for seeing you again tonight, saying “thank you for having us”.

when you married atsumu, you didn’t realize you weren’t only marrying into his family, but his friends as well.

“you guys just missed samu, he dropped by for a weekly restock.” you tell them, pointing to the plastic bag on the table filled to the brim with the onigiri you’ve learned to love so much.

shoyo plops down on his usual spot on the sofa, “man, i wish onigiri miya personally delivered to my house too.”

“not to mention free of charge.” you add – proud.

he sinks deeper into his seat, “that’s just not fair.”

you seat farthest from tv, on the edge of the table and by the armrest, a seat empty next to yours as you wait for your husband.

“sorry sho,” you shrug, not sorry at all, smug smile on your face and you say, “it’s simply the perks of having the owner of onigiri miya as your brother.”

“that is such a lie.” atsumu rolls his eyes, and he takes his assigned seat next to you, hand immediately finding yours once he gets close enough. “i am also his brother — twin, even! — and i do not get half as much the perks you get.”

“well.” sakusa sits across from you, “i can understand that.”

and bokuto, in between sakusa and hinata, nods, “yep.”

“i can’t believe i’m getting bullied in my own damn home.” atsumu grumbles, and he stabs his broccoli on his plate with a fork.

you tease him, “you can’t?”

the rest of the evening feels warm. the windows are open to let in the fresh air of the streets of japan, the hustling and bustling of the bypassers outside your apartment building easily drowned out by the warm conversation shared in the warm flat.

( “no more hoisin sauce?” bokuto asks, digging around the stack of empty paperbags, fork in his mouth as he talks.

sakusa replies, barely looking up from the movie on the tv set, “sorry, finished it.”

and bokuto says, casually, “i’ll bring some over tomorrow. you guys need a restock anyway.” )

the five of you, sat down on the living room in front of the television, sharing mindlessly stories about your day, laughter and insults and compliments shared as food is passed around.

atsumu takes the red peppers from your dish as you laugh at something hinata says, he remembers - always - red peppers make you sneeze, so it goes unsaid that he takes them.

he does this so often that sometimes he doesn’t even realize it. he does this so often that he’s probably done it over a hundred times by now — like it’s part of him, like a habit.

you take some of your chow mein and place it on his plate, he doesn’t ask you for any, but you give him some anyway. you don’t even look at him as you do so, like it’s completely second nature for your hand to give him some of his favorite noodles and you don’t even have to think about it — like it’s part of you, like a habit.

“so, what time’s the game tomorrow?” you ask, and suddenly he’s out of his thoughts and back on the living room couch.

hinata looks to you, excited, “are you coming? it’s been so long since you last came to watch us.”

“well, depends on the time,” you tell them, “i’ve got a study group tomorrow in the morning.”

“study group?”

“i know right,” your shoulders fall, “our gen chem professor had us divided into study groups so we could easily catch up on her lessons.”

atsumu shrugs, “so? ditch ‘em.”

“i wish.” you sigh, “they’re the kind of people i just know wouldn’t have let me sit with them at the lunch table in high school.”

“oh, i know those people.” shoyo shakes his head, “had those people everywhere i went in junior high.”

you look at atsumu, “but you probably could have sat with them, you’ve got an aura like that — like you could be cool — but you’re not.”

that makes him roll his eyes, “who’s not cool? i am the coolest one in this table — and for yer information, i wouldn’t sit at any table ya weren’t welcome at.”

(sakusa nods at you, and bokuto says, “same here!” and hinata says, “me too!”)

“matter of fact,” you husband, offended at your doubt for him, continues, “i would flip that goddamn table.”

(and sakusa nods again, and bokuto says, “yup!” and hinata says, “definitely!)

your face feels warm, and you feel stupid for even bringing it up.

“you guys are silly.” you’re not as loud as earlier, but still, you say, “thanks.” and you bite back a smile.

“so…” shoyo grins at you, “ditch ‘em?”

“ditch ‘em!” bokuto repeats.

and for a second all of you look at sakusa, his turn to speak apparently, and he sighs, defeated, shoulders falling and he relents, and says, “fine. ditch ‘em.”

the three other guys cheer loudly and you roll your eyes.

“well, that makes four of us.” atsumu tells you, proud, “you’re outnumbered, honey.”

“fine.” you’re defeated, “i’ll ditch ‘em and come watch you guys play.” and the table erupts in cheers again, and you feel your heart become so full.

atsumu kisses your cheek and you swat him away.

“i’ll text natsu that you’re coming, she’s been pestering me over and over again when you’ll come next,” shoyo tells you, bright smile on his face.

bokuto nods, “i gotta tell akaashi too, maybe we can get everyone there like a reunion or something!”

and this makes you laugh, because, “you guys are acting like i haven’t come to watch you guys play in forever.”

and sakusa tells you, “it has been forever.”

“well, i guess a reunion or something would be kinda nice? we can have everyone come back here, bring out a few drinks.” you think out loud, relenting to the pleas of your oldest friends, and you can’t hold back a smile even if you wanted to.

“if anyone breaks a goddamn window in my home, everyone is getting charged the repair bill.”

the night ends quicker than you want it to, suddenly it’s 10 pm and the warm night starts to get colder.

“thank you for dinner, miyas.” bokuto tells you, grinning ear to ear as you walk him to the doorway, a barrage of shoes laid out on the floor, reminding you what a full house you have tonight.

you hand him his coat and his hat, and he embraces you tightly, one that you will never not return.

hinata comes up to you next, “thank you for dinner and please please please come tomorrow.”

“yes sho, i will be there.” you tell him lightly, and he embraces you as well (the same one he gives you every friday night).

the last to come up to you is sakusa, his hands already in his pockets, eyes tired and all. he doesn’t have a coat or a jacket, but he comes up to you anyway.

“thank you for having us.” he tells you, like he always does, and he gives you a short kiss on your right temple, like he always does, “it’s good to see you.”

you pat his arm, “you say that every friday night, omi.”

“what? no kiss for me?” atsumu calls from the side, arms crossed over his chest.

and sakusa replies, eyes narrowing, “never.”

(they have this conversation every single friday night.)

and just like that, all three of your guests for the night have left, leaving behind only two pairs of shoes left by the doorway — yours and your husband’s.

atsumu makes his way to you, his arms finding your waist immediately as he pulls you into his embrace, hugging you like it’s all he’s ever done correctly.

the apartment is quiet now with just you and him, and he loves this as much as he loves you.

“finally,” he tells you, smiling wantonly, “just us two.”

you smile back at him, “we have so many kids.”

and he nods, “even more tomorrow.”

your apartment, your home, it isn’t anything impressive, really. it’s not big or expensive or fancy, but for some reason, it’s always been the go-to place for everyone to have drinks at, for dinners to be shared, for windows to be broken.

“you really okay with that? the reunion thing here?” your husband asks you, his tone gentle, “its okay if you’re not, we can just cancel on ‘em. have the night to ourselves.”

you raise a brow, teasing, “and do what exactly?��

atsumu gives you a knowing grin, “i’ve got a list in mind.”

you laugh, “i bet you do.”

he comes closer to your face, “i can cross one off on it right now.”

and he kisses you then, the same way he does every single day of his life, the same way he plans to for a million years more.

you feel his smile melting into his kisses.

then he pulls away, smiling at you, voice gentle, cheeks pink, and heart full, “thank you for dinner, miya.”

you laugh again, and with the same amount of gentleness, you say back, “thank you for dinner, miya.”

atsumu knows you could never be unloved by him — you are too tangled in his mind, in his soul that you might as well take his heart entirely — it’s already full of you anyway, it has been since the day he’s met you.

“and no, we are not cancelling on them.” you tell him, pulling away, “i miss our friends and i know you do too.”

he tells you, “fine.” and he pulls you back in, nose close to yours, wide grin on his face as he takes you.

he wants to kiss you again, but to be fair, he wants to do that all of the time.

you give him a smile, “i’ll let you cross another thing off that list of yours if you do the dishes.”

and he groans, “you know omi already did them.”

“man, we have got to get lazier friends.”

“well, we can always call that study group of yours.”

(the two of you say friends, but it feels a whole lot more like family.)

together you and atsumu create a home filled with flowers, kindness, cozy pillows, and loud music. in your halls there is rest, good sex, good sleep, books, and dancing. there is space to be you, there is space to be him, there is space to be be the two of you, and there is love, there is love, there is love.

[starssoblue]

“things were so hard with dad in recent years...how did he go from paparapluie to père? i wish i could face him and understand, but while he was still here i didn't dare try to tell him [any of my feelings] and now...it's too late.” * paparapluie is a pun on the words papa and parapluie (umbrella) since the plush is a frog. père is the french word for 'father.'

[aylinaliens]

i’m eating up every single fic where mel doesn’t have an emergency contact and frank ends up becoming hers. now i raise you this:

mel at a solo medical conference trip like 3 or 4 hours away? far but not too far

everything is going well she’s learned a ton and made connections and she even did a bit of sightseeing too?

mel & frank has been texting back and forth the whole weekend. abby has the kids so it’s just him & the goldendoodle

on mel’s last day there she ends up going out for dinner by herself, encouraged by frank alongside trinity, samira, victoria, and dennis. it’s nice. she’s not totally alone, she’s facetiming becca and then facetiming frank (so she can see his dog obviously) and it’s so so nice

but on the ride back to her hotel the weather is shit and she ends up in a wreck with her uber driver

she’s okay!!! nothing major beside a head injury and bruises/scrapes and the driver is fine but when she gets to the hospital they end up trying to persuade mel to. All someone because there was no one on her emergency contact list

mel drags her feet and tries to insist she’s okay but they are even more insistent. mel ends up breaking down and calling frank even though it’s the middle of the night and she knows he’s sleeping

he picks up pretty quickly and mel sort of blurts out she was an accident but she’s okay truly (and she is physically but she’s exhausted and overwhelmed and alone in a new place and her brain just keeps on spinning and spinning and spinning)

he promises to come asap and sure enough, by the time mel wakes up a few hours later still in the ER, frank is there. he drove…all the way over…in the middle of the night…and he’s there in pj bottoms and hoodie and beat up sneakers like he really did just wake up, roll out of bed, and leave

when mel sees him—when she sees how his dark strands are sticking up everywhere and his eyes are panicked, she lets him fuss. let’s him look her over and cradle her cheek and sit on the bed and hug her with the exact right pressure

she doesn’t say anything when the nurse assumes he’s her boyfriend and tells mel (very kindly) to add him to her contacts since he proved he would drop everything to be here

she lets frank drive her back to her hotel and settle her in bed

she lets him—no. no, she pulls back the cover and asks him to lay down with her, that he doesn’t have to force himself to sleep on the fold out couch

and then as they lay there next to each other side by side, mel and frank naturally gravitate toward each other, and then mel is curled up against frank’s side and their legs are tangled and he’s bumping his nose against her own and then—and then mel falls asleep to the feeling of hands gentling through her hair and hot lips whispering sweet words in her ear that mel wishes she could understand but she does have a migraine and she’s so sleepy~

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 7/?

I'm so sorry for the delay. I struggled...

_________________________________________

"Jazz?" Blaster calls just loud enough for his mer to hear him. Now that the initial meeting was over, he wanted to take advantage of the break. 

While understanding that the human was calling him over, Jazz was a bit hesitant that moving might start up the whole confrontation again. He glanced over to the other orca still floating a little ways away, •၊||၊၊၊ had his eyes closed and it looked like he was focused on dealing with the repercussions of his actions. His expression was twisted lightly in a restrained grimace with his right arm holding his side.  

Slowly Jazz pushed himself further away, before turning over and swimming to the pier.  

"Are you okay?" Blaster asked as he knelt at the edge. 

With an uneasy look, he shamefully admitted, "it could have gone better…" 

The chief vet speaks up before Blaster can, but not to Jazz, but into the radio. "Has anyone seen signs of reopening or blood?" 

The Vet Chief wanted to fully isolate them from you, to keep them in a transfer-crate, at least until the injuries had a low risk of reopening. 

Blaster shoots them an offended side-eye, as Jazz is literally right here. However, he pushed it aside, half listening to the radio chatter – all good from the sounds of it – and turned to what was more important. "Did he hurt ya?" 

They'll take him away. 

"I'm fine," he whispered, looking down as he placed a hand on his chest. It still stung, as the first hit was made with intent – he had gotten mad when it happened, did it show on my face, did they see it – and the rest, warning shots. "Just a bruise… it was more dizzying trying to keep away from him than anything."  

–if the team reports you showing signs of aggression, they'll… remove him. 

He hums in thought, eyes drifting momentarily as •၊||၊၊၊ disappeared from the surface. Blaster was a little nervous about that as he looked back at Jazz. "Do you think that you'll be okay, the two of you, I mean. Do you need us to separate–" 

They'll take him away. 

"No." Jazz insisted quickly, fighting to keep his voice low – behave – and shaking his head. "We should be fine now." 

Blaster knew there was more going on, seeing as Jazz was soft spoken and avoiding eye contact; an old habit of hiding himself when speaking to staff, but it would have to be a talk for later. When Jazz felt safe enough to open up. So instead, Blaster smiled and said, "Alright. But me and a few others will be keeping an eye on you both throughout the day. Just to make sure you're both comfortable as you can be. It might be a bit rocky for the first few days, but that's okay, we were expecting that." 

Jazz didn't respond, his attention had been captured by the other mer at the bottom of the pool, beneath him. He had been somewhat keeping an eye on him with his sonar, watching •၊||၊၊၊ slowly explore the tank.  

Though, Blaster was just barely able to spot the other orca from the surface, and honestly wouldn't have noticed if not for Jazz. Pressing the call button on his radio, Blaster looked to the staff, "we've passed the first hurdle, everyone. We'll move onto doing rotation monitoring. Fred and Josh, you'll remain for the first shift. Everyone else, business as usual till I get a schedule in order." 

"I've adjusted the medications and sedatives." The chief vet told Blaster, though didn't even look at him, as they were currently preoccupied sending messages on their phone. Not even a second later, Blaster's own was going off in his pocket.  

"I'll look over your recommendations after." He sneered at them, though the vet had already turned to leave.  

Then while folks celebrated the success and steadily wondered off to their main duties, Blaster's second brought up the mers breakfast from the kitchen. They set Jazz's down next to him, but held on to the other while they eyed the water with extreme caution.  

"Ah, ya, no." Blaster spoke up before they even began to wind up, holding his hands out for the food. "Give it here, we are not chucking anything at him."  

They snapped to him with wide, frightened eyes. Like Blaster hadn't been here to see the speeds that the wild mer had gone after Jazz. "You cannot be serious– you're going to attempt to pole feed him? Now–here? When they have the space to jump!?" 

"No." He said with rising irritation towards their attitude and their poor handling of the situation. "I'm going to treat him the same as Jazz."  

His second now looked flabbergasted, glancing between Jazz, him, out over the pool, and then back at him. "But–!" 

Blaster pointed at both Jazz and up at the pair watching on the viewing deck. He wasn't stupid, he wasn't being reckless, he had been taking everything into account. And honestly, if he wasn't so mad about how the wild mer had been treated – and was just about to be treated – during meals, he'd probably be shaking in anxiety right about now. With a heavy sigh, he then carefully pulled the bucket from their hands to set it with the other, "look… I'm not trying to force you to do something you don't feel comfortable with. You're welcome to leave, I'll handle the meals and hopefully by the week's end, everyone will be feeling comfortable when it's time for food." 

They took one last nervous glance at Jazz, before whispering – pointless, he could hear it clearly – "I don't think you can – or should rely on him to protect you… especially with how–"  

"You're right," Blaster said deliberately louder than a normal speaking volume, "I am responsible for my own choices and actions. Thank you, for your concern. We'll talk in more detail later." 

Thankfully taking the hint, they left.  

Then the area was silent for a moment, save for the sounds of dawn songbirds being overruled by the sound of the scavenging birds of the morning. Starting to beg or fight for bits of food across the aquarium yard. 

"They're right, you know." Jazz said weakly, still not looking at Blaster.  

There might be other staff up on the deck that oversaw his pool, but one of the perks to being outside was that voices didn't carry as far unless one was intentionally loud. So they might as well have been the only two here.  

It was just enough for words to come tumbling out, like he could talk freely once more. "I messed up, it wasn't his fault, he wants to be peaceful – I'm pretty sure, and I just… I think I ended up challenging him?" 

"Jazz, listen, they misunderstood." He leaned over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not expecting you to come to my rescue, or put yourself between me and him, or anything like that. I know very well that I may be putting myself in a potentially dangerous situation, and I'm ready to face whatever the outcome might be. But what I meant was, that with you here – just like this, with us together. You are showing him with your actions that you don’t see me as a threat. That by willing to be around me and allowing me to touch you, you’re showing trust. Jazz, buddy, you’re a far greater help than those goons posing up there." The last bit was meant to cause him to laugh, or at least smirk. 

But when Jazz still seemed like he didn't believe him, Blaster made a small gesture for Jazz to look. In turning his head to see •၊||၊၊၊, the mer was at the far end with only his head above the water and had a serious gaze fixed on Jazz.  

"It might not seem like it, even with what had just happened, but he's relying on you." He waved at the wild mer and smiled, before reaching for a bucket and held it up in offering. But •၊||၊၊၊ simply scowled further. 

"I don't think Mr. prowl-around-you-like-you're-breakfast relies on anyone." Jazz grumbles in dismay.  

Blaster chuckled and set the bucket back down, "well maybe Prowl, is waiting for you to invite him over for breakfast. He seems to hold some expectations of you." 

"Ya, he sure– wait, Prowl?" Jazz whipped his head back towards Blaster, finally looking at him again. 

"If it fits, it fits." He shrugged with an amused smile, "though, out of anyone here, it should be you that chooses a nickname for him for us to use. I don't want to keep addressing him namelessly or calling him 'the wild' one, and I don't want folks to think that us calling him 'buddy' is his name." Then he laughed as he glanced back out to the sour mer still watching them closely, "I mean, come on, does he look like a Buddy?" 

Jazz tried to stifle his laughter, "n-no." 

Good, good, Blaster was relieved to hear it. Jazz was starting to relax back into his usual self. Coming back up from the depths to the surface to breathe. "So, what will it be?" 

Jazz's smile had slowly begun to return and so did his hopeful enthusiasm, "I think Prowl is good." 

"I'll send out a notice to everyone." And be sure to tear down all those horrible sticky-note suggestions. "But I am going to still try and learn to say his name properly," Blaster then clapped the orca's shoulder before stretching, "so I hope you're ready to have the worst student ever." 

"You're going to learn Mer," Jazz asked in surprise. 

"Heh, I'm shit at learning languages, but I'd be happy if you want to share more of your world with me." He then brought them back to the next part of their day. "But first, breakfast. Want to ask Prowl to join us?" 

"I'll try." He said, before turning around. Though gave a slight pause and adjusted his stance so his side was facing Prowl. When he saw a slight shift in his expression, one that eased some tension in his brow, Jazz gave himself a mental pat on the back. Already a marked improvement.  

{You hungry, Prowler?} Jazz asked. It was sort of funny having a word he understood that could connect to the mer's name. He wasn't sure of the meaning of •၊||၊၊၊ yet, or if it had one. But prowling was something he did, so it still felt like Jazz had gained another tiny piece of who they were.  

{Yes.} He answered, rising enough that his shoulders could be clearly seen, side facing Jazz for a beat, before he slowly began to swim over. Caution or taking it easy due to discomfort, his moments caused only the smallest and softest of ripples. Like a silent hunter.  

Yet, it made Jazz’s smile shift a bit higher. Prowl is prowling.  

But for Blaster, his instincts were starting to claw up his spine, alerting him of a predator. He was forcing himself to relax and keep up his friendly smile by the time Prowl came within five feet of the pier.  

Prowl eyed him up and down as he came to a stop, then gently turned after a moment.  

"Oh, right!" Jazz abruptly speaking up in slight alarm cause Blaster to flinch – which in turn caused a moment of internal panic, because sudden movements are always a bad idea – but Jazz quickly reached up over the pier and grabbed the human by the legs – which caused Prowl to flinch, and oh-boy, was Blaster having flashbacks of close calls – twisting him so he sat with his shoulder turned towards Prowl. "Pretty sure that facing toward him is like telling him you want to challenge them."  

"R-really," Blaster asked, both trying to distract from his thundering heart and focus on the new information. 

"I think so? He kept telling me to stop doing it, before I realized what he was talking about, so it has to be some sort of an aggressive sign." They both looked back to Prowl, who seemed a little tense, but otherwise calm. {You okay, Prowler?} 

{Yes.} His voice firm and serious, but did not look at Jazz when he answered. 

"… Guess we're ready." We’re good, but he must still be uncomfortable with what happened. 

Blaster handed Jazz his bucket first, hoping it would make the next easier. But then Blaster paused, seeing a distant look in his mer's eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?" 

"Nothing." Jazz fiddled with the bucket in his hands, but Blaster was still holding onto the handle. Not that taking it would be difficult, but it didn't feel like it was worth the effort.  

"Jazz…" he pressed softly. 

And Jazz retreated, "I… I don't feel hungry." 

At least he was being honest about it.  

Blaster had hoped that taking some time to talk would have helped to improve Jazz's current mental state. And it had a little. But his guilt over the misunderstanding with Prowl and the bad history with the chief vet were likely weighing too heavily on him. And as much as Blaster wanted to take the time and work through everything with Jazz, he couldn't right now, or rather Jazz would be unwilling.  

Because Prowl was present. Even with a language barrier, Blaster didn't expect Jazz to feel comfortable having a personal conversation with him so close. But if Jazz didn't eat, then it was likely that Prowl wouldn't either. The trust was thin as it was, and hesitating too long – and not being able to explain why – would only make rebuilding trust harder. So, offering to use the holding pool and close the gate wasn't something they could do at the moment. And he hated it.  

Blaster had to do something now to help restore Jazz's confidence and stop the spiralling of whatever thoughts were holding him back.  

Good thing he was prepared for Jazz possibly becoming stressed.  

"Hang on." Blaster said, his smile impish as he pulled the bucket back to set on the pier. Though, not wanting to risk Prowl backing off from him standing, he flopped back reaching for his bag strap, barely snagging it with the tips of his fingers. But he managed and pulled himself back up with it settling in his lap. "I've brought a little somethin." 

Jazz didn't seem interested but waited none the less. Watching as Blaster pull out a huge plastic food-container – ... okay, he was slightly curious now and a little annoyed, because if he was going to tease him–  

But then Blaster shook it with the biggest grin, and as the contents clunked around softly, Jazz's whole face lit up. Because what Blaster had just offered was the equivalent of a chocolate bar. There weren't many things that Blaster brought for him in a container, but there was only one that made that sound. "Moose jerky!?" 

"Shh! Not so loud." He glanced up at the other staff, like he was doing something that would get him in trouble. But it wasn't a secret that Blaster made these treats for Jazz. And while it still pissed off the chief vet, there was nothing they could do about it.  

It had caused a site wide outrage the first time he had done it. But orcas ate moose – the orca mers more so than the animals – even if it was mostly if there just happened to be one in front of them rather than an active hunting choice. But there was enough history, and with Blaster's dietary knowledge, he had won that battle.  

He just chose to mix it up a little, rather than bring in raw meat. Not so different than some sun-dried fish really. And Blaster personally prepared it to make sure it was safe. Seasoning was just sea salt, simple, but tasty.  

Jazz was now buzzing with eager energy. "Can I share with Prowl?" 

"You’d better," Blaster laughed as he opened it and handed Jazz two strips that were almost the size of dinner plates. He could have tried to use it to mend the trust between him and the wild mer. But Blaster knew it would help Jazz foster his relationship with Prowl and that was far more important. 

The whole time Prowl had been watching them and their exchange with intense focus, trying to figure out what was going on. So, when Jazz turned to him with a huge smile and held out what looked to be a piece of thin wood, he was wary.  

{It's good!} Jazz wanted to say it was amazing, but unfortunately 'good', 'okay', 'safe' was all he currently had to work with.  

After Prowl finally gave in and moved in close enough to take the offering, Jazz laid out on the surface. Careful not to get his food wet as he happily began to bite and tear small strips off. Taking delight in the satisfying sensation of the treat ripping and savouring the flavour as he chewed the tough meat.  

Seeing how much Jazz was enjoying himself, Prowl took a tentative bite and immediately understood why. The look of surprise on his face had the other two laughing.  

{Good, yes?}  

{Yes.} Prowl then followed Jazz's lead and relaxed on the surface, enjoying the first piece of decent food since he arrived. 

Blaster chuckled at the sight of the two of them and set aside the container to dig out his own personal stash to nibble on. "I've got more for you two sea otters, but only after you finish your breakfast."  

Smoothing things over by sharing snacks always opened opportunities for bonding. Good ol' comfort food saving the day. 

_________________________________________

Idk, this one felt very clunky to me, but I must move on -lays on the floor in defeat-

I'm now trying to put together a timeline of the all interactions that you share or like on your blog. Like a countdown clock to the flood/jailbreak, hitting all the angsty and fluffy notes, I want to make sure I can include everything. Q~Q

You and so many others have been showering me in praise and encouragement I want to live up to it. ♡(╥︣﹏᷅╥᷅)♡ I love you all, thank you so much!!

Going forward there is going to more Jazz and Prowl, without Blaster, I promise. Please forgive me and my long setups, my brain struggles with keeping things short, everything I write is a 200K+ slow burn. -cries-

-GLC

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OH HELL YEAH GIVE THOSE GUYS A MOOSE THEY DESERVE IT KDDKSHFV

Blaster over there is having battles on all fronts possible alsjfnfjnf

Also I'm happy they can have proper food at least sometimes~ Although I can't help but think that like. Jazz is happy because this poor moose is kind of a rare treat. Nice occasion gift you know. And then Prowl also loves the moose but in more "I was eating nothing but raw potatoes for a while and now there's a properly seasoned and cooked meal again" way. You know. Cause mers have all kinds of different foods in their cities and stuff~ While humans just go "here's your fish".

Anyway haha. The scene is so cute I love itt~

[rauferes]

Emmrich is, unquestionably in my mind, so very into foreplay. There's patience, and then there's him, next level: he once had a lover where they fooled around for over an hour a day for four days without going any further, and he was absolutely delighted, because that just meant the day they finally gave in to their impulses would be all the sweeter. He lives for flirting, make outs, heavy petting, teasing touches, nips, grinding, all of it. You think begging and pleading can sway him? Not on your life. He gets off on that shit.

But sometime, early on in his relationship with Rook... It's been only five minutes that he's had them pressed against his bookshelf on his balcony, and he reaches a teasing hand down under their waistband, meaning to give one gentle stroke that would leave them preoccupied for the next half hour while he toyed with them. Instead, he finds them already so aroused that moisture leaks through their underwear.

Emmrich freezes, eyes widening.

"You-- you're--" he chokes out.

Rook licks their lips.

"I want you," they say, honestly. "Badly."

Emmrich drops to his knees so fast that he'll be sporting bruises for the next week. He tears Rook's pants down with enough force that Rook almost unbalances; Rook has to rest their hands on his shoulders to stay upright. Emmrich lets out a moan at his first taste of them, and he doesn't pause for air once, his mouth almost frantic in his eagerness.

He'll soon learn that his iron self-control means very little when it comes to Rook-- and he'll love every minute of it.

[choccy-milky]

seb and clora working on baby #1 👶 🔞🔞!! NSFW !!🔞🔞

[poipiku]

[twitter]

[vaguely-concerned]

thinking about not only the specific people lucanis pulls in to represent the 'locks' in his psyche, but the storytelling that happens in the structure/order of them. the underlying ideas are presented something like:

the lucanis who went into the ossuary never came back out again; he died down there (the boy caterina raised is gone forever) -> you're putting yourself in danger doing this (by being close to me), you should leave because I can't bear it if you get hurt because of me -> it doesn't matter even if we do try this, it won't work anyway (again because of me) ('you know what he's like, you can open the door but he won't walk through it' :'( oofie doofie) -> what if the real secret is that there was never anything but the monster in here from the beginning. you should leave, there was never anything here worth saving in the first place. (implicitly: what if I deserved what happened, all along.)

it runs pretty cleanly from outward-oriented attachment anxiety ('caterina won't even want me back like this, she won't recognize me (the same way I no longer recognize myself)) and gradually deeper inwards until we reach self-image and self worth. or you know, the harrowing basic lack of it lol.

"careful -- they'll know we're not right," spite says in one of their first scenes... but clearly, some very deep part of lucanis has feared or suspected for much longer than that that there's something inherently not right at the core of him, way before any demon entered the picture. and the voice he gives those lines to is the person who should know him better than anyone in the world, who he has loved more than anyone in the world -- and who deliberately chose to hurt him so horrifically anyway. 'It's better if I'm just a monster and deserved what happened than it is to allow for the idea that the brother I love doesn't really exist and maybe never did'. it's better if he's fundamentally flawed in some way that needed fixing to help him survive, and that's why caterina chose to hurt him again and again -- out of love. (this one I think he might have a very sad wakeup call on one day if he ever ends up with the responsibility and care of a child of his own in some way and realizes just how alien the idea of ever intentionally hurting them for any reason is to him. oh buddy. also interesting that he keeps caterina as the outermost lock -- there IS a distance he keeps there that he hasn't with illario. he doesn't resent her 'anymore' he says, but he also keeps her carefully further away from his deepest self.)

as far as I could tell the only note in the mind prison that's fully hidden and needs to be uncovered is the sad painful helpless stupid little truth that even after all this, even knowing what happened... he still loves his brother. is there anything illario could ever do that would make lucanis completely stop loving him, do you think? sometimes the trouble with unconditional love is that it is, well. unconditional, even when some terms and conditions probably would have been in order haha.

that's the pattern you see there again and again; he would rather destroy and abandon and imprison himself at every turn than let go of love, even when it's just scraps, even when there's only ever enough of it to hurt him. it's only when rook shows up and as it were takes his hand and walks along with him that he can entertain the idea of changing the story of what walking out the door might mean in the end.

[konjiang]

Cumplane college au, where SQH is a young-looking professor who secretly writes PIDW to pay his student debt. SY is a literature major in his class. I want SY to admire SQH for his amazing story-writing abilities and always talk to him about novels (not porn ones) he finds interesting until one day, he slips up and talks about a web novel.

SQH: *sweating* What other web novels have you read?

SY: There's this web novel that started up super strong with a tragic main character and interesting premise, but now it only has sexual content that is tailored for a perverted male audience.

SQH: O-oh, uhmmm, that's terrible... What is it called?

SY: PIDW

SQH: *panicking and screaming internally*

SY: Professor, you should read it so we can talk about this novel's wasted potential.

SQH: Of c-course

Then, SQH started to avoid SY, and SY was depressed because of it. His favorite professor, and basically the only person he talked to, was ignoring him. That was unacceptable, so he went to SQH's office hours to trap him so SQH could not run away. When SY arrived, he found the office unlocked, but SQH was not there.

Having nothing else to do, SY started reading the latest chapter of PIDW and was immediately enraged by the shit chapter. Now, he really wanted to talk to SQH about this, but since he was not here yet, SY started going ham in the comment section. To make it worse, Airplane was replying to his comments, which irritated him more.

Before SY could reply, SQH walked into the office. SQH, surprised by SY's presence, dropped his phone when he saw the student he was trying to avoid sitting in his office. SY, being the polite kid, picked up his professor's phone, intending to respect SQH's privacy by not looking. However, his eyes were immediately drawn to SQH's screen because it was opened to the comment section of the latest chapter of PIDW with SQH's username visible.

SY: OMG, YOU'RE AIRPLANE

[anbaisai]

Happy New Year!! 🎉🐍

It's the year of the snake, so who better to celebrate it with than our resident snake boy?

I may not be the best with words, but I really appreciate everyone that has showed me support in the past year. You guys have been amazing, and I hope to see you around in the new year too ❤

Thank you for an incredible 2024, and wishing everyone a wonderful 2025!