#fishy’s fics

[weirdfishy]

rule: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as you feel like.

tagged by the queen herself: @alllthequeenshorses thank you for your tag i love getting them- and i’ve actually written something lately to post!

Hira kisses Kiyoi’s forehead before pulling the blankets higher, following his man to sleep.

i recently started two fics, this one abt Hira/Kiyoi from Utsukushii Kare and what happens when Kiyoi starts getting hate during his acting career, and another, a scene change for Old Fashion Cupcake’s ep4 ending where Nozue stays after Togawa’s confession

gently gesturing you over to also tell us your wonderful last written line but no pressure:

@shire-baird @jennsterjay @oliveofvanders @kavekki and anyone else who would like to share, consider yourself tagged by me :)

[fishcop]

Arthur and dulled teeth :>

From the amazing fic ‘weep, oh my penitent heart’ by @octolingo-writes!

[starrspice]

Reread Fishy Business by @robinette-green

I love the way they write and this fic is so so cute

I reread it whenever im really burnt out or tired and it just lifts my spirits

[libra-cant-just-dance]

Since Eva Chase is famous, maybe her and Jack Rose know each other? Is that? Is that anything?

[smolestboop]

the only art fight that matters to me atm are my girlies

[lunarmoves]

yall i fr thought i was going crazy liking sebastian when i played that roblox game with friends but now ik im not alone i feel so liberated and free

[uhzuku]

aizawa too >:))

do u mean nyaizawa 🤨🤨

you were incredibly warm. almost burning up, really — and god, were all the blankets on top of you heavy.

something soft tickles your nose, and your eyebrows furrow as you blow out a puff of air in the hopes of blowing whatever it was from your face. you succeed and it disappears, if only momentarily as it returns only a minute or so later to pull you from the haze that was your mind between the softly curled edges of sleep and the contrasting sharp corners of being awake.

your eyes blink open wearily, squinting in the faint light seeping in through the window, and as you gaze around the room with half-opened eyes, you realize the reason of the heat engulfing your body and the irritation to you nose.

your hybrid, shouta, was curled up on top of you, his fluffy tail running across your face every now and then.

now, shouta wasn’t a small hybrid by any means, nor was he young — it was one of the reasons why he’d been the longest stayig members of the hybrid shelter he’d been in for years. he was thirty-two, 6’1, and covered in scars. he was missing both an eye and part of his leg from the knee down ( you’d gotten him a prosthetic three days after bringing him home and watching him hobble around, and it had arrived a month or so later ), and putting his age and all physical characteristics, most people were more than put off by him. they wanted soft, sweet looking hybrids for pets, so he’d been there for six or so years, practically rotting behind the bars of his pen and bored out of his mind. when you’d gone and had been enamored by him, he’d not even bothered looking at you — he’d been so used to being overlooked for younger hybrids of any kind that when he’d heard the words ‘i want him — the one with the thick black tail’ he’d been shocked; he was the only hybrid with an all black tail in the shelter at the time, and he knew he hadn’t heard incorrectly, but he just couldn’t believe it. it wasn’t until the morning he’d woken in his own bed that he’d even registered that it hadn’t been some pathetic dream — he’d told you that however many months ago.

now, a year or so later, the two of you were more than comfortable with each other and shouta found himself in your bed come morning more often than not.

a soft smile twists your lips. “shouta,” you murmur softly, “wake up — it’s morning.”

soft grumbles are your only response, but you can see him open his good eye to look at you tiredly. most of his days were spent sleeping like this, his favorite spot being the loveseat beneath the wide window in your painting studio that would be awash in warm sunlight from mid-morning all the way to late afternoon — and best of all, he got to spend all of that time with you as you worked on whichever painting piqued your interest that day.

“no,” he grunts, covering his face with his fluffy tail, “sleepin’.”

you chuckle, eyes soft, and reach a hand out to press between his ears. “seems i’ll have to eat breakfast by myself then,” you tease, and his ears perk up slightly.

he lets out a deep, heavy sigh, then rolls off of you and does a big stretch.

“fine, ‘m up,” he grumbles, and you just watch fondly as he gets off the bed and saunters from the bedroom. moments later, you’re jolted into action when he yowls, “i’m hungry!”

laughing, you get out of bed and join him in the kitchen, ready to start your day with him by your side.

[gomzdrawfr]

Everything but you

another fic for PriceRaven, BUT this is an art + fic combo fic :3 I'll do a separate post for just the art (or you can check out this clip i posted on twt), so for now, enjoy this mess

this fic is within PriceRaven's cannon timeline, somewhere after MW3 and during fishy arc

tags:

angst and fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, canon-typical violence and behavior, character study (done poorly), grief, major character death (MCD), mention of MW3 content, author trying to be poetic but most likely just messing up the narrative flow, miscommunication, happy ending

author's note:

word count: 6,048 (the back part is not proof read)

the italics are internal thoughts or third perspective thoughts

━━━━━━❆━━━━━━━ [this divider represent a time skip]

Raven knew the possibility of Price having to leave for a period of time, and was fully aware of the escalation of things when the news of Makarov started popping up.

“To update you on the breaking news of a Russian passenger jet that crashed…”

“A hundred and thirty-three passengers and nine crew members were on board the flight…”

“Descending very rapidly…..unexplained descent…..” 

“Kastovia flight 761 bound for sochi…” 

“...just hours after a missile attack on Arklove Military Base…..looks to be a terrorist attack” 

They both knew then, that this would be the beginning of a long separation.

A quick goodbye, a hug and a kiss.

A swift departure, leaving Raven to tend to their home with their two lovely cats, their girls, after the shit show that went down between Cobra and Vik. 

━━━━━━❆━━━━━━━

Months later, Price would return a changed man, sprawled on the front door and drenched by the rain, clutching onto Raven for dear life as he shakes.

She’d never seen this man in this state; never seen Price that would openly show his distress to this level. 

She could deduce that the operations most likely did not go well, and something terrible must’ve happened.

The guess confirms itself in the form of a watch.

Soap’s watch. Resting on his desk.

And later, a conversation.

“We’ll have to abandon everything”

“The house, the plants, the cars-”

“The girls…”

There was a sense of urgency in his tone,  its timbre deepened and solemn since his return. A frown etched between his brows, accompanied by an increased consumption of cigars and even cigarettes.

━━━━━━❆━━━━━━━

“I tied one of many loose ends”

He murmured into her skin in the quiet of night where the world is asleep. Price returned hours ago, dressed in a dark overcoat and a beanie, with a handgun beneath his shirt. 

“Did you now?”

Shepherd huh.

She whispered back, feeling his chin resting on her shoulder, his beard tickling her skin slightly, properly nestled in his arms, but there weren't the usual giggles and laughter that surrounded the two.

No, this was their last night on this bed, on this home.

Their last night in the comforts of their safe haven. 

“Mm” He mumbled back, palms covering her arms as he hugged her closer, spooning her in his arms.

Nervous that somehow, she’ll slip away, taken away from his grasp. 

“....” “Tell me, Pricey” She brushed his knuckles, easing his tension.

“Will you follow me still, Raven….? Even if we have to leave…” he trails off, leaving things unsaid.

She understood fully the gravity of the question. Even if we have to leave away our hopes and dreams, dreams of settling down, growing old peacefully, dreams of comfort and promises of the future.

“Where would I go if not with you, John?”

“...I don’t know, Singapore?”

“...and what does Singapore have to offer again?”

“Really good seafood” 

“So you’re assuming I’ll pick seafood over you?”

“Well, I was hoping you don’t”

A small chuckle escapes her, which made him smile in return, some of the pressure and uneasiness dispersed from this exchange.

“I won’t leave you” She whispered back, holding his hand up to kiss his fingers. Bittersweet murmurs exchanged throughout the night that comforted the two.  “Alright then, Eira”

━━━━━━❆━━━━━━━

It was exhilarating and intense for Raven to get back on the field with Price, joined as an ally to provide much-needed support in the mess and development following the escape of Makarov from the Trojan Horse mission.

But they have to admit it was exhausting having to move constantly without a proper place to settle down.

Physically and mentally.

Which explains why they’re here now, on this island that Raven can only assume that it's a personal island owned by Price.

“You telling me you own this place?!”

“Ah well, I wouldn’t say “own”, birdie…”

She still doesn’t fully comprehend what he meant by that.

It was a much needed break, being surrounded by the ocean and forest, exploring the places, catching fishes and crabs.

Price hasn’t seen Raven smiled this much in a long time.

Raven witnessed a side of Price she had longed to see: relaxed, carefree, and at peace. Yet, beneath his newfound calmness, she sensed something off about Price that hinted at a deeper turmoil within him.

There were moments when he'd gaze into the distance, lost in thought, thinking.

Pondering.

This was, unfortunately, one of the many truths Raven had come to understand about Price.

More often or not that contemplative look of his means he is plotting or thinking ahead of things, which inherently, is not a bad thing.

It only became problematic when he kept these plans from her, setting things in motion without her knowledge.

Because that’s what Price does.

Plan, execute, reflect, repeat. 

The other negative trait from this, is that it always means there is something he was harboring within that was threatening to break apart. Troubles he would rather deal with alone.

Things that slowly etched eats him out bit by bit on the inside. 

Now, Price was a man of many many thoughts, meticulously organized into mental compartments, sealed, and cast into the abyss of the unknown.

A man who had no room for lingering emotions: guilt, anger, sadness – anything that could hinder his motives, his plans, his every step. 

A man that is calm, quiet, composed and in control, with a constant battle inside he can never say or show.

Behind his eyes, Raven saw it all.

The ocean behind those eyes of his are no longer violent and roaring, similar to when they had to toss their belongings into a pool of fire after that last night in their home.

Freedom tastes like ash and anger after all.

His eyes are now shrouded in darkness, like the deep blue sea.

Suffering and screams muffled in silence.

Drowning.  

━━━━━━❆━━━━━━━

“Up for a ride, birdie?”

“Sure”

It wasn’t uncommon for them to venture into the sea at night, they would drive out in their trusty lil boat (named Cash ‘n’ Fly) far enough until the horizon stretched endlessly, with a seamless line between the sea and the starry sky.

It creates an illusion of infinite space and solitude.

A small escape from everything.

What set this trip apart was the cigar hanging loosely between Price’s lips.

She counted the amount of cigar he used daily, and it was reduced to one or two per day during their break.

So to see him light it up, the fourth one of the day, right now, especially when it's dark and quiet, it could only mean one thing.

“You know…Eira”

And so it begins.

Everything but you.

She had anticipated this conversation, in some form or another.

She didn’t know it would be…this.

Leaving me with the island? I’ll have everything?

And I am supposed to be content with this?

Price was a hardened soldier, a veteran.

A seasoned Captain that has done enough chaos and has enough body piles up below him more than he could handle.

Battles stitched across his skin and back, hands coated in blood and regrets that clung onto his soul.

Far from a savior, close to a sinner.

Hands that were better suited for violence, instead of softness.

It should’ve been just another one of those moments, where he’d tell off some of his men, his soldiers, people who depended on him, boys and girls alike, to leave, to never come back.

To leave him.

So why is it so different when it comes to…the person before him now?

Why does this ache so differently?

What Price has in mind, doesn’t quite align with what John wants.

Needs.

John craves for the simplicity of being loved. Yearns for warmth and understanding, desperate for someone to look into his eyes and see the real him.

John thinks about Eira, thinks about her, her hands, her voice, and he wants more, more and more, a beast that is never satisfied, that can never get enough.

John wants to drown in love. In her.

Price fears that John loves more than he is ever allowed to. 

Price wants what is right.

It’s for the best.

The one sentence that helps justify everything, doesn’t it? 

“....”

Price watches as she stood up abruptly after a long uncomfortable silence, seeing her approaching the bow of the boat-

“Raven?--”

A loud splash was heard, and his body moved before he could process anything.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?! Have you lost your mind?? RAVEN??”

Raven, out of all the possible reactions he has anticipated, does none of what he expected and dives into the black sea.

“I'm going back to land!” She yells back with a strain, huffing as she proceeds to swim to the general direction of where the shore was. 

“That’s way too far!! You’ll freeze your arse before you could even reach it!!” “GOOD, I’VE ALWAYS WANTED TO DIE IN THE OCEAN ANYWAYS”

“EIRA!!”

God dammit.

He quickly drove the boat, starting up the engine to propel the boat towards her, careful not to hit her as he quickly pulled her aboard.

“What–what are you trying to achieve by doing something stupid like this?”

“Nothing productive”

“Ei-”

He stops mid-sentence, seeing her freezing and trembling form, sea water coating her entire form as she shakes like a leaf on the wood.

For a split second, he wanted to ask if she cried, when he saw the red corners from her eyes.

Instead, he took off his jacket and outer shirt to wrap it around her.

The ride home was nothing but silence.

━━━━━━❆━━━━━━━

A letter and a necklace, that should be all.

Price thought to himself as he placed the necessary items on the table outside their room, with a heavy bag on his left as his thumb lingered on the necklace.

An owl head marble piece hangs at the end of it, an item he found comfort in whenever they were separated.

Not like it would be…of any use now.

He brushed it one last time, before heading out, leaving Raven behind.

At least, that’s what he intended to do, to leave behind the one person he had willingly, and stubbornly let into his life.

And now, he’s walking away like a mad man.

He sees Nik’s heli in the far distance, the sight both a relieving but solemn reminder of what is about to happen.

Usually, he wouldn’t think.

Just walk, it’s right there.

Yet, he stays rooted in the sand, as if waiting for a miracle.

“Is that it?!” A shout made him flinch slightly, turning around only to be completely knocked down into the sandy beach.

“You think you can throw me aside like a doll, a birdie with songs you’ve grown bored of, is it?”

“Wha-”

A loud clean slap, with the sting now buzzing on his left cheek as his eyes widened.

“You– you don’t get to decide what’s right for me”

“Listen here you– prick! Old geezer whatever the fuck you are right now-” 

“You only get to choose me once, you either live with me forever, or we live our lives apart”

“Can you live your life without me?”

“Eira–”

“Don’t you dare say anything other than to answer my questions”

A long uncomfortable silence stretched between them, as Raven stayed straddling his chest as he lay against the sand that felt like it was burying him up.

It wasn’t when he felt the warm drops of tears on his cheek that his eyes truly met her. 

“....do I mean nothing to you? Am i…just another pawn for you in the grand scheme of things? That could be abandoned once you’re done?”

“What happened to staying together through thick and thin? What about the vows you exchanged when you put this ring on my finger?”

More tears streamed down her face, hands shakily but tightly gripping his collar

“Answer me, coward”

That finally broke Price out of the trance as he quickly reached up to cup her face, brushing away the droplets of pain and sorrow that dampened her delicate face.

“I have to go…” “Why…? Just…just why?” “I wrote everything in the letter-” “I don’t care about the damn letter…tell me straight in the face”

“I can’t-” “John, please”

“I CAN’T LOSE ANOTHER ONE–”

Now it was Raven’s time to pause, a frown that formed for a split second before it softened.

“....” She sighs, letting go of his collar as she cradled his cheeks.

“....you know you won’t” “That’s what I said to him too…you know”

“....it wasn’t your fault”

“sunshine…I called him sunshine…Eira….I-”

“You didn’t know”

“I should’ve…”

His eyes glistened as vision blurred, the months of unshed grief escaping, cascading down to the sand.

Price never got to grieve, it swirls inside, a little bit like a black hole, like infinity. 

A small part of him is lost with every soldier and civilian he loses.

And Soap took a big chunk of him, a good part perhaps, one of his– kinder shards. 

Another, is stuck frozen in the moment, in the tunnel. No goodbye, just an absence, sudden, abrupt end, a gunshot louder than any screams that ensues.

Price tends to get rid of grief, one way or another, because it reminds him of his mistake, because it feels like he is holding onto a lost cause.

But here’s the thing about loss, grief is hanging onto love.

It is why it is always felt at all times.

Even on days where he thought he’d healed, while other days it was like old wounds opening up deeper than before.

There was not a day where he wouldn’t miss his favorite Scottish gremlin. 

And if his absence was strong enough that it makes it hard to breathe, he could only imagine what it would be like if Eira’s gone as well.

“I can’t lose you”

There is no more desperate creature, than a human being on the verge of losing love.

She sighs, leaning down as she lays down next to him on the sand ungraciously, staring up the sky with him

“....leaving me alone here on this island doesn’t guarantee my safety either, you know that right?”

“I have my people watching you here…” “And a tsunami could come and drown us all”

“Well if that happens I would know-” “No, no you won’t”

She can tell he was about to argue as she shushes him gently, turning to face him, uncaring for the sharp sandy stones that scratched into her ear.

“You can’t always take the blame for things out of your control”

She murmured, holding his palm

“...and you can’t let your worry cloud your conscious and…do something stupid like this”

“Don’t push me away, when you’ve already made a place in my heart that will never be replaceable by anyone.”

“....you think this was dumber than you jumping into the ocean?”

“Absolutely” He chuckles lightly, raising a brow as he smiles.

“I don’t want to be…your regret, John” She whispered, voice breaking a little

“Even if we were not meant to be together…we’ve proved that idea wrong, time and time again…”

He shifted, sitting up slightly as he pulls her onto his lap, hands brushing away the sand on her hair slightly (failing, sands are stubborn lil shits) as he lets out a quiet sigh

“I dream of a time where…the universe was never wrong to begin with, and you’re mine to keep…forever”

“Well you ought to pick a better dream” She smiles, leaning up as she landed a small kiss on his nose

“This dream is already true, because Im yours forever, and ever”

“You are stuck with me, whether you like it or not”

“I suppose I am, aren't I…” “Absolutely…” He smiles, and hugged her tightly, everything about this felt neither wrong or right.

It felt like home.

“Now, are you going to continue mopping around in the sand or will Nik start throwing a tantrum when we get there? Last time he did he defied physics..."

“Im sure man’s busy with the coconuts and alcohol over there, plus we need to get your stuff–”

“It’s in your bag”

“my–what?”

He unzips the cover, and realize that somehow Eira’s sneaked her belongings inside

“No wonder it got heavier…” “Im telling you, you’re an idiot” He laughs slightly, ruffling her hair as they stood up, pulling her closer by the ends of her shirt as he kissed her forehead.

“Yes…but I’m your idiot…”

[britany1997]

Paul and Fishy: Jokes On You

A little surprise April Fools day fic with everyone’s favorite besties🥰

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

Dwayne sat on the lip of the fountain while he waited for Marko and David. His arms were crossed, his brow furrowed, and his lips twisted downward.

As Marko walked into the main alcove of the cave, he didn’t look much happier.

“What’s up?” he asked, “why’d you call a meeting, and why couldn’t we tell Paul?”

Dwayne’s frown grew, “take a wild guess,” he grumbled.

Marko rolled his eyes, “you too huh?” he shook his head, “he’s out of control.”

Dwayne grit his teeth, “he welded training wheels onto my motorcycle,” he spit, “it was hell to get ‘em off”

Marko scoffed, “you think that’s bad? He replaced my swim trunks with the kind that dissolve when they get wet.”

Dwayne’s eyes widened.

“We were tailing these girls at the beach, chattin’ ‘em up you know? So we could eat right?”

Dwayne nodded as Marko continued.

“Well they wanna go in the water so I say sure, because I’m fucking starving, next thing I know I’m naked from the waist down,”

Dwayne groaned, “he needs to be stopped.”

Marko nodded in agreement before his jaw dropped at the sight of David strolling into the living room, his hair neon green.

Dwayne mirrored Marko’s shocked expression.

“Not. A. Word.” David grit.

Marko growled, “this is ridiculous! We have to do something! We can’t just stand by and let him terrorize us!”

Dwayne stroked his chin thoughtfully, I think I know someone who can help us out.

Paul woke up late in the evening and began to flit around his room. He grabbed a bottle of shaving crème, bright pink hair dye, and motor oil as his lips morphed into a devious smile.

The boys’ greatest nightmare had become his new hobby, and he couldn’t wait to unleash everything he had planned.

He moved to salute Fishy and head out his door, but what he saw in Fishy’s bowl made him stop in his tracks.

The little goldfish usually floating in his glass bowl had seemingly transformed into a measly goldfish cracker.

Paul’s jaw dropped and he rushed over to Fishy’s bowl. “Fishy?! Fishy! Talk to me!”

Fishy the goldfish cracker rested on the rocks at the bottom of the fish bowl, not moving or responding to Paul’s questions.

Tears gathered in the corners of Paul’s eyes, but he held them back. He had to be strong for his friend.

“We need to figure out what’s happened,” he decided, “don’t worry bud, I’ll fix this, I promise.”

Fishy returned Paul’s concern with silence.

Paul’s heart clenched in his chest, but he swallowed his fear to try and save his friend.

“The only thing that I think could have done this is a spell! Someone must have hexed you Fishy!”Paul exclaimed, “unfortunately I’ve pissed off a few witches in my eternal life,” he shook his head, “they just get too clingy you know?”

The goldfish cracker didn’t respond.

Paul’s eyes grew wide, “we better hurry,” he said as he gathered Fishy’s bowl in his arms.

Paul ran to Dwayne’s alcove, Fishy in tow.

“Dwayne,” Paul whispered as his head whipped around for the brunette vampire, who appeared to be nowhere in sight.

“Perfect,” Paul said as he sped to Dwayne’s bookshelves.

He set Fishy’s bowl down next to him, “if anyone’s gonna have the book to fix this, it’s Dwayne,” Paul explained, “that man has more books then the Santa Carla library!”

Paul scoured Dwayne’s shelves, reading aloud to himself, “let’s see, Pride and Prejudice? no. As I Lay Dying? no. War and Peace?” Paul scoffed, “nerdy much Dwayne?

He kept looking, “Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals? Non-fiction! Now we’re getting somewhere.” Paul whispered to himself.

Paul searched through books on history, philosophy, and political thought before finally finding the books he needed.

He pulled out all of Dwayne’s books on witchcraft and wizardry, until they formed a mountainous pile on the floor of Dwayne’s room.

Paul breathed out, intimidated by the thick stack of books. But as he turned back to look at his friend, he knew what he had to do.

Hours passed as Paul thumbed through the spell books. As he came to the last couple of texts in the stack, his resolution had begun to wear thin.

Paul gasped holding the last book in the pile, “reversing hexes to third parties!” He cried as his face snapped to look to Fishy.

As Paul read his excitement vanished, “no, no, no! These are all to reverse hexes on people! It doesn’t say anything about Fish! No!” Paul yelled as he threw the book in frustration.

Paul placed his hands on his hips and sighed, “I’m getting nowhere, I’m gonna have to ask the boys to help.”

Paul sighed and picked up Fishy bowl as he walked into the main alcove of the cave dejectedly.

To Paul’s surprise, the other three boys were sat waiting for him around the fountain.

Paul’s mouth gasped when he saw the plastic cup containing his goldfish best friend.

“What?” he gasped in disbelief, “WHAT?!”

David crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrow.

“Fishy you’re ok!” Paul exclaimed, tears of joy rolling down his cheeks, “ah this is such a relief,”

“Wait,” he started, “if this isn’t Fishy…who’s this??” Paul asked holding up the fishbowl.

Marko shot him a look of disbelief, “are you serious? It’s just a goldfish cracker Paul.”

Paul gasped as he pulled the cracker out of the bowl and tossed it away.

Dwayne moved forward to pour Fishy from the plastic cup into the fishbowl. Once Fishy was back in his bowl and tucked into Paul’s arms again, Paul breathed out a sigh of relief.

“What’s wrong with you guys?!” Paul asked exasperated as he shot the other vampires a nasty look.

“It was a prank,” David said as he ran a hand through his neon green hair.

Paul scoffed, “well it wasn’t funny,”

Dwayne raised an eyebrow, “it wasn’t was it?”

“It wasn’t!” Paul agreed, “I was freaking out! I spent all night trying to find a cure!”

“Not too fun being pranked,” Marko piped up as he shot Paul a knowing look, “is it?”

Paul cringed, “no…I guess not,” he rubbed the back of his neck and looked down, “I’m really sorry guys. I’ve been goin’ too far lately.”

Marko sighed, “we forgive you dude, you know we love you.”

Paul smiled softly, “I love you guys too,” he assured them.

The other three vampires smiled and returned to their rooms, leaving Paul and Fishy alone in the lobby.

Paul peered down into Fishy bowl, “traitor,” he whispered.

Fishy shook his fin and swam in a circle.

Paul’s lip turned up into a half smile, “I get it bud, I was totally out of control, I want to be the best me I can be too.”

Fishy blinked three times.

Paul beamed and hugged Fishy’s bowl, “thanks bud, you’re the best friend I could ever ask for.”

“PAUL!”

Paul cringed as he heard his name echo through the halls of the cave in Dwayne’s booming voice.

Paul turned to Fishy, “I guess he saw all his books.”

He picked up Fishy bowl and raced to the ladder, “c’mon Fishy, I’ll start being the best me possible tomorrow.”

🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

Taglist❤️:

@misslavenderlady @dwaynesluscioushair @dwayxluvs @pixielostboy @paulistwistedsister @paperbackfangs @solobagginses @ghoulgeousimmaculate @6lostgirl6 @mickkmaiden333 @its-freaking-bats @gothamslostboy @anna1306 @bloodywickedvamp @feardot-com @riz-coolgirl @groovyspock @flower-crowned-lady @honeybedo @warrior-616 @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @lostboys1987girl @henhouse-horrors

[hatosaur]

why do yall feel compelled to give ellie a biological child. why do you insist on writing ellie to have a more traditional lifestyle. immunity be damned, why is it not enough for some of yall that a lesbian can just not do those fuckin things.

[weirdfishy]

for those of you waiting for my 2nd continuation of this (bamf jazz nightingale), it’s written but needs to be edited bc me and battle scenes don’t get along. it’ll probably be posted within the next 36 hours bc i’ve got a busy day in the morning

edit: it’s posted in the reblogs of that post :)

[flowercoasts]

i am as intrigued by memory loss laudna as the next person but i am honestly way more interested in laudna reckoning with the fact that she can now live for herself now, if delilah is gone.

laudna’s life is split into two: before her death and after her death. laudna even says that whitestone “felt like a different life”, that the events that took place didn’t feel like it happened to her, it felt like someone else (which is a whole other bag of worms into coping and trauma response and mechanisms of defense - but, for another time). the only time that line is blurred is with delilah and laudna’s own view of herself. laudna thinks she’s just a puppet, a vessel for delilah to take over at any moment. no part of herself is in her control fully, because the woman who killed her is living inside of her, leeching from her. after the “you were never alive” fiasco, laudna wonders if there was always some part of her that was just meant to be a puppet for someone else, even before her death. laudna’s wrecked sense of self because of delilah’s direct influence and manipulation makes her believe she is barely a person. she has no agency, no future, and no way out. and, at the crux of it all, because she is only sort-of living and not really herself, she makes her purpose to give herself entirely to someone else. laudna is not living for herself, because what is there to live for?

so i would truly truly love for her to go through a path where she realizes she is truly alive, where she has agency, and where she now has to deal with the fact that she can start living for herself. that she has a whole family who loves her. that she has to learn how to reconcile her past with a future that is now available to her. i want to see her deal with trauma she felt she could never escape but now she can. i want to see her heal and grow and learn how to live for herself.

[play-rough]

With 🪼 anon just being posted with the heated blanket it leaves the question of would the heated up stuffed animals you can like, warm in the microwave work wonders too? Obviously it wouldn't be his own since fishy, but Atsushi asks him to babysit one of them if he has to go in a mission or out. Dazai doesn't know about the heat and Kunikida warms it up so it's extra comfy, and Dazai is immediately passed out before they can even manage to leave for the mission. Literal seconds and now they have a new napping trick 😭

-🐝

I love those warmy microwave plushies 😭 I’ve seen some that smell like lavender too 😭 Dazai would be O U T

[incorrect-avantris]

Chuckles : I lost my fish, can you help me find it?

Rett, cooking the fish: What? I couldn't hear you, please speak up.

[nine-of-diamonds]

psst any cthl au enjoyers out there interested in being melon's and my "reader voice" to tell us what your current understanding of the au's magic is

full disclosure: this role does not involve us telling you if you're right or wrong. we will probably just keysmash in response and you can interpret that how you like. however!! uh. opportunity to befriend us ig?? is that tempting?? you also get our adoration and appreciation :))

also. this would probably happen on discord. just fyi.

anyway, first person (or only person laksdjfl;asjlf) to reblog/comment on this gets the honor of being our reader guinea pig lol

[justoceanmyth]

Would you ever write a survival horror fic about the Builder from Dredge?

GIRL YOU KNOW IT. I am full of Thoughts about her potential, and you know I love the idea that she left after a messy breakup with the Shipbuilder, and I want to write about the haunting of the house she builds on the island. At the moment I'm trying to finish a longer (it's still going to be like 2k) fic that does some world-building for the world I imagine exists beyond the edges of the game map. It also involves some fun with various aberrations! But regarding the Builder - the nebulous, tenuous thread of an idea has been forming. After all, what is a Builder without an Architect.