#pls forgive the formatting on this

[murder-and-mayhem]

Meet My OC

S E H L A A N | SITH WARRIOR

Romances: Malavai Quinn during the Warrior storyline (ended it after the Quinncident) | Theron Shan during Shadow of Revan | currently in a committed relationship with Arcann.

@ladytirall I saw your post about OC's so I couldn't resist showing off my main. She is a redeemed Sith Warrior, and I am ✨obsessed✨ with her. I gave a lot some backstory below the cut, and I apologize in advance for the dissertation. I got way too carried away....

A/N: I am highly aware that this backstory fucks the SWTOR timeline mercilessly considering all class stories technically occur simultaneously. This is just the headcanon following my in-game family tree. My structuring of Imperial Society is loosely based on this post by @fluffynexu (particularly the schooling that Force-sensitive Sith children undergo), along with my own headcanon that not all "legitimized" children born in the Empire come with the obligation of marriage. Basically something along the lines of "powerful bloodlines are so inherent to the power structure/caste system that procreation has become a transaction". It's fucked up, but the Empire is fucked up so why not go balls to the wall.

In 3665 BBY, Sehlaan was born on Dromund Kaas to Jaidys Mar'el—better known across the Empire as Darth Nox. Her birth was part of a contractual agreement between Nox and a prominent Kaasian family. Darth Nox—a former slave and distant descendant of Lord Aloysius Kallig—had been newly appointed as a member of the Dark Council after killing her predecessor.

Her position on the Council was hardly secure at the time. Many Sith saw her rise to power as an affront, and—whether due to their prejudice, their own ambitions, or both—Nox was met with many attempts to usurp her seat, and subsequently end her life. In an attempt to solidify her position in the Empire and ensure her own legacy, she made an offer to several powerful families at the top of Kaasian society. She focused particularly on old families who had a reputation for their ruthless ambition, and offered them a mutually beneficial contract: she would produce an heir with one of their bloodline. A legitimate child between a Dark Council member with ancient Sith blood, and a sire from a deeply respected family boasting ties to high-ranking officials and its own prestigious bloodline.

The child would cement an alliance between the two, give her a better foothold among the Sith still clawing for her Council seat, and offer the families who accepted a chance to grow more powerful among their peers. Two of the families were able to overcome their distaste towards her years as a slave, and accepted her offer. Two families. Two children.

Sehlaan's brother, Torvahl, was born first to a different father, and Sehlaan followed two years after. Her childhood was strictly managed and closely monitored by both her mother and her biological father's family. When her Force sensitivity manifested at 4 years old she began a training regimen, with the end goal to have her attend the Academy on Korriban when she came of age and had finished her years of study.

Sehlaan took to her training with obedience and an eagerness to please, eclipsing all initial expectations that had been set for her. She was heralded as intuitive and clever among her masters, quick to learn, and deeply attuned to her connection with the Force. Sehlaan excelled in her studies, and her mother's personal lessons in dual saber combat had labeled her somewhat of a prodigy.

Sehlaan's brother hadn't fared nearly as well. He had proficient skill with a dual saber, but his hesitance to tap into his passions during his training had stunted his connection to the Force. He also struggled in his studies and had issues focusing. Sehlaan often helped him practice, even going so far as to help him cheat in order to remain close to him and spare him their mother's ire. When Sehlaan's interference was discovered, the resulting punishment was severe on both children. Torvahl's masters labeled him as weak and slow, and Darth Nox quickly wrote him off as a failure. Sehlaan, however, loved her brother deeply, and she refused to give up on him so easily. She did everything within her power to help him catch up by meditating with him, studying, and sparring.

When they were 13 and 11 years old, Torvahl disappeared. It was discovered later by Jaidys' contacts at Imperial Intelligence that he had run away with an SIS agent who'd escaped capture under mysterious circumstances. Her own spies later reported that he'd been sent to Tython, and that he was excelling at his training at the Jedi Temple despite his late start. 

The event was extremely traumatic for Sehlaan. Her mother forbade any mention of him with swift, brutal punishment to follow if her orders were disobeyed. Nox was deemed incompetent by Torvahl's sire and relations between the two deteriorated significantly, creating new enemies of the family and their allies. The only thing that protected Nox from the fallout of Torvahl's 'betrayal' was Sehlaan's biological father. His family was the wealthier and better connected of the two, and their peers were hesitant to fight an open war between them.

All of the pressure to succeed now fell on Sehlaan, and her already strict schedule became micromanaged down to the minute. She was made to train and study harder, and she was no longer attending a public academy. Instead she trained under Nox's ally, Darth Vowran, as well as several other masters and scholars that shared the same allegiance.

Sehlaan had no choice but to obey.

Torvahl's disappearance left her heartbroken, and being an 11 year old without an outlet her pain quickly turned into outright fury. She felt abandoned by her brother, and was gutted that he hadn't trusted her to tell her of his plan so she could leave with him. Her bitterness and rage fed her connection to the Dark side, and she shouldered the burden of her family's legacy with renewed vigor.

When she was 20 years old she was brought into the Sith Academy ahead of schedule by Overseer Tremel. She was given strict instructions that she was not to reveal her mother's position on the Dark Council to others. Nepotism was rampant among the Sith, but Tremel wanted her to be chosen on her merit, not her connections. The plan succeeded, and Sehlaan became the newest apprentice to Darth Baras.

In the first year of her apprenticeship, she was tasked with hunting down her Master's nemesis, Nomen Karr, and his padawan, Jaesa Willsaam. Baras' intel stated that Jaesa could sense the true intentions and alignments of anyone through the Force, and Sehlaan was curious. She'd had a decade to seethe over her brother's decision to run, and during all of those years under Nox's thumb she'd slowly begun to understand why he'd grasped at any chance to leave. Even if she couldn't forgive him for leaving her behind.

This new understanding left her feeling conflicted, and she found herself questioning her allegiances—something she had desperately tried and succeeded to hide from both her mother and her new master. As she hunted the Jedi down, she found ways to still appease Darth Baras in her decisions without causing as much bloodshed, listing pragmatism for her choices rather than mercy.

When Sehlaan finally confronted Karr and Jaesa, the padawan turned her power on the Sith and saw this confict. Sehlaan was at a tipping point. After Nomen Karr's fall, Jaesa left with Sehlaan of her own free will to become her apprentice, and Sehlaan began to learn and understand the Light side of the Force in secret. It took working through hundreds of setbacks (especially during her years as the Emperor's Wrath) and overcoming decades of indoctrination before she was able to cleanse her lightsaber crystal, eventually changing the color from red to white.

It wasn't until her meeting with Darth Marr and Satele Shan in the forests of Odessen that she was able to find true balance in the Force. Using components provided by Marr and Master Shan, she built a new lightsaber using her own cleansed crystal before going on to defeat Arcann. After his fall, she chose mercy despite the blow back from her allies on the decision, eventually leading to his joining of the Alliance.

Arcann saw it as a chance to redeem himself and heal the wounds he'd left on the greater galaxy. Later during a private moment between the two, he asked her why she'd chosen to let him live and why she'd let him join her on Odessen. Sehlaan quietly told him of her own journey towards the Light, and how sparing him and his mother had been an easy decision in her eyes.

[cinnamoneve]

𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐲.

idolatry \ īˈdälətrē \ (n.) - extreme admiration, love, or reverence for something or someone.

❆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo satoru x fem!reader ❆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: your boyfriend just makes the perfect wedding date ❆ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader is wearing a dress, is called beautiful, shorter than gojo, reader drinks alcohol ❆ 𝐰𝐜: 1.8k ❆ 𝐚/𝐧: you are all subject to me writing self indulgent fics ♡ currently stuck at an airport for a wedding tomorrow and this man would look so fine in a suit (also i Would Like to marry him). anyways i love you thank you for reading !!!

any excuse gojo satoru had to dress up and take the night off, he’d eat up.

you offhandedly mentioned to your boyfriend that you had a family wedding coming up. fortunately, you were given the opportunity to bring a plus one–and you knew just the man for the occasion.

“should we match? and coordinate our outfits?”

“it’s not high school prom, satoru. we don’t have to match”

he didn’t know. while his life had been very well lived in his 28 years, attending a wedding hadn’t been crossed off his list yet. he’d secretly hoped that the first one he would attend would be yours, with him standing across from you to seal in your devotion to one another for the rest of your lives.

but alas, he can’t get what he wants this time.

while he’s met your family here and there, this will be the first full-scale event where you’re hard launching your boyfriend into the family. it’s a lot at once. for a normal person, it’d be overwhelming. but most weren’t people-oriented the way your boyfriend was.

“can you at least tell me the color of your dress?”

“it’s green”

“green suit then. got it.”

reading your body language and glare burning the back of his head, satoru was quick to write it off as ‘kidding!’ of course you believed him, but half of your brain told you not to.

you had almost forgotten about it all until the day of the event, when satoru picked up his suit from the dry cleaner. you tried to steal a peek underneath the white bag, but he playfully swatted you away with a “nuh-uh.” you pushed it from your mind and continued to get ready.

satoru’s cologne was always the indication that it was time to go. subtle yet overwhelming, the musky scent filled the air of any room he walked into. it felt like he applied enough so everyone could smell it, but you could only appreciate it if you were buried into his neck. it sucked you in and was warm enough to feel like an embrace. when you could hear him applying his cologne, the scent came moments later, and so did the nerves.

usually in uniform or in sweatpants, rarely could satoru go all out and dress to the nines. you’ve only been lucky to see it once or twice, but never to this extent.

you walked out of the bathroom to meet him, and man, he looked good. it took everything in you to remember the commitment you made to your family and your rsvp instead of staying home and jumping him there.

in his black suit, he definitely cleaned up well. the black suit only contrasted his snow-white hair, which matched into the white button-up he paired underneath. after the first wave of nerves and infatuation passed, you were relieved to note he wasn’t wearing a full-green suit like he’d teased. the harder you looked, though, you could see glimpses of yourself and his love woven in the outfit. a green pocket square, a thin green tie, and even socks to match.

he even matched his cufflinks to the type of metal your jewelry was.

gosh, he was so perfect sometimes, it infuriated you. this time, you could let it pass. maybe just this once.

he let out a whistle when his eyes met yours.

“you look beautiful, love”

“you don’t look so bad yourself, satoru”

“oh don’t be mean, you were practically drooling over there”

“shut up,” you laughed. he pulled you into a kiss to meet your giggles halfway. he just loved to kiss you when you were smiling, just so he could taste how happy he made you.

satoru wore his happiness on his sleeve; probably more, if there was even a phrase for it. you could hear that he was smiling when he talked. he would smile while kissing you, which would always pull and curl his lips in a way that made you melt. he was so unapologetically and irrevocably in love with you, and the best way to show it was with his smile–in any way he could.

he pulled your hand close, placed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, and led you outside to the car. opening the door for you like the gentleman he was, you feigned a “wow, thank you, baby” to make him feel so chivalrous, as if he doesn’t do it every time

and you did the same, as you always had, when he opened the door for you at the venue. he took your hand so tenderly in his as you walked inside.

the ceremony was intimate, so you and most of the party were only attending the reception. satoru was already confused by the proceedings and this didn’t help his case.

“so they’re already married? they already kissed the bride? we missed the vows?”

“yes, love,” was the only way you could answer. it was almost a soft launch into a wedding for him. no formalities of ceremonies that were following any specific practice or culture, just dancing and alcohol with a side of celebrating love.

boy, you needed a drink. gojo had a million questions about family members he hadn’t seen in a while, how they were, and if they would remember him.

you both made your rounds during the cocktail hour to greet old and new friends and family. always the social butterfly, satoru seemed to command every conversation and have everyone feel included and heard.

he had a certain air about him that made anyone he was talking to seem like the most important person in the world. he was an avid listener, eye-contact enthusiast, and lover of remembering details about people. oh, you told him you were looking to vacation in europe last time he saw you? best believe he’d ask if you’ve gotten there yet.

because he was driving, satoru drank just enough to get him loose. meanwhile, family events made you slam drink after drink. something about all your family in a dance hall with an open bar just spoke to you.

the rest of the night flowed as it usually did. you had found your seats with some of your favorite family members, and gojo made a point to sit as close to you as he could.

it was one of your favorite things about him. he unconsciously always scoots his chair closer to you, so at least your legs would be touching. such a clingy man–he’d die before anyone at that table but you knew it though.

so under the table his affection stayed, in the form of foot taps and unconscious shapes drawn on your thigh as he talked to one of your cousin’s boyfriends.

the alcohol had made you a little spacey before the reception truly kicked off. the couple had their first dance, and afterwards, all the couples in the room were invited to share it with them.

satoru giggled at you.

“why are you looking at me like that”

“i just think you’re pretty, satoru”

he slowly stood up and adjusted his suit jacket.

“if you wanted to ask me to dance, you could’ve just asked. there’s no need to be shy about it, baby”

maybe it was the alcohol, but something about satoru tonight made your heart skip a few beats. it did turn you a little shy, you realized. you felt the blush creeping up your face as he grabbed your hand.

“may i have this dance?”

so lame. it was so lame. so cliche, overdone, movie-esque…the list can go on. normally, you would’ve faked a gag at this line. he loved to pull out the cheesy lines to make you squirm.

nothing came out this time. you just looked at him with your cheeks hot, shyly looking away as you rose to meet him.

satoru led you to the dance floor before putting his hand on your waist with your clasped hands at your sides. you found yourself buried into his chest, listening to his heartbeat in line with the slow song playing in the background. the music seemed to fade out of your mind as it felt like the two of you were the only people on the dance floor.

he kept the pace (and kept you upright) as the two of you stepped back and forth with one another, bodies falling into each other to the tune of the song.

his cologne was intoxicating. something about it made your heart soar. you wanted to get ready with him for the rest of your lives. stupid how something as simple as whatever he decided to spray had you wanting it to be your reminder of plans every time you made them. you hoped that scent would be your own personal alarm every time you and satoru had somewhere to go. hell, you’d make plans if it meant he’d fill up the house with this little piece of himself.

“what do you think our wedding will be like?”

the vibration of satoru’s chest with his question pulls you out of your thoughts.

you think about it for a bit. you wondered what the two of you would be like by then. it could be tomorrow or in five years–either way, you wouldn’t be the same as you are now. just the thought alone made you excited.

you were in love with him, definitely. in love with who he was about to be, in love with who he was when you met him. who he was when he woke up this morning, yesterday, last week, and who he’ll be tomorrow. it was all unknown. but not a scary unknown, no; it was comforting that you two grew adjacently to one another, yet, together.

that’s love, you realized. maybe it’s not sharing your first dance among your friends and family, or standing face-to-face professing your vows, or wearing white or taking some seal to honor and love each other for as long as you live.

it was something in-between, something unwritten; hidden between open car doors and cufflinks.

you would dance with him as long as you could, though. at least you had known that for sure. happiness with satoru must be between slow dancing together, wondering when he’d pull you close and dip you, each time pretending he was going to drop you because he thought it was funny, just to kiss you when he pulled you back up. or maybe when he’d twirl you off his hand, stealing a glimpse at the way your eyes stayed on him while you slowly spun.

the rest of the night was incredibly uneventful. satoru danced with all of your aunties and your mother, stealing them away to tell them how beautiful they looked so they’d feel loved.

maybe it was the alcohol clouding your mind, or maybe it was the most sober thought you’d had all night, but like satoru, you found yourself wishing that the next wedding you go to would be your own.

all content © cinnamoneve 2023. do not repost, modify, steal, or copy without permission.

[smittyw]

noemi turnaround!! 💥💥

[saintashes]

BURY YOUR GOD. // a c!tommy poem. (click for full images & better quality)

text below :) feel free to reblog !!

bury your god 

in a box in the backyard.

it can be a small box—your 

gaseous god will expand 

or shrink

as needed. it should, however, be a box 

for your god is cuboid and

deserves to be comfortable. 

line the box with aluminum foil 

to prevent your god seeping 

into the soil and contaminating 

the neighbors’ vegetable garden.

the deeper the hole the better

but we’ll understand if 

you stay shallow for easier 

emergency access to your god.

kiss your god-box goodbye then

gently lower

or toss

or slam-dunk it

into your god-hole.

fill the god-hole with things that are

not

your 

god

until you can no longer spot the god-box,

then fill it some more after that.

lay sod atop and walk away.

do not return to the god-spot

until you can no longer remember

where the god-spot is.

and then when you do return—and

you will, of course, return—consider

whether finding your god

is worth     tearing up

the whole damn backyard.

[gojoest]

i’m not going to make it with girl dad satoru before the end of 2023 😔

[emc2beans]

Hi! I’m Bean and I play ffxiv on the Leviathan server (NA data center). Here is a lineup of my ffxiv WoLs and some related ocs. Goes from left to right.

Gwynedd [Gwyn-ed] Skaenblyss Grufud

-Age: 27   -Pronouns: She/her   -Sexuality: Very Gay 

-Race: Roegadyn -Height: 7ft 3in  -Weight: ~300 lbs 

-Nameday: 28th day of the 3rd Astral Moon (May 28)

-Occupation: Sailor (prev), (the) Warrior of Light, Scion of the Seventh Dawn

-Abilities: Warrior training, The Echo/Light’s Blessing

-Extra: Middle name means “Beautiful Blossom” because she was born in the spring and she hates it.

-Family: Llewellyn Grufud (brother), Rhodri Grufud (father, 46), Angharad Grufud (mother, 45), Assorted adopted younger siblings

Gwynedd is, quite literally, a natural-born sailor. That is to say that she was delivered while her parents were at sea, below deck on The Hullripper, a once-pirate-now-mercantile ship captained by her mother Angharad and her first mate/husband Rhodri. In her mid-20s, Gwynedd developed a desire to see more of the world, which meant leaving her life at sea behind in favor of becoming an adventurer. Seeking fame, fortune, and the company of beautiful women, she would instead find herself fighting for the very existence of the star she called home. 

Llewellyn [Lew-el-in] Guldaren Grufud 

-Age: 17  -Pronouns: He/him   -Sexuality: Gay 

-Race: Roegadyn -Height: 6ft 6in  -Weight: ~210 lbs 

-Nameday: 30th day of the 5th Umbral Moon (Oct. 30)

-Occupation: Sailor, Scion of the Seventh Dawn (unofficial)

-Abilities: Lancer/Dragoon training, oceanic navigation, fishing

-Extra: Middle name means “Gold Harvest” because he was born in the autumn.

-Family: Gwynedd Grufud (sister), Rhodri Grufud (father, 46), Angharad Grufud (mother, 45), Assorted adopted younger siblings

It’s safe to say that Llewellyn’s birth was unexpected. Born slightly early and far smaller than the average Roegadyn infant, the Grufud family was forced to take an extended shore leave in Gridania to ensure ready access to healing. Growing up, Llewellyn was often bullied for his smaller size and sickly nature. Even as he grew into a teenager and his health improved, he continued to be much scrawnier than average for his race, leading to much insecurity on his part. When he hears of his elder sister’s exploits as the vaunted champion of Eorzea, Llewellyn wants nothing more than to join her, but leaving the rest of his family behind is a difficult thing to do.

Syden

16, Viera (rava), He/him, gay

Gunbreaker + Bard

Is the third of five brothers.

Knows which plants will get you high, fuck you up, heal you, or kill you. 

Riveaux

16, Elezen (wildwood), He/him, gay

Machinist + Bard

Lives primarily with his father in Gridania, but spends a few weeks each summer in Ishgard with his mother.

His mother was an Ishgardian noblewoman who ran off to Gridania with a stable boy, whom she married and had a child with. However, she soon discovered that being “poor” (more like lower-middle class) sucked and went back to Ishgard, divorcing Riveaux’s father and leaving a young Riveaux behind. 

Dire 

16, Elezen (duskwight), They/them

Astrologian + Bard

Has two mothers, one duskwight Elezen (biological) and one Garlean. 

Calls their Elezen mother ‘Mum’ and her Garlean mother ‘Mutti’

Her Garlean mom defected while stationed at Baelsar's Wall and met their Elezen mom after running afoul of the Shroud’s wildlife.

A’Mina

16, Miqo’te (seeker), She/her, bisexual but prefers girls

Rogue + Bard

Lives with her single mother, who left their tribe to escape an abusive nuhn.

Gothic lolita enthusiast

Isolde [Ee-solde] Tumult 

- Age: 24-30 (depends on who’s asking)  -Pronouns: She/her 

-Race: Hyur -Sexuality: Bi? Pan? Straight? Yes.  -Height: 5ft 5in 

-Weight: ~180 lbs

-Occupation: Artist, Warrior of Light (reluctantly),‘Free Agent’ (self-proclaimed), Scion of the Seventh Dawn (when it suits her), PR Nightmare

-Abilities: Rogue/Ninja training, The Echo/Light’s Blessing, proficiency with some Allagan technology 

-Extra: Extreme reaction to Echo, activates on contact not proximity, causes intense pain. 

Allag was an empire of incredible technology. From airborne research facilities to teleportation, nothing was beyond the reach of their greatest minds. But, one of these great minds Isolde was not, which made the fact that she was cloned all the more confusing. Worse still was that she’d managed to miss the end of the world, or at least the fall of Allag and everything she’d ever known. Her memories consisted of little more than her name, some vague scenes, and blurry faces. Fortunately, she still knew how to wield a pair of daggers, providing her with a means of defending herself against whatever lurked outside that deactivated cloning facility. 

[foxesonstilts]

I got tagged by @kathastrophen to post the 10 last songs I listened to so here they are in no particular order:

jeannette - kelly lee owens

prime - shearwater

king - florence & the machine

conversion - khruangbin & leon bridges

hurricane - james vincent mcmorrow

mermaid - okkervil river

both sides now (orchestral version) - joni mitchell

aye - sam fender

love is all - the tallest man on earth

you're so dark - arctic monkeys

I'm tagging: @tinypi, @greaseonmymouth, @notajoinerofthings and @neversandnowheres

[recurring-polynya]

part 9 | ao3 | ff.net |

Summary:  He's a easy-going tattoo artist with a love for sunglasses and a talent for drawing skeletons. She's a high-powered finance executive with a neurotic brother and an amazing sportscar. In another universe, they're undead soldiers fighting in a war for the fate of reality. In this one, they're just two doofuses trying to make it to Rukia's tattoo appointment without falling head over heels for one another.

Starring: Rukia, Renji, and an extensive peanut gallery

Rating: Teen, for language and general, low-grade horniness

This time: Further correspondence between our bold co-protagonists

oh god how did this get here

i am not good with computer

[inaconstantstateofchange]

WIP ask game

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! Tag as many people as you like.

Finirà Bene Ch. 3

Hellsbound Hearts

Meditation

Your Grove

Was I Sweet Once?

Gale: I’m Sorry Honey

Wings & Chains

Tagging @dungeonspawn and @sky-kiss and @flamemittens and @apfelgranate and anyone else who wants to participate.

[edward-little]

big bang preview (◕ ͟ʖ◕)

“You didn’t speak,” said Crozier, breaking the silence. He felt Fitzjames take in a breath. “I don’t mean anything by saying so. I only thought you might.”

Fitzjames exhaled slowly. Crozier did not have to turn to see that his eyelids were swollen and tender-looking and that his nose was pink. For a long while– though it must only have been a moment– it seemed as though he was not going to speak, until he said, “You did.”

Crozier nodded. Fitzjames went on: “Of all the people there I would have guessed you to be the one least likely to give a eulogy.” He must have seen or sensed Crozier’s discomfited expression, because he sighed and added, “I only mean that you surprised me. It was an excellent speech.”

Crozier scoffed. “That was what surprised you?”

“No.” Again Fitzjames sighed. “Francis, I don’t see why we should have to argue each time we meet.”

“I think it just happens.”

“Well, we ought to make an effort to put an end to it, don’t you agree?” said Fitzjames. Crozier finally felt his eyes upon him. It reminded him of the way Fitzjames had looked at him as he implored him to conduct the Four Quarters spell and it was not an expression he relished; Fitzjames should not look the way he had, wild-eyed and acutely grief-stricken as if it was his own life lost (or perhaps not; after all, one cannot grieve oneself in the same way they mourn the dead).

Then something seemed to leave him. His shoulders dropped and his head turned again to face the empty plinth. “Have you conducted the spell?” he asked.

“Which spell?” There were many spells in Crozier’s repertoire, but he knew which one Fitzjames meant. Fitzjames knew which one he meant, too, because the only reply he gave was a puff of air. “No, I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“Why should I?”

“It’s only water, Francis. You could conduct it in your sleep.”

Crozier shook his head. “He’s dead, James,” he said quietly. “We’ve buried him.”

“A piece of him. And not even a very substantial piece.”

“Christ, James, I’m not discussing a severed leg over his grave.”

read The Greenwich Magicians, or Sir John's Death & What Followed Thereafter feat. art by @jamesclarkross on ao3 on friday 8/26 babeyyy

[foxachu]

The stickers—well, the whole idea itself, actually—had been Chara’s idea, and Frisk had happily agreed. Stickers are much too important to stick on short-lived things like paper, so something deliberate, something like a gift, was obviously the correct choice. (Looking at the flower pot now, Frisk still doesn’t know what Chara’s smirk had been all about when they were finished.) So even with only dirt in it, it’s still colorful and fun. Unfortunately, Flowey seems to hate it.

The one-year anniversary of my UTDR big fic/series is coming up this week, so I’m working on getting a companion piece finished and published. The only Frisk-centered fic so far is a bit angsty, so I wanted something cute 🌼

[kithtaehyung]

Saturday is almost ending, how long for the thirst tweets Ryen 🥴?

AHH I’m so sorry!! There are a lot more than I expected so it’s gonna take a little longer to make the posts. I’ll release a teaser post in a bit to hold y’all over though🤪

[immurus]

@wasme asked: ❛  well if you wanted honesty that's all you had to say.  ❜

"It's fine." Gray chewed on his tongue for a moment as he kept to his task, mindlessly sorting through supplies to stick into a backpack for the next away team outing. Partially mindlessly. He was stuck on the same object, a small blue cylinder with the word 'oxygen' or something of the like on the side. Seven of them went in the bag before he spoke again. "You're not the first person to lie to me, I lie to myself enough for both of us. But for my crew's sake, I'd appreciate accurate information."

[luxcruor]

donnie bites leo. turtle tot verse.

" DOWWWNIIIE OUUUCH!! " the tykes lip trembles as he grabs his arm. " i'm.. i'm tellin' dad!! "

[pulchramsolis]

@kinslcyer - meme starter

❝  whatever else happens,  if i have you,  i’m content.  ❞

Abrogail was sitting on a bench beneath the large willow in the gardens, her embroidery in hand. It was a warm day, and her red curls flashed golden beneath the dappled light streaming through the tree branches. Afternoons spent lazy with Aemond were some of her favorites. Finding solace with one another’s company had been a life line over the past few years, and she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

She watched him pace, his mouth pursed in thought and wondered what was going on behind that furrowed brow. He was often serious and contemplative, but that had always been Aemond. It made for a little triumph every time she could pull him from whatever was running through his mind.

“Am I enough to keep you so content?” Her laugh was soft and amused, smiling up at him. She set her embroidery aside and hopped up on the bench so she could tower over him, and came closer. She liked the way he tilted his head back to look up at her and she leaned against him. One hand holding his shoulder for balance, the other sifted through his soft blonde hair with a little hum. “Though I suppose since I am very happy with you, then it can’t be so impossible a truth.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead. She wanted to kiss him properly, to be properly kissed by HIM, but he hadn’t dared except once and she thought about it constantly.

“You’re not just saying this so I yield our next fight to you, are you?” He’d had her on her back more times that week than she could count and it was getting old. She would yet best him, even if the blade was his life and not so much hers. She remembered after the fire and the tragedy, Aemond coming to her with a short sword in hand, asking her if she would like to learn. She did not engage in practice on her own, but Aemond was an excellent teacher and he’s picked up on her own brother’s promise to defend herself.

[junkissed]

member — woozi x f reader genre — fluffy comfort smut word count — 0.4k synopsis — soft sleepy bedtime sex with jihoon warnings — descriptions of female anatomy notes — based on this pic of woozi bc i thought @onlymingyus could use something nice. i whipped this up on my phone super fast so pls forgive the formatting sorry it's short

imagine soft sleepy sex with woozi: it's late at night, almost totally dark with just a soft lamp on in the background. he's laying on the bed looking up at you as you straddle him, his gaze lazily following your movements as you slowly roll your hips back and forth. it's quiet, the pale moonlight filtering in through the cracks in the window blinds and the only sounds the hushed gasps and soft moans as his cock kisses your walls with each circle of your hips.

the room is cold enough to keep the covers pulled up around your hips as you sit atop him, completely covering his bottom half with the big white comforter without getting overheated. you're wearing one of his big cozy t-shirts, and he slides one hand up your shirt to play with your boobs while his other hand is in your mouth letting you suck on his fingers. he loves to praise you like this, telling you how good you're riding him and how sexy you look in this lighting right before bed, how soft your tits are and how wet your pussy is around him, doing all the work and letting him just sit there. he loves the way your tongue swirls around his fingers, sucking him in the same way your pussy sucks him in, so warm and wet and wonderful.

and then when both of you can't take it anymore he grips your waist and rolls you over onto your side so he can rut into you from behind, slow and lazy and smooth while he kisses your shoulder and nibbles at your earlobe. his hands are draped over your body, one hand resting on your stomach so he can feel the motion of each thrust as he enters you. his warm breath tickles the back of your neck as he whispers more praise into your ear, how perfect you are for him just the way you are. 

and then you feel his body tense and he lets out a soft groan under his breath and he cums inside you and you feel your whole body flood with warmth inside and out. and then after a few soft seconds he leans behind him to shut off the lamp with a satisfied sigh, and he wraps his arms around your body again and snuggles into you, spooning until you both fall asleep. 

i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

no taglist because this is just a rare short drabble! if you'd like to join my taglist and be notified when i post more formal fics, you can fill out this short form here :)