#sol snippets

[frostfishy]

waug

+ bonus sols

[thedeathdeelers]

dreams (on ao3)

he dreams of her again.

only problem is: he doesn’t actually know who she is.

it’s more of a feeling than anything else….this desperate ache in his chest making him restless — like he should be reaching out towards someone — running towards her.

he wakes up in a cold sweat every night, water droplets running down his face and the back of his neck as he sits up in a panic. he takes in one deep breath after another, struggling to calm his racing heart.

sunjae squeezes his eyes shut, pressing a hand against his chest.

the pang of fear that had woken him up was starting to subside, but he couldn’t fully shake it off.

why were these dreams haunting him? who was he so desperately trying to catch up to? to find?

and why did they have such a visceral effect on his heart?

he tries hard to remember the dark shadows in his dreams, the blurry figure as it sunk deeper and deeper away from him, but the harder he tries, the less he remembers.

sunjae shakes his head as he lets his eyes ease open. what was he doing?

it was just a dream. a nightmare.

it must be the script, he tells himself resolutely — the story in that damn script was haunting him even in his dreams.

he thinks of the crazy woman who was behind it all, and barely notices the soft pang in his heart at the thought of her as he slowly eases back into a sleeping position.

his last incoherent thoughts as he drifts back to sleep are of yellow umbrellas and summer kisses.

odd, he thinks as he turns to his side and gives into the dark pull of unconsciousness once more, he’s never had a girlfriend in the summer.

[pale-and-sour]

aesthetic: alina starkov, the soldier.

“I didn’t know who I was in this little palace. I didn’t know who I was when there was an entire court of people looking on, expecting their own version of me. Some wanted a meek, little soldier from the First Army; some wanted a Sun Summoner from legend who would free Ravka from its ancient curse and recede back into myth; some wanted a rageful, hungry Saint who would slice the golden domes of Os Alta away and raze the Fjerdan ice plains to ash.”

[kof-xiii]

that one part in find your one way that makes me want to fuckig BANDITTO BRRINGA.jpg

[guiltymepleasures]

Actor Sun Jae's filmography

[winterisol]

Just a cheeky sneakpeek into this fic that has captivated my soul. @ray935sworld this is for you. (The rest will be uploaded soon but I got carried away with the plot)

"Well then how would you like their surname to be like? Because up until this moment I assumed that they would be Lorenzo Pedrosa." Dani softly asks, running his hand against Jorge's cheek softly.

"I at first wanted our kids only to have your surname." Jorge began, those very words cutting into Dani's heart.

"But them I thought they might think I don't love them." Jorge continues, shivering at the thought, Dani taking hold of his lover's hand, praying that if there is a God, for them to ensure Jorge's father an eternal place in Hell.

"and I don't want our children to ever think I love them any less, so if you are okay can we just swap the order to Pedrosa Lorenzo?" Jorge finshes, his voice so small and uncertain.

"Of course, whatever is more comfortable for you. I just really hope you know that you are more than your father. Your surname is more than your father, and that just because you share the name doesn't mean you are anything like that man." Dani replies, pressing kisses to the small fingernail-shaped scars on Jorge's neck, one of the few scars on his body not from a motorcycling accident, as the younger man sobs, crying in the safety of Dani's arms.

[soleilenchaine]

You died.  

Your body melted from the intense heat of a reactor meltdown. Whatever was left of your body is now pinned into the cockpit seat thanks to a piece of serrated shrapnel from a rampaging Blackbeard, your finger mere centimetres away from the eject button.  

It happened so quickly.

One second you were dragging Sui away from danger, his mech squirming against your Ferrous Lash.  

Something’s not right. 

The next second you hear his bloodcurdling scream from the intercom.  

“SEKHMET, NO.”  

//////////// 

You feel yourself sink deeper and deeper into the warm waters of the river Styx.  

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.  

You sink into a pool of your liquified body; blood, flesh and liquid metal mixing together into some strange concoction. Your brain, in its final moments of consciousness, thinks this must be what humanity would look like as it slowly emerged from Cradle’s primordial womb. 

/// How agonising. /// 

You sink deeper.  Warm liquid fills your mouth.  You taste iron and melted plastic. 

/// How putrid. /// 

You sink deeper.  Warning messages, red and green, dance on your terminal.  Your neural connection severed; all you see are fluorescent halos. 

/// How pretty. /// 

You sink deeper.  And deeper.  You can almost hear the song of the Hyades. 

/// Nothing but silence. /// 

You sink deeper.  And deeper.  And deeper. 

You’re almost there. 

//////////// 

No.  Not yet. 

//////////// 

Deeper.  And deeper.  Whispers from the furthest edges of the universe.   They’re singing to you.  They want you to come home. 

//////////// 

Do not listen to them.  A siren’s call brings nothing but ruin. 

You will not go further. 

I won’t allow it. 

//////////// 

Deeper.  And deeper.  Drink deep, and descend. 

//////////// 

YOU WILL NEVER FEEL ETERNAL REST.  THAT WAS OUR DEAL. 

WAKE.  UP. 

//////////// 

“Jackdaw, do you copy? Jackdaw, can you hear me?!” 

“Hey, Conduit, you sure she’s still in there?” 

“Yeah, I hear something moving in the cockpit.” 

“The chassis is moving! You see that?! I swear I saw a limb move.” 

“It’s—” 

“—Horrifying. A reactor meltdown would turn any human into mush, yet I’m still getting signals from her life support system. Well, barely; it’s so weak Ozzy had trouble picking it up.” 

“Even if she didn’t turn into mush, the cockpit’s destroyed; that piece of shrapnel made a direct hit. Damnit, SEKHMET.” 

“...Hey, Polaris?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You might wanna open your comms terminal.” 

>//SIGNAL DETECTED  >//SOURCE: LICH [HORUS]; DESIGNATION “WILLOW”  >//PILOT: NADIRA STOTHARD; CALLSIGN "JACKDAW" >//STATUS: ONLINE [EMERGENCY LIFE SUPPORT ACTIVE]  >//SECONDARY SIGNAL DETECTED  >//SOURCE: NHP  >//CLASS: DIDYMOS  >//INCOMING COMMUNICATION FROM SECONDARY SIGNAL  >//RECEIVE_TRUE, OPENDOC:::Y   >//TRANSCRIBING....  ....  ....  ...  ..  Medbay.  Now. 

[solcorvidae]

ask game!! ⭐️, 📚 or 🎶 or if there’s another u rly want to do then do that one :D

Hi Robyn!! Thank you for the ask <33

These are... mostly Lambert-centric snippets. Oops! I didn't plan that, but he lives in my brain 24/7 so I suppose it only makes sense that he appears so frequently in my writing.

⭐️ share a snippet where a character is the best at something.

The drive was only two hours in total, including stops. But Geralt was tired of his reading being interrupted by Lambert's loud chatter and his shrieking laughter as he threw the disgusting blanket he dragged everywhere onto Geralt's lap. Lambert thought Geralt's reaction was a riot.

"Lambert," Vesemir warned for what felt like the one-hundredth time that afternoon. "I will stop the car. This is your last warning. Stop bothering your brother." 

Geralt felt queasy as he flicked the dirty blanket off his book and back to Lambert's side of the truck. Lambert was quiet for all of five minutes before he began pestering Eskel instead, kicking the back of the seat. Eskel did not give him the attention he was searching for and simply moved the seat forward without further acknowledgement. It only took Lambert's tiny legs a few more swings to realize he could no longer reach the back of the seat in front of him. "Noo, put it back!"

Lambert's voice felt like nails on a chalkboard to Geralt as he slapped the palms of his hands over his tiny ears to block out the shrill whining of the five-year-old next to him.

(Lambert is the best at being annoying during family outings... especially if it involves more than a 20 minute drive. But hey, he's five here, who can blame him? Also, yes. He is a blanket kid.)

📚 share a snippet where the character is being academic/is in an academic setting/is showing off their knowledge.

If there was one thing Lambert was known for, it was finishing what he started. It didn't matter if it was a personal project, coursework, or an argument; if Lambert started something, he was never known to be the first to back down or leave it unfinished. 

He cursed through his teeth at the eraser-worn page in front of him. They were given the entire four-hour lab period to complete their work; Lambert was determined to take advantage of it even if his classmates rarely did. Balling his fists tightly in his hair, yanking harshly in frustration, Lambert felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. He was the last person in the eerie classroom, short of his TA. 

The clock ticked mockingly in his ears as the remaining ten minutes of class marched on. There was no way Lambert was finishing this lab before he and his TA had to leave. 

He glared at the chalkboard with the results that still, for the seventh time, did not match the numbers on the pH meter in front of him or the aggressive handwriting scrawled on his page. He did not want to have to finish this over the weekend or gods forbid, hand it in as is. No, Lambert was top of his class the last two semesters; he would not let this impact his final. They were only halfway through the semester, he couldn't afford to use up what he liked to call his 'one designated fuck up' before he was off for the reading week. He couldn't afford that hanging over his head, not with his scholarship on the line, not when this lab was worth twenty percent of his final grade. 

(AKA: Top Ten Photos Taken Moments Before Disaster... and by disaster, I mean Lambert having a breakdown in his Organic Chemistry lab.)

🎶 share a happy moment. ANY happy moment. You must have ONE.

Aiden looked down at him with concern plastered on his face. He watched as tears streamed down the sides of Lambert's face, past his ears. He couldn't sense anything amiss, so why was he crying? 

Lambert pulled Aiden back down onto the bed beside him. "It's stupid," he said as they laid on their sides, faces mere inches apart, limbs tangled and intertwined so that neither man knew which foot belonged to whom. Lambert watched Aiden study his body language and found nothing. He was okay. He was more than okay. 

Lambert was happy. 

"I just love you so fucking much, you know?" Lambert choked, brushing a loose strand of hair from Aiden's eyes and tucked it behind his ear. 

Aiden fought a losing battle. "Yeah, I do," he whispered, swallowing his words, afraid that someone might hear and take it all away. 

(Canon Divergence, Alive Aiden fic. Probably going to be the next thing you see on AO3... whenever that may be)

[chompe-diem]

.

[solitaire-sol]

Four Line Friday

Thanks for the tag, @mycupofrum! This is a currently-unnamed post-Hogwarts/First War fic where Prongsfoot were (secretly) together in school, (unwillingly) broke up, and are about to fall back into bed following some stress-relief drinking after a particularly close mission. I have no idea what the plot is supposed to be beyond that point...

James grinned, teeth flashing white in the watery light of flickering streetlamps, fingers hooked into the belt loops of Sirius' jeans. He relished the sound of Sirius’ barking laughter and pressed himself into the taller man's side, smiling into his neck, and when a middle-aged man scowled at them outside a pub, they flipped him off in tandem. James laughed like a boy as they stumbled through the dark city, kissing at the intersections of empty streets, kissing in the doorways of buildings and under streetlamps and in the spaces between words. They caught a few more dirty looks, but they jeered back when somebody stared and they didn't give a damn, because Sirius loved James and James loved Sirius, and what was a bit of public indecency when they were so lost in each other?

[catkettle]

little mistake

[gaiasightseeingtour]

Sightseeing - Night in the Grasslands

Red returns to their little makeshift camp to see his companion sit contendly next to the fire, leaning backwards on both his paws and swaying his feet softly, a stick to stoke the fire with laying next to him in the grass. The robot cat is humming a catchy little tune that the beast man doesn't know.

He has to admit, Cait is ridiculously good at setting up a campfire. A ring of stones is arranged neatly around the perfectly selected burning wood. If Red had been in charge of the fire it would have taken at least half an hour to gather the wood and half an hour more to get it burning, not to mention he would have left out the stones entirely. But what would have taken Red an hour Cait manages in less than 15 minutes. (Opposable thumbs probably help with that.)

At the sound of his footsteps Cait looks up from the fire and his ears perk up in delight. "Ye're back early!" the cat tells him with a grin.

"Didn't need to hunt," Red explains, walking up to his travel companion and laying down next to him. "The people from the Chocobo Ranch saw me skulking around and offered some food."

"Well, how 'boot tha'. Sure was nice o' them," Cait replies and starts humming again. Red lays down his head on his paws, closes his eye and absorbs the warmth of the fire.

After a few minutes of content silence Red speaks up again, curious. "What are you humming?"

Cait Sith chuckles. "Jus' summat Reeve's assisstant lass likes listenin' tae lately. It gets on 'is nerves a bit, but I like it well 'nuff."

That surprises Red a little and he looks back up at the cat, flicking an ear. He had always thought that while Reeve had full access to whatever Cait sent him, Cait himself was limited to data on a server.

And since Reeve didn't seem like someone who would put a recording of a song he apparently didn't like, least of all with a comment stating that, on a server for Cait to look at. So that leaves only...

"...your connection goes both ways?"

Cait stokes the fire lightly, sparks shooting up into the falling night. "Does tha' surprise ye?" he asked, seeming amused. "How do ye think we evaded all them Shinra security folk? Did ye think I hacked Heidegger for the routing schedule?"

Not wanting to admit that was exactly it, Red lays his head back down and doesn't respond.

Cait laughs, reading the non-reaction correctly. "Well, Reeve did hack 'im, so ye're not exactly wrong, but tha' wasn't me. I jus' followed his directions."

While Red is mulling that revelation over in silence Cait goes back to humming. After a few more minutes of that, Cait chuckles again, surprise clear in the tone. "What is it?" Red asks, looking up again.

Cait shakes his head and looks over at the beast man in mirth. "He jus' told me tae knock it off! Says I'm disrupting his concentration!"

Red only had a moment to take in the man during their grand escape, but imagining him frustrated at Cait's antics admittedly made him chuckle. "Well. I think if he's still working at this hour, that seems like his own problem."

Cait yowled in delight at his response and Red's tail wagged once in pride. "Ye hear tha', Reeve! Even Red thinks ye should go tae bed already!"

They spend the rest of the night teasing Reeve until the man finally and reluctantly clocked out of work, their laughter at his expense following the two companions into their own slumber.

[lightgriffinsect]

the fact that this fits MANY fnf characters really says something about the modding community as a whole

[guiltymepleasures]

We got 1 unreleased scene each for Eps 3 and 4.

Then we got 2 each for Eps 5 and 6 back-to-back.

The only rational path is to give us 3 each for Eps 7 and 8 and so on and so forth.

You hear me tvn?

[serenanymph]

find the word tag

tagged by @oh-no-another-idea over here! my words were butter, mellow, mild, and smooth! no pressure tagging @toboldlywrite, @sidhewrites, @loopyhoopywrites, @lorenfinch, @sam-glade and whoever else wants to hop in! your words are cold, crystal, cut and cross!

butter I found one instance of butterflies, so we'll have to go with that since there's nothing else

He watches, knees tucked up to his chest, curled up on the couch, as his mother bustles about. Her heavy travel cloak brushes against the floor, just barely fluttering from her larger movements, sending shadows like butterflies flitting across the walls. The curtains are drawn, the fireplace cold with not even the embers glowing, and the sole candle lit isn’t anywhere close to beating back the darkness. She shoves things into the rucksacks on the table and mutters and sends furtive glances at the door and barely acknowledges his existence at all.

mellow

The windows look out onto the courtyard below, covered in white snow tinted sunset orange. Heavy dark purple curtains with gold tassels drape to the floor, and Carrick feels his feet sink into soft, plush carpet. There are bookshelves lining the walls – not just AMA drivel, but history and science and fiction, atlases and dictionaries and a few old texts. In a corner, next to a crackling fireplace, is a low table and a few stuffed sofas, and the lighting is soft and mellow.

mild(ly)

Meals are three times a day, salted mush and rubbery meat and wilted greens; shower quick and only after everyone has left or it’s blood against the porcelain tile again and staying up to scrub it off, then scrubbing the toilets on all the floors above too. Lessons involve AMA doctrines, AMA laws, AMA history – slap across the cheek if you’re wrong, slap across the cheek if you’re right, slap across the cheek if you answer in a way that’s even mildly sarcastic, if you answer at all (and he is always, always, called on).

smooth

He speaks up, finally, asks though he already knows: “Mom? What’s going on?” The fear leaks into his voice despite how he tries to keep it out. She spins, then, walks over and crouches in front of him and tries to smooth down his hair.

beast taglist (lmk if you want to be +/-): @sapphos-scientist, @allianaavelinjackson, @arctic-oceans, @space-writes, @reneesbooks