I’ve decided to dedicate this blog to my writings but as my personal stuffs are still too uncomplete I decided to open free requests for oneshots to help me ameliorate myself, especially in english as it is not my first language !🌷
Taking requests for :
🎮Games
⭐Love And Deepspace
⭐The Arcana
⭐Touchstarved
⭐Eldarya
⭐My Candy Love (New Gen too)
⭐Obscura
⭐Blooming Panic
⭐Basically any @dreamtydraw 's game
🎥Anime/manga
⭐Jujutsu Kaisen
(the list will grow in the future)
I’m taking requests in DM or in my ask box !!
SOME RULES 🍒
✅I DO
✅Light NSFW (unexplicit in other words).
✅Oc requests, ONLY in DM though so I can have as much information needed about your characters and universe.
❌I DON'T
❌I do not take any NSFW request, I may do some soft NSFW if I feel like it, but never something too explicit.
❌If I consider a request inappropriate, I’ll allow myself to ignore it.
❌I only take fanfiction requests of the fandom listed, though, you can still ask for something that is not in the list and I'll decide later on if I accept the request or not.
I’m looking forward to your requests 💖
How to easily find my writings?🍒
Under my posts, I always use these tags ⬇️
You can click on them to find previous requests!
#mysilaan headcanons
#mysilaan touchstarved headcanons
#mysilaan mcl ng headcanons
“i’m sorry,” you murmur, casting your gaze toward the floor. “you just finished a shift full of treating people. you shouldn’t have to do it at home, too.”
cradling your dry hands in his scarred ones, zayne inspects your cracked skin with concern. if you were anyone else, his frown would be imperceptible. “i’m not sure why you’re apologizing.”
grabbing the tub of ointment off the coffee table, he deftly unscrews the lid and scoops some up. meticulous as always, he slathers it over your discolored rash, working the medicine into your skin.
your laugh is mirthless. “other people wouldn’t make you do this—fix a problem they created themselves. you’re really lucky, you know? getting stuck with me, of all people.”
“you aren’t making me do anything.” a layer of sternness coats his calm voice. “maybe the nurses wouldn’t believe it, but i do have free will. i’m not doomed to treat every ailment i see without regard for myself.”
the ointment seeps into an especially rough patch of skin and stings slightly. unable to hide your wince, you bite your lip and shift uncomfortably on the couch. when you raise your eyes, kind hazel ones gaze back at you.
“now i’m the one who’s sorry,” he says. “i hate the sight of you in pain.”
“it’s my fault. if i didn’t wash them so much, neither of us would be here in the first place,” you mutter, flailing your foot in mild misery. “it’s been so long—years—but i can’t help it. when i touch something that i don’t know is clean, or safe, i just— i have to. i have to.” your vision blurs as you shake your head back and forth, and the pooling tears are no help. “i feel like a robot. a stressed out little robot who’s programmed to wash their hands a thousand times a day.”
rubbing in the last of the medicine, zayne examines your hands for any missed spots. once he’s satisfied, he gently gathers them and sets them back in your lap, thumbs tracing circles over the backs of your palms.
it’s only been a few minutes, but they look much better than before.
“no matter how many times, you won’t have to manage the aftermath alone. if you’re a robot…consider this your ‘routine maintenance,’” he says, a soft, cheeky smile lighting on his lips. “and know that you have an ‘engineer’ who will always care for you.”
Here is a little fic with my mc that I wrote for @dreamty-games during ramadan, if you don't know about Apple Bag it's a sapphic visual novel and the demo is available on itch.io 😚 I'm working on it as an editor so if you can, check it out!
Some people who are on Dreamty's discord server may be familiar with this small fic, but I just realized I didn't post it anywhere else so here it is!
This year’s Ramadan was an anxious prospect for Leila. It was the first one they had to spend all alone. They had forgotten to eat in the morning since their phone was broken, which meant no alarm, and obviously no one to wake them up. Not that they would have had much to eat anyway, aside from a few overripe bananas, the fridge was empty.
Needless to say, their fast hadn’t begun under the best conditions.
They slipped out at the end of the afternoon, throwing a random jacket on top of their pajamas and headed to the convenience store down the street.
The familiar chime rang as they entered, they were ready to go straight to the food aisles when a familiar voice called them out.
“Not even saying hello, huh?”
They turned, a little surprised to see her— slightly embarrassed as well… They were a total mess.
“Rosanne? What are you doing here?”
“Uhm… I work here…?” she replied teasingly.
“You know what I meant…”
Rosanne raised her hands in surrender, not wanting to mock her friend any longer.
“Alright, alright… I took the day shift since my mom wants me home for the first day of Ramadan.”
“Wait, you’re muslim too?”
“I never told you? My bad. In my defense my relationship with religion is a bit… chaotic.”
A brief silence fell as Leila drifted in their thoughts, quickly broken by Rosanne.
“Last minute purchase for iftar?”
Leila blinked, remembering why they had come.
“Ah… yes. My fridge is empty.”
“Haha, figured. If you want, my boss made a stock of brick pastry sheets for the occasion.”
“Thanks, but I don’t know how to make bricks. I’m just here for a salad and a sandwich.”
They spoke as they moved, grabbing what they needed from the fridge before going back to the counter. Rosanne stared at their selection with disbelief.
“You can’t be serious?”
“Well, I am. How much do I owe you?”
“Five forty, but that’s not the point, these are barely nutritious."
Leila handed over the money, silently asking for her not to pry any further. Rosanne gave them their change with a sigh.
“What time do you usually go to sleep?”
Leila raised an eyebrow.
“Why? I look that bad?”
“Just answer me!”
They shrugged.
“Depends. I haven’t been sleeping early lately. So I’d say midnight? Probably later.
Rosanne nodded, taking good note of it.
“Alright, see you then!”
“Wha-”
But she didn’t let them time to answer and greeted the next client, not without a last teasing glance toward Leila.
Back home, Leila was still a bit stunned by this interaction, but they were starting to get used to it. Rosanne was quite a phenomenon, but they can’t say she was an unpleasant company.
After a quick shower, they immediately prepared themself their salad — over salting it by accident — and opened the box of tuna sandwiches they just bought.
Leila sighed at this view, they kinda missed the feast they used to eat at this period of the month with their family. Maybe they should have taken the brick pastry sheets as Rosanne recommended and try to make some, but they didn’t trust their cooking skills enough for that and it wasn’t the best period to waste food.
A few hours later, the doorbell rang. Leila froze and muted the TV. Who could be here at this hour? They silently crept to the window to get a glimpse of the impromptu visitor and immediately relaxed at the sight of Rosanne’s unmistakable pink cheetah print faux-fur coat. They quickly fixed their hair before opening the door.
“Heyy! Ramadan mubarak!”
Leila went speechless at the sight of the size of the enormous bag Rosanne was holding.
“What’s all this?”
Rosanne slipped inside the house, kicking her shoes at the door, and made her way to the living room.
“This, sweetie, is some of the best pieces of Turkish cuisine you could get your hands on.”
“You made it?”
“Yup, with my mom. Taste it and see how wife material I am.”
A faint blush reached Leila’s ears as Rosanne filled the coffee table dish after dish.
They stepped forward, ready to taste everything, but Rosanne stopped her mid-motion.
“Wait! It’s aesthetically perfect. I need a picture for my story.”
A little laugh escaped their lips as they patiently waited for Rosanne to carefully capture the table.
“Okay!” she said proudly “So here you have some köfte, moroccans have something similar, right? Here it’s pide, which was a hassle to save for you because my dumb brother almost ate all of it. Over there it’s called gözleme and, obviously, I brought some dolma. I hope you’ll like it.”
Leila made sure to take a bite of everything. Each dish was better than the last, but it was far more than she could finish.
“Thank you so much Rosanne, it was delicious, but I think you might have overestimated my stomach.”
“What? You’re already full?! I had a surprise for you.”
“If it’s the baklava, I’ll save them for later.”
“No, something better.”
She rummaged through the plastic bag and revealed a plate of a dozen golden bricks.
“Tada! We don’t usually make this at home but I wanted to try so I could bring you some.
Leila froze, staring at her as if she’d just performed a miracle.
“How did you know I love these?”
“I didn’t! All of my Arab friends told me it was the thing to bring. That’s your favorite?”
“Not exactly, but I did missed it.”
They took a large bite, savoring it slowly, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips. If they could cry right now, they might have.
“You’re definitely marriage material, this is incredible.” they joked.
“Well, I guess all that’s left is for you to propose.”
“Hmm, maybe I will.”
Rosanne tried her best to hide the deep red blooming across her face. Every time she tried to fluster Leila, she somehow ended up flustered herself.
Leila definitely noticed the way Rosanne’s face color just changed and definitely enjoyed her reaction.
They spent the rest of the night together, speaking of everything and nothing. Rosanne convinced Leila to let her teach them a few recipes and they ended up their impromptu dinner with a good tea made from scratch with what they found at the store.
When it was finally time for Rosanne to go back home, Leila accompanied her to the door.
“We definitely have to do this again! I arranged my schedule since my family usually want me around for Ramadan. I’ve got weekends off to eat with them. If you want I can come here and cook with you so you can try the recipes yourself.”
“Don’t worry Rosanne, you should spend that time with your family.”
“Oh please, I prefer your company over the terrible duo my mom and grandma make. I’m fed up with their talk about growing up, settling down, having a family… you know.”
“Well… if you insist.”
“I didn’t, but sure.”
They laughed.
“So that’s a deal. You’re doing me a favor anyway. I love cooking, I just rarely do it for myself because of work.”
“I’m glad I can be useful then, even if all I do is eat.”
A comfortable silence settled between them. Rosanne was ready to say goodbye when Leila’s voice stopped her before she could say a word.
“I just wanted to say… Thank you. I really appreciate what you did for me today.”
Rosanne gave them a heartfelt smile.
“It’s nothing. I’m just glad I could take care of a friend… I really like your company.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. There was no denying the attraction she felt for Leila anymore, and that last sentence felt close to a confession for her. Leila didn’t answer, she just gave a warm smile in return, not letting Rosanne know if they got the hint or not.
The two of them parted ways with a nice feeling tucked in their chest. Love for one, and something steadily growing into it for the other.
It has been a while since I posted anything but I pray that I will soon graduate and finally be over with uni so I can quickly come back and write stuff here 🥲
In the meantime here is some of Satine's (my MC) thoughts on being a reaper, wrote that quickly last month during my internship and kinda like it so I'm sharing it here! Enjoy ⭐
The duty of a grim reaper was much harder than I had anticipated. I thought that understanding the cycle of life and death as something intangible, yet essential to the human world, would make my task easier. But every time, it became harder.
I had witnessed what some might call “beautiful deaths”: elderly people surrounded by loved ones, leaving the world in peace. But the truth was that most deaths were as cruel as they were natural.
Children. People whose lives still held unfinished purpose. And those left behind.
Sometimes, the hardest part of this work was taking the dead away from the people who still needed them. It also made me wonder: was there someone out there whom my own death had shattered? Had I been alone? Did I get to live a full and happy life?
I suppose I could understand why 5012 pushed away anything that brought him closer to humans. Being aware of my past humanity without remembering any of it was already unsettling enough. I could only imagine how difficult it must have been for him to learn that he had once lived and died as a human soul, after spending an entire lifetime believing he had been created solely to be a reaper.
He would probably curse me if he knew I thought this, but I couldn’t help feeling that 5012 was far more scarred by it than he ever pretended to be.
Magic is terrifying. Most of witch hat atelier is seeing our colorful cast of characters trying to reconcile their wonder of magic with the terror it begets. In pointy hat society, the fear of magic is ingrained into their very culture. However, Easthies’s fear seems to run deeper than that.
Why did he join the Knights Moralis? What informed his black and white morality? His unwavering devotion to the Pact?
My theory is that he had once drawn or been tempted to draw forbidden magic in the past.
Hear me out, the Knights Moralis do not need to draw their own spells. It’s the reason why they keep preloaded palm quires, pennants with medallions, and why their cloaks are so short. They don’t have to conceal their hands if they’re not drawing with them.
In a twitter illustration, Shirahama stated that Easthies stopped drawing magic altogether after joining the Knights.
machine TL: sketch: Easthies. Since Easthies joined the Knights Moralis, he stopped drawing magic, so he doesn't really care if his hair falls out and gets in the way. He is serious about the rules, but careless about his personal life.
Easthies is almost the perfect witch pointy hat society demands. He keeps the secret of magic, and his own secrets close to his chest. The fear of magic deeply ingrained in his mind.
But he does not create. He wipes the slate clean. He doesn’t experience the joy of creating art the way that this story hammers in as important to the human condition. He’s fond of magic but his fears of it won out unlike Coco.
Magic exists to make the world vibrant. Speaking of Coco, Easthies has a habit of targeting her. I don’t think this is wholly because of her being an Outsider, after all Easthies is able to set his rivalry with Qifrey aside with the lockscroll saga. So why the fixation on Coco?
With this theory in mind, Coco is a projection of his past self. Easthies is punishing her for his past mistakes, or for giving into temptation.
Throughout Silver Eve, Coco has been convincing the Three Wise to slowly break the Pact, and Easthies is worried that she’s doomed them all. For Easthies, Coco reveals the hypocrisy of witches, espousing the importance of keeping the Pact while seeking excuses to bend it to their will.
Coco may be the seed of discord implanted into Easthies’s society to wear it down, but he is a hypocrite. Why doesn't someone who’s so self-assured in his own beliefs not trust himself to create? Mankind is terrifying, and maybe Easthies is scared of himself.
Please keep interacting with this post because when I come to tumblr to procrastinate, this shows up again in my notifications and guilts me into writing again
