#⌖ I'M SEVEN FOOT! HAHA!

[radioconstructed]

⌖ EVERY TIME I tell a man, who's SHORTER THAN ME & LYING about being SIX FOOT EIGHT, that I'm SIX FOOT FIVE, it's a WIN for the BIMBO OPS!

[ventique18]

Ghost Chef: "It's great that you're learning so quickly! You never know when you'd need to cook good when you graduate!"

🐉: "Me? Prepare food? With my own effort? Haha, how ludicrous! But an entertaining thought, nonetheless."

Five years later, the man is flipping a third batch of pancakes at four in the morning, with his brat of a son glaring daggers at him and threatening him with the loudest, most obnoxious shrill cry in the kingdom's history unless he serves the flawlessly dragon-shaped pancake that the little prince demands.

🐉: "Ridiculous! What is with your unhealthy fixation on a pancake's shape? It will end up an unrecognizable mush in your stomach anyway! Just eat the dam-- the perfectly cooked pancake in front of you! Do you understand how many people are starving around the world?"

🐉🍼: "I want it green!"

🐉, magicking the food: "You have an unrefined palette. This is entirely unappetizing. But fine. There you go! Just eat and go back to sleep!"

🐉🍼: "NOT A DRAGON! THAT'S SHREK!"

🐉: "What is a Shrek?!"

🐉🍼: "MAMA! MAMA! PAPA MADE SHREK!"

🐉: "Stop! Stop! Hush! Don't cry! I'm going to redo it, okay? I'm going to unshrek it. Just stop crying."

Normally, he would keep a firm foot and not relent to his child trying to order him, a king, around. He has a duty to raise his children properly. But it's four in the morning and his wife is tired and heavily pregnant with their daughter and he didn't want to burden her any more than she's already going through...

So he exasperatedly goes back to the frying pan to try and make an artwork out of a kid's snack. Sevens, does he need a vacation right about now.

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 22- Leona x Reader (Dry Humping)

*Requested by Reader, I only just started Twisted Wonderland, so I hope to every god I got his character right. Sorry in advance if anything is wrong!!!*

        It was a mistake. A huge mistake. You had convinced yourself that everything that was happening was a dream. The fact that you had been kidnapped and brought to this so-called college for magic; the fact that there was no way for you to return home; the fact that you were scared and alone; and the fact that you were now the only female at the college. It had to be a dream, no a nightmare! What were you to do if you could never return home. Sure, the Headmaster was nice enough to let you stay in an abandon dorm and that he would let you study in private, but it was still wrong!

        You were currently sobbing in your room as you stared at the magic books in front of you. You were deemed a 'Beast Trainer' or something along those lines. It was all a blur. The weirdest thing about everything was that all of the students here reminded you of Disney characters, but they also didn't? It was a weird state you were in. All you wanted to do was go home, lay in your own bed and probably eat your favorite meal.

"And I have to join their classes? I was working...My bills....My apartment," You whimpered.

        The only light in this whole mess was that all of the men were hot. Yes, it was something small, but it kept you going. One person caught your eye in particular. You were still getting to know the dorms and the student leaders, but you could have sworn the man had ears. Once you saw the statues of the 'seven greats' you immediately knew it was Scar. Or, at least what you wanted to believe was Scar. You were still confused and still unsure of anything yet.

-----------

        You were a special Herbivore. Leona had taken an interest in you when you first fell out of that coffin. A female at the college. There were a lot of special rules in place because of you. It was fascinating to watch you. Whenever you entered the gym in a hurry, Leona kept his eyes on you. He made it seem like he did not care, but he did. He was waiting for his turn to get to know you. 

"Oof, this sucks!" You whined as you tripped over your own foot, "Why do I get stuck jogging around the track while everyone gets to practice broom flying?!"

"Because you have no magic," Leona said with a yawn, hiding behind the benches. He watched as you flinched, "Back here."

"Uh, I don't think the teacher would like you sleeping during class."

"I'm doing yoga," Leona lied as he closed his eyes once more. You glanced back at the others before sneaking behind the benches,

"I don't think we properly met. I'm (Y/N), I think I remember you were napping in the greenhouse, right?"

"Hmm....That's right, you were with those fools," Leona muttered before slowly sitting up, "So, in your world, do you always approach strangers?"

"Huh?" You grew flustered, "I mean, it's not...safe, but well...I'm not exactly in my world and this is all super interesting." You explained. Leona was observing you,

"Likewise." He yawned, laying back down, "You seem like a tolerable herbivore."

"Haha, that's different, but I'll assume it's a good thing," You noticed his ears and tail. This was Scar, "Is it okay if I visit? I'd like to get to know more about you all and this place."

        Leona resisted a chuckle as he replied with a simple, 'sure'. He wasn't going to admit that he was interested in knowing more about you. Perhaps you would entertain him.

-------------

        Eventually you got to understand more of this world you now lived in. Everyone was kind enough to talk to you and help you with classes, everyone expect Leona. He always brought out the worst of you. Leona was smart, but he always managed to convince you to laze around and worry about stuff later. It was hard because you liked him. You easily listened to him and did what he said.

        Just like now. You had some questions about a certain dream you had about Leona's world, or at least the Disney world you know of. You wanted to ask him some questions, but here you were, sitting on the floor. Leona was on his bed, snoring away. He had, once again, convinced you to be lazy and sleep.

"Leona," You whispered, leaning against his bed.

        Leona let out a grunt, turning towards you. His bright emerald eyes made you melt. Leona was so beautiful. Sometimes, you were lucky that you were the only female on campus. You watched as Leona gave his usual irritated look. He reached his hand out,

"I'm trying to nap," He grumbled. You gave him a soft pout,

"But-"

"Nap with me." 

        You immediately felt you cheeks burn. Leona must have read your mind because he snickered. He pulled you onto his bed, holding you on top of him. You could feel your heart racing a mile a minute. There you were, sitting on Leona's lap. He just stared into your eyes.

"Well, aren't you brave for a herbivore."

"Y-You're the one who pulled me up here!" You huffed. Leona hummed tiredly, rubbing circles around your waist, "H-Hey....that..."

"I quite like this reaction,"

        Leona kept his eyes on you as you began to tremble from his touch. This was something he could get used to. Something that was new. He was already enjoying the fact that you were breaking one of the rules for him. As the only female on campus, you were not allowed to go to any of the other dorms alone. It was deemed too dangerous, you had to have Grim or one of the teachers with you. So the fact that you kept coming alone to see Leona was enough for him to want to keep you.

        You were a pleasant part of his day. Leona actually enjoyed your company. You were also one of the only people to actual allow him to do what he wanted. It was a nice change of pace. Returning his attention to you, Leona was enjoying your expressions. Perhaps this would be a good time to make you his. If you could not go back to your world, Leona would be more than willing to take you back to his.

"You're not stopping me," Leona whispered. You glanced down at him, avoiding his stare,

"W-Well.,..It feels good," You muttered under your breathe.

        Leona chuckled lowly as he started to grind his hips against yours. You gasped lowly, biting your lower lip as you moved along with him. How lovely. Leona glanced down at your skirt, feeling his pants getting damp. Now this was entertaining. Leona held you hips and motioned you to get closer to his face. You, being his cute obedient partner, did so.

"You like this too?" He whispered. You muffled a moan, your damp panties rubbing against his bulge,

"Y-Yes,"

        You gasped as Leona held your waist down. You leaned towards his lips, giving him a light peck. It wasn't fair how he got to have his fun. The least you could do was steal a kiss from the so called King. Leona seemed to have liked your reaction. He immediately reached for your head and kissed you again. It felt like you hurt his pride when you went to kiss him first. Leona would never admit it, but he hated stuff like that. It was cute.

        Leona sat up with you, licking the inside of your mouth for dominance. He easily won due to his strength. You whimpered a moan into the kiss as his grinding got faster. The pool between your legs staining his pants. Each time the tip of his bulge rubbed against your clothed pussy, you felt another jolt travel up your spine. You were getting close to the knot in your stomach to blow. You needed that release. Leona must have sensed it since he started to dry hump faster.

"If I wasn't so tired, perhaps we can be a little more...intimate," He said, thinking about his words carefully. You moaned lowly, not wanting anyone in the other rooms to hear you,

"T-This is you tired?" You buried your head into his shoulder. Leona licked his lips as he bit down against your neck,

"You interrupted my nap."

"L-Leona," You moaned, reaching your orgasm. Leona held your hips tightly as he shook for a moment,

"Interrupted my nap and made a mess," He grumbled, sucking on your neck, "You owe me,"

"Haha, yes your highness," You teased, panting softly for air.

        Leona fixed your hair, laying back down with you in his grasp. He inhaled deeply, nuzzling his head into your neck. You tried to escape, complaining about washing up, but Leona ignored your cries. Instead, he reached down and pulled your panties off, throwing them across the room. You squeaked in response and grabbed his blanket to cover your skirt. Leona chuckled lowly, closing his eyes for a nap. He was going to enjoy having you by his side.

[delphi-shield]

helping hand // leon s. kennedy

Leon x afab!Reader Smut wc: 2,600 read on ao3 mdni - 18+ hiii, you've all been so kind. unfortunately i am simply Too Awkward to properly express that, but i genuinely do appreciate all your kind words. please accept this smut as a token of my appreciation. i am definitely not luring you in with leon fics so that i can start posting the seven jill fics i'm working on haha what who would do that.

Leon helps you use a new toy. That's it, that's the smut. afab reader, use of dildo w/ knot & cumtube, size kink, use of good girl

You're not really sure what you expect Leon to do, per se - but in a moment of unfettered horniness, you had texted him. Told him how badly you needed him. He just hadn't known, maybe, what exactly you wanted from him. Not until you sent the picture, sloppily marked with a red line to show him exactly how far you had managed to take your newest toy - and how badly you wanted to take the whole thing.

You wedged your thumb between your teeth, biting at the nail. You stared at your last text message from Leon.

On my way ;)

That stupid fucking smiley face. You shouldn't be this nervous. You had requested his help. The ball was entirely in your court. You could pull the plug on this at any moment. Christ, it wasn't like he hadn't seen you naked before. He had knotted you into a pretzel more times than you could count, bent you over nearly every surface in your apartment, kicked your feet apart, and slid home like he was made for it.

But you've never really had this kind of experience with him before.

Sure, whatever. He had used your vibrator on you before. That wasn't an unwelcome guest. He had even mentioned more toys, left it up to you to decide when you wanted to introduce them to the bedroom. But this? This was different.

It was fucking huge, for starters.

The dildo sat there, intimidating on its own. You nudge the prominent head with a finger, trace the ridges down to the knot at the base. That's the part that's giving you trouble. That's the part you need help with. The cumtube should help, in theory. It’s already filled in anticipation of Leon’s arrival, the syringe lying off to the side while the toy sits in the middle of a towel you had spread out. You may as well get a spotlight, unfurl a banner that reads ‘HELP ME FUCK MYSELF’. Maybe some confetti poppers. Thoughts for next time. You should make a note of it.

Leon knocks like a cop, meaty part of his fist slamming against the door one, two, three times in a way that never fails to make you jump. You're already on edge, after all. Your pacing stops. You wipe your thumb off onto your shorts (tiny, barely more than glorified underwear - not like it matters. They'll be discarded soon anyway.) and wrench the door open. Leon grins down at you. His eyes skitter across the room, searching for the toy no doubt. You snort. As if you'd have it just sitting out on the kitchen table.

He greets you with a kiss to the top of your head, peeling off his coat and dropping it over the back of your couch. He slips out of his shoes - and you realize then and there that he looks like he's thrown on whatever was in reach at the time. His shirt is crumpled, socks mismatched - maybe he's more excited about this than you had expected. The thought sparks a prickle of heat across your skin. 

"So," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "when do I get to meet the little guy?"

"Little?" You tease, a grin twitching the corners of your lips into a smile.

He raises his hands, palms out. “My mistake.”

You snort, waving for him to follow you. As if he needs the encouragement. His hands settle onto your shoulders, thumbs gently pressing and massaging. You nudge the door open with your foot, sweeping your hand out in an exaggerated motion. 

Leon lets out a low whistle. "Okay. Not so little."

Your nerves rise up again, getting the best of you for a moment. You pick at your finger, lingering by the door while he steps in, crouching down to observe the set up you've laid out for him.

"We don't have to," you offer him an out, shrugging like it's fine, like you won't be disappointed - like the idea won't be burning a hole in the back of your mind for the rest of your goddamn life every time you get even a little horny.

"No," he says quickly. He picks up the syringe, testing it curiously. A bead of lube dribbles from the head of the toy, drops to darken the towel below. "I think we do."

"But, like, we actually don't--"

Leon stands, turns back to you. His hands rest on your shoulders again, his head ducking to look you in the eye. He's not smiling - but damn, with that gleam in his eye, he doesn't have to.

"You want to. That's good enough for me."

Kissing him is the most natural thing in the world. A ‘thank you’, an ‘I love you’, all wrapped up into a press of your lips to his. He licks into your mouth, hands sliding down your arms slowly. He nudges your bedroom door shut only to press you against it, knee rising between your legs and pressing. You groan, rocking your hips against him, letting the friction ignite in the pit of your stomach. Your hands slip underneath his shirt, exploring skin that you've spent hours mapping out and committing to memory. He hisses a breath between his teeth, and you giggle when he mutters about your freezing little fingers, yet refuses to pull away. A hand trails to his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle before his hand rests atop yours, stilling you.

"Nice try," he teases. "You're not getting out of this that easy. You asked me here for a reason."

No amount of huffing or pouting dissuades him. His kisses trail from your lips to your jaw, your neck, the hollow of your throat. He's shucking your shirt off of you, flinging it to some corner of the room. His hands grip your sides, kneading soft flesh between his fingers. For a moment, you wonder if he remembers that reason himself. He spins you around, off the door, and nudges you towards the center of the room, towards the little station you had set up. His fingers linger against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps where they once were.

"Why don't you show me how you usually do this and we'll go from there."

You clear your throat, your eyes skittering off to the side. You hook a thumb under the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down past the point of your hip. Leon’s gaze is hot on your skin, eyes narrowing the slightest bit when he realizes you’re not wearing panties.

“I kind of started before you got here,” you admit. You gesture sheepishly to a smaller toy lying discarded to the side. Leon’s shoulders straighten, the hiss of a breath sucked through his teeth. He lets out a slow, whispered ‘okay’.

It takes a few awkward, fumbling moments to get into place. You kneel over your target and Leon stands back with his hands on his hips, watching. You laugh, tell him it isn’t a spectator sport, and the awkward tension bleeds out of the room when he chuckles. He drops to one knee behind you, rubbing his cheek affectionately against the top of your head.

His hands settle firmly onto your hips, guiding you down onto the toy. Your head leans back against his chest, lube-slick hand curled around the base to keep it steady. The head slips into you, the slide greeting you with a rush of warmth flooding your belly. His lips press below your ear, murmuring strings of praises. His hands slide from your hips to caress your breasts, calloused thumbs circling your nipples, pinching them between thumb and forefinger and plucking. You keen, your back arching, pressing into his hands, and your hips roll. More of the toy presses into you - enough to give you pause, enough to drive the breath from your lungs in the form of a whimper.

The stretch and the burn isn't unpleasant. It fuels the fire in your belly, spreading to your limbs - but you know that this is the easy part. This part, you’ve done on your own. You take a moment, balanced on your knees, to enjoy the stretch, the fullness.

Before you get too comfortable, Leon's hands grasp your hips again and urge you upwards, the ridges of the toy dragging against your soaked walls. A groan stays locked behind your lips, tongue pressing to the back of your teeth. He presses you back down, sets a steady pace for you that you wouldn't have picked for yourself. His hands brace you, his arms looped around you firm, until your hips move without his guidance.

He raises his fingers to your lips and you open obediently, pressing your tongue to the seam of his digits. You lap and suck at his skin. His forehead lowers, pressing into your neck to release a hot groan against your skin.

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and grips your jaw hard - harder than he meant to. His fingers squeeze, pursing your lips for him to kiss. He’s ravenous, spit-slick fingers leaving a warm, sticky feeling against your skin, teeth tugging your bottom lip to his mouth for him to suckle. You aren’t sure which is more obscene - the sloppy, wet noises of your pussy or the starved way he kisses you.

"I am so hard right now," Leon whispers against your lips. A shock of arousal jolts your hips down. You groan, fumbling blindly behind you, hand slapping against his chest and sliding lower. He catches your wrist and chides, “Nuh-uh. Focus.”

“No fair,” you whine.

Leon drags the backs of his fingers down the valley of your breasts, across your stomach, and between your folds. The fingers you had sucked so dutifully moments before circle your clit in quick, harsh movements that pin your shoulders back.

“You want to talk about fair?” He growls in your ear. The knot catching against your hole, presses against you in a way that makes you whine and pull up. Leon leans against your back, urging you down again. “Calling me over just to help you fuck yourself? You think that’s fair?” You aren’t even sure what you’re saying anymore, babbling, hiding your face in your arm, body moving, chasing his fingers, chasing the press and the fill of the toy in your cunt.

“Almost there,” Leon huffs, his breathing nearly as labored as yours in a way that makes your heart

rate fucking spike and your vision blur. “Doin’ so good. Gotta get you nice and fucked open for me later, huh?”

You whimper and whine each time you come back down to meet the knot, the pressure against your pussy too much to push past, but god you want this, you want this whole thing so badly. Leon’s fingers stall on your clit, pressing against you firmly. He leans away, the heat of his chest disappearing and leaving you cold and empty.

“Leon -” you start to protest, your words melting into a moan. An ungodly squelch pushes lube through the toy, splurting deep in your pussy and coating your already soaked walls. You move, rising up and mewling at the contrast of the cool lube. The glide down grows easier, quicker, more desperate. The knot kisses your entrance against and again, lube and slick dribbling down the length of the toy and pooling at the base.

The press doesn’t burn any longer. It’s a pressure that makes your mouth drop open and your head roll back, your eyes squeezed shut. Leon is all over you, his fingers rubbing fervently at your clit, building a fuzzy, static-y pleasure that contrast perfectly with the deep, satiating fullness. He presses open-mouthed kisses to every bit of skin he can reach, his tongue licking and teeth nipping.

You sink down again and then it’s in. The breath drives from lungs, your whole body frozen a moment. It returns to you in a ragged moan. You slump against Leon, picking your hips up experimentally and pressing back down. The knot stretches you wide again.

“Good girl,” Leon coos, his eyes fixed on the apex of your legs, mouth parted. He lets you enjoy yourself a moment longer, lets you clumsily rock your hips against the base of the toy. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

His arm loops around your waist, easing you off the toy in a slide that makes you moan, makes your insides quiver and your eyes squeeze shut. A rush of lube gushes down the toy, darkening the towel. You don’t have the time to be embarrassed by the noise your body makes; he positions you quickly, your back resting against his chest, spread open for him with your legs draped over his knees. He grabs your toy, slick with lube and with you, and glides the head between your lips. Your legs twitch, but he holds them open. Blessedly, he doesn’t tease for long. He guides the toy into you and marvels at the way it slides so easily, at the noises you make for him, the part of your lips, the stagger of your breathing.

His hand grips the base of the toy, fucking you with it at his own pace, the grind and the push so perfect you can’t catch your breath. His hand flattens across your stomach to stop your squirming, but when it proves worthless he chuckles, mutters something about how needy you are, and goes back to playing with your clit.

You clamp down on the toy, your walls too slicked, too wet to offer any real resistance to the way Leon thrusts it into you. The stutter of your hips becomes desperate, the noises leaving you pitched high, and a final pass of Leon’s fingers against your clit makes you snap, the pleasure flooding through you in a wave that pulls you under, leaves you gasping for air. His mouth latches onto your neck, holding the toy still for you to grind onto as you work your way through your release.

It feels like an hour has passed when your head finally clears. The stiff feeling settling in your knees and in your hips is something for your to worry about later. Leon strokes your hair from your face, his arms curled around your waist now, letting you take your time as you recover.

“You still hard?” You ask, turning your head to kiss him.

“You have no idea,” Leon laughs, low and throaty. He kisses you soft, resisting the urging to tilt your head back and take this another direction.

He doesn’t let you relax too long, working the toy out of you gently. The emptiness has you curling into his side, you skin sticky with lube, sweat, your own release - god knows what, at this point. You can’t be certain that you really care, that floaty feeling still washing through your veins.

As much as you want to linger there on the floor, Leon scoops you up and deposits you on the bed. You reach a hand out for him, urging him to join you, but he only holds up a finger to tell you to wait.

“Gotta get this cleaned up. Gotta make sure you’re not hiding any other fun toys from me.”

“The dresser, second drawer on the right.”

He shakes his head, taking it for a joke. He shoots you a smirk as he opens the drawer. His face falters, surprise flickering over his features, a light oh leaving his lips.

“Well,” he says, his hands settling onto his hips. “Guess it’s a good thing we’ve got all night, huh?”

[gingerlee-holds]

I feel bad for popping a request in ☠ anyway

If you're feeling up to it, perhaps ler Todoroki x lee Reader (bc me and reader insert are inseparable /j) from MHA? Length, perhaps 900+ words if possible? But I'll be grateful for anything haha, I also don't want to force you to write more if you're not feeling inspired i'm gonna be honest here I haven't watched MHA in a long time ☠ and I have no idea what scenarios would be realistic because he's,, Todoroki,,

Personally i'm a sucker for evil/more intense tickles because I wish I was ticklish but if that makes you uncomfy do feel free to ignore :)

oh hush, you!!! i love requests, so thank you so so much!! i just hope this is somewhat what you wanted heehee- enjoy!!! i have a huge crush on this dork so that creeps in- also the reader's quirk is whatever you want it to be, cuz its not mentioned- also also!! im really really sorry if i fuck the names up cuz from what i know of the show, Todoroki is the family name, so Shoto is the given name but i could be totally wrong

i just wanna say that i really really like writing the rambly bits from Shoto about the book-

the reader is sorta a brat lol

Like Poetry

Words: 2,334 Pairing: Ler!Shoto, Lee!Reader Warnings: lotta fluff!!! not proofread!!!

You groaned as you entered the common room. Mr. Aizawa’s personal training was brutal today, and you were not looking forward to feeling how sore your muscles would be tomorrow morning. Sighing, you grabbed one of Sato’s cupcakes from the counter and flopped onto the sofa, confident it would be unoccupied. It was about seven in the evening on a Friday, which meant everyone was either in their rooms or somewhere around town. 

You huffed into the mattress before gasping at the sound of a page being turned. Looking up, you saw you were about a foot away from, in your mind, the strongest student in your class. He was sitting with perfect posture, reading a book with yellowed pages. On the coffee table sat a mug filled with tea.

Shoto Todoroki didn’t look up from his book at you. If he knew you were there, he didn’t show it. He silently read, seemingly fully absorbed. You sat upright, shaking off the embarrassment of almost landing on him, of all people. 

You cleared your throat and gobbled up your cupcake in one bite, setting the wrapper down next to his tea. Still, he didn’t move. Raising an eyebrow, you poked him in the side to get his attention, and the surprised gasp he gave made you giggle. Shoto looked at you, brow furrowed in annoyance, but his face soon softened when you smiled and waved.

“Hi!” you said chipperly. 

He nodded politely in return. “Hello, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.”

With a chuckle, you shoved his shoulder. “No worries! Whatcha reading, bookworm?”

Shoto tilted his head. “I’m not a worm.”

You sighed and repeated your question without the tease. You loved that your classmate was so adorably literal. 

“I’m reading this book of old poetry. I don’t remember where I got it - it feels like my family’s always had it lying around. I decided to read it today since everyone’s out.” His voice was calm as he spoke.

You were somewhat interested in the subject but mostly just wanted to hear him talk some more. It was so rare that he spoke. “Anything good in there?”

“I found this one that I liked,” Shoto said before flipping back a few pages. “Rain on lemongrass. / Ash trees weep o’er their lost sun: / Their light and love, gone.”

The poem made you hum in thought. “What’s it about?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” he asked. Taken on its face, it was an insulting question, but you knew Shoto was genuinely unsure whether to explain it. You shook your head in reply. “The poem is about heartbreak. A woman falls in love with someone, and suddenly, that person has to leave. The woman feels like she has nothing left as she cries into a world that has bigger concerns than her. Soon, perhaps, her love shall return, the sun re-emerging from the clouds, but there’s also the possibility that she doesn’t last until then, and the wind blows her over. Ash trees symbolize grief, so perhaps they may never meet again. The lemongrass, evoking a cheerful memory, is smothered under the rains that hide her beloved.” Suddenly, he looked up from the page. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was rambling.”

You scratched your head. “How did you get all that from just three lines?” You didn’t mind, of course. He was cute when he rambled. To your great surprise, he let out a soft and sheepish smile. 

“Well, I suppose I have too much time on my hands,” he said, looking away. You smirked and poked his side again, giggling at his surprised reaction. Shoto let out a muffled yelp and jumped, glaring at you suspiciously and rubbing his side. “Quit that.” 

“Sorry, Icy-hot! Can’t be helped!” You held up both your hands in mock surrender.

“Hm,” Shoto mumbled, looking back to the book. “This book was written entirely by hand. See? This character is slightly different here, here, and here,” he continued, pointing at different parts of the page. “And from what I can tell, its publication predates quirks, hence why they are not mentioned. If they had quirks, you would think there’d be a suggestion of their existence, no? Yet there’s nothing. For all intents and purposes, it seems like this book is a remnant of a simpler world.” His expression looked distant as if his mind were a hundred miles and years away. 

You leaned back, folding your arms behind your head. “Sounds dorky. Maybe you should tell Deku! I’m sure he’d be all too interested,” you chuckled, then looked over. If he heard your comment, he gave no sign. He must still be lost in thought. Looking down at his side, you saw it was perfectly exposed. You were pushing your luck. Then again, what is a hero if not someone who tries their luck? You pursed your lips together and quickly extended your hand to poke Shoto’s side again. 

But he was faster. As if expecting your reckless act, he set his book down and grabbed your hand before it made contact in one fluid movement. “You don’t listen, do you?”

“I do my utmost to avoid doing that, yes,” you said, giggling nervously. His grip was firm, giving you no delusions of escape. His hand was chilly, as if Shoto was threatening to encase your whole arm in ice at any moment. You tugged slightly.

He didn’t let go. “No, you need to learn this lesson.” Somehow, that was among the scariest things you’ve ever heard, right alongside the speech of the hero killer and Mr. Aizawa announcing an extra homework assignment before the summer break. Shoto pushed your legs toward the end of the couch, pinning you to his chest with both hands held behind you. You shuddered as Shoto said, “Now, learn well.”

Since both your hands were stuck behind you against his torso, you couldn’t defend yourself whatsoever when he descended both hands onto your stomach. You erupted into bright, bubbly laughter and kicked your feet like that would do anything to help. All that went through your head was repeated, ‘Oh, fuck, that tickles!’ 

You heard Shoto’s hum of approval from behind you as he clawed his fingers over the thin fabric of your shirt. “Interesting,” he mumbled to himself. 

“ShIhihihihIt! ShohOhOHohotoHoHoho!” You shook your head and thrashed all you could, but it didn’t matter. Shoto was stronger, and he would make sure you knew it. 

“Yes, Y/N?” he asked casually.

“STohohoHOAhaap!!” It didn’t have a chance of working, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“No.” Shoto’s clawed hands squeezed around your stomach in circles, taking a moment to dwell on your extra-ticklish lower stomach, which he took delight in exploiting. If you didn’t know any better, you would even say he enjoyed it as much as you were. 

“NohOHoHOhoHT TheheHEherre!” you pleaded helplessly, throwing your head back to give your torturer the best puppy eyes you could… although they were far less effective than you had hoped since they were quickly squeezed shut in uproarious laughter. 

“Here? Right here, yes?” Shoto released a flurry of pokes on your lower stomach as if he wanted confirmation.

You nodded and hiccupped, doing all you could to contain the blush that bloomed on your face at the sound of his cooing hum. Mercifully, he gave you a break, and you panted for breath against him. “Shihihitt…” you giggled, squirming in his grasp to get the ghost tickles off your tummy. 

“Here,” Shoto said, and you turned to see he was holding up his mug for you. Gratefully, you took a big sip of the refreshing tea, smiling a little at the warmth of it. It was strangely sweet; you had expected Shoto to only like the bitter teas, but surprisingly, the flavor was somewhat sugary. As if reading your mind, Shoto said, “It’s chamomile. It helps me relax.” He took the mug from your mouth and set it back on the table. 

Shoto cleared his throat. “Now,” he began, “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Is my release dependent on how I answer that?”

“Yes.”

“Then… Never!” You madly giggled as you attempted to escape his grasp before quickly regretting it. He had you suitably pinned, and to further reinforce his lesson, you realized with terror that he was rolling up your shirt to your ribs. “Wait, Shoto-!”

Your tormentor didn’t give you time to finish. Without fanfare, his hands descended onto your exposed tummy. Instead of clawing around, as he had done before, he was using quick scribbles, which, coupled with his cold fingers on your bare skin, was maddening. 

“SHohOhoHOTO!” You had no idea you were so ticklish! By the looks of things, it seemed like he had been in tickle fights before, and from how badly he was wrecking you, he was used to winning them. 

He hummed in thought as your thrashing weakened. “Your belly button is incredibly ticklish,” he observed. It was, to your dismay, very accurate. It didn’t help that his cold finger was heightening the feeling!

“PLehEHehEHHEase! MeheHEheheercyy!” you squealed out, kicking and bucking like a horse.

“Goodness, you’re dramatic. It’s only tickling, Y/N. If anything, this should build your endurance. What if the League captured you? I doubt you’d last a minute before you spill everything you know if they knew this weakness of yours.”

Why did he have to be so monotone with his teasing? He sounded so casual as if he were still explaining the history of that old book - only he was speaking over your hysterical cackling. He was a fast learner, too: he was pretty adept at locating the spots that got an especially wild reaction out of you and cruel in punishing them.

Shoto’s fingers increased in pace while always keeping one wiggling about in your navel. “I know,” he said, “I get it; you’re very, very ticklish. Now calm down.” You could hear the smile in his voice. He was having fun! “I wonder… you’ve inspired me to write my own poetry! Let’s see…” He paused to think, unfortunately not slowing down the tickles, making you yelp and shriek. “Ticklish cutie / Squealing on the couch with glee / With a cute tummy,” he slowly said as if writing it down. With a gasp, you felt him do just that, writing down the poem on your belly with the tip of his fingernail. 

You turned beet-red as you threw your head back, your laughter turning silent. You had long since begun crying with delight, and tears rolled down your cheeks in rivers, but he didn’t stop until you started coughing. With a chuckle, he released you, and you panted for breath. You didn’t move from his lap, and Shoto didn’t seem to mind. He gently placed a hand on your forehead, tilting it toward him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently. You nodded with a smile, which he returned. His smile was inviting, like a sunbeam on a winter’s day. He slowly helped you sit back up and handed you his mug again. You eagerly gulped it down. The tea was warm and sweet, and when you finished it and set it back on the table, you realized that Shoto wasn’t too different. 

“Thank you, Shoto,” you said softly.

“For the tea?”

“Yes,” you replied, “and… for the tickles. It… helped me unwind.” You looked away and rubbed your neck shyly. 

“You’re welcome, Y/N. It was fun for me, too. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that.” He smiled again, a small treat like candy. “It’s nice to see you so carefree. You’re usually a ball of nerves,” Shoto admitted bluntly, making you sigh and nod in agreement. 

You basked in the silence for a bit before both of you suddenly looked up. That was the unmistakable sound of… And right on cue, the word ‘mumble’ began to figuratively float across your field of view. At its origin, you and Shoto saw Izuku madly scribbling in his notebook and mumbling about something. You swore you caught the words “ticklish,” “stomach,” and “squeals.” 

Behind Izuku, standing in the hallway, were Ochaco, Denki, Tsuyu, Mina, Eijiro, and Kyoka. The first two desperately attempted to quiet Izuku, to no avail. You sat bolt upright, glaring at the unwelcome audience. 

Eijiro broke the silence with a playful swat to the back of Izuku’s head. “You got us caught with your nerd shit, Deku,” he joked, making the green-haired hero look away backfully. 

“That was adorable!” Mina grinned, pointing at you. “You made a bunch of noise, so we wanted to check it out!” 

“You’d better erase what you wrote, Deku.” You spoke calmly but in a way that gave no misapprehensions about your seriousness. 

Ochaco looked over Izuku’s shoulder. “Doesn’t look like he’s gonna do that.”

“Midoriya,” Shoto spoke up. “Be sure to write that they couldn’t use their quirk while being tickled.”

You gasped at the betrayal. “Don’t you fucking dare write that, Deku!”

With a glance, Denki, Kyoka, and Tsuyu replied simultaneously, “Oh, he’s already writing it.”

With a growl, you shot from the couch. “You’re fucking dead, Deku!” Your classmates yelped with shock and ran down the hall from you, stifling their giggles. 

Eijiro, egging you on, tossed back over his shoulder a snide, “Now you’re sounding like Katsuki!”

“Oh, I’ll make Katsuki look like a fucking bag of pop rocks when I’m done with you idiots!” Your threat carried no heat since it was filled with giggles. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ludicrousness of the situation, smiling fondly at how much you loved your friends.

And behind you, on the couch, Shoto grinned with pride as he picked up his book to continue reading. He was glad he had been allowed to be so affectionate with someone for a chance. Absent-mindedly, he picked up his mug of tea for a sip but sighed disappointingly at the lack of tea inside. Maybe he needed bigger mugs. 

[kometqh]

Comfort Touch

╰┈➤ Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

╰┈➤ Warnings: fluff turned to light spice

╰┈➤ Summary: What happens when amidst a fight you forget your date with Ethan?

╰┈➤ Word Count: 1.7k

Jazz music and various voices filled the crowded restaurant, the aroma of different Italian dishes mixed together and wafted through the space, and the clang of utensils on plates seemed to be too loud for his thoughts.

Ethan sat at a small, wooden rounded table in a faraway corner of the restaurant, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram and furiously tapping his foot on the floor, listening to the mild chatter. The long, taper candle in front of him gently swayed its flame and crackled from time to time.

He agreed to meet at 7PM sharp, and yet he arrived about ten minutes early, nervously nodding his head as the waitress assigned to his table attempted small talk.

'Yeah, I've got a date! I'm very nervous haha', is all he said, her words falling on deaf ears as he continued wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans before being led to the table he had reserved.

And now, it was just a minute before seven, and his heart was beating rapidly, thoughts running wild and eyes looking around the room, his phone long forgotten as his hands fidgeted with the table cloth.

The sound of heels clacking against the hardwood floor caught his attention.

Time seemed to slow down, voices turned into white noise as the sound of his own heartbeat turned him into a deaf man.

Her long, burgundy red dress hung on by two thin straps, revealing her shoulders and collarbone, and the soft fabric embraced her curves before coming to a loose end at her ankles.

Her hands clutched tightly onto the strap of a small handbag, and her eyes looked around the place nervously, skipping from head to head, in search for one particular man, as she came to a stop at the admissions desk.

He stood up from his seat, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over him as he realised how underdressed he was for the occasion, cladded in a simple white t-shirt, black denim jeans and a black denim jacket.

For his very first, and certainly not last, date with his crush. The most beautiful, smart and funny woman he has ever laid his eyes upon.

Her bright, wide open eyes met his, and the corners of her mouth tugged upwards as the waitress led her to their table. Her cheeks had a red tint to them, one that seemed to match the colour of her dress in intensity.

Ethan's body stiffened, his mouth went dry, his palms suddenly felt clammy and sweaty, as if he hadn't been wiping them every 15 seconds on his trousers since his arrival. He moved away from his seat, and closer to her only to stop by her chair, moving it out before she could do so herself.

The waitress placed two sets of menus in front of them, saying she'll be back in a couple of minutes to take their orders.

You slowly took in a deep breath, fidgeting with the edge of the white tablecloth, waiting for him to speak, or to at least stop staring.

A long minute passed before he cleared his throat, and scratched the back of his neck, snapping back to reality.

"You look beautiful, Y/n." He said quietly, looking down at his lap, making a poor attempt at hiding his blushing face.

You chuckled, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"You don't look too bad yourself," you retorted, reaching for the drinks menu, "though I must say, you really made an effort." You continued, restraining a chuckle as the blush on his face intensified in colour.

"What can I say? My wardrobe mostly consists of sweatpants and flannels," he responded, smiling lightly, "Chad had to drag me out to at least buy something."

You smiled, making eye contact as Ethan looked over the menu too, his hand finding it's way up onto the table and to your own hand, the other flipped the page as he read.

The two of you ordered your foods and continued chatting throughout the entire night, and as he walked you back home, he had asked to go on another date soon. That led to multiple dates over the span of a few weeks, which led up to now.

Ethan nervously stood at your door, pacing back and forth as he waited for you to come out. He could hear your voice shouting, which caused anxiety to creep into him.

He knocked on the door again, and this time your voice went silent. He could hear you approaching the door as you stomped towards it.

The door swung open, and he was met with your tear-struck face and frown. He had never seen you like this, and it felt as though his heart was being squeezed in an imaginary palm. The bouquet of your favourite flowers that he held were lowered down to his thigh, and his eyebrows scrunched up closer as he stepped inside.

"Ethan? Why are you here?" You asked, stepping back, your breath shallow and voice strained. Had you forgotten?

"I came to pick you up? For our date?" He asked uncertainly, closing the door behind him. He placed the flowers on the floor, and moved his hands to your face, thumbs gently wiping away the tears, he continued, "Is everything okay? I heard shouting."

You shook your head, grasping his hand with your own, looking away.

"Yeah. Everything's okay. But I don't think I'm in the state to go out." You said, attempting to lighten the mood as you sniffled.

Your eyes moved to look into his, and your gut twisted as you saw the worry in those chocolatey-brown eyes.

His lips were parted as though he wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat.

He shook his head and pulled you into a hug. You sniffled and stifled a sob, stuffing your face into his shoulder, letting silent cries out.

"We can watch a movie? You can choose. We don't have to talk about it if you don't feel like it love." He said quietly, his large hand gently stroking your hair, twirling random strands around his finger as he comforted you.

After a minute or two. you lifted your head, nodding at his earlier suggestion. The fabric of his sweater was now stained wet with your tears, but that didn't seem to bother him.

"I'll grab you a shirt, come." You said, tugging at his hand as you led him to your room. Your roommate, Anika, was on a night out with her girlfriend, so the two of you had the entire apartment to yourselves.

Ethan shook his head, and pulled you to face him.

"Go sit on the couch baby, I'll grab your duvet and I'll make some food okay?" He asked, cradling your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours for an answer. When he received none, he continued to walk with you to the living room, gently pushing you to sit on the couch.

In just a couple of minutes, he had brought over your duvet and two pillows, and now you were looking for a movie on Netflix as he stood in the kitchen, shoving some popcorn into the microwave.

His footsteps resonated within the room, and before you knew it, the two of you were in each others arms, sat up and watching Twilight.

Upon Ethan's suggestion of course.

It was one of those movies that could awaken your inner Mindy, the over-analyser and critic, all in one.

Your eyes were solely focused on the TV, Bella's dialogue filling the otherwise quiet room.

Ethan stared at you instead, brushing his fingers along the side of your arm, occasionally placing soft kisses on your neck and cheek, brushing the tip of his nose against your skin, muttering sweet nothings and whispers of comfort, as well as a couple of 'I love you's'.

Your breathing had steadied, and your tears eventually came to an end. The beeping of the microwave cut through the silence, but it was ignored by you both.

Only 10 minutes in, and you were already laying down, facing Ethan as you two mindlessly stared into each others eyes.

"Do you...wanna talk about it?" Ethan asked, a soft tone accompanying his voice, his eyes searching yours.

Exhaling loudly, you closed your eyes and nodded.

"It was my older sister. She was mad over something and projected it onto me." You said quietly, lips quivering at the thought of her harsh voice, spewing insults at you over something her fiancée had done.

"I'm sorry, I completely forgot about the date. I'll make it up to you okay?" You asked before placing a light kiss on his lips. Ethan nodded, smiling, and laced his fingers into your hair, pulling your face back to his as he deepened the kiss.

A gasp left your lips, and you shifted a bit, with Ethan moving to lean over you slightly, the movie long forgotten.

Your hands glided over his chest, feeling his abs through the soft fabric of his sweater. They were the remedy to your sadness. Satisfying to the touch and to the eyes.

Ethan supported himself above you, propping himself up on his elbow above your head, whilst his other hand stroked your cheek, then slowly slid down to gently grip at your neck, just how you liked it, rubbing at the soft skin with his thumb.

After a long moment, it continued its way down, down your chest and to the hem of your shirt, where his fingers lifted the material and traced circles into the skin of your stomach.

Your own hands flew up to his curls, scrunching them in your grasp, grazing your nails lightly against his scalp before tugging at the roots lightly, earning a gasp from the male.

Ethan smirked into the kiss, his hand caressing your waist. Your skin felt hot under his touch, and the argument from earlier evaporated from your head under the heat of the kiss.

The two of you continued for what seemed like forever, but were soon interrupted by the beeping of the microwave.

You pulled away, and Ethan half groaned, half moaned, licking his lips. You giggled and stared into his eyes as his hand tucked away strands of your hair. Smiling, you whispered,

"I think you should get the popcorn."

[koolades-world]

hiii!! congrats on 2k!!!

can i req nr.7 and nr.17 with mammon(both directed at him) please? i think it'd be really cute <33

thank you! i will gladly write this :)

i might make some headcanons about the whole laundry day concept thing, like what it would be like to share a laundry day and washing machine with them! i really ran with it without intending to haha

enjoy <3

prompts 7 and 17 w/ Mammon

Laundry wasn't exactly easy to manage in a house with seven demons and their human. Before your arrival, it was much more simple. Each brother got one day to do their laundry. The brother knew they'd have to add an additional member to their laundry rotation when the exchange program started, and at first it seemed as if it would be a chore in itself on who'd have to share their laundry day with you. They could just add you in after Belphie and before Lucifer, but that would throw off the seven day system and make things much more prone to conflict. So, the best option seemed to be sharing a day.

However, after they met you, it became something of a competition on who'd get to share their day with you. Naturally, this duty fell onto Mammon at first since he was the first to get closest with you and was your assigned guardian. He defended this honor hand and foot. His brothers constantly bargained with him to try and get him to swap. A couple times, Lucifer forcefully took it from him and other times he had an offer he couldn't refuse, but you always ended up back with him somehow.

Today was Tuesday, Mammon's laundry day. Washing your clothes together at the same time was easiest, so you always sat together and sorted your dirty clothes into lights, darks, and colors. At first, Mammon was very opposed to it, blushing and averting his eyes when it came to dealing with your undergarments, but he got over it after a while, but not before the two of you had lots of moments that involved yelling, embarrassment, and half an hour of awkwardness on his end. You took turns moving the clothes into the washer, then the dryer. Once it was all done, you separated your clothes so you could fold them and take them back to your respective rooms. Mammon learnt a lot from you about how to properly fold and organize his clothes, so much so that he didn't know how he functioned before. At first, you folded together because he needed help, but now it was just a nice time to chat and get the task done absentmindedly.

Both of you really looked forward to this time together, and while you'd probably both be more efficient if you did it separately, it was time spent together, which Mammon wouldn't trade for the world. He secretly really enjoyed the domesticity. But, because you often folded without thinking, sometimes you got each other's clothes. As a result of this, Mammon ended up with your shirt. He realized while he was putting his shirts that he'd accidently folded one of your shirts and put it in with his. It had originally been his, actually, but he'd given it to you while he was clearing out his wardrobe a while back.

His first thought was to return it, but as he sat there, he realized he kind of wanted to keep it for a little bit. While it had originally been his, the two of you had made plenty of memories when it was under both his and your ownership. It was a little selfish of him, but he wanted to wear it to relive those times. Besides, you wouldn't miss it for the one day he wore it. So after his shower, he put the shirt on along with a hoodie because he was cold.

After a few hours had passed, he'd totally forgotten that he'd worn your shirt and went to hang out with you in your room as usual. He took off the hoodie at one point, and threw it aside on your bed. It wasn't long before you pointed out his choice of outfit. "Mammon, is that my shirt?" He froze mid-stretch.

"What? Nooo, of course it's not." Mammon shoved his arms back to his side, and crossed them over his chest.

"It's alright if it is." You laughed at his antics.

"I'm not falling for that again." He angled his body away from you, but kept stealing glances back at you to see if you were looking at him.

"By saying that, you know you just admitted that it was my shirt," you said.

"I did not! I'm not falling for yer mind tricks again. Besides, this isn't your shirt." Mammon didn't exactly understand what you'd just said, but either way, he refused to admit he'd borrow your shirt.

"You're a terrible liar." You knew him too well. You always saw right through him.

"Am not!" He vehemently protested.

"Whatever you say Mams. You can hang onto it for as long as you want. It's our shirt." Mammon's heart pounded at your words. The fact that anything could be both of yours made him nervous, but he liked it. More specifically, he liked you, but he'd never tell you that. Well, not directly. Maybe someday he would if you didn't figure out on your own. For now though, he was content with things how they were. Just you and him.

[ghoulangerlee]

Leeeeee dear friend

How about...New Summon Mountain very quickly realizing that the human world is just not sized for beings as tall and large as he is. Everywhere he goes he's knocking things over, banging his head on doorways, accidentally bumping things and people with his tail. He feels like a bull in a china shop and sometimes he just wishes he was smaller.

mac you are actually my hero i need you to know this asdlkfjdsf it came through and OH.

this became a look into Mountain's mind; no serious content warnings here, but there's some sadness and self hate, Mountain's not in a good place mentally after he's summoned.

A nice little bright ending tho <3 also my first time actually writing the ghouls from the end of Terzo's era while Terzo is still alive lmaooo this is like a vague look into my own personal lore for ghoul summonings and stuff like that haha. (i also did not read over this so im sorry if there's any glaring errors oops. goodnight!)

-

He claws his way out of the Pit with a great gasp, his fingers curled as he grips onto the stone flooring under his hand—he feels a few of them start to crumble under his strength, but he can also feel the pull of the Pit still, trying to call him back into her clutches.

A great roar releases itself from his throat as he heaves himself up out of the swirling magic, landing with a heavy thud as stone crumbles under the impact—a growl building as his eyes adjust in the low light.

There's several people standing around, a man with skull paint on his face—watching him with a curious look.

"I'm Papa Emeritus the Third," the man says, stepping forward and swiping away the edges of the summoning circle with his foot, the turbulent magic dying down as soon as the connection disturbed. "Welcome to the Surface, Ghoul."

-

Being on the Surface is a lot different from the Pit—up here, he has a name, something given to him to help identify him, the man, Papa Emeritus the Third, had said.

There's a lot to learn, to understand, etiquette that he'd never expected to be introduced to; how to greet people in the church who held a higher standing than him, honorifics for certain people. None of it made sense in his mind, where he was from, everyone was equal and things like names and honorifics didn't exist for him.

But, he was Mountain now, the drummer of the band that Papa Emeritus the Third led.

A ghoul summoned from Below to aid in spreading of Satan's word.

(Though Mountain is sure that He would have a few things to say about how this specific church chooses to do that.)

-

There was something off about everything on the Surface—his magic felt weak and his joints ached the longer he stayed glamoured, something he'd been taught from the beginning that he was to be, unless he was in his private quarters.

But even in his private quarters, the walls felt like they were closing in, the ceiling too low for his over seven foot unglamoured form, his horns scraping painfully against stone every time he turned—even his bed was too short for him to sleep properly in either form, shoulders aching painfully as he slept curled in on himself, his tail hanging off the bed in an uncomfortable manner.

-

He blames it mostly on the fact he can't really feel his magic, and he aches for it sometimes, goes barefoot on the stone floors of the church just to feel something while he's being carted around and taught how to be a good band ghoul.

Classes, day in and day out where he has to focus what little magic he can and use to to make his form into something smaller and human—it's a nauseating feeling for him, the sharp words of his mentor, another earth ghoul who'd been summoned nearly thirty years ago now, practically berating him for not catching on immediately.

(The Clergy demands the best of the best to be summoned, if you're not up for it we can send you back and summon someone who is.)

The words cut deep, but he keeps his mouth shut, drains what little natural magic is left in the stone floors and funnels it into his own, shrinks his great horns down until they're nothing more than a pressure he can feel building at his temples, begging to be freed.

He stumbles now that the weight is gone, his tail knocking over the table behind him—a tray of dishes goes crashing down to the floor, shattering on the stone.

His mentor just huffs, and Mountain can't see his face but he knows that there's a look of displeasure there.

Stuck halfway between glamoured and not—his horns gone but his height still there, he's dismissed for the day with a sharp wave, another vague threat of being sent back rolling off of the earth ghoul's tongue.

When he leaves, he hits his head on the top of the doorway, the sound echoing into the room behind him; he thinks the earth ghoul huffs again, but he doesn't dwell on it—not really, nursing a head wound as he makes his way back to his room.

He shouldn't be having this much issue with his glamour, with his magic, but he feels blocked. It feels wrong.

He feels too tall for the Surface, too tall to be part of the band—he's met the others, the quintessence ghoul Aether, the fire ghoul Ifrit, even the water ghoul Dewdrop, and Zephyr, an air ghoul who'd been promoted from a different job within the church, he's still tall, taller than the rest of the band, his glamour half stuck somewhere between a towering six foot six and seven foot

He wants to me smaller too, like the others—he's seen them without glamour, they're all taller than the humans of the church, but with magic, they're able to change that, able to make themselves look normal.

No matter how hard Mountain tries, he can't.

-

"Hey there big guy," Dewdrop's voice startles Mountain out of his concentration, his tail warping into existence and he stumbles at the sudden weight of it—unwieldy and annoying, in the way as it sweeps across the floor and takes three folding chairs with it.

Mountain hisses something, voice going deep and all encompassing as he berates himself in a language that he hasn't spoken since before being summoned—he feels too much, everything all at once, closing in on him, hands fisted at his sides as he just wishes his magic would wor—

"Hey Mountain," Dewdrop's voice cuts through, cool hand reaching out to rest on his back (when did he hunch over like this, his glamour completely gone, his horns having taken out several more folding chairs

"Hey Mountain," Dewdrop's voice cuts through, cool hand reaching out to rest on his upper back (when had he hunched over like this, his glamour completely gone, his horns having taken out several more folding chairs—). "Hey, big guy, come on, breathe with me," he speaks again, stepping closer.

(Dewdrop's a water ghoul, he doesn't need to breathe, this is so stup—)

"Mountain," Dew says, firmer, digging his nails just barely into Mountain's upper back, catching his attention, "You're freaking out and I need to get you calm, okay?"

They're in one of the practice rooms, Mountain had come in here to work on his glamour, not having to hunch over quite as much because of the space in the room—it comes back to him slowly, as Dew takes several loud deep breaths, exhaling just as loud until the white noise in Mountain's mind dies down.

He feels a bit foolish, being caught while not being at his best, unglamoured in a mess of chairs, but Dew just watches him with a curious look, empathy rolling off of him in waves.

"Sucks how much our magic is dampened here," Dew murmurs, crouching down beside him, his touch cooling, calming, as he brushes his fingertips over a cut across the back of Mountain's hand.

The cut starts knitting itself together slowly and Dew smiles a soft sort of thing as he watches it. "You hide a lot from us," he says, glancing up at Mountain's face. "Why?"

Mountain feels seen in that moment, a sort of strange, crawly feeling settling over his skin—he's not sure it's something he likes.

"Trying to keep my place in the band." Is what comes out of his mouth, "If I don't get my glamour straightened out before our first ritual, they're going to send me back."

The words come out and he's unable to stop them, but as he continues to air his fears out, Dew just looks on, watches him with a gentle sort of look, thumb brushing over the back of his hand where the cut used to be.

"Come and meet the rest of the pack," Dew says when the silence stretches between them afterwards and Mountain's heaving a bit from all he'd said out loud. "Having a pack helps you settle up here, according to Zeph. We've been waiting for you to reach out," he pauses, a look on his face, "But I think this is something that'll need a bit of interference."

Mountain is tired, he should say no, try to figure things out on his own, but instead, he just hangs his head, nods so timidly that he barely moves, but then Dew's squeezing his hand and Mountain wonders if things actually will be okay.

(The pack find him—the two of them, still sitting among a mess of folding chairs in the practice room, the silence in the room soft and comforting, and when Zephyr gently coaxes Mountain into trying his glamour one more time, he does.

When he stands a few moments later, there's no pressure at his temples from his horns being improperly restrained, his tail is hidden away with no affect on his balance—and when Aether comes to stand beside him, he's only three inches taller than the quintessence ghoul.)

[wikiangela]

seven(ish?) sentence sunday

tagged by @diazsdimples @daffi-990 💖💖

definitely not seven sentences but whatever haha remember how I said i'm all over the place with my wips? at all times I have at least five docs open and switching between them, just cannot focus on one thing istg so here's more of the cheating fic! 🤣🤣

prev snippet

___

He just changes the subject, though, and everyone goes along. Normally they’d all tease him about Taylor, or about Eddie, but clearly they see that it’s too tense now. It’s not their business, though, they don’t need to know why. Buck needs to fix it himself. He can do it. He doesn’t know how, but he’ll try.

_

He doesn’t fix it. If anything, he makes it worse. 

It happens about a week later at a bar. It was a tense week, Taylor having officially moved in, and he and Eddie- he and Eddie have been good. More or less. They’re talking, at least. Trying to act normal, but Buck knows they both know it’s not. They’re not back to being ‘Buck-and-Eddie’ just yet.

That’s why they agreed to join their team on one of the evenings when they go out for drinks. It starts out like normal, everyone sitting around a table, talking and laughing, taking turns in buying drinks for the table. Buck and Eddie sit next to each other, like always, though one thing is different – no parts of their body touch, not a foot, not a knee, not a shoulder. Buck notices that changing as the night goes on, they lean further and further into each other the more they drink.

The part of him that loathes himself after that night knows he should either get away from Eddie or stop drinking, or it won’t end well, not with the way Eddie’s eyes shine, and his smile gets all gooey whenever he looks at Buck – which is a lot, it feel like he doesn’t take his eyes off of Buck, he can feel them even when he’s not looking back at Eddie. On the other hand, the other part of him, the reckless, idiotic, destructive part of him, wants nothing more than to lean in and kiss Eddie’s smile off of his face. 

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @911onabc @housewifebuck @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @nmcggg @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @buckaroosheart @spagheddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @exhuastedpigeon @jesuisici33 @theotherbuckley @rainbow-nerdss @malewifediaz @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @honestlydarkprincess @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @hoodie-buck @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie

[rambling-for-self-improvement]

NO BUT REALLY CAN WE TALK ABOUT BRUNO?!

I know this movie is old and stuff at this point but this is bothering me today so I HAVE SOME THOUGHTS ON "WE DON'T TALK ABOUT BRUNO".

So the song establishes later that everyone is describing Bruno from their own biased perspectives (except maybe Dolores) with the most obvious case: Camillo.

Seven foot frame? Maybe to like a 5 year old sure, he's pretty tall and lanky, and that's the only perspective he has. He literally hasn't seen him in years. Rats along his back? Yeah sure my boy loves his rat buddies but like Camillo my guy where are you getting this? Have you spotted him? Did Bruno always like rats? Unclear.

SO NOW I CAN GET INTO THE REAL ISSUE OF HIS FUCKING SISTER.

Pepa, your wedding was OVER A DECADE AGO. YOU ARE HOLDING A HELL OF A GRUDGE.

"Bruno walks in with a mischievous grin"? That awkward autistic son of a bitch probably was awkwardly smiling and trying to make small talk because his sister was freaking out about the wedding.

"Bruno says it looks like rain, in doing so he floods my brain"? I honestly think he was trying to make a (badly presented) joke to help her calm down. Pepa, girl, you control the weather. Any predictions about weather with you do not apply. What happened was he was probably trying to point out she was stressed with a little joke of "looks like rain", as in "Pepa you look stressed and you control the weather so like it rains when you're stressed haha oh god I'm bad at this" and she just RAN with it.

That girl thought her brother ruined her wedding with a weather prediction when

a) Girl controls the weather b) It is NOT JUST ABOUT YOU (poor Felix, man keeps interjecting with shit like "it was our wedding day" and "still a joyous day but anyway" when she is being an absolute bridezilla about it three kids later). c) There is no way you don't realize your brother is an autistic mess by this point. Like why would you not have talked to him about this. Why are you holding a grudge over a decade after you got married. Your brother is MISSING and you actively want to erase his memory because he made you annoyed?

In conclusion: Fuck Pepa, Justice for Bruno

[alexanderlightweight]

I'll confess, I did read your previous prompt but it had slipped my mind and I was not thinking of it specifically when I wrote mine. I just really like hair lore and long hair and fancy hairdos and can never get enough fics with those. So if you want to extend the previous verse or if you've got a slightly different idea and want to write that instead, I will be entirely happy either way Thanks for picking mine! I'm all excited now ~~ \(^o^)/ ~~

haha you're good. i just was trying to figure out if it was a continuation or not but here we go! new hair lore from a different verse lol

i hope you enjoy!

<3 lumine

-

“And what will you need for this ritual?” Alec asks, barely looking up from where he’s bent over a screen. Because if he sees Fray with braids other than training ones, he’s going to throw something — probably her — and he wants to finish this conversation.

There is silence and Alec looks up, frown on his face because he isn’t sure why they’re stalling or why they have yet to introduce whoever they’ve brought with them.

“This is, uh Alec this is Magnus Bane.” Fray says and Alec’s eye twitches, ready to rip out the braids currently in her hair and the small little demon bone charm in it.

“Yes, I know the High Warlock of Brooklyn.” Alec allows, nodding casually to Magnus who is watching him with far more interest than he did when Alec was seven and trying to stalk him out of the Institute.  It’s been years since he’s last seen him and Magnus is only more handsome, more beautiful and Alec reminds himself that business has to come before pleasure.

“It’s a sacrifice.” Magnus allows, “nephilim hair is steeped in their grace and the price to pay for nephilim memories must of course, come from a nephilim.”

“Alright.” Alec says and when Jace gives him a surprised but pleased look he adds, “Fray, you’ll supply as much as needed.  If there is more needed, you can request volunteers though no one is obligated to help you.”

“Alec—”

“Surely you weren’t expecting me to volunteer?” Alec asks casually as he stares Jace down. “If you and Izzy and interested in volunteering then of course I’ll allow it. If mother asks, I’ll make sure she understands it was a sacrifice for a…” his bottom lip curs into a sneer despite himself, “comrade of yours.” 

Magnus Bane is staring at him curiously, eyes incredibly intent and Alec is trying so hard not to let it affect him, even when it makes him want to stand straighter and turn, to show off the charms on his braid.

“Seriously? It’s just hair! These are my memories.” Fray tries to explain and Alec sighs, because his hair is more important to him than a stranger’s memories and he turns to Magnus.

“What are the specifics?”

“I’m not actually sure—” Magnus tells him and he seems completely at ease with the admittance. “Jocelyn Fairchild didn’t care about how they were protected, only that the memories would be nearly impossible to get.”

“My mother—”

“Shut up.” Alec says at the same time Magnus snaps his fingers and Clary goes surprisingly silent and then her face twists in outrage.  Alec snorts and ignores her, giving Jace a look that just dares him to interfere.

“A price will need to be paid to summon the demon, let alone find out what the cost will be.”

Alec sighs and looks at Clary with a frown and draws a small, ritual knife from his sleeve.  “Take off until just above the charm, that should be enough to figure out what the actual price is.” He holds it out, handle first to Clary and she crosses her arms and snorts.

“You cut your hair!” Clary spits out, the spell finally gone, “you’re the leader, aren’t you! So cut your own damn hair, Alec.” She tosses her red tangle of braids, “you’re a guy. You don’t even need long hair.”

Alec blinks and then he moves.  Clary is on the ground a moment later and he pins her there with his foot on her shoulder blades, one hand in the garish mess of braids.

“Do you want your memories back?” He asks calmly and Jace and Izzy are still, their faces pale from the moment Clary demanded he cut his hair.  The moment Clary garbles out a yes, Alec ignores anything else she adds and he cuts. 

There is a tiny chime, like a gong being shattered and Clary shudders as what little has grown of her angelic power is sheared away.  This is meant to be a sacrifice; it always is when a shadowhunter cuts their hair and Alec feels no sympathy.  The tiny demon bone charms disintegrates and he scoffs as he tosses the bundle to Magnus.

“The charm broke, it didn’t consider any of her demon kills to be valid.” Alec says mockingly, because Jace and Izzy insisted that Clary counted as bloodied even though Alec was sure it didn’t.  The charm dissolving without the connection to Clary’s core makes it clear that she’s not as strong or as capable as they keep pretending.

Clary sobs on the ground, looking up at him in horror and Alec shrugs.

He’s given Clary Fray every opportunity to learn and ask questions.

“You don’t get to pick and choose what parts of our culture you like.” Alec tells her and Magnus hums in agreement as he steps up close and the look, he’s given Alec is so hard to turn away from, but he does. “You want to be a part of our world, then you pay the prices like everyone else and you don’t get to ask others to sacrifice parts of themselves for your own vendetta.”

“Get her to the infirmary.” He tells Jace, “she’ll be fine in twenty minutes with a little adrenaline. Tell them to give her one of the weaker IV cocktails for nephilim children, she won’t be able to handle the amount an actual shadowhunter can handle.” He turns to Magnus then and swallows, “would you like to discuss the array and look over the wards in the rooms we have in our ritual rooms?”

“That would be perfect, thank you Alexander.” Magnus murmurs and he steps up next to Alec and smiles, something daring in his gaze. “Lead the way?”

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Ooooo for the shedding scales au, I really like this prompt, all the yanderes just want to dote on the new baby dragon, meanwhile reader and maybe the other teens too are confused as to what they do now that they're frickin dragons, this au gives me skyrim vibes.

Can I ask for something with reader meeting the xmen for the first time? Whether they're some mystery baby who popped up out of nowhere, or a sacrifice offered by the cult.

Haha, is this an idea or an ask? I'm not doing full requests (a full story) but I can do a small one. Let's try this:

Being tied up wasn't fun.

Being left at the foot of the steps to a giant, golden temple was not fun.

Being stared down at, and covered in blood, by gigantic, enormous, terrifying dragons was not fun.

But here Reader was, trying to chew through the gag in their mouth and struggling fitfully against the ropes that bound them. The stone underneath them was cold, scattered with hard, shining objects, each shimmering faintly in the cloudy dawn. Deep, guttural noises boomed from above, amd Reader count help but curl in on themself at the loud noise. The growls and grunts echoed across the sky, reverberating into the rocks and air and Reader, shaking everything it touched.

Yet the moment the chanting ended... one of the dragons reached out, large claws open wide, to tap Reader, surprisingly gentle for such a large monster...

And then something glowed, sharp and bright and stinging, then Reader felt a change shift across them.

Their skin started to chafe, tearing away in places only to grow soft, leathery scales. Their back arched, their bones shifting and popping and cracking with each movement. Their fingers seemed to shrink, growing sharp talons, while their teeth sharpened, their head elongating and forming a new shape, new bones. Something sprouted from their back, scrambling and flapping against the chill and snow. And lashing from their end, coiling and twitching and scaly, was a tail...

When the pain finally resides, leaving behind an ache that fills Reader's bones... they notice just how much bigger and vivid everything looks. The dragons are even more gigantic, the temple more imposing, the stone so much colder... Yet when they look down... they don't see their hands. They see small, scaled hands, each finger tipped with a tiny claw. Reader tries to shriek, yet what comes out is a small, whining cry, sounding like a cheep or chirp...

Something scoops them up, large and dark and so so warm, and then it clasps around Reader, leaving them in heated darkness. Rumbling noises come from everywhere, and Reader can feel the shift and thuds as the being holding them moves. They can't help but nudge themself into a small ball, trying to sleep...

It's soft, and quiet, and warm, when they wake up. Yet when Reader cracks open their eyes, the find they're not alone.

In a large, seemingly unending nest are other small dragons, with different colors and wings and sizes... and watching over them all, with a warm, fanged grin, are the seven large dragons who did this to them...

"Hello, hatchlings..."

[seeking-elsewhither]

*climbing in through your window* Hey! I-- stop screaming it's just me-- I have. A work in progress. For you! Enjoy

-----------------------------

It was said that the stars in the heavens above the Galactic Archipelago cast such light to make the midnight as the noon. Yet this light, for all its fame, had never reached the white coral walls of the fortress at the bottom of the deeps. Night in Kamino meant nothing more than inky blackness in place of the day’s dark and endless blue. 

The lamps were long-since extinguished. Curfew had been thrice-rung from the great gong in the central turret. None but the few Kaminoan night-guards dared to set a foot in the lightless coral halls.

None, save the two identical youths who slipped down the corridor with silent feet and tangled fingers. 

“This is madness, you know,” hissed the younger into the elder’s ear. “If we get caught-”

“We won’t get caught,” his brother assured him, a laugh hidden (as it quite often was) in the hushed tones of his voice. “We’ve been planning this for weeks, and I did not commit the guardsmen’s schedules to memory for us to fail. We’ll be alright, vod.”

“Still.” Something stern and somber and more than a little afraid clouded his bright brown eyes. “I fear for our batch. I… worry they would punish us all for the one small defiance of two.”

The elder boy halted, just for a moment, still as a statue, before he pulled his brother into an alcove in the next hallway. His face, though obscured by the darkness, grew grave in a manner more befitting of a grown man than a lad of seven-fifteen, and he brought his hands to clasp the younger’s shoulders comfortingly.

“Vod,” he whispered. “You know I would not let them. You know full well that I would not ever desire to put my brothers in danger, and that if the danger came I would do anything to ensure the worst of it would fall to me.” One hand rose from a red-clad shoulder to cradle the face instead.

“But, my brother- you have not ever been a strong swimmer. I fear our minders do not favor you for this, though by your countless other merits you are more than deserving of far greater things than favor. Yet you are to be a soldier and a sailor- what good is a sailor who cannot swim? Were you to fall from the ship, you surely would drown, and–” His voice quavered with the hypothetical, before he swallowed and carried on, “–and it is for the prevention of this that we must make such a dangerous journey.”

His brother sighed in silence, and pulled himself from the embrace. “I know. But knowledge does not curb my fears.”

“It may well be that nothing can. Now, come, before someone finds us.”

*shrieking before I fumble for some semblance of "chill" as the kids say*

Oh, hey there, vod, totally expected to see you there, haha

Okay but in all honesty?

Jaw-dropping.

This?? Art, mate. Pure gold. Simply wonderful. Exquisite, lemme tell ya.

After the absolutely disappointing day I just had to deal with, this made me grin like a feral tooka.

Bets placed on Fives and Echo, but I'm so ready for this fic to be complete!

sniffling because brothers. sobbing because clone brothers.

weeping because they've never seen the stars.

For youuuu

[captainbuzzard]

here's adaptability, a comic i made for @waveridden for the blb winter exchange! set during the coronation era's s2 postseason. in which the members of throwkyo make a video call.

the rest of the pages (and the transcript) are after the cut.

Transcript An seven-page comic, uncolored, with black line art.

Page 1 Aya Chartreuse sits by a table as she paints a small vase with underglaze and gestures with her paintbrush as she talks. AYA [ONGOING CONVERSATION]: Would that work? Katy Hermoso crouches on the opposite side of the table as they fiddle with 5-gallon buckets of glaze). KATY: Oh yeah, I'd love to. "Gumdrop" Che Amran walks by the studio's open door, one hand raised in a wave as ne gestures for Katy and Aya to come. CHE: C'mon, you lot! Clean up so we can start the call! KATY, leaning over the table as they raise a hand toward the door: Che! Is it already that time? ...And ne's already gone. AYA, leaning back as she stretches with a smile: Best get going then! Özlem's a busy lady nowadays. Katy washes up at the sink, and Aya stands behind with her paintbrush, waiting to do the same. KATY, continuing their conversation: So yeah, let's plan on Thursday for that. Aya: Great! The two walk down the hall, then arrive by a room in which Che is waiting. CHE, waving from the couch: Come, sit down! Che hands Katy a tablet as she sits down. CHE: And Katy, help me set this up, will you?

Page 2 Katy, Che, and Aya sit crammed next to each other on a couch. Che sits in the middle, holding ner tablet. AYA: Good thing it was Özlem who left, you'd be hopeless at getting the calls up and running without The Kid [referring to Katy, the youngest of the group] here helping. Che turns to Aya and gently bonks her on the head with ner tablet. CHE: Oh hush, you! Aya laughs with a note of indignation. AYA: Haha, hey! CHE: The call's starting! The view shifts to Che's point of view as ne holds the tablet in front of ner. Özlem's face appears on the screen, but is notably silent despite appearing to talk. CHE: Hold on a moment! We can't hear you. Katy! Assist! KATY, as an aside, in joking indignation: What am I to you, Che? A pokemon? Özlem points a finger at themself as they continue to silently speak. KATY: But yeah Özlem, it's definitely on your end. You sure you're unmuted? The screen goes black. KATY: ...And we lost them. The view shifts to show Katy, Gumdrop, and Aya on the couch again. Gumdrop looks up at Aya with a smirk. CHE, sweetly: Aya... AYA, steepling her fingers as she smiles back at Che with a similarly honeyed shit-eating expression: Yes...? CHE: What was that about ME being the hopeless one with tech? AYA: Point taken. Katy snickers. Che once again looks at ner tablet. CHE: Oh! Özlem's trying again. And... Take Two! ÖZLEM: Uh hello? Is it working this time? ALL: Yes! ÖZLEM: Perfect!

Page 3 A view of the three on the couch, from the back, showing that they've propped the tablet on the coffee table in front of the couch. They lean together. ÖZLEM, from the tablet in front of them: Oh look at you all huddled together! I Can't tell if it warms my heart or makes me feel cold not being there with you. Che puts a finger to their face in a mock-thoughtful expression. CHE: You sure you're not just cold because you're out in that horrid weather? Get some sense and get inside? As a faint aside, ne says: And we miss you too. ÖZLEM: Oh it's really not that bad! Besides... I wanted to share the views here with you. It's pretty incredible. Özlem stands aside to gesture at the mountainous Yellowstone landscape. KATY: Any good biking? ÖZLEM: Too much snow on the ground... But I've been told there's some biking trails, so I'm scoping them out on foot for next time. AYA: pft. Already planning your next few losses? ÖZLEM: No way! It's the MAGIC that'll lose. Y'know I'll just float on by to the next team before it happens. AYA: Well... How 'bout you "float on by" to the Lift next season? Che's been talking about your pottery wheel missing you.

Page 4 ÖZLEM: Hah! I was making pots a mother couldn't love! My wheel should be FEARING my return next season. If there is one. CHE: As if anything could prevent it! Better luck stopping the tide. ÖZLEM: Oh yeah, blaseball's not going anywhere. Özlem, who has only been appearing in frame as they'd appear in the camera from their phone this whole time, leaves the frame's focus. Their glasses obscure their eyes, and they become less expressive. ÖZLEM: All I meant was... Özlem pauses. ÖZLEM: Actually I don't know what I meant. AYA, with a serious expression: You were talking about your return. ÖZLEM: Yeah. I just have a feeling a championship will be enough, you know? The frame showing Özlem once again zooms out to show the tablet. They hold their phone out to their side, at enough of an angle to make the trees appear askew on frame. ÖZLEM: I love the new experiences, but...

Page 5 Özlem turns toward the camera once again, with an earnest smile. ÖZLEM: I'd just like to actually have the time to figure out the bike routes, y'know? The view shifts to the trio on the couch. Che and Aya hold hands, and Katy is half out of the frame. CHE: So, are you ready to settle back down? ÖZLEM: Ughh... I mean, I gotta win this thing, first. That's why I left, yeah? I'll figure out what comes next afterwards. Özlem's camera once again shifts to show them in profile, and again it's askew. They have a small, slightly sad, smile. ÖZLEM: Tokyo was--Tokyo's great. I don't think I'll find anything quite like that again. But I'm sure I'll adjust to wherever I end up. Of course, maybe I'm wrong, and I'll be raring to go again next season. An alarm on Özlem's end sounds. They turn to face their phone again. ÖZLEM: Oh?? Sorry, that's my alarm. The view shifts out to show the entire tablet with Özlem on it again. ÖZLEM: And look! We've talked all about me, and it's already time to go. Bad form on my part! The view pans out a little more, to show the trio on the couch, from the back so the tablet with Özlem is still in view. CHE: Not a problem! You certainly have a bit more going on right now. ÖZLEM: Well! I still expect the full download on what you've been up to this postseason, regardless! Does tomorrow evening work? KATY: Not for me. I've promised Vern I'd help him with some two-person repairs, but you all shouldn't wait on my account. Aya'll fill me in.

Page 6 ÖZLEM: It's a plan! Well... It's been lovely seeing you. Katy pulls out her phone. KATY: Hey Özlem, before we let you go... I've been watching the forecasts. Tomorrow's game is a gold eclipse, so you're safe on the Magic. [note: the Magic was a team favored by bard umpires]. KATY, with an insistent and worried expression: But... Please be careful. ÖZLEM: Hah! Of course I will. KATY: Özlem, I mean it. Don't go listening to the umpires again, alright? [note: I had a different comic planned at first, about this subject]. ÖZLEM: No need to worry so much! Everything'll be fine, there's just a few games left until the season ends. I'll be able to visit before you know it, and the pottery studio will quake in fear at my approach. AYA: We'll be holding you to that!

Page 7 ÖZLEM: Okay, okay, I've delayed as long as I can. I gotta get going! The view pans out to show the tablet. ÖZLEM: You know I love you all. See you soon! ALL: See you later, Özlem! The tablet goes dark. The view shifts to show the trio on the couch. Che leans forward and presses something on the tablet. All three sit for a moment, with serious expressions. AYA: They're not coming back, are they. Not for good at least. KATY: Doesn't seem that way. Katy holds one of Gumdrop's hands. Aya reaches an arm over Gumdrop's shoulder to Katy's shoulder. CHE: But they'll be fine. They're adaptable like that. The three lean together in a tangled hug on the couch. CHE: And whatever happens, we'll be fine, too. I'm sure of it.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC interview

Thanks @theelfauthor here!

Rules: answer the questions in the perspective of an OC!

I think I'll do Akash!

Are you named after anyone?

“Nope. Well, at least, not that I know of, but I don't think so.... Maybe there might've been a distant relative named Akash or something that I've never met, or maybe my parents knew someone named Akash when they were young and thought it was a cool name of something. I dunno, I don't think so, at least as far as I know.”

When was the last time you cried?

“Hahaha... It was...last night, actually, but it's not MY FAULT that it was Carla's turn to pick the movie and she picked the most heart wrenching film I've ever seen in my life!”

Do you have kids?

“... Dude. I'm fourteen.”

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

“Not really. I kinda just call things as they are, and sometimes I'll throw in a joke or something.”

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

“I literally have no idea. I think I just kinda see all of them at once. Not, like, in a deep way or anything. I just don't think I really focus on a specific detail. I guess... hair? I usually notice if someone's hair is better than mine, but that's a low bar.”

What’s your eye colour?

“What do you think? *Blinks slowly* Lovely lovely brown.”

Scary movies or happy endings?

“Sorry, I like happy endings. I scare super easy, and Robbie doesn't let me live it down. But he screams more. I flinch at everything, but on the bigger moments, Robbie is a total wuss. But yeah, happy endings. Sometimes they make me cry, I'm not ashamed.”

Any special talents?

“My middle school choir teacher said I have a good range. I hope that counts. I'm also good at making music playlists. I know how to cook, but I'm nowhere near Noelle's level. Um. I also am decent at pencil doodles, haha. If dragons, mainly. Uh... I... I'm not sure, what can I do? I can... tolerate a bad hair day? Ish. Man, why is this so hard?”

Where were you born?

“I think India, I was told India, but this whole Alium thing makes things very confusing.”

Do you have any pets?

“No, and that sucks! I want a cat.”

What sort of sports do you play?

*bursts out laughing* “No, no, okay, okay... I like watching sports, not playing. I've held the balls before -- NO NO NO NO the sports ball things, I've held those, but I don't play. I love watching baseball, though. Robbie thinks it takes too long, but he always sits next to me and gets the soda and hotdogs and popcorn.”

How tall are you?

“Five-foot-seven, which is an inch above Robbie. And no, I don't let him hear the end of that.”

What was your favourite subject in school?

“English and choir.”

What is your dream job?

“Woah, I've not that far ahead. Uh... No idea. Well, maybe an idea. School wasn't, like, awful, but it was a struggle for me. I think that if I became a teacher, I could make it better for kids like me, y'know? I'd like to give them things I never got.”

Other Akash: OC in three, OC in fifteen, Picrew, kiss, two truths and a lie, questionnaire one, questionnaire two

Other interviews: Wade, Jazlyn, Gwen, Lexi, Carla, Carmen, Maddie, Liam, Ash, Rose

Tagging @sarandipitywrites @dyrewrites @oh-no-another-idea @diabolical-blue @kaseylynnwriting

+ ANYONE ELSE

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

Blanks below the cut

Are you named after anyone? When was the last time you cried? Do you have kids? Do you use sarcasm a lot? What’s the first thing you notice about people? What’s your eye colour? Scary movies or happy endings? Any special talents? Where were you born? Do you have any pets? What sort of sports do you play? How tall are you? What was your favourite subject in school? What is your dream job?

[grlazul]

sweet child

octavinelle x reader (i guess? not really romantic the tweels are just trying to get prefect to make a contract with azul but their feelings toward yuu can be interpreted however...)

note: this is sortaaaa based off the song from the musical because i love it haha... a little bit of grim slander, i love him but i wasn't quite sure who else to make the problem. thank u all btw for the support, i'm glad people enjoy my works!

you honestly wanted to bash your head against the wall until a higher being decided to give you mercy. grim had flunked yet another exam, bringing your joint grade down... quite badly. you always gave every assignment, test, quiz, and even homework assignments everything you had. but how much is your hard work worth when grim doesn't even bat an eyelash at your sinking grade?

you sighed, sitting on a bench in the courtyard. you decided you needed space from grim currently, as you didn't want to blow up on him over this.

unfortunately, this caught the eye of two eels...

it gave you quite the scare once they began to speak, as you hadn't even seen nor heard them come up behind you.

"my my..." spoke jade. "what is it that ails you so, prefect?"

floyd made a mocking pouty face, "it's so sad to see you like this shrimpy!"

you shook your head, knowing that the two were likely up to no good. "it's nothing."

jade gave floyd a knowing look, "well it can't be nothing. something is clearly the matter with you, my dear prefect. don't you agree floyd?"

his twin nodded, "cmon shrimpy, you can trust us!"

the way they closed in on you made you feel like a lamb who knew it was going to be sent to slaughter. you could feel your nerves getting worse and worse but still managed to mutter something in reply.

"trust you to tell your employer, sure."

they both smirked at your response, but jade was the first to speak.

"you two may have gotten off on the wrong foot, but azul can help you." his smile sent shivers down your spine. "in fact, he's been quite desperate to see you in his office again. all he wants is to make amends. come now prefect, i'm sure he'll make you a bargain you'll be unable to refuse." with that he sweeps you off the bench.

his twin grinned, "yeah! besides, he can fix whatever has you feeling this way, shrimpy!"

despite your protests, the two nearly drag you to the mirror hall commenting on how excited azul will be to see you. great sevens, just what have you gotten yourself into?