#✶ — sunnie writes challengers!

[cybersunnie]

18+ / MDNI situationship; angry sex; college!art; f!reader; possibly ooc; art calls reader a slut (wc 975) with ART DONALDSON

Your relationship with Art Donaldson was complicated.

You two teetered between the line of friends and something more. A relationship that consisted of words left unspoken and constant what-ifs. (A dilemma he could never escape).

But the longing to become something more often felt one-sided. Because, for Art, it was always Tashi, tennis, Patrick, and then you. You were his fallback. Someone he went to when he needed a distraction. You just refused to believe you were so far down his list of priorities because how could you be with the way he kissed and touched you? Whispered your name in the dead of night like it was holy? Knew the ins and outs of you like a lover would? 

It was confusing—exhausting, even, having him all over you one day, then uninterested the next. Hot and cold. Cat and mouse. A never-ending cycle you grew comfortable with.

You figured that was how you found yourself bent over a bathroom counter on Saturday night, forced to you look at yourself in the mirror as Art fucked you from behind.

Art didn't want to go to the stupid frat party in the first place. He was only there because he let his tennis friends pressure him into going. And, as he expected, it was like every other party he attended at Stanford. Mundane. A pretty girl here and a pretty girl there to pay a compliment to. But most of the time, he kept to himself, hugging the walls to avoid being swept up into the rowdy crowd.

That was until he saw you.

You were as gorgeous as ever. All dolled up and wearing a mini skirt that left little to the imagination. Smiling and swaying your hips to the music like you didn't have a care in the world. Except you were dancing with another man. Your back flushed with his chest, his arm wrapped around your waist as his other hand drifted down to your thigh, holding you close. Too close. And, like you had been aware of his presence this entire time, your eyes locked with Art's, and he witnessed your sweet smile form into a smirk. 

Blood pumped through his veins, his stomach churned, and an unbearing heat encompassed him. 

He knew he had no right to be angry. You weren't his. Not officially, anyway. But that didn't stop him from seeing red. That didn't stop the green-eyed monster from consuming every rational thought in his mind.

And now, Art had you all to himself in a bathroom upstairs. 

The loud chattering and booming music from below did wonders to drown out your whimpers and cries. Art had your panties around your ankles and skirt flipped up over your ass, one hand on your hip and the other on your jaw as he fucked his cock into your tight cunt. 

"Is this what you wanted?" he rasped, his voice wrecked, almost unrecognizable. "Dancing with that guy, knowing it'd make me jealous—is this what you fucking wanted?"

While you intended to make him jealous, this wasn't what you expected him to do.

You just wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine, to let him know how it felt to be on the back burner. Art usually wasn't quick to anger. Unlike Patrick, he would try to refrain from giving in to his impulses. But you must've caught him on a bad day. You weren't complaining, though.

When you didn't respond, his grip tightened along your jaw, your cheeks smushed between his fingers. "Tell me."

You stared at his reflection in the mirror, the mess of blond curls and flushed cheeks, an all too familiar sight for you. "Fuck you."

The anger in his eyes disappeared for a split second. He almost looked hurt. "Why're you acting like this, huh?" Art asked softly, words tumbling from his mouth with urgency. He pulled you closer, his breath hot against your ear. You shuddered. "Acting like you're not my girl."

"Because I'm not."

"You are."

You cursed under your breath, trying and failing to keep your composure. "We're not—shit, together, remember?" 

Art scoffed, the irritation he felt earlier flooding back. "So you just let anyone fuck you like you're some slut?" He let go of your jaw to wrap his hand around your throat, relishing the subtle whimper that slipped past your lips. You shook your head. "Yeah, didn't think so. You only let me fuck this pretty pussy when I want, wherever I want, right?"

You braced yourself against the mirror, the glass cool on your forearms, your legs shaking as you struggled to keep yourself up. He hissed, "Say it."

Dumbly, you asked, "What?"

"Say that you're my girl."

Lost in the pleasure, you nodded without a second thought. In this moment, it was the truth. "I'm your girl."

"That's right. All mine." You heard the smile in his voice. "Fuck, wanna cum in your mouth—y'gonna let me, hm? Gonna let me fuck your throat?"

You realized a long time ago that you would let him do anything.

And then you found yourself on your knees, staring up at him with watery eyes like he was some sort of god, trying not to gag as he came down your throat. Soon after, Art helped you off the ground, your legs quivering, the taste of him fresh on your tongue. You heard his whispered praises from below while he pulled up your panties and felt the soft kisses he left on your thighs.

Once he stood up, fixing your skirt, you couldn't help but ask, "Do you actually like me?"

He stilled, and you didn't miss how he clenched his jaw. Instead of answering with words, Art leaned in and kissed you. That told you all you needed to know.

Of course, Art liked you. He just didn't like you enough.

author's note: i hate this but its been sitting in my drafts for too long 😭 and by too long, i mean since june (oops!)

LAST EDITED — 09.15.2024

[six-eyed-samurai]

trainers sunny and ying challenge you to a battle !

OMG OMG OMG DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW LONG I SAT THERE GAPING STUNNED LIKE

IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL I LITERALLY EXPLODED I'M GOING TO BE RANDOMLY SMILING AND GIGGLING WHILE KICKING MY FEET AT SCHOOL NOW BECAUSE I'LL SUDDENLY THINK OF IT I'M SO PROUD OF IT I'M SO HAPPY YOU DREW THIS I LOVE IT SO MUCH ONTO MY SCRAPBOOK, CORKBOARD, LOCKER AND SCHOOL DESK IT WILL ABSOLUTELY GO YOU BET YOUR ASS I'M SHOWING IT OFF SO PROUDLY

Sedate me I'm cackling so hard-

[ilovelickingrocks]

something to be said about the deeply dysfunctional and abusive but also tightly bound relationships and dynamics in it's always sunny in philadelphia. "shut up, charlie, i can talk to my son any way i want" says it all. frank traumatized both dennis and dee for their entire childhoods and then they end up stuck with him as a permanent fixture of their friend group when they're almost 30 and he stays with them for twenty years, and in that time he grows, he changes as a person, he becomes a surrogate father figure to charlie and mac, but at the same time, he becomes even more of a demented, morally corrupt person. he continues to mentally scar dennis and dee, showing them their dead mother's skeleton for the hell of it, but at the same time, he is part of their group. he's part of the gang. even when he stops being their dad, he's frank.

[chaitantei-ao3]

3

Dennis slams the accounts book on the table. “Look here, Frank. If you think we need your goddamn money, think again. The bar’s doing well. Sell you share… leave for all I care. We’ll handle it.”

Frank hops on the stool and leans his head forward, “Son, do you have any idea how to run a business?”

Dennis feels a tremor run down his back. “Oh yeah, I learnt from the best.” Then he shuts down that image and points the book at Frank, “Look here. I don’t see what the problem is. We’re making cash.”

“Barely.” Frank says, “I’m burning a crazy amount of cash to get that trickle you have there. And that’s when half the accounts aren’t cooked.”

“I told you not to cook the books, Frank! Let us see how it goes. Maybe we could get a loan or something.”

“A loan?” Frank snorts, “There’s no way you can milk a cow when it’s nothing but bones. This bar has bled cash and has only made losses from the day it’s started.”

“Look, Frank.” Dennis says, putting down the beer mug on the counter and lifts his hands. “It’ll work out alright. These things… they just take a bit of time. Now we might currently be in a loss making position but we can see that thanks to the fact that someone smart and clever enough among these idiots made sure you didn’t inflate the books.” Frank rolls his eyes, “Now that we can assess what the actual problem is. The solution is in sight!

That’s right. There is no need to worry as long as I’m here-” Dennis says, raising his voice glancing at Mac who stood, back turned, by the jukebox, stretching out his arms and examining the wall, tilting his head from one side to the other. “ I am going to fix it. Every problem. Big or small. We have survived till now because of me but now… now the time’s come for Paddy’s to thrive, baby. No long running business is an overnight success. So get off our backs.”

“All my businesses were overnight successes.” Frank puffs out his chest.

“They were also scams.”

“Scams?” Frank removes his glasses and wipes them with the corner of his shirt, “The shit you think happens. Every business runs on the simple principle of needs. People-” Frank slaps one hand, “Have needs, you have needs. They need things, you need things. You just gotta make sure that you don’t give up more than what they give you . That’s it. It’s all about who ends up standing last. Just like my days in the ring.”

“Frank for the last time, you were never in a ring. There were no days in the ring.”

“What are you talking about? ’11 Just a week before I came to check on you both, I had my last fight. Made the other guy bleed.”

“You came here years before that.”

Frank scratches his head, “I didn’t come here in 2011?”

“No.”

Frank’s forehead creases, he looks around and lets out a long whistle that slowly dies on his lips. Taking a slip out of his pocket he draws a long red line across it, crumples it and throws it on the ground. “And my money’s still in this thing?”

“What?” Dennis looks at him, “What the hell was that? What did you do?”

“Writing it off my investments. I won’t get anything selling these shares.”

“Excuse me?”

“Even the law writes off debts after a 10 year period, Dennis. Who are you kidding with this now?”

“Hold on. We…” Dennis grips the edges of the counter, “We are on the cusp of a grand success, Frank. Success that would line your pockets in gold if you wanted it to, success that -”

“Gotta take this” Frank says, picking up his phone. “Hey, Artemis. Check your pantry, did I drop a page- yes I meant pantry . See if there’s a list on-”

“You- Hold on! Wait right there Frank. We will soon reach the peak of greatness mankind has never seen before. Prepare yourself to witness splendor in such astronomical proportions, that even celestial bodies would pale in its shadows, the-” The bell chimes and Dennis sees Frank leave.

Read more

[lilac-udon]

Cringe au note for basil , wow I finally refining him

Trying to write mythical au basil, making more og basil alike, more depending on a toxic level. In my old drafts of maid Basil seems/felt more free and independent because he came out of that state (after realizing, the drafts of the jumping cliff incident) so became manageable to be more focused on stuff, having a very unstable goal to blindly following, but still heavily hallucinating just more manageable. This is also why he is always smiley, it is a state of detachment from reality. Prior to that he first becomes someone having difficulty living alone, any connection, or touch to him becomes obsession, and any form of interaction becomes “love(something)” in his eyes. And having sunny in his life reverses himself back to this unstable self. Personally see it more like a painful healing but both him and Sunny are very clueless of normal humans' kindness and normalcy. How they appreciate each other in action becomes very violent.

more easily to describe, Basil blocked/ lost self and senses I guess, he is scared of Sunny being different, someone the same as him that’s not the norm who won’t perish. This connection he never felt before in his hundreds of life driving him crazy, the funny of you don’t have anything but you also can’t have it

schizophrenia of continuous hallucinations and hearing voices, years of torture to the point he cannot live without it, it easier for others to tell (force)him what to do. That must be “love”, the only thing that is pleasurable in life, however, they never lasted. I am their _ _ _, love , hate, jealousy, kindness, obsession, anything, please look at me, please stay with me, please don’t let me alone

add, maid basil is not servicing towards sunny, and sunny rarely dominates towards basil. Basil acts randomly but he does not serve him, the man looks more like going to kill Sunny and himself if serious. Sunny shows aggression when hungry, rage, and low sanity. They act equally towards each other, and do things mostly independently, with no bluntowner, servant dynamics because of the outfit. ( was told by ppl they imagine it is like a very servant-owner type dynamic or something like that I’m shocked

[sunshiline-writes]

She had never seen so many flowers.

(For five-sentence fic prompts!)

The town burned behind her. Making her eyes water with smoke. She walked away from the scene behind her. Taking a deep breath of fresh air once she was far enough away. Isobele kept walking, kept walking until she was over a hill and the sight over the hill took her breath away again. She had never seen so many flowers. Isobele wondered if they were as many as the lives she had taken. Falling to her knees, she then turned and laid on her back in them. The flowers she had never seen. Will probably never see again. She surrounded herself in them. Even if it was just for a second.

[thychesters]

for @bluewonderer’s #7days7sentences challenge! today’s prompt was song ft. franky and luffy. | day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6

Among the personal belongings Franky brings with him—of all the nuts and bolts, gaudy button up shirts that smell of pitch and tar—there is an old guitar. It’s battered and worn, something well loved, if not simply well used, half out of tune half of the time and clearly been refurbished once, twice, or a dozen times. For a while it sits amongst the rest of he things, surrounded by bits and pieces of projects yet to be aside from a glimmer in his mind’s eye, and for a while he pays it little mind.

But then the captain comes clambering after him after dinner one night, belly full and hunger sated, and his cheek presses against the smooth expanse of the railing where Franky has busied himself with watching the stars slowly peek out as the sky bleeds from blues to purples.

Luffy mumbles something and Franky inclines his head with a raised eyebrow, to which Luffy clears his throat and asks around a burp: “Can you play a song—on your guitar?”

For a moment he stares, and then he laughs, big and loud, and his fingers twitch, full of synthetic nerves and the memories of Kokoro telling him to raise the neck a little higher and Iceburg telling him to stop messing up the chords.

“Only if you’re cool with the two I can remember off the top of my head, Captain,” he says, and in Luffy’s laugh he can hear the resonance of Tom’s.

[wronghandcomic]

Here’s a color wheel for the characters from my comic Wrong Hand! I’m really happy with this.

[southfarthing]

if i write a fic that's like. a fake horrible histories episode set in middle earth would you guys read it

[villainsidestep]

fawniel thoughts hour….

[ampheenix]

Sunflower Week 2023, Day 3- Movie Night!

“Wait, what?!”

The chair screeched loudly as it was pushed back, Hero standing up as he gaped at Sunny, who was  blinking at him from the other side of the table. “You two haven’t been on a single date?!”

Sunny slowly reached out and grabbed a slice of pizza, chewing thoughtfully.

After a moment he shook his head, and Hero’s eyes widened even more, practically bulging out of his skull. He grabbed his head with his hands, practically tearing out his hair as he whisper-yelled across the table.

“HOW?!”

Sunny shrugged, feeling unsure all of a sudden.

…It wasn’t that big of a deal, right…?

“But- but you two have been going out for months now!” Hero said in shock, slowly falling back onto the chair. “I- I mean, you have been, haven’t you?”

Sunny nodded.

“But- then… then, how- how..” Hero gestured helplessly, and Sunny shrugged again as he bit into his pizza, grimacing slightly as his fingers got all greasy.

Hero let out a heavy sigh as he leaned against the back of his seat, nabbing a piece of margherita from the plate. “Well then, there’s only one thing for it.”

Sunny simply raised an eyebrow in response, and Hero grinned.

“You need to plan a date, of course!”

- - -

Basil froze, damn near dropping the phone where he stood as a flush steadily rose on his cheeks. Was he dreaming?

He had to be dreaming, or- or mishearing somehow, there was no way...

“…Basil?” Sunny’s voice said softly down the phone, a bit scratchy from disuse.

“S-sorry, I’m here!” Basil said nervously, pressing it back against his ear as his mind raced. There- there were so many things that could go wrong!!

What if Sunny realised how horrible of a person he was and didn’t want to be with him anymore?? Would it be different from when they normally spent time together??

Would it be… He swallowed.

…Awkward?

“Are you f-free… um, Sunday?” Sunny’s voice said hesitantly, and Basil’s heart swelled, a small smile appearing on his face. Then again, it was Sunny, so it’d be fine no matter what, right?

“U-um…” He thought for a moment. “Yeah, I- I think so! Is it.. is alright if I just check with Polly quickly?” Basil said, smile widening.

He couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

“Okay.” Sunny’s voice murmured softly. “Sh… should I wait here?”

“U-um, yeah! Sure!!” Basil said quickly, before he put down the phone and sprinted out of the room, skidding into the kitchen where Polly stood, looking confused as she peered down at a recipe.

“Hmm…” Her brow scrunched up as she squinted, looking from the recipe book to the bubbling pot and back again. “This is not what the recipe says it should look like…”

“P-POLLY!!” Basil yelped, and that got her attention. He hardly ever raised his voice, after all.

“Basil? What’s the matter? Is something wrong??” Polly said worriedly, instantly looking up from her book and scanning him up and down for any injuries.

She sighed with relief as she found none, thank goodness. Her nerves still hadn’t recovered from that horrible scare a year or so ago…

“Polly.” Basil said, voice shaking, and she instantly looked up with concern only to see a huge, warm smile spreading across his face.

He reached up to fidget with the flower in his hair, the silly smile still on his face, before mumbling something.

Polly smiled, sensing good news already. “Sorry, what was that?”

“S- sunny asked me on a date.” Basil said softly, voice trembling from sheer excitement as his smile grew even wider.

Polly’s eyes widened, and her face split in a matching grin.

“Oh my! Basil, really?” She laughed, ruffling his hair and feeling her heart swell as he leaned into the touch slightly. This time last year, he would flinch back from gentle touches before she could even get close. “That’s just lovely, oh, Sunny’s such a sweet boy! When’s the date?”

“Next Sunday!” Basil said happily, before his smile slipped off his face, brow creasing in worry. “Oh no… what am I going to wear?! I-I mean, I don’t even know what type of date it is…”

Polly smiled devilishly. “Oh, don’t worry about that… Let’s just say I have a few ideas I’ve been storing up…”

- - -

Basil knocked on the door of the Suzuki household, an excited grin on his face. He bounced on his heels to try and get rid of the nervous energy that was stirring up his insides.

The door opened almost instantly. Sunny stood in the doorway, his eyes widening as they landed on the flower adorning Basil’s hair:

A creamy-white tulip, fresh from the garden.

Basil’s small smile grew as he noticed the blush slowly growing on Sunny’s cheeks… Polly was always full of such good ideas!

“Hi Sunny!” He said happily, but soon he was the one turning scarlet as Sunny took his hand, leading him inside. It felt… a bit different from normal, for some reason.

He felt a bit nervous, butterflies roiling in his stomach, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad different… it’d just take some time to get used to.

They settled themselves on the couch in front of the TV with plenty of blankets and a plate of choc-chip cookies, courtesy of Hero.

And with no further ado they pressed play, snuggled up on Sunny’s ridiculously comfy couch (after they cancelled the move they ended up buying a new sofa, as the old one had been all old and moth-eaten anyway, and it still had that delicious, leathery new couch smell to it.)

About half-way through Basil felt a small weight on his shoulder, and glanced over in confusion to see-

Oh. Oh.

Basil’s face slowly heated up as he realised Sunny’s head was resting on his shoulder… but this wasn’t right, what if Sunny wouldn’t want this if he was awake??

Basil subtly moved over slightly, hoping he wouldn’t be disturbed (the other’s sleeping face was adorable).

…But his plan backfired when Sunny ended up just slipping down further, until his head was resting on his chest. Sunny let out a small sigh as he seemed to unconsciously nuzzle into him, murmuring something softly as he slept.

Basil was a full-blown tomato at this point, not moving a muscle lest Sunny wake up.

Silently, he lifted a hand up from under the blanket, wondering if… if it was okay, if…

Carefully, Basil rested it on the other’s inky-black hair, a small smile spreading across his face as he gazed down at the Sunny’s rosy face, wholly relaxed in sleep. Basil slowly stroked the other’s hair as he continued watching the movie, a giddy grin on his face (it felt a bit creepy to just stare at Sunny’s face like that, heh.)

A small smile rested on Sunny’s face as he nuzzled further into Basil, melting into the gentle touch… it reminded him of when Mari used to play with his hair, half-asleep on the picnic blanket as the sun set…

It was warm. And safe.

…He liked it very much.

(And Hero’s suggestion to get Basil to cuddle with him had worked as well, surprisingly…)

Hope you enjoyed :))

[cybersunnie]

18+ / MDNI cock warming; f!reader (wc 992) with PATRICK ZWEIG

There was a story about the tortoise and the hare, and Patrick Zweig was the hare. 

Slow and steady wasn't exactly his style. 

He was quick and impulsive. Careless and arrogant. Annoyingly—or admirably?—persistent like the suffocating heat on a hot summer day. If you spared one glance at Patrick, you'd think he was nothing but smug. And he was well aware of all of this, too. He just never cared much about what other people thought of him, to begin with. 

But Patrick loved a challenge, and he sure liked taking his sweet time with you. Or, more accurately, he enjoyed making you squirm.

He'd have his cock stuffed inside your cunt, and tease you with lingering touches and chaste kisses until you caved in and begged him to fuck you. With Patrick, it was all fire and the wrong kind of love. But sometimes, when he felt a little nicer, he just wanted to be close to you, to become one with you, heartbeats linked and breathing the same breath.

And with how poorly he had been doing in his last few matches, he needed that semblance of human connection he had lost years ago.

The night was young, but Patrick was eager to have you. His hungry kisses left your lips raw, and his mouth traveled south and started to nip at your jaw, his nose digging into your cheek. Everything he did was to distract you. Distract you from the burning sensation you felt as his cock stretched you out.

"There you go, atta girl."

Patrick kept a firm grip on your hips, his thumbs caressing the skin there to soothe your nerves. You always got so flustered whenever you tried to take him. And that was because you felt all of him. The tuft of hair on his pubic bone, the veins on his cock. You'd whine, tell him that it was too much, that he was too big, as if your pussy wasn't made for him.

He liked it, though.

Because in the end, you looked so pretty, sitting on his fat cock. 

You heard him groan, low and guttural, and his large hands snaked up to your ribs, stopping just beneath your breasts. His touch was electrifying—everything about him was—and it sent a slight buzz through your body. And the sight of him alone wasn't helping. Patrick's wild hair and deep green eyes and that fucking smirk he never went without. But as much as you wanted to move, you couldn't. He wouldn't allow it. Not yet.

"Fuck, look at you." Patrick slid a hand further up to cup your breast, and you wondered if he could feel your pounding heart. "I could stare at you for hours."

You raised a brow. "I hope that's not the only thing you'll be doing."

"No, no," he said softly, his gaze darting over your face while he let his other hand wander, fingers tracing up your arm and leaving goosebumps in its wake. "But it's tempting."

Patrick watched you roll your eyes, and he chuckled, grasping your hips once again and squeezing. He wished he could just keep his cock inside you all night, your cunt keeping it warm and wet and snug. But you were always too fussy to stay still for long. He supposed that was his fault—he did like spoiling you, after all.

"I have an idea."

Ideas and Patrick Zweig didn't mix well. You learned that early on when you first met him. And as you looked into his eyes, seeing the playful mischief within, you knew you were in for a treat whether you liked it or not. 

He took your silence as an invitation to continue, so he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear and voice velvety, "We should do this in front of a mirror next time." 

Or maybe ideas and Patrick Zweig did mix well.

Your mind started to reel, imagination running wild. But Patrick painted the picture for you like it was something he had been thinking about for a while. 

"You'd have no choice but to look at yourself—to look at just how fucking pretty you are when you're like this," Patrick whispered, his voice beginning to get lost in the heat and longing. "I'd keep your legs spread nice and wide so that you can see how my dick looks stuffed inside your sweet pussy." You squirmed, but his grip tightened around your hips. A silent warning to stay still. "Maybe you'd finally understand why I do this to you every time."

He pulled away from your ear, a hand leaving your hip to caress your cheek, his touch soft despite his calloused palm. All you could do was stare at him with a tight chest. "I care about you, you know," he laughed as if to hide the sincerity behind his words. "I'm not just trying to get a quick fuck. I wanna take my time, stay close to you longer." 

For once, his name tasted sweet on your tongue. "Patrick."

It was a prayer disguised as a whisper, a plea for his words to be true. And he hummed, his lips brushing yours as he uttered your name back. If this was the wrong kind of love, why did it feel so right? Why did he feel so right?

You tried to swallow down your pride. "Please."

"Please, what?" Patrick asked, but he knew what you wanted. He was connected to you. Your thoughts were his, too. "C'mon, use your words, baby."

But you couldn't bring yourself to say more, to accept defeat. You pulled your lips taut.

"No? Nothing?" He tilted his head, and his signature smirk was back. "Well, let me know when you figure it out."

And while Patrick was much like the hare, he knew he needed to take it slow and steady when it came to you. You would surrender to him sooner or later. You always did.

author's note: i have very mixed feelings abt this 😄 ANYWHO i will gladly give patrick everything he needs which is a shower and a bed

UNEDITED — 05.14.2024

[fandomscraziness22]

I’ve published 4 fics in the last two weeks!

I didn’t really mean to do that lol but it’s just kinda how it happened! so let’s recap for any of yall that might have missed some!

The Bright Sessions

come meet me at the end of the (cereal) aisle by me and @molinapattersons​

“Let me guess. You want your weird, gluten-free, old people cereal.”

There’s a brief moment of silence on the other end of the phone line; Caleb’s boyfriend sighs half-heartedly and lets out an exasperated laugh.

His heart pulses at the sound. They’ve been dating for over a year at this point, and every single time he makes Adam laugh, it still sends a jolt of electricity ringing through his body.

“It isn’t just for old people, Caleb,” Adam insists. “It’s healthy – if you keep eating all that sugary crap, maybe you won’t get old enough to even eat Raisin Bran.” 

~ or: Caleb goes grocery shopping and is not happy with Adam's cereal choice.

colour me in

“You can sing?” The words break the spell over the car, pulling his empath boyfriend back to reality with a physical jolt that almost makes Adam wince in sympathy.

“What?” Caleb says articulately. The blush rising on his cheeks is adorable, but Adam refuses to let it get to him.

“I’ve known you for almost two years. We’ve been dating over a year. And you didn’t think to tell me that you can sing?"

Six of Crows

here comes the switch (written for the flash fic challenge with this image prompt!)

The first time Kaz sees a magic trick, he’s nine years old, newly arrived to Ketterdam with Jordie. It fascinates him like nothing else in this dirty city, so different to the emptiness of their family farm in the countryside.

or, how Kaz's view of magic changes in Ketterdam

Badlands Cola

throw me in the deep end

But Sunny wants him to leave them behind. They’re trying to sacrifice themself to stop Jasper and Mel, to give him a fighting chance at taking down the cult for good. And Strathcona is too selfish to let Sunny do it.

“I’m not leaving you in there,” he says firmly, trying to ignore the desperate edge his voice has taken on.

Sunny doesn’t listen. “It doesn’t matter… it doesn’t matter what happens to me.” Their voice is tearful, and Strathcona’s heart aches at the sound. “You know what that thing is capable of. People might get hurt.”

[chaitantei-ao3]

2

Mac chews his lip, “This is… this is part of the Lord’s plan, guys.”

“Jesus Christ.” Dennis mutters under his breath.

“And so we should not worry. The Lord taketh and He giveth. He will take care of us.” Dennis’s face twitches. “It is all the more the reason that now is the time to acknowledge His presence in our bar. Only then He will show us the way.” It’s always this thing with this guy, huh. Dennis ignores the jaded look on Mac’s stupid face as he walks down that path.

“Guys-” Mac starts, “Did you hear what-”

“Pass.”

“Eh.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Oh yeah? You have an answer? How do you think the bar’s run till this date? Huh. Only by God’s blessings-”

“With Frank’s money.” Dennis says.

“Uh huh.” Dee says. “Frank, be a good father for once in your goddamn life and give us your money. Leave if you want to. After.”

“Frank…man, stop joking. You’re joking right.” Charlie says, “You can’t leave, you can’t leave us like this.” Dennis looks at the stubborn part of the stain on the counter and rubs it with the bar towel.

Frank sighs.

“C’mon Frank!” Charlie says, hiccupping. “Frank. Frank! Frank!-” The sheer terror in his voice builds. “What’re we gonna do? Paddy’s going to-” Mac looks at Charlie and joins in. They start shouting their lungs out. Dennis feels his head is about to explode.

“LISTEN UP.” Dennis slams his fist on the table, “First of all. I want you all to breathe. C’mon. Let’s breathe guys. Follow my-” Mac starts pacing in circles, panting loudly, Dee is breathing out and taking in smaller inhales in short bursts, her hands on her hips. Charlie bows his head back and his chest puffs out. “Guys, we can’t fail at breathing now!” he yells. They collapse in a heap. “Good, yes. Breathe.” When they’ve finally settled down, he turns towards Frank.

Franks holds his hands up. “Dennis-”

“I said I don’t give a shit.” Dennis says.

“Frank, will you be leaving our home?” Charlie says.

“Charles, I can’t promise anything. This can get bad. But I will do everything I can.

“Yeah you promise?”

“Yeah. I’d never leave you.”

“Yeah, right.” Dennis mutters under his breath.

“Children.” Frank looks at them.

“Oh my god.” Dee says, “No one cares Frank!”

“I will tell you how it goes.” Frank says.

“Whatever.” Dennis says.

Charlie nods sadly and grabs the bat, dragging it behind him and goes down to the basement sparing a glance back, shoulders hanging loose. Dee shakes her head and exits the bar saying something like club, star, losers, see you never, hollywood. Mac takes out his phone and says, “Is this the nearest church? Father, I was wondering if you sell crucifixes and would you deliver one- wait… this is a service for what?!”

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[xawkward-ariesx]

I'm rereading a fic of mine to contextualise a comment I got it and my god I meant to write 'tooth and nail' but the dw brain rot is so deep that I unironically put 'tooth and claw' kill me

[fic-over-cannon]

help, i’ve been working on a fic and it is fighting me so hard. i’ve written three successive conversations (set in the same day) and i’m already past 2.5k. ordinarily I would be happy to write so much for a single fic already, except i need to move this chapter several months along so i can get to the actual plot development.