#AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE COT

[occudo]

There was only one cot... Commission for @ecogothchild who asked for some much needed TimGerry snuggles 💕 Thank you again for commissioning me!

[pawbeanies]

riding back to camp after abducting the young Lord Princebeanies from his carriage on the high road my group of dog-masked vagabonds joke loudly about how cute he would be passed around with spilled port all down his fancyboy clothes but instead i shout them down as forgetting we need you untouched for the ransom, before walking the prince into my own tent where i give you a warm meal, fresh clothes, and apologize for the inconvenience but the kings taxes have lead us to this, and apologizing fervently when I realize i had forgotten to get an additional cot so the young prince must of course sleep in mine

oh my god anon. putting this in the Pawbeanies Fantasies Catalogue. for future reference

oh noo what a horrid predicament to be in ... swooning dramatically. how horrible to be taken away by a bunch of dog masked ruffians (get it because because because dogs. because d) please expect me to be very HMPH about the entire affair like a very spoiled coddled little prince who is not excited about the prospect of sharing a cot with such a (secretly not so bad) vagabond . at all . not at all . nope not at a

[meyerlansky]

unfortunately i am lowkey obsessed with the conditions in telerghma after the regensburg shuttle mission, which i cannot find a ton of information on yet, and which will inform like 3k of my writing max and shouldn't be plaguing me this heavily

[littlx-songbxrd]

Ok whos going to write the fict where Gideon comforts Gabriel after Christophers death

[no-context-nonsense]

Sometime we cry (ahem… Crimson Rivers), sometimes we laugh until we cry, and sometimes we just want to punch Tommy in the face.

[runawaycarouselhorse]

ねんねんころりよ　おころりよ。

ぼうやはよい子だ　ねんねんしな

[thousand-winters]

""Then probably," he said, "it's not me you need to confess to, but rather the person you did it to."

His voice was solemn. Grace looked at him, at his gentle serious face, and thought, He suspects. I don't know how, and perhaps he only speculates, but—he guesses something very close to the truth."

Christopher is truly way more perceptive than any of the characters previously gave him credit for. And every bit as perceptive as the fandom thought, amazing.

Might be a controversial opinion, but my take here is: The kind one between the Merry Thieves isn't Thomas, it's Christopher. He suspects what Grace did and yet, as she points out, he still keeps her company so she doesn't feel alone.

Christopher, you're wonderful 💖

[mademoisellebianx]

Just thought of the most fucked-up, insane story plot for a pairing I've been shipping since the early 2000s. 🤡🤡🤡

[helenofblackthorns]

10 days until we're all going collectively insane over Chain of Thorns release!!

[digestionmachine]

colorado trail near spring creek pass (highway 149), july 2022

[peerlessscowl]

Going out round one was absolute balls! Linus would have kept going after the guy that had taken him out, but there were rules or something like that, and Linus had been dragged off to the medical tents despite his loud and varied complaints. He just wanted another go! It was going to be a good fight, but nooOooOo! They couldn't "seriously harm anyone participating".

What a load! What was the big fuckin' battle for then, huh?! They weren't exactly going to be skipping out in the daisies like gleeful maidens in springtime!

But, as he gnawed at the end of the wineskin in seething anger -- NOT filled with wine, by the way, what a rip off, no matter how voluptuous that woman was!!! -- Linus recognized a familiar, scowling face several cots down.

Oh yeah, this made everything better.

"Damn, and here I thought I was special," Linus sighed dramatically, unceremoniously plopping himself down on the cot next to Raven, not caring if the other moved his legs in time or not to avoid getting sat on. "'Less you think that lass wants the both of us, huh? But, glad to see I'm not the only one to get knocked out like a fuckin' loser."

We will not speak of how Raven actually had a close match, and Linus literally ate shit and got politely pummeled out of the first round.

Raven had played in their little war-game, and to his surprise, he had lost. It had been close, but had lost all the same. He had not even thought to get his opponent's name, though he was certain he could find the boy later.

Between this experience, and myriad others he'd had since coming here, Raven could feel the weight on his chest shift and churn, ballasted by the grief, the shame, the disappointment in himself. What had he been doing all this time? How could things like this - a skirmish at a military academy, of all places - take him on his back foot?

One of the knights had gone around the medical tent, delivering her condolences or scolds in turn to all who had fallen during the first round, and her words had stuck with him. He gently tipped the carafe holding the juice she had given back -

And abruptly sloshed his face with the contents when Linus plopped himself down on Raven's cot, mindless that Raven had been reclining (and drinking).

Raven shifted, rearing a leg back and giving Linus a weak, irritated kick to the hip as he wiped his face with the back of his forearm. "You would think that you could have gone to any of the dozen empty cots here," he said sourly, gesturing, "but no, I suppose it would have to be this one you decided is yours."

Eyeing the other man sidelong, Raven couldn't help but smirk to see the heavy bandaging along Linus's torso. When Linus commented on his bitterness at being a fucking loser, Raven scoffed. "If that's how you see it, who am I to argue. I see you earned more stripes for your hard work."

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A brown-toned comic of P3RI, the artist's botsona. They lament on how long it's been since they've played Dishonored, start playing it again, and then lie to itself that it'll keep this playthrough casual. The bottom quarter of the image lists the self-imposed challenges they rack up. End ID]

back at it again folks

[sparklyoats]

Need to move my bed soon, not only so its easier for me to crawl out, but also so i can be on my phone as its charging lol

[cospinol]

carefully skirting the issue of nerea in that last post, if he did die as per current canon it was 100% lorien’s fault but again lately i’m feeling like what if he Didn’t… letting him live undoes a huge portion of centre of the sun plot / setup but if i’m kind of overhauling all the anda and lyn stuff Anyways i can’t help but keep being like ok why not then

[shotmrmiller]

sex pollen trope where you're the one affected, having been exposed to some dense gas while on an op that felt like harsh sandpaper across your throat and lungs, and now you're a feverish mess on some ratty cot in a safe house and with only ghost as company, it's miserable, as the saying goes.

hair sticking to your sweaty skin, plastered onto your forehead and neck, every swallow feeling like you've got a mouthful of sand, your fluttering pulse wild and deafening in your ears, and the throbbing ache deep in your core, the blistering heat right below your navel— it'd only been uncomfortable in the beginning, the faint throbbing incredibly familiar, but the more you ignored it, the worse it got.

and now you're here, with arousal sticking your underwear to your pussy, unable to do anything about it because your lieutenant is seated in a corner that lets him have both you and the front door within his line of sight. a quick, discreet rub under your clothes is not an option.

someone put you out of your foggy misery.

"squirmin' like a worm on a 'ook isn't gonna help." his staring doesn't either, yet he does it anyway.

"got to make sure ya aren't dyin' on me." you want to snap that you don't think proof of life is on the darkened stain between your legs, the retort pressed behind clenched teeth but another thick wave of bestial need rolls over you and god, you're about to shove your hand into your underwear, propriety be damned—

"best you don't do tha'." why the fuck not? "you'll only get relief for a moment 'fore it comes back twofold." he says as if he's reading off the morning paper and not watching you fight tooth and nail to not fuck yourself against the pillow your head is on. (soap's offer to be friends with benefits is only looking better by the hour.)

you hastily decide that it'll be better than nothing. you'll just have to rub your pussy raw until this drug runs its course and you're telling him to piss off or don't, but you've had enough. you're stuck here with him anyway, no flight home until the morn and you're not about to spend it writhing around.

"if tha's wha' you want," ghost bites his gloves off, spitting them out onto the ground before curling his hands around your ankles and dragging you toward him. "i will help." your entire world narrows down to the feel of him touching your skin, his fingers searing as they hook into the waistband of your pants, and you almost kick him in the mouth trying to get them off faster.

"but 'm not fuckin' you." the bite of disappointment is quickly forgotten, his breath warm against your slick pussy, and after three quick glides of his tongue over your pearl, your orgasm crests, pulse after pulse of pleasure so potent it stung.

in less than a minute you're burning again, need thrumming through you and with the heady push and drag of his middle finger over your sensitive nerves, curling in you until he can fit two, three—

you're lost.

(ghost telling you that he's not doing anything else because if he's going to fuck you then you're going to remember it falls on ringing ears.)

[augustinewrites]

“sunflowers or peonies?”

“awe, nanami! i’m flattered—”

“they’re not for you,” nanami says flatly. “you can buy your own.”

shoko squints down at the man lying on her exam table, arm held up and behind his head. “i’m quite literally stitching you back together, you know.”

the blond thinks bitterly on what had landed him in her infirmary in the first place, injured and likely having to reschedule dinner tonight. it’s already well past the time he’d planned on picking you up, and the table he’d reserved at the new restaurant in roppongi has likely been given away.

he’s dreading calling to tell you, his heart already twinging at the idea of letting you down.

shoko stitches him up neatly, cleaning and covering it up with a layer of bandages. she offers him a hand to help him sit up, but he bypasses it to plant his palm against the cot, pushing himself up with a groan.

she rolls her eyes, peeling her gloves off and pulling her mask down, tossing them both into the trash. “clean and dress it at least twice a day. no sudden movements of strenuous activity for at least a week. if you ruin my work, i’ll put you on bedrest.”

she digs through her cabinets as he awkwardly pulls his shirt back on. his mind drifts to you as he does so. he’d lost his phone in the fight, so he hadn’t been able to tell you about cancelling.

he wonders if the pout on your lips is painted your lips that shade of red you’d been wearing when he’d first met you. wonders if you’re waiting wearing the dress he’d gifted you last week.

he’d really wanted to see you in that dress.

nanami sighs heavily as he does up the buttons, prompting shoko to glance over her shoulder at him.

“what’s wrong with you?” she asks, setting a small bottle of painkillers on the tray table next to him.

“i’m missing an important dinner,” he grumbles, wondering if just a bundle sunflowers or peonies from the small stall outside is enough. he should order you a proper bouquet from a shop. perhaps he can also book you a massage or—

a knock at the door interrupts his spiralling.

“oh!” shoko suddenly gasps. she reaches up, brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead and fixing it as best she can.

“what are you doing?” he asks, genuinely confused in this moment.

“you’ll see,” she simply grins, sending him a wink. then, “come in!”

the door to the infirmary opens to reveal…you.

“kento,” you breathe, the quiet click of your heels echoing through the empty room as you quickly walk towards him.

he’s shocked, but lets you carefully wrap your arms around him, cradling his head against your chest.

but before he knows it he’s holding onto you too, breathing in the deep, sweet scent of your perfume and focusing on the steady beat of your heart.

“what are you doing here?” he asks once you finally release him, taking your hands in his.

“shoko called me,” you tell him. “apparently…apparently i’m your emergency contact.”

his face is suddenly hot with embarrassment. he’d honestly forgotten about that. he hadn’t even realized he’d done it when yaga had asked him to update his information with the school. your name had been the first and only name to pop into his mind.

“sorry,” he apologizes quickly, dropping your hands. he jumped the gun, didn’t he? you’ve only been dating for six months… “i should have asked you first but—”

but no one knows me better than you.

a soft sigh slips from your lips as you sit next to him, with a gaze so reverent that it strips him to the bone. “i love you, kento. i will be your emergency contact as long as you want me to be.”

he whispers the words back to you, suddenly shy.

sometimes nanami lets himself slip a little too far into his own head, overthinking and a little insecure. but you’re always there, ready to coax him back into the light.

“you look beautiful,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. he’s seen you in a lot of dresses, each one making him weak in the knees. but this dress…this one makes it a little hard for him to breathe.

“well, you still owe me a date,” you tell him, helping him up off the cot. “we could go to the ramen place across from my apartment.”

he wraps an arm around your shoulders, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers with his. “i’d go anywhere with you.”