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jesswritesthat · 10 months ago

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Miya Atsumu: Daughters

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~900, fluff

• Atsumu ponders a question he recently got asked in an interview and drags the whole of MSBY into it.

Warnings: None

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"Who would you let your daughter date out of the team?"

It was a question he'd been asked at an interview recently, one he'd skilfully dodged and redirected to his love life with his clever response of 'Well I gotta find the love of ma life before thinkin' 'bout that~’.

Now he had a spare moment, gifted to him by the sheer curiosity of his teammates, he actually gave it some thought.

Bokuto and Hinata stood eagerly beside one another, practically bouncing on the heels of their feet once the faux blondes' analytic gaze landed on them.

"Well definitely not yous' two, that's for sure."

"Omi! I'd let you date my daughter." The pair hadn't a moment to deflate when the blonde instantaneously snapped to Kiyoomi who was as sharp as ever with his response.

"And risk being related to you through marriage? No thank you Miya."

"Oi, ya can't talk to yer father-in-law like that Sakusa Kiyoomi!"

Hinata hummed aloud in thought, surveying the MSBY Jackals before landing on a welcome option.

"What about (L/n)?"

You'd strolled up at this point, wanting to see what all the fuss was about when you heard your name. Atsumu meeting your surprised gaze with an analytic one of his own.

"Hm?"

"Seeing if 'Tsum Tsum would let his daughter date you." A quiet sound of understanding left your lips as response to Bokutos' disclosure, once more darting back to the uncharacteristically silent Setter.

"Ah mean..." Atsumu blanched, fingers darting to the back of his neck as the panic set in. "I would want 'em to but wouldn't like 'em to."

Not only yourself, but Bokuto and Hinata stared at him perplexed, brows raised in curiosity meanwhile Sakusa shook his head with a resigned sigh.

"Wait, what's the age difference? Is (Y/n) still my age or my daughter's age - 'cause that's a whole other story."

"Daughter's age I guess?" Shoyo shrugged, looking to Bokuto for assurance.

"Then what's the age difference between me an' (Y/n)?" Atsumu asked again, mentally calculating in his head before Bokuto jumped in.

"Why so many questions? You never gave anyone else this much thought."

Silence. Likely concocting a lie.

"Yes I did!"

You were certain the team had mentally flashed back to the instant "Not you." they'd received and focused on the severe lack of questions he'd asked regarding them.

"No you didn't."

"Nope, literally was right here when you said it."

You thought he would've come up with a better lie.

"Then— then it's because (Y/n) isn't a teammate."

"Woah! HOW DARE YOU 'TSUM 'TSUM!" Kōtarō clutched you immediately, pointing an accusing finger at his setter. "(Y/n) is apart of the team, just because they don't play on court doesn't make them less important!"

"That's not what I—"

"For the record, I'd treat your daughter amazingly Atsumu! I'd bring her flowers, make her smile, and care for her when she's sick by making dinner. Oh! We could cook together too - maybe she'd like to visit new cities and restaurants with me." You gleamed momentarily, the way he'd crossed his arms and looked away from you with a pout amusing you slightly.

"No not happening, yer a terrible match for ma daughter and I won't allow it."

"Guess it's Sakusa who wins the date." You casually shrugged, Kiyoomi grimacing at the thought.

"I didn't want it in the first place."

"Omi Omi don't be so rude!"

You rolled your eyes as they all went to begin practice with varying farewells, yourself returning to your own role with nothing more than a playful smile.

———

It wasn’t until practice was over did you realise you hadn’t quite escaped their shenanigans for the day regardless of your speedy exit. Atsumu cornering you whilst you collected your belongings.

"Yer in a hurry, ya got plans?"

"Actually I'm eating at home tonight."

"Oh was ma daughter unavailable fer ya to take out to dinner?" It was said pettily, a childish tone in play that only caused you to shoot a snarky remark to the MSBY setter.

"Atsumu, are you jealous of your non-existent daughter?"

There was a moment of pause where he shot you an expression of pure offence that soon morphed into an intense stare off - him breaking far quicker than you'd thought.

"She gets to do all this cool stuff with ya and yer haven't even met! We don't do any of that and I've know ya fer ages!"

"Atsumu... all you gotta do is ask y'know? We can hang out when we’re both free."

“No that’s not what I mean! I don't want my daughter dating you because I wanna date you!" Your eyes widened at the proclamation, so that was why he was acting so weird about this whole thing.

“Date me? Atsumu are you feeling alright?”

You only received a groan mixed with defeat and aggravation, the man carefully linking arms with you and once again bring you to his teammates.

"I've changed my mind on (Y/n). It's all worked out." Though sceptical at Atsumus’ apparent newfound confidence in the previous matter, Hinata was the one to hesitantly question his setter.

"So... you'd let your daughter date (Y/n)?"

"Hell no! My daughter can't date her parent, that's just wrong."

"Atsumu!" Immediately you pushed his proud frame with a shocked and frustrated yelp, the team practically howling at the idiocy you’d both displayed.

"What? We're gonna—"

"Shut up Miya! You're going to say something I'll want to slap you for."

Of course they’d worked out he liked you from earlier, but the last thing they expected was this open chaos - you certainly weren’t going to date him anytime soon now.

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#miya atsumu #miya atsumu oneshot #miya atsumu imagines #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #anime x reader #anime imagine #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu oneshot

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streetchicken · 25 days ago

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It's 3 am, it's hot, I can't sleep-

So have some domestic NikPrice inspired by a version of Stroganoff my family makes :)

No beta, we go down like my math grades

Tw: Suggestive, badly written and very indulgent vwv

"Beef liver?"

Price pulls his nose up in barely contained disgust at the little paper wrapped package haphazardly tossed onto the kitchen island. A slab of unassuming dark meat that had Price's hackles raised. "Nik, I love you t'bits, but d'you have to feed me dog food?"

It looked positively slimy and alive. So much so that the Brit could barely hold back from poking it.

"Leave the meat, Малыш. You'll ruin it." Nik swoops in, ever the knight in shining armour, and snatches the liver from Price's mitts.

"Nik, it's liver, not a baby." Price sighs in return, now leaning his hip against the counter seeing as his partner had taken his only source of entertainment. "'t's not like i'can die."

The pout Price recieves from the Russian in return is childish. He just out his lower lip, scrunches his eyebrows and cradles the organ slab gently. "Don't say that, Малыш. Liver is good, you would not hurt liver's feelings."

Price produces an indignant snorting laugh that he has to clumsily hide with a cough. His hand flies to hide his lips as he turns his eyes away from the now beaming Russian.

Nik on the other hand? He can't be more pleased that he got the captain to laugh like that. He looks like a dog with a bone while he sets the liver aside.

"Ah, you laugh. I win." He proudly declares, picking up an onion to start peeling.

"Ya didn' win squat." Price tries to counter while he reaches for the peeler and a potato. Nik allows him to help.

"I won a laugh."

"Wot has that got ta do wit' winnin'?"

"Your laugh, Малыш."

Well Price had nothing to say against that. He's much too flustered now, flushed from the chops to his ears. "Touché."

Nik huffs a breath at the little victory, adjusting the halved onion on the cutting board and dicing it.

It's days like these that keep Nik sober. Without them, and Price, he swears he'd be condemned to the bottle by now. Drinking away whatever demons stalked his bedroom shadows. To think there had been a time when he lacked the gentle quiet. When he'd lived off blood, gunpowder and caffeine. When he only ever slowed down to enjoy some foreign meal or company. To think he was content to settle for it.

Nik takes a deep breath, focusing on the rhythmic tap of tbe blade against the chopping board. To his left, Price's breathing and the sound of potatoes being peeled, to his right, a well loved Bluetooth speaker mulling the tunes of some 80s song Price had insisted on.

The onions are swooped into the pot with some oil and garlic. "This stew is from my childhood."

"O'yeah?"

"Da. One of the few happy memories I was allowed."

Price's tongue sits thickly against the roof of his mouth at Nikolai's confession. Blue eyes settle on the russian's back. The white cotton seems so innocently bright in the soft canter of afternoon sunlight.

"D'you...miss 'em?" Price asks. His words are soft, delicate, almost swallowed by a tune in the music. "Th'good days, I mean."

"Nyet." Nik answers truthfully. "They were...still cold."

Another beat. The silence is thick. Price looks down at the half peeled potato in his hands instead of his partner's back. Finally he decides to continue.

"Fokin' 'ell, Nik. Not in front of th' liver." Price groans, peeling the last bits of skin from the potato.

The notion earns his a barely there snort from Nik, but an amused sound nonetheless. Nik turns, plucks up the potato and leaves Price with a peck against his temple and a soft smile.

Price smiles himself, watching Nikolai work on the stew. He admires how focused Nik is on feeding him, it's a lovely change of pace from field rations and the bland slop they usually get on base. Price might be feeling a little spoilt.

"Onions, aromatics, vegetables, meat, broth. Da, that should be all for now." Nik mutters to himself and turns to face his partner and offers a hand. He bends down a little with one of his mischievously charming smiles that highlight the crinkle around his eyes. "Which gives us some time."

"Flirt." Price rumbles in return, feeling heat on his cheeks as his hand slips into Nikolai's.

Price is pulled up against a firm chest, his hand finding Nik's shoulder while the latter's free hand settles warmly against the small of his back. God Price could barely keep a shiver down.

Nik pulls him into a little sway and jig. Despite his bulk and the small space of the flat's kitchen, Nikolai still manages to maneuver them to the beat of Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the dark".

They bounce to the beat, Price mouthing the words as they go along. Nik shifts them away from the stove as they mingle in the light of the waning afternoon sun. They nearly trip over the striped rug tossed between the stove and the sink.

Price follows along. Nik's a better dancer than him anyway, he'd glad to let his partner lead as Price swears he has two left feet no matter the song era. "Y're good a'this!"

"Da, had some practice. Lots of fun clubs in Berlin." Nik muses. His fingers toy with the hem of Price's t-shirt where they've settled at the bottom of the Brit's spine. "Though, not the only thing those clubs taught me."

"Cheeky git-" Price snorts.

Price rolls his eyes and sets a foot between Nik's own and pushes. He maneuvers the man till his back settles against a countertop and Price could worm his hands to plant on said counter top on either side of Nik's waist. "Don't s'ppose ya could back those claims, Sergeant?"

Nik's breath hitches at his old rank. He's left those days behind him when he denounced his position in the Soviet army, but to hear it come from the man he reapects so much?

"I make arrangements, da." He swallows hard, throat suddenly dry. Nik is suddenly hyper-aware of that muscular thigh pressed between his legs.

"Ah, now would ya look at that." Price muses. "Haven't seen ya that red since that night in the Black Hawk."

"Can't blame a man, can you? Not when he's at his Captain's mercy." God the flirting wouldn't work now, Nik's already lost the upper hand. He braces his hands on Price's forearms, desperate to feel the flex of muscle under skin.

"Is that so?" Price coos, his voice dropping to that low gravel that has Nikolai dizzy. His baby blues flick appreciatively over the man's neck.

Unable to resist, lips press firmly to the hollow of Nik's neck. Soft, demanding, they trail little embers up to the pulse. Nick swallows, he can feel his heart gallop in his chest and stick in his throat.

"You seem a tad nervous, luv." Price taunts. His hands slip from the counter to find the curve of Nikolai's hips. His thigh presses forwards and up.

"Nyet, not nervous." Nik gasps. The square if gis shoulders falter with the full body shiver. Price's lips are impossibly warm as they find the edge of Nik's jaw. It has him closing his eyes to stop the world, Price, from spinning. Jus'...I...John."

"Yeah?" Price muses, smiling where he's inches from Nik's face.

Fuck, Nik can feel it. Feel him. Smell him. Him and his Yardley English Blazer cologne. "Малыш- need. I need- John, please-"

Oh Price likes when Nik asks so softly.

Lips meet lips in a soft embrace. Almost like the casual atmosphere has the kiss lazy and easy. They barely notice the first cords of "Careless Whisper" strum over the speaker. But it isn't long before Nik's hands find the front of Price's shirt hem. Or until Price had his fingers securely tucked into the curls at Nikolai's nape.

The leverage lets Price press Nik fowards. He forces a soft sound between Nik's lips. The heat of his tongue finds the other's. He presses to overwhelm. His free hand dips below the elastic of Nik's sweats to find the fat at the man's hip.

The sound is soft, barely audible. A breathy little gasp that has Price scrambling to lift roughly 100 kilograms of Russian muscle onto the counter. Their lips part, but Price eagerly liberates Nik of his shirt so he could trail heated kisses from his throat to his sternum.

"John-" Nik starts, getting cut off by his own breather groan as he's palmed through his sweats.

Price could feel the heat pool between Nik's legs as he slots his hips to fit perfectly between the man's thighs. He nuzzles his nose to the black curls that adorn Nik's chest and lets himself just exist like that for a moment. He admires how sunlight glints over silver scars and the carpet on Nik's chest, admires the colour adorning Nik's cheeks and shoulders. His head is fuzzy with the feel of Nik against him, his partner shuddering with his arousal pressed to Price's palm. Intoxicating. Addictive even.

Nik threads his fingers through the messy brown locks.

Price continues his trail of kisses. They follow the contours of Nik's abdomen. Down to his navel. Gently down the trail of dark curls. His teeth hook the elastic of Nik's grey sweats. The man practically whimpers at the display.

Until he's not and Price is shoved back in Nik's panic to get to the stove. Price sighs and runs a hand over his face.

"New low f'me-" he groans "-gettin' cock blocked by a bloody stew."

Nik only offers him a shrug as he adds some cream, turns off the heat and places the lid back on. That's when he turns and Price's tongue goes lax at the sunlight framing Nikolai's face in dark curls and a soft glow.

"Well-" Nik coos, stalking closer to his partner "-it is done. I am certain it would be...some time before it is cool enough to eat."

Price suddenly feels very claustrophobic with his back against a counter and Nik's dark eyes so intently on him.

"I never minded cold stew anyway."

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songfell-ut · 5 months ago

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Okay ONE more genderbend

No, I have not embarked upon assembling gay Songfell piece by piece instead of writing Songfell, I just had another brain rot that's actually been incredibly helpful: in addition to moving and my arm possibly needing surgical intervention (ortho is not being super helpful), I've been focused so much on Songfell's plot that what I've got just doesn't look right.

Well, making my teeny AU made me realize that I've been so busy plotting, I forgot the luv. This has reminded me of why I wrote the dang story in the first place: we all want to see a giant monster simping over a determined, musically inclined human. I will be fixing up chapter 35 and hopefully getting 'er up this month.

...but yes with the help of @skyartworkzzz I did dictate and sort of type this huge drabble, almost a one-shot, and you can't stop me it's too late ah ha ha ha

“Yer doin’ it again.”

Frisk was so lost in thought that it took him a moment to realize Sans had said something, and another to properly hear it. “Doing what again?” the priest inquired, sitting up from his half-slouch over the table.

The giant skeleton sauntered over and tapped the wood surface. Frisk thought at first that he meant the plates from dinner they hadn’t cleaned up yet, but no: Sans was looking at Frisk’s hands. “That thing with yer fingers. Ya wiggle ‘em sometimes when you’re really out of it.” Sans demonstrated with a waggle of his own phalanges, seating himself not far away. “Are ya mad about somethin’? If you wanna wring somebody’s neck, I can do it for ya,” he added generously.

Frisk snorted, scratching his ribs through the shirt he wore under his robe, noticing how Sans’ gaze instantly followed the motion. Better stay on topic; he wasn’t eager for more questions about why human males only sort of had boobs or whether there was as much hair on his chest as his head. “I think I’ve made my stance on murder clear, Sans,” said the High Priest, trying very hard to sound stern.

“Nope, doesn’t wring a bell,” the skeleton said cheerfully, and was rewarded with a snrrk that made him grin about a mile wide. “Ha! I win. Now ya hafta tell me what you’re doin’.”

“That was a good one,” Frisk admitted, rubbing his nose. “All right, then.” He looked at his hand, sobering a little, tapping the thumb and forefinger together. “Here.” With no further warning, he snapped his fingers so hard that Sans flinched. “Sorry,” said the priest, offering a rueful smile that made Sans scowl back. “I just took the barrier off the closet in the corner of my office. Would you please go and open it for me, and bring me what’s inside?”

Nonplussed, the boss monster obediently vanished. A few long moments later, he reappeared with something that looked like a toy in his massive hands. “Ta-da,” he said gravely, trying to hold it properly.

Frisk laughed and took the guitar from the skeleton’s loose grasp. “Thank you,” he said, tilting it onto its side. Something rattled, and he turned the instrument over to shake out a small tortoiseshell pick. “This, sir, is the answer you seek. Sometimes when I’m tired, I’ll think about playing it.” He slid off the chair to retrieve the pick and find a patch of floor to sit cross-legged. “I haven’t touched this in months,” he murmured, stroking the long neck.

He missed Sans’ swift glance at his lap, and how the skeleton’s cheekbones flickered with a few shades of red before he said, “Weird. I get bein’ too busy, but why’s it locked up? Habit?”

“Sort of. When I first moved up here, I thought the servants might take it.” Sans made a disbelieving sound, and Frisk clarified, “I don’t mean they’d steal it. I was afraid that if His Holiness knew it was here, he’d have them remove it.”

The skeleton disbelieved louder. “The hell? Does the Church think they’re evil or somethin’?” He settled on the floor a few feet away.

“Not evil, no,” said Frisk, still examining the guitar, “just…frivolous. If I had a piano or a cello up here, that would be one thing, but this is considered uncouth.” The young man plucked gingerly at the top string, and winced. “Now that’s bad. Positively E-vil.” He plucked again, then fiddled with a knob.

Sans had a good chuckle at that, and didn’t hide his further amusement at how the sound wobbled up and down, but he stayed quiet while Frisk hummed under his breath and turned another knob, wibb-wobbling the string’s pitch till it was as accurate as the young man could get by ear. Then Frisk tried the next string, humming, adjusting till it was in tune with the E; when the next string proved accurate almost immediately, though, he caught Sans’ disappointment and very, very gently turned the knob the wrong way to make it go wooooaaaaooo.

The boss monster cackled in appreciation. “Do it again,” he urged Frisk, reclining on his side and scooting closer for a better look.

“I can’t do it too much,” Frisk replied. Far from minding an audience literally looming over him, he found himself rather pleased to show Sans how the knobs worked. “This works by tightening or loosening the strings, see?” He demonstrated again, letting the skeleton lean in close enough to almost bump heads. “I haven’t replaced these in a while, but I don’t have any spares. I should probably take care of that before I play anything.”

Sans cocked his enormous head. There was a long moment of Frisk conspicuously not stopping and in fact continuing to tune the thing, and the boss monster nodded in understanding that guitar strings were probably not okay, either; however, the truth was that he was watching with such interest that Frisk was too flattered to stop. It was stupid to toodle around with a poorly maintained instrument just to show off, but all.he could think was that he should’ve known Sans wouldn’t care whether this was a waste of time or not, or that he could barely play anything.

The skeleton was evidently thinking the same thing. “So your boss wouldn’t want you doin’ this?” he asked. “The hell does he care as long as yer work’s gettin’ done? He’s not your friggin’ dad. …Is he?”

Frisk played a few mildly amused notes. “No. But I was only nineteen when they made me High Priest, and he thought I was going to be easy to manipulate.” Sans snorted in such derision that Frisk felt a little tingle of pride. “It was exactly the sort of thing he would have done to keep me in my place,” the latter continued. “He’d also tattle to my actual father, and he would have said something. But I’m of age now, so…” He tried another chord, and let it trail off.

“Why’d they teach you ta play it if it’s that bad?” the boss monster persisted. “Ya know all yer music stuff from school, right?”

Frisk tapped the pick absently on the guitar’s belly. “Yes, but not from the monks. I learned it when we were all working in the kitchen.”

Sans lifted a browbone. “Was that a normal thing? Learnin’ discipline or humility or somethin’?”

“Well, yes, and no.” The young man tried a short scale, correcting the last note. “Everyone in our dormitory was being punished. We had to go down after dinner and clean up after the entire monastery.” He couldn’t help wincing. “I hadn’t done anything wrong, so they let me sit with a lay worker who played guitar to entertain everyone. I sang with him and watched how it was done, and nobody told on me for a few months.”

“‘Lay’ worker?” Sans’ tone was much too innocent, and he answered Frisk’s don’t you dare squint with a cheerful “I didn’t know gettin’ laid was a church job.”

The High Priest snorted so hard that he almost dropped the pick. “That’s not what that means,” he informed his apprentice, barely fighting down his amusement before he resumed, “It just means someone employed by the church who hasn’t taken any vows.” But his smile faded to a grimace. “You’re actually not far off. That’s…” Frisk played a few more notes at random. “I think I was seventeen. There was a bad cold going around the monastery. Most of the acolytes got over it in a few days, but everyone in charge – the abbot, the higher deacons, et cetera – all caught it at once.” He strummed an overly dramatic chord. “I’m still impressed how bad things got. It was chaos for a solid month. Anyone who wanted to really misbehave had a good time.”

“Yeah?” To Frisk’s disappointment, the skeleton moved away and turned to lie flat on his spine, stretching his huge limbs across the workroom floor. “So who got laid? Thought humans don’t count it if you’re both guys.”

Frisk was now glad that Sans wasn’t watching: his entire head felt beet-red. “No, it was women working in the outbuildings,” he said with decent composure, trying another chord. “They were supposed to stay out of the monastery, but someone bribed the guards into letting them ‘visit’ back and forth. When the abbot found out, he sent off every female in a five-mile radius and had us take over their work. But then they started writing letters claiming paternity—I think there were over thirty acknowledged pregnancies after the dust settled.”

It was Sans’ turn to snort. “Holy shit. That fast?”

“That fast,” Frisk said shortly.

The boss monster scrunched up his nasal bone, obviously remembering what Frisk had told him about humans’ treatment of unwed mothers. “Well, that was a shitty thing to do. Not like any of those guys could marry ‘em, right?”

Frisk hesitated. How to put this? “Yes, but the ladies knew that. For a lot of them, it was a…we’ll call it a different opportunity,” he said, much more rueful than judgmental. “Noble families want their sons educated at the monastery, but it’s also to keep them from having their own children.” He flipped the pick over the backs of his fingers, a trick he was inordinately pleased to still do. “I will say this. If someone does leave a girl in difficulty, he’s expected to provide at least something for her and the child. Their families had a lot of questions.” He sighed in exasperation. “Word got all the way back to His Majesty. It was a huge mess. You could say the ‘lay’ worker was the only one who shouldn’t be called that.”

He expected Sans to laugh, but when Frisk peeked at him, the boss monster seemed more pensive than amused; his sockets were fixed on the basket of letters. It took Frisk a second to guess what he might be thinking, and when Sans finally shifted back onto his side to look at him, he found the priest glaring at him, daring him to even ask about his own participation. “Glad nobody was a hardass about you gettin’ blamed,” the skeleton said amiably, and Frisk relaxed a little. “Ya know what? Never mind all that crap.” Sans shifted and settled onto his side again. “Knock yerself out on that thing, I don’t care. I’m not gonna tell on ya.”

The young man sat for a moment, tapping the pick against the strings one after another. Sans was right: no need to get into how he had had to literally hide from his peers trying to drag him along to meet some of their new “friends,” or how his father – a prolific creator of children – had publicly commended Frisk for behaving like a true man of the Church, but hinted privately that he would understand if his son started sowing some oats in the very near future. It wasn’t just normal for a gentleman of his rank, but more or less expected to prove his manhood and create more magically gifted progeny of his own, whether or not he was married. Being a busy clergyman had saved Frisk from direct pressure thus far, but— “Here’s a good one,” he said to the skeleton, who obligingly scooted closer. “Don’t laugh, if you please.”

“Not unless it’s funny,” Sans said lazily.

Fair enough. Frisk shut his eyes for a moment, letting his fingers arrange themselves the way they had whenever he could sneak in some practice back when he was just a priest, a former student who could have a damn second to himself that he didn’t have to account for. People had popped their heads in to check if he really was just playing a borrowed guitar, but he was regarded as such a goody-goody that nobody gave him a hard time. He had stumbled across a few young men taking private moments for themselves or with each other, but he never told…

Well, no point getting angry now. It was too nice to sit near-ish the fire and do nothing useful, just empty his mind of everything but what to do to make the sounds he wanted to play. He wasn’t alone, either; the massive skeleton looming over his shoulder was a warm, solid presence that made the High Priest feel less like he was being monitored and more protected, accepted for whatever he wanted to do—just the pleasure of his company. That was what he’d told Sans back when he gave him his new clothes, wasn’t it?

Now there was an idea, so interesting that Frisk barely noticed himself picking out the bare bones – ha – of a favorite old song. He should really get Sans another set of clothing, something he could change into that wasn’t ragged canvas or just nothing at all. Not that Sans was particularly modest: he hadn’t been bothered by the notion of Frisk forcibly removing him from the bathroom, reminding the human that they were both male and he didn’t have anything private to see. Was that why he kept asking Frisk questions about humans that he could find in any of his textbooks? The notion of fleshy bits that changed consistency and produced weird fluids at inconsistent intervals couldn’t be an appealing one, not to a being made of solid bone.

…

Why did that thought suddenly bother him?

…Dirt, he’d just played a very bad note. The priest mumbled an apology and adjusted his grip, chagrined at ruining a peaceful moment with more of that nonsense. Not for the first time, he reminded himself that it was not all right to let his imagination charge off after someone who was not just under his care, but in his power; it was immoral at best to use Sans to investigate whether his libido – always plenty strong, simply refusing to attach itself to anyone, no matter how attractive they were – might just be resistant to humans. He’d keep relaxing and enjoying his apprentice’s literal support—Sans was close enough that Frisk caught himself about to lean back against his gigantic lower ribs. That was what most top scholars called a “no-no.”

…Was it, though? When Frisk glanced up, he saw Sans closing his sockets, and the skeleton’s expression and body language were so peaceful that Frisk had to smile again. Never mind thoughts of fleshy bits and bones, just enjoy having him here. No more recurring thoughts of how monsters didn’t care about gender or how fond of him Sans might be. No wondering what bone felt like on fleshy bi—on totally normal skin, or whether Sans would let him poke the gaps in his metacarpals…or what bone might feel like on his hands, maybe running along his—

And something happened that Frisk had never experienced before, at least contextually. He was a healthy young man, and he had had his body act out at complete random just as often as anyone else; what had not happened was specifically thinking of one person who was right here and then having a specific reaction to that specific person. And it wasn’t—stopping at all, it was getting worse and he had to focus harder (ha!) on distracting himself. Maybe if he played louder?

There was a sharp sound and a burst of pain, and Frisk dropped the guitar, Sans jerking upright as the priest clutched his hand. “Frisk! What happened?! You okay?”

“I’m fine. The string snapped,” Frisk said tersely, holding it up for the skeleton to see the near-bleeding welt on the back of his hand. At least it was the ideal excuse to rise to his knees and lean forward enough for his nightshirt to hang forward, because the burst of adrenaline had not quieted anything down. “It’s my fault, I even said I shouldn’t play the damn thing—”

And of course, that was Sans’ cue to scowl and give Frisk another jolt by seizing his wrist between his thumb and forefinger, holding him utterly still in a huge, inescapable, but gentle grasp. It was for the best that Frisk froze in place, heat flooding his senses as the boss monster summoned a wisp of green magic. “There we go,” he said after a moment. “All better?” And it might have been okay if he hadn’t absently rubbed Frisk’s forearm with his thumb.

Neither of them would ever be sure exactly how Frisk did it, but the next second, he was somehow on his feet and turning away in a blur of “Thankyouvermch”; before Sans could get a solid look at him, the human was already disappearing into the bathroom and slamming the door.

Sans knelt in silence long enough for the blankness to recede and confusion to step into its place. What the fuck was that? Was Frisk really that upset over one crappy judgment call?

…Or…Sans had been watching very close – almost got caught that one time – and he wasn’t sure that he hadn’t seen something. He had read that human males just kind of did that sometimes without meaning to and it was considered hugely embarrassing, which would explain why Frisk had run off like that. Funny, he had never had that problem before in all the time Sans had spent around him, though the boss monster had admittedly tried to avoid looking.

Humans were weird. Sans picked up the guitar very delicately, examining the broken string. Stupid damn thing, he had half a mind to throw it in the fireplace—but that would probably not help. Besides, Frisk had been really happy whenever he wasn’t talking about other humans being stupid. Sans had never seen him so relaxed; it was almost a given that the only people who could boss Frisk around didn’t want him to.

At least Frisk had felt comfortable enough to play with it in front of him. …The guitar. Comfortable enough to play the guitar. Yep. It kind of suck—it was kind of shitty that the dumb thing was unusable now, and fucking stupid that someone this rich and powerful couldn’t get something so simple without…hmmm. Sans daintily retrieved the pick, and got up.

Frisk was debating how to leave the bathroom in the most face-saving way when a sound made him nearly fall over: the workroom’s double doors were open and Sans was talking, presumably to the guards. What the—the priest grabbed a towel, speed-dabbed the rest of the cold water away, adjusted his garments, and…hesitated, milliseconds before striding into view wearing his nightclothes. Instead he listened, and thus heard a guard saying, “…you mean…er…sir?”

“Is there some other meanin’ of ‘Gimme some new strings for this thing’?” Sans’ voice was so exaggeratedly polite that Frisk didn’t know whether to laugh or bang his head on the doorframe. “His Eminence has graciously allowed me t’learn about human stuff, and all I can learn from this thing is that guitars need all the strings or they sound like crap. So the next time somebody delivers stuff up here, they can bring ‘em. Right?”

Frisk could almost hear the guards giving each other uncertain looks. “Er…”

“Right. Thank you!” With obscene cheer, the giant skeleton slammed the doors shut. Then he opened them again. “Oh. Wait. Here.” The dirty dishes flew from the table to the trolley, which was shoved out, and the doors slammed again. “There we go, boss,” Sans said over his shoulder. “You good now?”

“…I am. Thank you.” The human took a deep breath, and let it out. “I’m going to take a bath. Read the chapter on topical analgesics, please, and we’ll discuss it before bed. …Sleep. Before we sleep.” And he shut the door again before Sans could respond. He had a lot to think about.

#songfell #is it disrespectful to call it dongfell #frans #slightly suggestive #fic came before the sketch I just had to have both #dongfell

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explorersaremadeofhope · 1 year ago

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i would let this human embodiment of a cunty computer virus do unspeakable things to my hard drive i dont even care that he's evil

lol i started watching tron legacy because i never watched it back in 2010 and well you know how it is

and honestly this movie can be as bad as it wants now, because 20 minutes in it's already earned a free pass with the high-tech dungeon scene where 'sweet dreams' by eurythmics plays ominously from some great depth lmfao like what an absolute win

this scene had better end in him finding some kind of cavernous sewer gay bar

#gotta get me a man who looks like if ziggy stardust and the emcee from cabaret had sex with a fluorescent tube #he's either going to get killed by the main villain despite working for him to show the viewer how bad the big bad is #or pull some kind of last minute redemption and die sacrificing himself to buy the heroes time #taking bets now #right now my money's on the latter #*#... ah well. you can't win em all

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spacecadet-ticklesinspace · 2 months ago

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For: @strawberriesinbloom

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Pairing: Bill Cipher and Stanford Pines

(Merry Late Christmas my friend from your Secret Santa ❤️ :) I know it's a little late, but I hope you enjoy this going into the New Year ❤️ 😁)

(This does not have a set season from the show ❤️ :))

Ford was in his lab, working away at his newest invention. His goal was to make tiny canisters of All-in-One Spray the Pine twins could carry to ward off any weirdness in Gravity Falls. Well . . . Most of the weirdness anyway.

Dipper's was just about done, he just had to test it. However, he decided to add a tiny splash of rainbow colored glitter to Mabel's and needed to ensure the nossle would not clog when used.

As he worked, the only sounds he could hear were the movement of his tools mixed with the background hum of machinery.

When the gray haired inventor looked up, the clock nearby read 2:15 am.

He should go to bed, but the late hour meant Ford could work uninterrupted with no distractions.

An unfamiliar breeze made him jerk around. Something had caused a faint gust of wind to stir his nearby coat.

"Odd," Ford commented as he raised an eyebrow.

The gray haired inventor stepped over to where the coat was hanging, still fluttering in whatever breeze had found its way into his lab. When he pushed the coat aside, his jaw dropped and his eyes went wide.

The wall behind his coat had a long tall crack in it that opened up into an odd world where everything was flipped. The sky was an unnatural shade of green, the grass blowing in the breeze was a light blue, and even the flower stalks had heads of white cottony clouds while bright yellow sunflowers floated in the sky above. Even the breeze blowing by felt freezingly cold in contrast to the warm environment.

Ford took a few cautious steps into the world, rubbing away a few stray goosebumps on his arm. "This place . . . what is it?"

The gray haired inventor stopped to pick up a cloud flower.

"Strange." He rubbed his chin. "Who could have made this?"

Suddenly, invisible restraints grabbed all four of Ford's limbs as a static sounding voice shouted out, "Ah-ha!"

The cloud flower dropped to the ground as Ford felt himself being lifted into the air. One giant flaming eye popped into existence right in front of the startled inventor.

"Bill," the gray haired inventor ground out.

"Hello to you too Stanford." A loud pop occurred and the eye molded into a familiar looking yellow triangle. "Welcome to my Flip-Flop world. Ha-ha! Get it? Flip-flop."

Ford glared at him.

"Wow, tough crowd. Well, you can't win em all."

"What do you want Bill?" The gray haired inventor countered with a scowl.

"Easy." Bill Cipher snapped his fingers, causing a sphere to appear in his hand and project images as he spoke. "I want you to join forces with me so we can get unlimited powers."

"Never."

"See, I knew you were going to say that." The sphere immediately disappeared. "So I've prepared a deal."

Immediately, Ford was yanked back down to the ground where he was effectively pinned by the restraints. "Deal?"

"Yes." Bill floated down next to him. "You see, I've been taking some notes during my time here in Gravity Falls and I stumbled across something that I think would be most persuasive."

Ford raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"And it involves these big guys."

The ground around the gray haired inventor rumbled before four sets of large blueish hands popped up on either side of him.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ford demanded as his eyes darted back and forth between the sets of hands.

"Oh that's right. You never got to see." Bill held up another flaming ball for the gray haired inventor to watch. "Well, allow me to show you."

Ford watched as Mabel and Dipper wrestled with each other across the ground. The situation wouldn't have looked odd coming from two siblings, but the unnatural shade of yellow in Dipper's eyes made Ford's stomach sink.

"You possessed my nephew?" The gray haired inventor demanded.

"Yeah, yeah, more than once." Bill Cipher moved the ball closer. "But you're missing the best part."

Ford was forced to watch as possessed Dipper pinned Mabel underneath him. However, Mabel managed to get the upper hand by wiggling a few fingers into different spots on her brother.

Immediately, Dipper fell to the ground laughing and Mabel was able to escape.

Ford breathed a sigh of relief. "Good work Mabel."

"The rest of it's not important." Bill made the ball disappear once more.

"And what would your deal be?"

"Easy. You work with me, or I make your time here a ticklish nightmare."

The hands around Ford started to lower. His eyes went wide for a moment before steeling over once more. "I'll never join you."

"Suit yourself."

The gray haired inventor squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for an onslaught.

Which means he was caught by surprise when only one set of hands brushed against either side of his neck.

A small squeak escaped his lips before he pressed them together, desperately trying to keep everything in.

"Aw, look at you trying to be all tough," Bill mocked coo, his voice now much closer than before. "But don't worry, I'll make you break soon enough."

Ford jumped when another set of hands joined in on his sides and the first pair moved up to trace his ears. The laughter building inside of him was getting increasingly difficult to hold back.

"Hmm, still not breaking?"

"G-go t-to---to . . ."

"Wow, I'm 'shaking in my boots'." Bill made another set of hands pull off Ford's shoes. "Ha-ha, get it? 'Shaking in my boots'?"

One hand gathered both of Ford's big toes before pushing them back so the second hand could have uninterrupted access to both of his soles.

The gray haired inventor found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything other than those hands attacking. He was grinning so much that a few tiny giggles slipped through his clenched teeth.

A memory of him and Stan flashed through his mind.

"Hmm, tough nut to crack I see," Bill mused. "But I do wonder if maybe you share certain similarities with a certain someone."

Ford's eyes shot open when the last set of hands dug into his exposed armpits. That broke the dam.

Loud, booming cackles rushed out of Ford's mouth and into the space around him. It had been over a decade since someone had tickled him and he had forgotten just how sensitive certain spots were.

"Ahhh, there's that sweet sweet laughter. Surprised you'd break that easily. Given your 'tough guy' persona and all."

Ford was laughing too hard to respond.

"So Stanford, how's my deal sounding now?" Bill asked as he paused the hands.

The gray haired inventor caught his breath as his laughter calmed. "Ihi wihill never join yohou."

"Wrong answer."

The hands near Ford's armpits picked the torture back up again. They felt exactly like Stan's hands digging into his sweet spot.

"It's just you and me Stanford," Bill interjected. "I could keep this up for days and you'd never know the difference."

The gray haired inventor yanked on his restraints, but they held firm.

Bill pulled the hands back once more. "So, what'll it be?"

Ford caught his breath once more. "St-stihill . . . Still a noho."

Bill Cipher crossed his arms. "I see. Perhaps I'm being too hard on you."

The hands disappeared then something else popped up instead.

Ford's eyes went wide.

"Maybe I need to 'soften' my touch."

"NO!" The gray haired inventor lost it when dozens of feathers descended on him.

They slipped under his sweater and up his pant legs. Several sawed their ways in between his toes while another swirled itself deep into his belly button. Still two more sought to torture his ears.

Their soft feathery touches were everywhere.

Meanwhile, Bill had summoned a pair of sunglasses and one of those foldable tanning mirrors that directed the greenish sun toward his face. He had relaxed into a reclined position with the items in place. "Tik-tok Stanford. This aaall ends with you."

Even through his frenzied laughter, the gray haired inventor shook his head.

"I'm impressed." Bill Cipher made his items vanish. "But I'm also a bit bored."

All but one of the feathers disappeared.

As Ford sagged in relief, Bill took the remaining feather in his hand before making it grow much larger.

Another rumble and this time one hand and a pair of lips popped out of the ground.

"This little number I saw on my visit to the Big Apple." Bill floated down closer to the gray haired inventor. "Let's see if it works on you too."

Ford raised one tired eyebrow at the lips. "And whahat wihill these doho. Sing horriblehele shohow tunes at mehe?"

"No way. That's my job!"

The hand Ford had forgotten about pulled up his sweater.

Bill Cypher elbowed the lips. "This bad boy is used for something else."

The gray haired inventor's eyes went wide again as memories of his brother flashed in his mind once more.

Meanwhile, Bill summoned a microphone as he floated down near Ford's feet.

With a snap of the yellow triangle's fingers, the summoned lips blew raspberries into Ford's stomach.

The gray haired inventor burst into loud laughter once more. That was a move Stan hadn't pulled on him since they were teens and boy did it tickle more than he remembered.

In fact, it pulled several snorts out of him as the lips jumped from one spot on his stomach to another spot to another.

Meanwhile, Bill added to the torture by dragging his feather along both of Ford's feet with one hand while singing some sort of musical number into the summoned microphone he held with the other. However, he purposefully changed the lyrics to ones about tickling just to mess with Ford.

The gray haired inventor was in stitches as he kept snorting adorably.

Finally, when Bill finished his song, all the items disappeared, leaving just the two of them once more.

Bill bowed to an imaginary audience. "Thank you folks! I'll be here for aaall eternity."

Ford glared weakly as the triangle moved closer.

"And you will to. Unless you agree to our deal."

"Ihi . . . I . . ."

"Yeeeees?"

"Ihi . . ." Ford smirked. "Wihill neveher join yohou."

In Bill's distracted state, he hadn't noticed the gray haired inventor was clutching something in his palm. Ford took a deep breath before clicking the button on top.

A blast of rainbow glitter infused All-in-One Spray shot directly into the annoying triangle's eye.

Bill screamed in pain.

The restraints holding Ford dropped, letting the weakened inventor jump to his feet and wobbly run away with his shoes in his hands.

The green sky shifted to a deep dark crimson red and the lush blue grass all gave way to a dark black landscape that looked like death had swept through. The flowers floating in the sky dropped to the ground like dead weights, forcing Ford to weave through the chaos.

Up ahead, he saw it. The crack connecting this world to his lab.

It was slowly closing so Ford pushed himself harder.

Just when it looked like he wouldn't make it, the gray haired inventor leapt.

He soared through the closing crack and into the safety of his lab, knocking over the coat rack, a chair, and several other objects in the process.

Panting heavily, Ford dragged himself away from the wall and into a corner. He'd made it.

A war like yell came from the stairs.

Ford lifted his head in time to see his brother Stan jump into the lab, swinging a baseball bat. He was dressed in a familiar pair of blue striped shorts and white tank top. His hair was skewed and his glasses were crooked. He didn't even have time to shove on his slippers before rushing down.

"Alright! Whoever you are!" Stan swung the bat in multiple directions. "Get out of my house!"

Next to come into the lab was Mabel, screaming with her grappling hook over her head.

Dipper came last, brandishing one of the dictionaries from upstairs as a weapon. "Give up bad guys, or I will define you into oblivion!"

He may have been the last one in, but Dipper was the first to spot the inventor tucked away in the corner of his lab. "Grunkle Ford!"

Stan's head whipped around. As soon as he saw his brother, he dropped the baseball bat and ran over to him.

Ford took the outstretched hand. "I'm alright."

"Where are they Poindexter?" Stan demanded.

"I don't know."

Mabel hurried over with her grappling hook. "Which way did they go?"

Ford looked around his lab. "I'm not sure."

"Do you know who it was atleast?" Dipper asked next.

". . . Bill Cipher."

Stan growled as he faced the lab once more. "Where are ya, you little triangle freak!"

"It's alright Stan." The gray haired inventor squeezed his brother's shoulder. "He's long gone by now."

"He'd better be."

Mabel moved closer to him. "Did he hurt you Grunkle Ford?"

"No Mabel. I'm fine."

"Whew!" Dipper put a hand to his chest. "From the way you were screaming, we thought someone was trying to murder you."

The gray haired inventor was shocked. "Screaming? You could hear all that?"

"Not hard to," Stan continued. "We woke up, heard you, and came running down here."

"Bill must have heard us coming and got spooked away," Mabel commented before shooting her grappling hook mere centimeters above her brother's head.

Dipper snatched it away. "I doubt that's what it was Mabel."

"You don't know that!"

As the two went back and forth, Ford's eyebrows went up while he looked over at the clock.

The time read 2:16 am.

"But, I could have sworn . . ."

Stan started pushing the Pine twins back to the stairs. "Alright you two, back upstairs to bed. Go on, get."

Both Dipper and Mabel headed on up, leaving just Ford and Stan in the lab.

The older twin sank heavily into a chair.

"You sure you're alright?" Stan asked as he finally adjusted his glasses.

"I think so. Physically, I'm just drained. Mentally though . . ."

"Did he screw with your head?"

"For all I know, yes. Especially since he messed with my perception of time."

Stan fixed his own hair before crossing his arms across his chest. "What did he do to you exactly?"

"Nothing too horrible like you're probably thinking."

"Spit it out Poindexter."

Ford sighed. "Alright. He was trying to get me to work with him and if I refused he would . . . Well, tickle me."

Stan's eyebrows went up. "Tickle you? That little creep."

Ford held up a reassuring hand. "It could have been much worse, and honestly . . . I didn't mind."

"What?"

"Don't get me wrong, I didn't like the tortuous degree." The gray haired inventor put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "But there were several techniques that brought back memories of when we were young."

A small smile pulled up the corners of Stan's mouth. One of his hands then scribbled along Ford's side. "I used to get you all the time, didn't I?"

A few giggles poured out as Ford curled to the side and playfully pushed his brother's hand away. "Yehes yohou did."

Stan placed both hands on his hips. "Ah, the good old days. Back when we both had more hair on our heads than we did on our backs."

"Yehes, and quite a bit more stamina tohoo."

"You look pretty tired."

"Feel pretty tired."

"Welp, time for bed." Stan pulled his brother up then wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "And you'd better sleep, or I might have to use Bill's persuasion tactic myself."

Ford giggled nervously at the fingers wiggling toward him. "Sure thihing."

Together, the two then headed up to the main house, leaving the lab quiet once more.

That is, until a small crack opened up on the wall and a small cylinder rolled across the floor. When it stopped, an observer could just make out the specks of rainbow colored glitter dotting the outside.

@squealing-santa

#gravity falls #grunkle ford #bill cipher #grunkle stan #dipper pines #mabel pines #ticklefic

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novankenn · 1 year ago

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Winner Takes All

@lar-mx asked @howlingday -- "dumb idea 2, nora dies for a pancake… she comes back a week later telling jaune that he has to play a poker game against god or else they will both die (in nora's case again), jaune tries to lose but the lady of fortune shouts: (I didn't keep you alive so you would surrender to that bitch (the god of light))."

I'M SO SORRY!!! I CAN'T RESIST!!!

/==/

Jaune stood in the small cemetery that was part of Beacon's grounds. A quiet and peaceful place reserved for those students that didn't have a family to take possession of their remains.

Jaune: *sniffling* Nora, how could you leave us? Ren is just not himself anymore... and Pyrrha has lost her smile... it's just so senseless... a pancake... it shouldn't have...

Nora: JAUNE-JAUNE!

Jaune whips about and sees a slightly pale Nora looking at him with a bright smile.

Jaune: *VERY UNMANLY SCREAM OF TERROR*

Nora: Why is everyone doing that?

Jaune: No... Nora? How? You're...

Nora: Yeah, yeah. I'm dead... or was!

Jaune: Was?

Nora: I... well... um...

Jaune: *eyes narrow* What did you do?

Nora: I convinced an otherworldly being to resurrect me... yeah, just that, only that?

Jaune: *raises an eyebrow while crossing his arms over his chest* Really?

Nora: Really.

Jaune: What's the catch?

Nora: Someone has to play them in a game to make this stick!

Jaune: Is that it? *sees that Nora is fidgeting* Nora...

Nora: Well the thing is...

Jaune: I'm waiting.

Nora: Someone has to play and WIN to grant me my complete resurrection... but if they lose...

Jaune: If they lose...

Nora: They also die? *unleashes a Ruby-esque set of Puppy-Dog eyes* I'm sorry?

Jaune: *sighing and shaking his head* Nora... which being is it?

Nora: It's... hey, you're taking this whole thing rather well, the scream not withstanding. How is that possible? Pyrrha fainted and Ren just... sat there, ignoring me.

Jaune: This is not the first time...

Nora: What now?

Jaune: Nothing. So which entity is it?

Nora: The Brother of Light.

Jaune: Okay... wait! Did you just come to me because Pyr and Ren wouldn't do it?

Nora: Well... I did say Pyr-Pyr fainted, and well Rennie is not in a good place.

Jaune: So I'm your THIRD choice.

Nora: Sorry.

Jaune: Fine. When is this supposed to happen?

Nora: You'll do it?

Jaune: Of course. To get you back, I would do just about anything.

Nora: That's SO sweet of you!

Jaune: So wh...

Brother of Light (BoL): How about now... Mr Arc.

Jaune: *sighs and shakes his head* Fine.

Jaune (With Nora hovering at his shoulder) : B4

BoL: *grumbling* Hit... you sunk my battleship.

Jaune: Well that's it, I won so....

BoL: Best of THREE!

Jaune/Nora: That wasn't the...

BoL: BEST. OF. THREE.

Jaune snorts and gives the Brother of Light the stink-eye, while Nora pouts.

BoL: *Looking at his hand, showing a pair of queens and a pair of nines* I call *pushes all his chips into the centre of the table*

Jaune sighs, and pulls out of his stack just enough to cover the bet.

BoL: Read 'em weep... two pair, queen's high.

Jaune: Not bad... *Jaune lays down his hand* Full house... Aces over Kings.

BoL: How?

Jaune: Just lucky... now that's two wins to one...

BoL: BEST OF FIVE!

Nora/Jaune: What? No!

BoL: Are you...

????: That's enough of that. You lost... pay up.

BoL: Fate? What are you... NO! That's cheating!

Fate: Cheating? Who me? Why would I do such a thing? Just because the Arc's are descendants...

BoL: But she... she...

Fate: You made the deal...

BoL: Fine *crosses his arms over his chest and pouts*

Nora: Is it over? Do I get to stay alive?

Fate: Yes my dear. My beloved Jaune has won you.

Nora: Thank you! *Hugs Jaune and places a kiss on his cheek* Thank You! I get to live again! I can be with Renn....

Fate: Ah Ah Ah. That's not how it works.

Nora: What?

Jaune: No... no... no... I don't need...

Fate: Hush now, dear. You see Ms Valkyrie, or can I call you Nora? I would prefer Nora, as you'll be part of the family soon.

Nora: Say what now?

Fate: Jaune won you back from the after-life... do you contest that?

Jaune: No.

Fate: And do you understand the implications of such an action?

Nora: Umm... no?

Fate: It's like this...

Jaune: *cutting off Fate* It's like this... I won so I now own your soul, which means you are mine until the...

Nora: Jaune?

Fate: Tell her.

Jaune: We are bonded together... *sighs and rubs the back of his neck* ... until the end of time.

Nora: What? How? I don't...

Fate: You and Jaune are now ... for the lack of a better term or concept... husband and wife... in the cosmic sense... didn't Jaune warn you?

Nora: I... *eyes narrow* No he didn't.

Jaune: Oops... My Bad?

(To Be Continued?)

#rwby #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #nora dies but doesn't #Brother of Light #Fate #cheating death #nora's arc #some inspiration taken from “bill & ted's bogus journey”

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reashot · 2 years ago

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The Writer's Ruby's Barely Disguised Fetish.

Ruby: Take that and that!

Jaune: Too slow Rubes.

Ruby: Hey that's cheating!

Jaune: No it's not you just need to git gud, that's all.

Ruby: Well two can play that game, vomit boy. *stands up and block Jaune's view with her butt*

Jaune: Hey what gives Ruby? You're blocking my view!

Ruby: How do you like 'em apple or in this case peaches. What's the matter can't take your eyes of them? *playfully taunting her rear end in front of Jaune*

Jaune: Darn it Rubes, if you don't get your butt from out of my face right now! I swear, I will slap it so hard you won't be able to sit on it for the entire day.

Ruby: Ooh, that sounds like a threat. Go ahead vomit boy do your worst. I bet you don't have the guts for it.

Jaune: Don't say I didn't warn you. *proceeds to lightly slap Ruby's rear end*

Ruby: ....!

As the shock from the slap travels from her shapely behind throughout her entire body. Ruby finds herself suddenly frozen in place, seemingly unable to process what just happened. So much so in fact that she didn't realize that Jaune then used the opportunity to take advantages of the situation to win against her in the game.

Jaune: Hah. I won! How do you like it Ruby?

Ruby: ....

Jaune: What, cat got your tongue? Well I hope this serves as a lesson to you Ruby that Cheetah never prosper. Ha, ha. Oh I'm being such a Yang right now.

Ruby: ....

Jaune: Okay Ruby enough with the silence treatment. I know you're upset but don't be such a drama queen about it.

Ruby: ....

Jaune: Hey, Ruby are you okay. Say something? *touches her*

Ruby: *snap back to reality* w-wh-what just happened?

Jaune: You just froze there for a while. I don't think I hit you that hard did I?

Ruby: (more like not hard enough 😏.)

Jaune: I'm sorry Ruby I didn't hear it but did you said something?

Ruby: W-what no! I didn't say anything... And Jaune if you don't mind me asking, do you want to play another game with me.

Jaune: Oh Rubes you don't have to ask me that. Of course I'll play with you everytime you want. Just don't do that again or I will slap you even harder.

Ruby: You will!!! Uh *cough* ah-hem. I mean do you want to play with me right now?

Jaune: Oh... Sorry. But not right now Ruby. *Yawn* I gotta go to sleep how about we do it next week okay?

Ruby: Next week?....

Jaune: Yeah school starts tomorrow. *hugs Ruby* okay see ya. *walks out*

Ruby:

The next day.

Ruby: Jaune can you come to my room, please?

Jaune: But I thought we're not playing today?

Ruby: Please just come to my room Jaune. I-I need your help. I-I think I might be sick.

Jaune: Just stay where you are. I'll be right there Ruby. *runs as fast as he can to help Ruby*

Ruby's Room

Jaune: *burst into the room* Ruby are you hurt!?

When he burst into the room. He expected that Ruby is in some kind of trouble. But what he saw is something even more shocking. He sees her in a seductive nightwear while pointing her behind at him.

Ruby:

Jaune please, tie me up and spank me. I've been on edge since yesterday and I haven't been able to relieve myself all day. I can't wait all week Jaune. I need you now!!!

Jaune:

Dear Lord above give me strength to resist the temptation from this succubus because she will be the death of me...

If I somehow reached 300 subs I promise I will write 10k words smut.

#jaune arc #ruby rose #lancaster #lancaster rwby #rwby #jaune x ruby #ruby x jaune #rwby lancaster #jaune #ruby #i can't believe this is not smut

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thefirstknife · 1 year ago

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Final Veil Log!

Osiris: I've reached the extent of what I can glean from the research data. Nimbus: What've we got? Osiris: Less than I'd hoped for. But the last of Chioma Esi's research has led me to an intriguing topic: Ghosts. Nimbus: Ghosts? As far as I know, Neomuna never had any contact with a Ghost before you all showed up. We knew about them, but… Osiris: Precisely. Chioma Esi was researching the entanglement of Light and Dark without fully understanding either. Our Ghosts are a link to the Light of the Traveler. Then how was the Witness able to — on numerous occasions — communicate through them? Nimbus: Is this about the, uh, the magnets thing? The parallel energy fields, right? Osiris: Very good. In areas of Darkness, the Witness is able to create a link, not unlike what it created with the Veil and the Traveler. Nimbus: Ah, like the Vex are able to hack into the CloudArk with their tech! It's a parallel connection. Osiris: And I believe that connection may not be one-sided. I believe that our Ghosts may be able to leverage this connection against it. Nimbus: Turn the enemy's weapon against 'em — well, that sounds great. But how? Osiris: That… I do not know. But what I do know is that while the Witness is out of our reach, it is also out of the reach of our Ghosts. Which means whatever lies beyond that portal — whatever is inside the Traveler — has left the Witness blind to OUR actions. Nimbus: And given us an opportunity to make a plan without it knowing. Osiris: Precisely! The Witness has played all the pieces it can. This is its final act, win or lose. Whatever we do from here determines the fate of everything. Nimbus: No pressure.

Super interesting questions that tie back to the whole idea of the Light and Darkness not being opposites and everything in the universe functioning by being able to use/channel them both. Probably going back to the theory that the Veil and the Traveler were once a single entity.

Interesting stuff about the Witness not being able to see what's going on in the system. Previously we didn't know about it, but then we got lore from Xivu talking to the Witness (in Deep) while the Witness was in the portal. And Xivu was able to report to it and the Witness reported back. So the Witness can't see outside of the portal on its own... But can if something deliberately seeks it out. Obviously our Ghosts won't do that so it can't reach back to them.

Similarly, with the new season stuff, Mara said that the Sol Divisive are acting as the Witness' eyes and ears in the system while it's away, but we honestly have no clue what the Vex are truly doing and I'll talk about that in another post. Either way, it seems like the Witness can't reach to us now, not through Ghosts.

This might be some stuff preparing us for whatever wild shit we're gonna learn in TFS in regards to the Light, the Traveler, Ghosts and the rest. Ghosts are capable of also channeling Darknes, much like the Guardians. It shouldn't be a surprise, but it's still intriguing that there's such a direct connection. Also interesting to know that our Ghosts might be able to seek out a connection to the Witness as a form of a weapon.

A lot to think about.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 spoilers #veil log #osiris #witness #ghost #my video

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alice-angel12x · 2 years ago

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Epel x Death Reader Pt. 1.5

Part 1 Here (Harveston event)

While Epel's grandmother was explaining the rules to his friends, he was too busy having his mind blown. Knowing that his closest friend and schoolmate is also his town's founder. He sat on the side as he watched Y/n Death and the mayor have a friendly conversation. The mayor talking about Harveston's long and amazing history. Which Epel now knows that Y/n was there to witness.

"Anyway, long story short, we can't participate in the race this year," The Mayor sighed.

"WHAT IN TARNATION?!" Marja shouted, causing everyone to flinch.

"I know we're going to disappoint the townsfolk, and I'm very sorry about that," The mayor sighed.

"Well, there's nothing you can do about an injury. We'll do our best to place as high as we can," Epel spoke up.

"THAT AIN'T GONNA CUT IT! "As high as you can"?! Ah don't think so! It's first place or nothin', bub!" Marja shouted.

"Our goalpost has just shifted considerably," Jade commented.

"We can't just let a team full o' non-locals win! If the mayor can't do it, then it's up to you boys! No ifs, ands, or buts! Is that clear?!" She scolded.

"But you're being unreasonable, Grandma! I'm the only one on my team who's ever sledded before!" Epel tried to reason.

"QUIT SPLITTIN' HAIRS! Ya can't write off somethin' as impossible before ya even try! You'll never grow an apple tree or get any apples if'n ya don't sow the seeds!" Marja said.

"That's one scary granny," Grimm commented.

"Your animals are sittin' in the assembly hall, so go an' get 'em, toot sweet! Get a move on! You boys ain't got a minute to spare! You'll need all the practice you can get!" She ordered.

She started to train the boys to be #1 in the sled competition. Y/n watched silently as Marja instructed them. Y/n smiles as they remembered Marja as such a competitive little girl. And even after all these years, she did not lose that spark.

____________________________

While the boys practiced, Y/n decided to walk about the town and visit the hollow grounds of the past. Y/n lightly walked on the snow as they passed many graves, slowly passing many generations. Till she got to the very first, where her friend lay, with the rest of the first children of Harveston.

"You did well all of you," Y/n smiled softly at the gravestones around them. "Oh and some students From RSA are also competing."

"What?!" The boys gasped.

"And from what I observed, they are pretty skilled. Make sure to bring your A-Game," Y/n smiles.

"HAAAH?! As if we'd lose to the likes of Royal Sword Academy! THE CHAMPIONS...ARE GONNA BE US!" Epel shouted.

"I cannot wait to see you emerge as champions," Y/n smiled.

Y/n smiles and happily listens to Epel as he showed them around the town. Showing off the apple lanterns and many other hand-crafted knick-knacks.

Till they finally returned to Epel's home, where Marja prepared a large barbeque feast for the boys and company. Y/n tried to politely turn down the meal. But the granny already set a plate for them. So Y/n had no choice but to sit down and partake in the food.

Sadly, if only they knew that Death was incapable of digesting food and does not eat. It was a rough couple of hours for Y/n as they sat as food... essentially just built up in the void of their body.

_____________________________

At Dawn, the race was in full swing, as the crowds watched and cheered from the stands. Y/n Death stood from on top of the spectator booth and simply wished everyone a safe return.

#Falling Pegasus answers #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst yuu #death!reader #death au #origin au #epel felmier #epel x reader

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x-heesy · 7 months ago

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Swag a la Italy 🇮🇹

Hey

Mixer T, there

I jump on Italian rap like a trampoline

Brother, I've been at it for a while, you scream

She gets wet when I rhyme

To do it better I found the algorithm

The flow weighs one kilo

Like the Migos necklaces

I'll smoke you in one hit

You're a Chilum in the park, I ride it with the widest filter

Then I enter precisely, bro, archery on the sample

When I hear you you're like the wind if I'm turning it around

No, I don't feel like a deaf man sleeping

Bro, I win gold, platinum and silver

With her in the hotel, bro, more stars than Hokuto

I go, straight cash like Coccoluto

Her pussy is Newton's apple

I smoke it whole bro in a minute (wooo!)

We are artists

We seem happy but then we're sad (hey)

We write records (ha!)

These rappers go home then diss us (wooo!)

I have the black box, you a package (ha ha!)

I'm a goal in the final with the heel

With you it's like boxing with the bag

When I hear your music it comes down to me

I don't care if it sounds good or if it sells

We are us and we don't change anything

Emme!

I smoke from morning to night, bro

I'm having dinner with my girlfriend

Crazy panther kitten, bro

Guajira Guantanamera

I'm going up the stream

Brother, no, no, I don't have a dick, I have a propeller

His face white, hungry, anemic

Fievel landing in America

Sometimes, sometimes I inhale such a quantity that I pass out

I watch her ass go, they are so high that it seems like they are going up

You're on a pedal toilet

What a toilet, what a rate, with an ass that looks like a hexagon

Maybe it was better if you remained a bachelor

It's getting late, let's talk, I'm running bro!

I'll take a shot of ice cream, bro

Then I smile at you like a triceratops

Wanted flow machine gun, bro (hey)

Matrix change I'm regenerating it (hey, hey, hey, hey)

Die of envy, yes, you are triggered (seh)

Bad language, the beat is eviscerated

The feat is refined, the drink is mixed

What a fucking life, bro, I was a hermit! (em!)

At work, bro, I'm still a rapper

Even though I'm handsome, I'm an influencer

We are us and we don't change anything

Ouch, ouch, tremble when you hear Lebon on the mic (Lebon on the mic)

Alright, 24/7, all night (all night)

When do you make wheat? Tomorrow (yep)

I'm Jimmy Iovine bro (yep)

Without the styles where do you go? Goodbye

God gave me the flow, he said 'go (go, go, go)

I do not know how

You don't know what

You know it well

That you are not what

You can make foam

You're a soda girl

A slap on the head when you're posing (pshh)

Music is a drug (hey)

And I always have the best one

Moment, moment, moment

I rock anyway and the microphone is off

I sing and you can't hear the accent

And you don't hear the jungle until I turn it on

Well done, take the bulldozers against the blacks and the Vatussi

I swear I can't do it like you do (yeah)

I should sell envelopes at Russian weddings

And be in the red like the Tunes (wooo!)

Life as an artist is sad, especially if you live in Italy

How to get a flat earther pregnant and raise her kids in Australia

It's like a prison, they condemned you

You want an hour of air, but conditioned

Out of the box forever @ombrabrontok 🇮🇹 @kattywompuss @bigbonzo @cumpletelyhappythesecond 🤪😜

We are us, we don't change anything (Ah!)

Esagono (Hexagon) (feat. Salmo) by Gemitaiz, MadMan,

#anyways 🤪#hehe 😜#Salmo #gemitaiz #MadMan #italian rap #SwaG #8/2024 #gif mood board #gif moodboard #moodboard #fuck off #fuckit #x-heesy #fucking favorite #now playing #music #music and art #spotify

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bite-the-bloody-hand · 5 months ago

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@dujour13 very kindly tagged me in the Companion First Impressions tag game! Check out her answers for the magnificent Siavash here.

I have not officially completed the game yet though I've been spoiled on a lot of the ending haaa... so just treat this as Zell's thoughts after your average Azata ending, and I'll come back later once I've gone mad with power.

Tagging @rlainarin Give your KC’s first impression and final opinion of each of their companions!

First Impressions:

Seelah: You seem... charmingly sincere for Iomedae's lot. And I owe you for getting Terendelev so quickly... I guess we'll see how getting out of here goes, yeah?

Camellia: I don't even know you, and already I know it's gonna be you or me. I can smell the old blood under your nails... I wonder whose it is?

Lann: Wow buddy, how'd you get your head so far up your ass with that horn? Impressive.

Wenduag: Normally I don't appreciate strangers telling me what to do, but you aren't nearly as threatening as you think you are… and you're right about Lann being reckless.

Woljif: You've got the air of ehh... talented grifter who blows his winnings like a pimp, no wonder you got nailed. Anyway, want to go scandalize the neighbors with me?

Ember: Little one, I absolutely agree that they were just scared stupid men in a crisis, but you don't want to smack 'em around even a little bit? All right... we do it your way for now. I guess we'll see about next time too. And the time after that...

Daeran: Hnh, you were the single voice of reason back in the square yet play an imbecile party boy in your own home... So what should I know about you, Count? Whatever you're hiding smells like bad blood.

Nenio: Normally I'd be more wary about someone wanting to do 'experiments' on people a goofiness about you that I respect. I want to see where you're going with all this.

Galfrey: I love how you think you're being cute and clever but you have 'I am in a crisis because nobody is acknowledging me' disease and I can smell it from here.

Sosiel: You seem. Nice. I'm sure we'll get along fine, you just remind me of someone I'd rather not be thinking about just now.

Regill: Oh a Godclaw? The Hellknight mental gymnastics champions? Color me intrigued. Don't tell anyone, but I'm glad someone else around here isn't squeamish about making hard decisions in a bad situation.

Arueshalae: Never once have I imagined I'd meet a demon who would change my life for the better, but... strange things keep happening. We both strive for the impossible, ey? Perhaps we strive together.

Greybor: Weird how I'm two for two on a stranger giving me orders and me being okay with it, but I have been bewitched by your weirdly paternal swagger.

Ulbrig: BRO YOU'RE HUGE. AND ON TOP OF ME. BUY A MAN DINNER FIRST, DAMN. My fuckin *ribs* guy....

Trevor: Ah shit, man. Let's get you home.

Parting thoughts (Normal Azata Ending Edition):

Seelah: Stay questioning, my friend. A life full of joy doesn't mean a life of easy answers, you know? You keep your heart open, and I'll always be keeping an eye out.

Camellia: You just had to keep on lying.

Lann: You are like a brother to me (but sometimes I still want to commit fratricide you SHITHEAD. I love you.)

Wenduag: Is there no world in which you find your peace in life? I know I could have done more, but I don't know what that was supposed to be. I failed you just as much as you failed yourself.

Woljif: Tch, I can't wait to watch you turn into a rich, fat, happy old ram. Maybe cool it on the securities fraud for a little bit, I can't be breaking you out of prison. I mean I will but I don't wanna.

Ember: Kindness really is infectious, yeah? You helped me be a kinder version of myself. I'm so glad to know you.

Daeran: Ah, my best friend; love of my life. What an unexpected surprise, to feel so cherished... I wish you'd let the rest of the world see you the way I do. I never could have done this without you.

Nenio: Well, Professor? What new experiments shall we try next? Your loyal assistant is ever ready!

Galfrey: I'd pity you if I felt like that would fix anything. Everything that wasn't your fault was made your problem; I hope you can find it in your heart to rest from that someday.

Sosiel: Ah I guess you aren't so bad... Nah get back here and hug me, fool. I will see you at Harvest, make sure you're drawing silly things to stay loose.

Regill: Master Derenge, it has been an honor. I will always hold your memory in esteem.

Arueshalae: Hey, keep your chin up, recovering from your old life is going to take time. You know I'll be around, yeah? Always at your back, sister.

Greybor: Don't look at me like that, I'm not being smug at all. Anyway tell your family hi from me, hm? You'll be seeing fruit and flowers from me soon enough.

Ulbrig: I guess... I suppose we'll see each other again sometime, somewhere. Good luck to you, my friend.

Trevor: Give yourself the grace of patience, my friend. I will come to you when you need.

#kc zell #navel gazing #tag game #free tag #I feel like I could do these better after I see all the endings I want to see #but for now this will suffice

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