#I also started writing a fic today

[weaponizedmoth]

Super tired super burned out but wanting to create so much and yet nothing. Nothing at all. Aaaaa it's driving me nutssssss

[myokk]

fast sketch of my one-shot with Ominis💓

legilimency

Word count: 1.700

Rating: M (language)

Ominis Gaunt is a lost case - lost to the whims of one very determined Gryffindor sitting at his side.

They sit in the back of the History of Magic classroom, the only two students not lulled to somnolence by their professor. He: trying his hardest to focus on Professor Binns’ droning (easier said than done). She: trying her hardest to distract Ominis while not being entirely sure of being successful or not (easier attempted than understood).

Professor Binns is completely insufferable, of course. Ominis wonders if the ghost is as blind as he is: Binns willfully ignores the fact that all of his students use his class as an excuse to get a nap in (maybe he simply doesn’t see them sleeping - only one of many reasons why Ominis has decided he could never be a professor), rambling on and on in the most boring way possible. As if he were trying to be as dull as possible (maybe he does it to avoid interacting with the students which…can’t be to blame). In a different life, Ominis could see himself quite liking the subject, but as things stand he despises it.

Especially now.

Ominis fervently wishes that he could fall asleep.

Then, he might avoid hearing her thoughts - they’re consuming him and he can’t ignore them as much as he would like to.

Normally, he loves this class - not the subject, obviously - but the class itself, for the sheer fact that it is the only time where he gets some peace and quiet. Everyone’s minds nice and quiet and shut off for the time being while they sleep. Although he has gotten used to ignoring the thoughts of everyone around him, their various voices mixing and mingling with each other into a dull thrum in the back of his mind, it is nice to have some quiet once in a while.

But right now, with everyone asleep except for the Gryffindor at his side, her thoughts are so loud it’s like she’s screaming at him.

So here he is, wishing he could fall asleep, leave the class, maybe turn off the infernal legilimency that has haunted him his whole life.

(His parents and Marvolo insist it’s a gift handed down from Slytherin himself, just like the Parseltongue Ominis despises. It is not. It is a curse.)

He is stuck listening to her.

It doesn’t help that she seems to have caught on to him - something he had managed to avoid until now. Nobody else, not even Sebastian or Anne, has ever suspected a thing. But, in all fairness, those two are extremely loud and say every single thought that passes through their minds out loud even when they should remain quiet, and nobody else has had the opportunity to spend enough time with Ominis to begin to suspect anything.

Until her.

He had to go and let that blasted girl worm her way into his life, not leaving him alone ever, always looking for excuses to talk and ask his opinion, and being so intelligent that he wanted to invite her to study with him and talk with him and…

Since it happened a few nights ago, he hasn’t stopped cursing himself for that stupid offhand comment he made. They had been studying in silence in the library together, by the history books where nobody else ever ventures (thank you, Professor Binns), and he could have sworn that she asked him if he was finally going to walk her back to her common room (he blames a lack of sleep and wishful thinking for this mishap). His traitorous face had flushed and he had jumped at the chance to escort her - maybe she would let him carry her bag, or… - only to feel his whole body go cold and his stomach drop when her response wasn’t what he’d expected.

A pause: then: a confused voice: ‘Ominis, I didn’t say anything.’

His Gryffindor wasn’t stupid like Gryffindors were normally wont to be. He knew her, and he knew that after his monumental mistake, the gears in her brain were turning and he was terrified that somehow she had figured it out.

(His Gryffindor?)

She had been unusually quiet around him since then, although he bitterly noticed that she was still acting normally with everyone else. Still finding every opportunity to punch Sebastian in the shoulder and laugh with Anne, still whispering with Natsai about Merlin knows what, still…

But she had been avoiding Ominis. He couldn’t stand it.

Well, avoiding him right until this stupid class, when she had to go and sit right next to him (ignoring the fact that she always sits next to him in History of Magic, that everyone already has and adheres to their unofficial seats), and he can’t ignore her.

She’s pretending to take studious notes, but he knows better. The scratching of her quill blending with the droning of Professor Binns’ voice but not drowning out her thoughts. They float above the other noises, her voice sweet and piercing. Ominis wonders vaguely what she’s actually writing, because he’s positive it isn’t notes.

Professor Binns looks so sexy right now with his medieval hat, talking about…whatever it is he’s passionate about. I wonder if he would let me talk to him after class without floating through me like he normally does…

Ominis is determined not to react. She’s obviously trying to bait him. But…what if she is attracted to Professor Binns? Is he an attractive man? At the thought, the fist that’s resting on top of his desk clenches, but he works to make sure his face remains impassive. Apart from a twitch of his lips, he thinks he’s been quite successful.

She: huffing and shifting in her chair, her robes rustling as she crosses her legs. He: keeping his head facing forward, steadfastly ignoring her.

She changes tactics.

Maybe she’s just as insufferable as the other Gryffindors, after all.

I wonder what Ominis would say if he knew I woke up moaning today after a dream about him -

He shifts slightly in his seat, hoping that she’s so busy taking notes (who’s he kidding) that she won’t notice his discomfort as his trousers tighten -

…the girls in my dorm have been bothering me nonstop about who I’ve been mooning over but I don’t want them to…

His hand is in such a tight fist it’s a wonder he’s not breaking any fingers as he tries to remain as still as possible, but his traitorous arousal is making her thoughts harder and harder to ignore. Had he ever been able to ignore her?

…his tongue was deep inside me as I screamed his name…

He feels his face heat up at the thought - where had she learned such vulgar language? - and his whole body stiffens. He’s sure that she can feel the tension and warmth radiating off of him in waves but that…she…his insane little lion keeps shouting at him in the silence of the classroom. She’s now stopped all pretense of taking notes and is sitting stock still.

…his cock deep inside of me as…wait…what else did I hear Garreth say to Leander that night?…um… She shifts uncomfortably, her knee grazing Ominis’s as she moves to squeeze her legs together. It’s all he can do to not groan and remain impassive. Oh god…I…what’s that feeling? This was just supposed to get back at him for probably - maybe - reading my thoughts and I’m officially insane because how would he even be able to do that?…his ears turning red from embarrassment are so adorable and I can’t stand this anymore and…

Ominis tries his hardest not to move his head in her direction. His jaw flexes. Maybe he can drown her out if he starts reciting potions ingredients, or if he focuses on what Professor Binns is saying, but even he knows its futile. He’s hanging on to her every word - thought? - and his head slowly turns in her direction as she keeps going.

…does he know how much I think about him? Oh god, what if he dreams of me the same way I…

He slams the open book in front of him shut, the loud noise causing Sebastian to jerk awake and babble incoherently for a moment before slumping back over his desk, drooling and snoring lightly. Nobody else in the class seems to notice except her of course. Blissfully, she has stopped talking - thinking - and he can finally -

It’s no use. He needs to get out of there. She has invaded his mind and…What if she starts up again with her filthy thoughts that are bleeding into his own and -

Did he hear me? I didn’t actually think…oh god, can he hear me now? What have I done?

Ominis very slowly brings his hand over to where he knows hers is. The quill falls out of her hand and he hears a sharp intake of breath at their contact. His fingers trace her knuckles and then he slowly trails them up her arm. His fingertips are so sensitive that he could swear that he feels every thread that he passes, her skin warm and alive underneath the fabric. Then to her neck, her throat bobs and he feels her erratic heartbeat. Finally, he reaches her face. She remains very, very still as his fingers brush over her features for the first time.

He has never touched someone like this before.

Her skin is like velvet, soft everywhere he touches. Now that he knows what it feels like he’s not sure he can go back to before. His fingers trace the curve of her eyebrows - he finds that her nose is straight before it flares up a tiny bit at the tip - his fingers ghost over her impossibly soft lips. He drags his thumb across her bottom lip as her tongue darts out to wet them. It’s impossibly intimate and the world has melted away and it’s just the two of them in that moment.

He leans forward.

“Ominis, I…” she whispers, stricken.

His hand moves to tuck some of her loose hair away from her face - does she always wear it like this? - and his lips brush against her ear. He inhales deeply, her sweet smell invading his senses. She shivers under his touch and he breathes, “I heard everything.”

[sunfloweraro]

More Pink Bunny Stuff!

Warriors learns not to touch Bunny without permission the hard way. His response catches Bunny off guard

(AKA the scene I thought I’d already shared and had promised @thatonecrazysidekick (oops!). @tiredgaytheatrekid more Bunny stuff!!)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Wind began to hum absentmindedly as Warriors towelled off his hair, cheerful despite his earlier complaints, and Warriors couldn’t help the smile that lifted the corners of his lips. He took more care with drying his young friend’s hair, pulling the damp strands out of Wind’s face, tucking a lock behind his ear.

Wind groaned. “Wars, you’re babying me again.”

“I would never.” Warriors definitely was. How could he not, when Wind was like the little brother he never got to have? When Wind reminded him of his boisterous little sister back home.

“You are. We should start calling you Ma.”

“If that would make you happy,” Warriors said, smile turning into a smirk as he finished off drying Wind’s hair. “Done. Was that so bad?”

Wind scoffed, but when he stood, he leaned into Warriors’ side, a brief moment of affection to show his appreciation. “Terrible,” he said.

“Truly terrible,” Warriors agreed. “And you are welcome.”

“Thanks, Wars.” Wind smiled at him, that toothy grin that made Warriors think so much of his little sister, and he couldn’t help but pinch Wind’s cheek. “Ah—don’t!” He shoved Warriors’ hand away, cheeks aflame.

“Alright. Go have your dinner now.”

“Yes, ma.” For that, Wind earned Warriors’ hand ruffling his hair, messing it up even more. “Ugh, Wars.”

“Wind.”

“You need to eat too.”

“I will once you have all eaten.”

Wind, more than used to his idiosyncrasies by now, nodded, grabbing his arm and dragging him closer to the fire, where Twilight was dishing out the soup he and Time had prepared. He shared a nod with Warriors, ladling out a bowl for Wind and passing it over before moving on to the next hungry mouth. Only once they had all eaten their fill could Warriors pick up spoon and bowl and dig in himself, once he was certain they were all fed and not going hungry. They all knew that well by now, didn’t try and push him before he was ready.

While Wind had his dinner served, Warriors let him go, moving over to sit alongside Hyrule closer to the fire, where warmth pressed against his chest and legs as he sat on the log left behind by the lizalfos.

“You smell better,” Warriors commented.

“Likewise,” Hyrule said, and they shared a grin. It was then Warriors noticed the little rabbit—Bunny, as Hyrule and Twilight had taken to calling it—nestled in Hyrule’s lap, clean and fluffier than ever. And pink.

“Huh,” Warriors commented, his eyes on Bunny.

“Yeah,” Hyrule agreed. “We think it must be an era-specific thing. I’ve never seen a rabbit this colour in my era.”

“It could be dye,” Warriors offered.

“We thought that too, but I’ve checked and the colour goes right down to the roots. If he’s been out in the wild for weeks, then his natural colour would have started to grow back by now. So… pink fur it is.”

“Pink fur it is,” Warriors agreed, and when Hyrule hummed, beginning to run his hand down Bunny’s back, smoothing out the fur, that warm affection leftover from his time with Wind swelled in his chest. He reached out to pet Bunny’s fluffy pink head as Hyrule was doing. It happened fast, a blur of pink and then sharp, fiery pain along the back of his hand.

“Ow!” Warriors tore his hand back, inspecting the little bite mark, lazily weeping ruby red. “Did he bite me?”

“Oh my—Bunny!” Hyrule began to chastise the rabbit, but Bunny only had eyes for Warriors. Violet narrowed at him, watching him with suspicion, and Warriors found all frustration dissipate.

“It is okay,” he assured Hyrule. “I should not have tried to touch him without permission.”

Violet eyes widened slightly. Warriors thought back to Twilight’s comment of Bunny being a lot smarter than the average rabbit. Wondered if Bunny could understand him—perhaps not his words, but the meaning behind them, his tone of voice.

“I am sorry,” he spoke to Bunny this time and not Hyrule. “I should not have tried to touch you without permission, and I swear I will not do it again.”

Bunny watched him for a long moment, curious. He blinked slowly. Then he dipped his head, the gesture far more Hylian than Warriors anticipated from the rabbit.

[hayffiebird]

What the SOTR book looks like when you're also a fanfic writer.

[lovesick-x-prince]

The next NFLY chapter should be out on April 12th or 13th by the way. I already have a good chunk written but I like to wait at least two weeks between updates, and I won't be home from the 4th-11th next month because I'm cat-sitting for my friends... so, no access to my computer. 12th or 13th it is!

[losver07]

this is not revised yet but here you go some angry wolfstar for u :)

[vinelark]

happy friday! here is a little bbts chapter 5 proof of life

When Tim comes down again his mouth is full of blood—bitten cheek—and his whole head throbs, an almost fizzy numbness flooding through his jaw in the sudden absence of pain. He struggles through another wheezing breath, wincing at the familiar sensation of torn muscles around his rib cage. “Ah,” Checkered Shirt is saying. “There does seem to be a localized paralytic effect. That last placement may have been counterintuitive; my mistake. But as we discussed, that’s the beauty of mistakes in a setting like this. The opportunity to learn from them.” Tim tips his head. Clumsily spits a mouthful of blood on the metal floor—evidence, he thinks hazily, if he moves me—and finds his tongue. “Funny how you still haven’t gotten what you want,” he half-slurs, “considering how many opportunities you keep having.”

[stobinesque]

@steddie-week day 2: fluff | 1.8k words | teen and up

The door to the apartment slammed shut, followed by the jingle-clang of keys landing in the ceramic bowl Robin had made for Steve two years ago.  

"Babe?" Steve looked up from the magazine he'd been flipping through and frowned at the stormy expression on Eddie's face. 

Eddie barely acknowledged him, just swept past with stomping feet, dropping an absentminded kiss to the top of Steve's head as he made his way into the bedroom. A few moments later Steve heard the telltale thunk and flop of Eddie's bag hitting the ground and the man himself hitting their bed.

Ah, so one of those days.

Steve set down his magazine, folded his reading glasses neatly atop it, and pushed himself up from the couch to make for the bathroom.

~*~*~*~

Eddie wanted to die. Nope, no, he wanted to commit a homicide. 

Actually, scratch that, being wanted for murder sucked.

What he wanted was for the world not to be full of a bunch of entitled little shitsacks who had never been taught how to talk to another human being who didn't have a white collar around their neck.

At least his bed was there to support him. The mattress was a little lumpy, sure, but nothing could outmatch the satisfaction of dramatically flinging oneself onto a flat surface after a shity day at work. 

The sound of running bath water filtered into Eddie's awareness. 

Okay, maybe one thing.

Steve usually allowed him a few minutes to sulk and brood when he got home feeling like shit. Sometimes interacting with any human (even someone he would literally—and nearly did—die for) was just too much. 

"Eds?"

"Mmph." Eddie spit some of the hair that had landed in his mouth out, but didn't bother to raise his head more than half an inch off the bed to do so.

Steve chuckled. "Okay, five more minutes—otherwise the water will get too cold. I'm gonna go make us some tea."

Eddie raised an arm and waved vaguely in the direction of Steve's voice in acknowledgement.

He let himself drift for his five minutes to the sound of Steve puttering around the kitchen—grabbing mugs, teabags, the sugar jar—before peeling himself up off the bed when the shrill whistle of the kettle pierced through the relative silence of the apartment. If he wasn't in the bath by the time Steve made it there he'd be in trouble. Which could be fun, but it wasn't what he was in the mood for today. 

Eddie stripped off his—itchy, sweaty, suffocating—uniform as he padded over to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind him as he went.

~*~*~*~

Steve waltzed back into the bathroom with two steaming mugs in his hand to find Eddie already situated in the tub, knees pulled up under his chin, hair piled up in a messy bun, and one hand dragging lazily across the surface of the water. 

Steve set both mugs down on the ground next to the bath. "Hey, baby," he murmured, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s temple.

"Hi." Eddie's voice was low and subdued.

“Bad day?” Steve asked as he pulled his shirt up and over his head.

Eddie shrugged. “You could say that.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Steve shucked off his jeans.

Eddie shook his head. “Not much to talk about.”

“Okay.” Steve folded his clothes, set them in a neat stack atop the closed toilet lid, and carefully lowered himself into the bath behind Eddie.

The water was just a touch too hot for his own comfort, but Eddie ran cold and preferred his baths on the scalding warmer side. (Shared showers were a trial. Eddie insisted that Steve was trying to murder him with frostbite. Steve maintained that Eddie was trying to boil the both of them alive.)

Some of the tension had already bled out just from being in the bath. Eddie’s shoulders were no longer curled up around his ears—instead, he was slouched forward into the water. 

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist and pressed a kiss to the patchy birthmark high up on his back, smiling when Eddie responded with a humming little sigh. “Wash my hair?” he asked.

“Sure thing, Eds.”

Steve reached over to grab the shampoo and tiny bucket they left in the shower just for this. “Wanna drink some of your tea before I douse you?”

Eddie didn’t say anything, but reached out blindly to grab one of the steaming mugs next to the tub. Steve didn’t bother holding back a snort that he’d managed to grab the “Don’t Bother Me, I’m Crabby” mug they’d nicked from Wayne. 

Eddie took a slow sip of the tea, and the second he’d set it back down and straightened back up, Steve dumped a bucket of warm water over his head.

Eddie spluttered. “Babe, what the fuck!”

Steve snickered from behind him. “Just wanted to make sure you were here on earth with me, bedhead.”

Eddie shook his head like a rain-soaked dog. “You could have at least taken out the ponytail first!”

“I suppose I could have,” Steve said, lips twitching up into a smile as he reached up to start pulling Eddie’s dark curls from where they’d gotten tangled in the hair tie. “I got you talking again in something other than a monotone, though.”

“Maybe I was enjoying playing the dark, broody hero.”

Steve pinched Eddie’s side, which resulted in a high-pitched squeak, and a wild flail that had water splashing up around them. "Behave," Steve chastised—though the warning was undercut by the laugh of unconcealed delight he barked out as Eddie’s arms swung around him. 

"You're the one assaulting me in my time of suffering!"

"Suck it up, buttercup,” Steve shot back, combing his fingers through wet curls and gently detangling each and every knot he ran into. He couldn't help but rub the silky-soft strands between his fingers as he went. Steve's own day had been slow and uneventful, but a quiet sort of unease had been hovering at the edges for hours. Drawing Eddie a bath and settling in behind him to wash his hair helped settle Steve back into his body just as much as it did for Eddie. 

Steve began working shampoo into Eddie's roots, massaging his fingers into his scalp, and Eddie's head tipped back as he let out a pleased hum that sounded almost like a purr. "Love your fingers in my hair, Stevie," he mumbled, sounding a bit hazy.

"Yeah? Is that the only place you like my fingers?" Steve asked, right into Eddie's ear. 

Eddie scrambled back upright and turned to face Steve with an alarmed expression on his face. "No! Why would you think that? Did I say something to make you think that? Please, I’m so sorry, baby. Please know that I love your fingers anywhere on me. Or in me. What if they went somewhere else right now?" 

Steve laughed, grabbing Eddie's shoulder to turn him back around with one hand, and dipping the bucket back into the water to rinse the suds out of Eddie's hair with the other. When Steve was sure he'd thoroughly rinsed Eddie's hair he leaned past him to grab the conditioner and whisper in his ear, "You can get them somewhere else a little later if you're good for me, baby," before leaning back and clicking the bottle open.

"I'll be so good for you, Stevie. Just tell me what I gotta do."

"Keep still and don't sass me for the next five minutes."

Eddie's mouth opened and then immediately snapped back shut as he clearly decided that whatever his response to that was gonna be probably qualified as "sass."

"Good boy," Steve said simply, dropping another kiss to Eddie's back. 

"I can be good when I wanna be," Eddie grumbled. 

"Careful," Steve shot back, gently chiding. He methodically worked the conditioner through Eddie's hair in sections, tugging gently as he did, just for the soft satisfaction that ran through him every time Eddie let out a soft gasp in response to it. 

"Always careful, Stevie," Eddie mumbled back, eyes fluttering shut. 

Steve reached down to brush one hand over the scars running down Eddie's side. "Not always," he whispered, just a little sadly, as he pressed a firm kiss to the mostly-faded ring of scars at his throat. 

"Mm, don't be sad, baby."

"Not sad. Just glad you're alive."

Eddie was quiet for a stretch, and Steve chuckled. 

"What? What were you gonna say, asshole?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, love," Eddie replied, all faux innocence.

"You were gonna say something sassy just then, that's why you went all quiet. So, out with it, come on. How were you gonna sass me in response to me saying I'm glad you're alive?"

"Promise you won't hold it against me?"

"Yeah, baby." Steve leaned over to press a kiss to Eddie’s nose. "This one's a freebie."

Eddie looked over his shoulder with a wide grin, and a twinkle in his eye. "I was gonna call you a sap."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Oh, well, fuck me for being happy my boyfriend's alive I guess."

"I was actually hoping that you would fuck me," Eddie replied. 

"You're pushing your luck, Eds," Steve warned, yanking lightly at his hair. 

"Sorry, baby."

Steve ran his hands up and down the sides of Eddie's arms. "All forgiven, Eds." 

Steve let his hands drift as he waited for the conditioner to rest—digging his fingers into the dense coils of muscle in Eddie's neck, smoothing his palms down the ridges of Eddie's spine, ghosting his hands up Eddie's sides. When time was up, he grabbed the bucket, turned on the tap to fill it with clean, warm water, and spilled it over Eddie’s head. Steve combed his fingers through the chestnut locks again, making sure he’d thoroughly rinsed them once more. The two of them fell still and silent, like two little stones in the river bed. 

Steve loved this. The quiet trance they fell into, as Eddie relaxed into the water, and Steve pressed kisses into his lover’s skin, and they both forgot the mugs of tea that Steve made. 

Steve separated Eddie’s hair into even sections, savoring the feeling of freshly cleaned locks passing through his fingers as he wove the strands together—over-under, over-under, over-under—and plaited Eddie’s hair down the length of his back. When he was done, he flipped the end of the braid back over Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie leaned further into him, pressing the length of his back against Steve’s chest.

Steve let his hands start wandering, and Eddie let out a soft gasp of surprise when the pads of Steve's thumbs brushed over both nipples. "Steve."

"Shh, I got you baby," Steve murmured, and let one hand drop down to where Eddie was stiffening up beneath the water.

"I know you do, Stevie," Eddie whispered back on a sigh and a gasp. "I know you do."

[yujeong]

Time was at a standstill. Vegas was holding his breath without noticing, and continued to hold it when he did - he was afraid of what would happen if he exhaled loudly enough to draw attention to himself. His gaze was shifting between Pete and the man who was standing before them in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Vegas had never seen him before, but even so, he recognized Pete in him enough to know who he was. A dangerous aura surrounded him. There was an edge to his presence that Vegas would only come across people of certain circles. He was a fighter. A muay khao. Pete's father. Shame coursed through Vegas' body, smearing his skin, settling in his lungs, rendering him speechless. I thought he was dead, he wanted to tell Pete if he could. He wanted to scream at him, I thought you killed him. Pete was the one who broke the stillness. As if awakened by something, he took a half-step back and made a motion with his arms, almost raising them to his chest, but not quite. In an instant, Pete reverted into the pet Vegas had been keeping at the safehouse, bound by handcuffs and afraid of his belt hitting flesh and drawing blood. A lump formed in Vegas' throat. "Have you stopped practicing? Your form is off." The uncanny similarities between Pete and his father appearance-wise didn't mean a thing when it came to their voices. Vegas shivered. Was this what Pete would sound like in a few decades? (Were these the condescending words he'd choose to spew? Was Pete going to embody his father? Was Vegas embodying his?) "What are you doing here?" Pete whispered. "They let me out for a few days, so I came here to collect some money. Imagine my surprise when I found out my offspring left the job someone found him worthy enough of doing to... do what exactly? Yaai didn't want to tell me." He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Vegas didn't know what he was allowed to say. If he was allowed to say anything at all. "It's none of your business." "I'd say it very much is my business, as well as yaai's business who was dependent on the money you were making being some rich asshole's human shield." A choked sound scratched Vegas' throat. He didn't like getting reminded of Pete being the main family's bodyguard, even though he stopped being one mere months ago. Especially like this. That was the first time Pete's father stopped looking at his son and turned his head to look at Vegas. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition in his eyes. Did he know who Vegas was? Did he care? A snort came out of his mouth. He leaned on the door. "Oh, I see how it is." He laughed, scratched his neck. "I never expected you to whore yourself out for money. Tell me, is it preferable to the path I carved out for you?" Vegas could sense the disgust in his voice. He could also see it on Pete's face. He was too astonished to share it, but not enough to be unable to speak. "Khun, there has been some misunderstanding-" "Don't bother. I can recognize a faggot when I see one." Pete's movements were too fast for Vegas to stop him. A direct jab to the nose; his father fell like a pack of cards, groaning like a wounded animal. Surprisingly, no blood - Pete held back. Vegas didn't know what to think about that. "That was a pathetic attack, even for you." "Get up." "We're not in the ring, son." Pete growled. Vegas could see his hands trembling as he was keeping them in the air, maintaining an offensive stance. "That never stopped you before." "You were too young to understand what I was doing back then. What I was preparing you for." Pete was silent. "The world isn't kind. It'll fuck you over one way or another." He got up, spat on the ground. "You still haven't learned a thing. You're too old to afford being naive." He turned around, and without sparing a look at Pete again, said: "Now get the fuck out of my house." (For @musictooth, whose posts about Pete's father have reignited my passion for this specific concept and for @wretchedamaranth, whose comments on my writing are always lovely and precious ❤️)

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Starting Traditions

Two short drabbles, one angsty & one fluffy, as both a treat for Halloween & to celebrate reaching 250 followers. This was briefly looked over for mistakes & written in two sittings. Happy reading!

Dream steps through his portal & shivers at how still everything feels, the cold of the season not helping at all. Regardless, he shuts the portal behind him as he stares down at the grave in front of him.

In honor of Nightmare, it reads. It's a scrappy little thing, made by Dream in a fit of grief after he discovered what had happened to his brother.

Taken over by the corruption of the black apples, Dream hopes that Nightmare is dead. At least then his brother wouldn't have to deal with his body being controlled.

Dream shakes himself & begins to clean up the tiny grave, clearing away the plants that had started to grow over it in the time since he last visited.

Despite his earlier thinking, the grave was alright for something his age & skill set at the time could make. It wasn't long after he was freed from the stone, his shaky carving of the letters that made up the words evidence of his growing knowledge.

The grave itself wasn't anything special, just a rock that was big enough & soft enough to carve a message into placed into a clearing. It probably didn't even count as a proper grave, considering there was no dust to spread over Nightmare's favorite items.

The area was quickly cleaned up & Dream hesitates. He really should leave, he had things he could be doing. Was there a reason to stick around?

After debating with himself for a few moments, Dream slowly sinks to the ground in front of the gravestone, cross legged. "Hey Nighty..."

Dream's voice trailed off as he considered what he should say next. Maybe he could... "Did you know that people dress up & try to get candy? Apparently you sparked a tradition."

Leaning back on his hands, Dream reminisces as he continues to speak. "I remember the first time you did it, too. Covering yourself in branches & leaves & whatever foresty things you could find until you weren't recognizable at all. You even surprised me the first time I saw you!"

Dream pauses his story to laugh softly, sighing fondly after. "The villagers were terrified. Dropped everything they were carrying & ran at the sight of you. Not that you were that scary. Not to me."

Dream stops briefly to take a few deep breaths, blinking to clear the tears that were trying to gather. He clears his throat before continuing.

"Of course, being as clever as you were, you took the opportunity to take whatever sweets & goodies that they dropped until you couldn't carry any more! Then you would bring it home to share with me & we would giggle at how oblivious the villagers were."

Dream giggles quietly to himself with a smile on his face, leaning forward so his forearms rested on his knees. "Hey Nighty?"

There's silence for a few moments before Dream leans forward even more, whispering as if sharing a secret. "I miss you..."

Bonus Scene!

"Seriously, I did it once, or maybe a few times, I don't see why it became such a big deal." Nightmare complains, Ccino nodding along as if agreeing with the other.

The gang had been busy, having heard of the tradition of dressing up to receive candy & latching onto the idea. Who would turn down the idea of free candy after all?

Unfortunately, he couldn't trust them all in one place by themselves, & had to come along as supervision. So Nightmare watched from afar, seeing them running around & taking whatever they wanted, not just candy.

At some point he had called it a night & taken them to Ccino's cafe so they could wind down from all the excitement & exercise. Unfortunately...

Nightmare sighed as he heard Killer & Dust begin to wrestle on the ground, grappling with each other for some reason that he didn't care to know. Wondering why the other two were being so quiet, Nightmare looked over his shoulder & huffed out a soft laugh. That certainly explained things.

Cross was sitting at the table they had dumped their loot on, trying to subtly switch out sweets that he didn't like for chocolate from the other's piles. Horror, meanwhile, was lying on the ground with several cats on top of him with his eye sockets closed.

Nightmare shook his head, definitely not in a fond way, as he turned back to look at Ccino. Ccino, however, was attempting to hold back his snickering, causing Nightmare to scowl & wiping the smile that had unknowingly grown across his face.

This sent Ccino into actual laughter, a soft sound that made Nightmare scoff & roll his eyes, scowl softening. In the background, Cross let out a scream as he began to get chased by Killer & Dust, who had finally noticed Cross' attempted deception.

As Nightmare began to rant to Ccino once more, Cross tripped over Horror as he attempted to jump over him, sending cats scattering & causing the two chasing him to fall on top of each other, creating a dogpile. Despite the chaotic atmosphere, everyone was having a good time.

Except for maybe the cats who had their nap interrupted.

[xariarte]

the bronsteph unlocked twt fanart scenario is an interesting combination of wanting more people to openly enjoy nba rpf yaoi while not understanding the reasons as to why people aren't openly enjoying nba rpf yaoi

[weathernerdmando]

"How can i write a 600 word essay on this subject without an AI?!"

i just banged out a few thousand words in a day. fanfic, but i can write an essay damn well too. i've got a literary analysis of a very long fic started that's also several thousands word already.

It's a skill and you NEED to practice it. Being able to write well enough to politely tell people to fuck off is a very useful skill to have, if nothing else.

[ismyteadoneyet]

How fortunate am I to have so many Things to love and be excited about, to appreciate and look forward to?

Things I feel so strongly about that they stumble into my mind, univited, at random times of the day? Things that spill into my speech and vocabulary without me noticing? Things that impact my vision to the point where everywhere I look, everywhere I go, I see ghosts of them?

How lucky am I to have so many Things I love and cherish enough for them to reshape my very person, change my beliefs and make me grow? Things that make my own loved ones see the Things out in the wild, and go out of their way to make sure I see them too?

How wonderful is it that I have Things that I love so much that the very act is deemed and dubbed "not normal", making my love for them seem like it's more than they are supposed to recieve? An out-of-the-ordinary and above-the-norm appreciation for the Things that make the people around me shake their heads, call me "silly".

My dear, beloved Things, may I always stay silly for you ❤️

[jackabbot]

Wip Wednesday 🎄

I was tagged by the ever so lovely @daffi-990 @thewolvesof1998 @jamespearce9-1-1 @hippolotamus @exhuastedpigeon and @rainbow-nerdss mwuah 💛

Welp a little later than usual but here I am! And uh apparently I added another Christmas fic to the pile because why not lmao but it's just a real short one and I'm aiming for it to be posted this week. 🫡

He was just about to decide what kind of disgustingly greasy takeout food to order, when the door clicked open behind his back.

He turned to see— Eddie. Because of course it was Eddie.

“Hey,” he said gently, shutting the door behind himself and Buck knew it was a little irrational right now, but it still warmed his heart that Eddie came and went like this; that he knew no matter what, he was always welcome here.

“Hi.” Buck gave him a weak smile over the brim of his beer bottle, unsure of what to expect.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Why, did uh did I not seem okay?” Buck scoffed, just falling short of casual.

Eddie averted his gaze almost guiltily before pinning Buck with a knowing look. “No.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair.” Buck took a long swig of his beer with a grimace.

“You know it doesn’t change anything, right?”

“Uh no, Eddie, I really don’t know that.” Buck drawled and put the bottle down on the counter top with a loud clink.

“Bu—”

“Eddie, you’re leaving the 118. That- that literally changes everything!” He spread his arms widely, as if he could indicate just how much of that everything covered.

✨no pressure tagging: @malewifediaz @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns @ladydorian05 @disasterbuckdiaz @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @eowon @heartshapedvows @nmcggg @watchyourbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @theotherbuckley @fortheloveofbuddie

[waneborne-caverns]

Neither of which would ever live again. ┆ ╰⪼ (Inspired by: In Sheep's Clothing // @reignpage)

[camels-pen]

@sanusoweek Day 6 - Gods and Demons

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 5