#OLD MAN YAOI SAVE ME

[katich-pigeon]

The Moon & The Sun

[ithinkdogshouldvote2]

Hey does anyone have fic recommendations set during ford's entries in book of bill? I'm having a hard time finding much because the gravity falls tag on ao3 is SOOO congested with the gross parts of the Fandom please help me

[notabotiswearbabes]

I think i hauve covid

(Chain version under the cut)

[ayliaan]

now in color

[a-literal-toaster-wtf]

so i rewatched the promised land the other night and i NEED to talk about the detail i noticed because omg . i need to know if anyone else noticed it its making me crazy so yk the bit near the end (if you havent watched it yet turn back now if you dont want spoilers) where the cats learn that lister isn't a god, and lister goes on about how he was like "rimmer's vending machine caddy", and exaggerating about how helpful he was when in reality he didn't care one jot about his job? we all know how pedantic rimmer can be about this sort of stuff, but if you look at him during this scene, he's just.... nodding along, albiet maybe a bit confused. but he doesnt seem to be disagreeing in the slightest. so either rimmer just doesn't remember enough about Z-shift to know if lister's being honest but trusts him enough that he thinks he's telling the truth, or he just doesn't care enough anymore to correct him and is allowing him to have this. both options make me want to thrash about and die

[fog-kid]

So... Cellboier decided to give us old man yaoi, I am honoring their wishes

(can't believe i am unaronically writing about Abueloier and his "friend", dear fucking god)

There was blood under his nails, but that wasn't new. He sometimes scratched too hard or got too rough with the guards after trashing around his cell. Those were the bad days, when he couldn't even control where his hands landed.

Any other day, he couldn't control where his thoughts landed. That was the real danger. Not the scratches and bruises, the teasers and beatings. None of that compared to what years of confinement can do to you.

It probably would've been even worse had he not met him.

"Hey" he had whispered one night from the cell next to his, just over a year ago, after the guards left "You okay?"

"De puta madre" Abueloier hissed, touching his busted lip "Y tu qué? You're new?"

"Got transfered today" the man behind the wall moved to the front of the cell, Abueloier instinctively followed "Are they always like that?"

"Only if you're crazy enough to start breaking shit in your cell and threatening to kill everybody"

"Are you?"

Abueloier almost heard a smile in his whisper. He'd always remember that as the moment he realized he had finally found a match, someone of his caliber. An equal, a partner.

"On my bad days" he answered.

The other huffed a short laugh "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you at your worst"

"I'd hope so, you would hate me at my best"

From then on, they moved together as one. It was them against the rest of the inmates, the guards, the entire prison. They shared every meal, every recess, and talked about what they'd do once they made it out.

"I'll build myself a house" he spoke around a spoonful of beans "Maybe a castle"

Abueloier laughed "You dream too big"

"Okay then, what will you do?"

He shrugged and looked down at the stale beans on his plate "Make tacos, probably"

The talking got to planning, the days got longer and Abueloier's mind got louder. Every time his new friend explained what they had to do, his voice morphed into some distortion of what he said. The last days were bad, worse than bad, and nothing could stop that train of thought from flying off the rails.

"How do you know their schedual?" his hands shook, they had been doing that for a while.

"I told you already, I sneaked into the office-"

"Yeah, right. Fucking likely" there was a noise coming from his right but nobody noticed, so Abueloier didn't turn to check. He kept staring into those wild, troubled blue eyes and decided that if there was a white figure at the corner of his eye, he'd not give it the satisfaction of being noticed.

"You trust me, right?" he tilted his head, some of his hair brushing the neck of his uniform. Had that smile always been part of the design on their uniforms? Was it there at all?

"I do" he sighed and closed his eyes, mostly to avoid noticing more than he could handle "We can do this, and we will. Together"

There was blood under his nails, and it wasn't his or from any guard. His only friend tried to sit up to cough up blood but winced when it only made the knife dig further into his abdomen.

"Why would you do this to me?" he heaved, but Abueloier was about to ask the same thing.

"Where do you know them from? Was this entire thing just a trick to get me to them?"

That smile was plastered everywhere, he could see it in the blood that poured from his friend. He would see it in the tears that fell to his hands.

"I would've gone to the end of the Earth with you, but you chose them" he pressed his forehead to a bloody chest, feeling the difficulty of its rise and fall "You chose them. You chose them. I would've chosen you"

The realization came seconds before those wild, troubled blue eyes dimmed into nothing. There was blood under his nails, on his hands, on his clothes, pouring from his friend's body. There was betrayal laced to his last words.

"I choose you too" it sounded like a scratched record, wet with the blood drowning the sound from his throat "At your worst and at your best"

The guards found him some time later, maybe minutes, maybe hours, could've been days for all he knew. Turns out they didn't wear white, never did, in fact. The smiles from the walls were no longer there, the eyes in every corner had completely dissapeared. No trace of bears or artificial voices telling him about other people's intentions.

All that was left was a life sentence and years worth of lagoons in his memory, blissfully blank and confused. Still, he managed. He got a job as a janitor, even went out sometimes to meet up with his grandson, but always tried to avoid that good for nothing husband of his.

Those eyes, they looked too lively. Too wild, too troubled for anyone's good

[soleeryx]

[kindest-little-fella-in-town]

i’m falling so deep into this rabbithole it’s not even funny

[pe0ple3ater]

fitza (referenced fitpac), implied sexual content

Hello! I have a request that I'm slowly picking away at, sorry it's taking so long! Have something I cobbled together very very quickly when my mind wandered a bit during Phil's stream! Enjoy! This isn't beta read, I genuienly threw it together in less than an hour so if it's shit you have permission to unfollow tbh

Philza groans, stretching out on his bed. His wings stretch out behind him, and he rolls his head to crack his neck. He hums and pushes himself up, wings shuddering and folding against his back. He runs his hand through his hair. He feels good, heavy, and warm.

The room smells like sex and sweat. He chirps softly and seeks out Fit in the room; he's sitting on the edge of Phil's bed, digging through his bag for water or something, but Phil isn't so sure. Philza grins and moves over to Fit, draping himself against the stronger man's shoulders, wings draping around them. Fit hums softly and tilts his head to headbut Phil gently.

"So what about you and Pac?" Phil asks, cackling when Fit freezes, an exhale forced out of him with his surprise.

"Well shit Philza, has anyone ever told you it's rude to attack a man when he's vulnerable?" Fit asks, finally finding the water bottle in his bag and shrugging Phil's weight off himself.

Philza shifts back, lounging. He's still naked, the blankets of his bed draped over his lap to keep a facade of modesty. Fit has boxers on but is otherwise bare. It's a pleasant sight. Philza lets his eyes drag over Fit's chest when the man shifts and settles himself against Philza's pillows. He tosses the water to Phil, who catches it and opens it instantly. He drinks his fill and then sets it aside.

Fit seems uneasy. He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, defensive. Phil raises an eyebrow and coos softly, a soothing sound that Fit can't exactly comprehend.

"Come on, mate, we just fucked. You can talk about your feelings," Phil says, words curling into a laugh towards the end. Fit rolls his eyes and folds his arms behind his head, breathing and forcing himself to relax. Fit tilts his head back and looks up at the ceiling.

"I don't know, it's- it's different than us. I don't want to. I don't want to just have sex with him; it feels like more," Fit says, stumbling over his

words; he sighs hard and glances over at Phil. The avian nods, and his wings flutter a bit. He can't outright tell Fit that he's in love. He thinks that Fit would freak out if Phil said something like that. He hums quietly in contemplation.

"Never felt that way before?" Phil asks, moving to lie on his stomach, stretching out, and folding his arms under his head. He looks at Fit and drapes his left wing over the man's lap. Fit's hands run gently through the feathers, straightening the ones out of place. Phil's eyes flutter closed for a second; it feels nice. It's been some time since anyone has touched his wings, the last being Etoiles.

"No, no, I don't think so. Man, I'm too old to feel like this," Fit complains, fingers drifting closer to the inner end of Philza's wings, towards his back. It makes him shiver, wings twitching under Fit's hands.

"Nah mate, you'll get it figured out," Phil says, breathing deep. He can feel sleep tugging at the edges of his consciousness, Fit's gentle hands running through his wings, not helping Phil stay awake.

In response, Fit makes a slight noise, pulling the blanket up more over Phil.

"I hope so, man," Fit says, laying down and settling against Phil's side, arm wrapping around his waist and pulling Phil close. Phil coos gently and tucks his head against Fit's chest.

Phil knows Fit will figure it out; it just might take a few hundred years. Phil smiles. They'll talk about it more when he's not fucked out and exhausted.

[changecomesforyou]

i've been in a lot of fandoms but i have never been the understanderrrrrrrrrr 🙄 but with THESE TWO i cannot help it. i see them so clearly. a delicious feast of repression and self-defensive self-destruction made just for meeeee

[sunshiline-writes]

“You just watched them die.” for Sol and Luis c:<

Oh man Ruin you gave me brain rot with this one. Luis is @crash-bump-bring-the-whump 's character! From this Prompt List

__ Tired eyes, they both had tired eyes. Two old men who were part of a war that should have been over a long time ago. What were they even fighting for anymore? Solomon couldn't remember. But the kids.. The kids were what he was fighting for. Keep them safe, give them more time. More time to live and love. More time.

They ran out of time. Solomon poured healing magic into a limp body. No pulse. Nothing. He still tried. A hand landed on his shoulder. "Solomon, Solomon you need to stop."

"No.. No we were supposed to be here." "We weren't allowed to interfere." "You just watched them die."

Luis took a deep breath and exhaled, crouching next to him. "Yes. Because they asked us too."

Solomon wanted to scream. Even if Luis was right. There was no choice here. They were not allowed to interfere. They ran out of time.

[novantinuum]

*wheezesssss*

i swear to god i am still actively into SU, i'm just not into any sort of stuff that i can friggin POST here right now, i'm so sorry XD

[sleepiestwizard]

this is all i got. this is all i got

[achjira]

not me running through dragon age origins yet again cause i randomly hyperfixated on loghain and NEEDED to recruit and smooch him,,,,,

[simstoyourdismay]

wait cause why do i want him..

[mj-thrush-gxn]

clampler….clampler…

clampler… sigh