#also yes this is a fic I’m doing
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groovygladiatorsheep · 2 years ago
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Pspspsps….
Don’t you just love Nightmare picking up broken lil sillies left n right..
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
*Credits.
Blueberror belongs to loverofpiggies !
Nightmare belongs to Joku.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
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keferon · 3 months ago
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Did you think I was done? Ahahahaha no, I have more.
Because chapter 70 of MOMU gave me the very dynamic between them that I missed so much, I just blacked out and started drawing uncontrollably lmao
Also. ALSO. I noticed a while ago that Prowl has the habit of..like…constantly frowning. So. I did a bit of research and made this graph.
In 70 chapters, Prowl frowns rougly 104 times. And the intensity of this gesture is very clearly correlated with the development of his relationship with Jazz, as you can see ahahahahah It might be wrong tho don’t take me seriously I’m not good with graphs
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#maccadam#transformers#prowl#jazz#jazzprowl#fic fanart#momu fanart#I just#mmmmm#For the whole fic Prowl had to think twice about everything Jazz says#every information could end up being wrong#sometimes even without Jazz realising it#so when Prowl says#he’s trusting Jazz. it’s.#also it totally wasn’t me googling ‘believing and trusting nuance difference in english’#the moment I realised the difference I think my brain started rollercoaster loops#he can’t believe him but he found enough faith to trust him#while. YES. For the whole story Jazz couldn’t fucking be believed#list e n#Jazz did a lot of things for Prowl#fucktons of big and small gestures to show that yes he likes loves and appreciates Prowl#I’m so happy Prowl is returning this energy#like#remember that scene a while back when Jazz kissed Prowl? Cool cool okay. Did Prowl kiss him? nope. It was one sided gestures#*gesture. That kiss didn’t make me feel like it’s truly something precious because Jazz started it but Prowl didn’t do quite the same#but this👆. This feels so much more important for me. Because Prowl#who is for the whole story was mister I calculate every chance of possible betrayal. Prowl whos entire personality is to trust nobody#Prowl goes. Fuck that I trust you. You feel me?#it wouldn’t be the same if he said I love you. Because love is very much something you don’t have a lot of control over.#but to trust someone? It’s a choice Prowl had to consciously make. You see what I mean? I love it. oh fuck I ran out of tags..
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wolvesandshine · 4 months ago
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I need more jock! regulus fics like he was also an athlete okay and he’s a black so he never does things in halves. I need regulus being buff or if not at the very least having the biggest sleeper build of all time. I need him to appear all calm and collected until his favourite quidditch team/football team is on then he goes crazy - he yells and screams and has zero filter. I need him to do workouts at home cause wdym he’s going to slack in the holidays he’s a black - just jock regulus guys
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imfinereallyy · 10 months ago
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some of us, and I’m not naming names, need to start being properly tagged on fics.
Angst: Is it me?
No.
Unhappy Ending: Is it me?
……it’s not Angst.
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ri-afan · 3 months ago
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Soulmate au - first words on skin
“Woah, hey, you probably shouldn’t be doing that.”
“…Are you my conscience?”
Person 1 is a vigilante helping someone with a probable concussion after an attack of some kind.
Person 2 is a person who’s had many a philosophical debate on whether or not the words on their skin made them reckless or if they were reckless all on their own.
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cum-a-calla · 3 days ago
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erm… predatory/prey play with roman in the workplace……
everyone is gone, like the building is CLOSED closed. he tries to corner his assistant (because duh) and be like hey… what if you let me fuck you? and she just slips her heels off and just. books it.
it’s all in good fun, until it’s not. hopefully no one sees the security footage of him dragging her back into his office by her ankles.
and then he [redacted] her [redacted] until they [redacted]. goodbye 2024.
“I’m bored.”
“Try… I don’t know. Doing some of the paperwork we have to get through. We only have to be here until everything is looked over, signed, filed…” You sigh a long, frustrated sigh, leaning on the desk with your head in your hands. “Roman. You have to throw me a fuckin’ bone, here.” The hour runs so late that everyone else is gone on this floor, only the two of you left. You’re not tired, necessarily, just so utterly over all this paperwork.
Roman smirks at his place behind his desk, flicking his gaze to you from his computer screen. He lifts an eyebrow. “I could throw you a bone.”
A glare has him giggling to himself, that infuriatingly high little inward laugh he does when he’s feeling smug, or clever. It’s actually kind of attractive in an odd way… but so many things about Roman are. It pisses you off. He shouldn’t be allowed to be so smarmy and careless and just… look like that all the time. Roman’s eyes are on yours again and it becomes humiliatingly clear that you’ve just been staring at him, tracing the planes and lines of his handsome features. He turns a little, giving you his full attention now. Tracing his fingertip along some of the papers on his desk. Knowing you’ll watch.
“Oh… are you thinkin’ about it?” Roman licks the edge of his teeth, grinning. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you. I mean… nobody’s here, right?”
“Fuck off,” you say softly. A flush rises up your throat and you roll your eyes, ripping another sheet off the top of the stack to parse through it. “You wish.”
“No… no, I think you wish. I do.” Roman rises up from his chair and you’re forced to look up at him, hands freezing as you move to sign a report. “I think you give me those fuck-me eyes all the time. As if I don’t notice. Oh - don’t make that face. I notice, sweetheart. I know when I’m stuck inside somebody’s mind… stuck tight.”
You feel a strange sort of… something. Something that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, just the way Roman’s standing up right now. Looming over his desk. Moving to walk around the edge. Out of pure instinct, you stand as well, palms on the surface as you rise up. Roman’s eyes are glittering, pupils wide and only getting wider.
“Roman…-”
“We should,” he says. “Fuck, I mean. You should let me bend you over this desk. Or… I mean, you could get down on your knees. I could get down on mine, whatever - equal opportunity fucking, right? I’m told I give some serious lip.”
He advances slowly, smoothly, like an animal as you edge toward the door. He’s smiling, but it’s not actually a smile at all. A wolf licking its chops. Your pulse quickens, a surge of adrenaline making your fingers tremble a little. Roman refuses to back down, his voice drawing lower, quieter, trying to hypnotize you like a cat with his words.
“Bad move, sweetheart. I can run. Probably had no idea, but all I did in fucking military school was get screamed at and run. I will catch you.”
Your breath catches in your throat and it’s then that the slice of fear starts mingling with something else, stomach doing flips. A spreading warmth seems to fill the basin of your hips, all that smoldering heat matching the fever-spots of flush in your cheeks. You slip off your heels, grateful for the carpeting - wearing thin tights might not fare so well on a hard, slippery floor while being chased. And that’s what this is, isn’t it? He’s going to chase you. A tiny shiver zips up your spine.
“I’m gunna give you a head start, just to level the -”
Before he can finish, you’re taking off. His laughter trails behind you, and after turning a corner in the endless rows of cubicles, you drop to your hands and knees and crawl, moving another couple rows over like that, holding your breath. There’s a manic thrill bouncing around inside your body, making you shake as you scuttle underneath a desk, both hands pressed over your own mouth. Somewhere nearby, there are soft, light scuffing sounds as he walks. Barely there, hard to discern. If he’s taken his shoes off, you’re fucked.
After a few agonizing minutes of trying to figure out his location by sound, he walks by. The sight of his legs walking away from you almost makes you gasp - almost. God, you can feel your pulse behind your fucking eyeballs. You inch forward little by little on your hands and knees on the carpet. Roman’s still slowly walking the other way. You rise up to a stand for only a fleeting moment before you stumble over your own goddamn feet, making a little sound as you land roughly on your hands and knees again. There’s a moment frozen in time in which you turn your head sharply to face Roman, and he looks behind his shoulder and sees you. There’s a flash of surprise on his face before he’s smirking, turning fully around, and you only make it a couple of steps before his fingers are digging into the collar of your shirt, yanking you back so that you fall down again, this time on your ass.
Limbs are pinwheeling for purchase - you twist in his grasp and he’s on top of you, laughing, practically panting with excitement. In a moment of blind panic, you slap him in the face and he reels a little. In that moment you scramble up and start running again, and he’s on your fucking heels. His laughter titters just behind you and it makes you giggle in return, giddy with the chase, with the weird combination of fear and arousal and anxiety making you throb. You throb everywhere - your pulse finds a loud, pounding home in the tip of your nose, your chest… your cunt.
Wheeling around a corner too fast, you trip again. Roman’s absolutely beside himself, laughing at you as he leans down and grabs your ankles.
“Hey, you really gave it your all,” he commends, voice dripping with derision. He flashes you a grin, all teeth as he starts dragging you backwards. You try to kick and wiggle, but Roman’s stronger than he looks - he has you in a solid grip, clucking his tongue at you. “No, none of that - you had your chances. I win, and I’m going to cum in your little cunt about it. Okay? That was the deal.”
Your skirt rides up and so does your blouse, everything coming untucked and rucking up. The carpet burns as he drags you across it, and you hiss as you squirm to escape it. Roman watches with a hint of amusement, uninterested in your struggle or your discomfort. He drags you all the way across the floor back to his office, and when you try to clutch at the door frame, Roman is swift to toss your legs to the side and take a step closer to kick it away. He finishes hauling you fully into the office and shuts the door, turning to you with his eyes all hooded and dark, cheeks red with excitement. The both of you tremble, the both of you utterly consumed by a manic sort of adrenaline high.
“Well, it’s not being bent over a desk, but - but I kinda like this better. More intimate, yeah? I get to watch you cum all over my cock. Lucky me - and lucky you,” he purrs, pushing your thighs open. When you lift yourself up on your elbows, he yanks your arms down by the wrists. “Dont. Give it up, honey - the struggle is really nice, don’t get me wrong. Cuuute, just fuckin’ cute as shit. But I’m getting impatient.”
He releases you to reach between your thighs, where he pulls at the fabric of your tights with both hands and rips them open down the center.
“Gotta invest in something that doesn’t get sold from a fuckin’ Walmart, babydoll. That was so easy it was barely fun.”
“Fuck you,” you mumble.
“Oh, you will.” Roman takes a moment to pull your underwear to the side. He runs his fingers along your slit, tracing the edges and folds of your pussy as he spreads it open, looking at it, barely teasing your clit. “You know how wet you are? Dripping. How fucking sad is that? Are you - oh, am I pissing you off? Making you all upset? You look like you wanna hit me. You wanna hit me again?”
You glare at him, opening your lips to say something about it when he laughs, shoving his fingers inside of you without warning, curling them, pumping them with a precision that has your glare dissolving. Moans take away all the words you had. Roman looks positively triumphant - he fucks them a little harder, a little faster, relishing the way you make those stupid, breathy sounds, the look on your face indistinguishable from pain. It excites him to think of that, too - hurting you a little.
“God, if you’re this fuckin’ whiny for my fingers, you’re really gunna love what comes next,” he murmurs.
Then you do slap him - but it can barely be called a slap at all. The impulse comes, you run with it in the heat of the moment, and a second too late you pull the slap a little and it barely registers. He blinks a little in surprise, fingers paused in their rhythm. He fucks them into you even harder as his eyes bore into yours, that delicate, angry vein showing on his forehead. His free hands rests on your inner thigh, gripping the flesh there. Keeping you spread.
“Not great,” he deadpans. “Try it again. This time, do it like you give a fuck about doing something right for once.”
You can do that. You can do that very well, and the crack of your open palm against the same cheek stings your hand. The flush to his face is immediate, and his eyes look black as he yanks his fingers out of your body again and he slaps you back with the same hand. He smiles as he watches you wipe your own cum off your cheek, tears welling up in your lashes. He tilts his head and pouts a little, undoing his slacks and pushing them down his hips. His cock bounces free, and the sight of it catches you completely off guard. It’s not that you’d ever had an expectation, or a particularly specific thought as to his size, but he is surprisingly thick. Long. His smooth, rippled cockflesh laced with veins. He grins, stroking it once or twice, and fuck, it looks gorgeous in his fingers like that as he teases himself.
“Yeah, I mean… at least I didn’t slap you with this, right? You wouldn’t even be conscious for what I’m about to do to you. But, you know… maybe another time.”
“Roman, seriously - you’re gunna have to… you know, take it - take it easy, okay?”
Roman’s eyes get absolutely dreamy, shining in the dimmed light and hooded by his lovely, low eyelids, wet lips parted as he crawls up over you. He leans in and lowers down until he can brush his lips just barely against yours, more a tease than anything else. He tilts his head and licks a wet stripe from the edge of your jaw up to your cheekbone, planting a wet, sloppy kiss there.
“Don’t you worry about that.” He reaches between your bodies and runs the fat, leaking head of his cock along your slit, slowly, up and down, back again. Every couple passes, he pushes the tip deliciously against your hole, rocking there but only barely. There’s a crease between his focused brows when he lifts to watch your expression, moving to keep your gaze even when you get embarrassed. “Look at you, all fuckin’ wriggly and full of shame. You getting desperate, sweetheart? Yeah? Wanna ask me for it?”
“Roman…”
“Mhmm?” Roman nuzzles playfully into your neck and nips at your throat, once, twice, a third time - this time hard enough to make you whine in that adorable way, your hips twitching. He chooses this moment to work more of himself in - only maybe an inch, just a little further, where he rocks infuriatingly slow again as he sucks a deep, dark bruise into your skin. He can’t wait to see what you do with that tomorrow - how you’re going to cover it up. But he’ll know. He’ll know it’s there. “Hey - go ahead. Ask for what you want.”
“Can you.. uh,” you mumble, nerves crashing under the sheer overload of sensation, of throbbing need. God, the entire fucking thing - the fear, the chase, the force, Roman being an insatiable goddamn beast hellbent on destroying you; it’s enough to melt your brain. But if finding a few more words is all that stands between you and the rest, then… “Can you please give me… more?”
“More of my cock?” Roman starts edging more of himself inside, a smooth, slow rolling of his hips, undulating. Each little thrust brings him closer to home, and you’re gasping. He fastens his lips to a new spot on your neck, at the juncture of your shoulder. “Just trying to take it easy, right? Be patient - you’ll get it all, honey.”
Finally, he’s worked himself balls-deep. He rolls so softly, so very tenderly against your cervix, the tip of his thick cock kissing against it over and over in a maddeningly erotic tease. Is it still a tease if there’s no room left to fuck into? He pushes your thighs open and lifts himself up a little, looking down at you. His cheeks are as flushed as yours. You’ve never noticed just how many freckles he has over his cheeks and nose, how they dot him delicately like a surreal expanse of dark stars in a pink sky.
“Touch yourself. Make yourself cum, just like this.”
Zero hesitation - you push your hand down between your thighs, between your bodies, and expertly circle your clit with your fingers. The natural clench against the stretch of him feels otherworldly. The bright, electric sensation of stimulation on the soft cusp of your cervix adds an entirely new layer to it; it’s sharp, but pleasantly so. You sneak a peek between your bodies at the way he rolls his hips, down to where he only slightly moves in and out of you. He keeps you impossibly full. You let your head fall back down and catch his smug lips, the way he licks them.
“Fuck… I’m close,” you whine.
“I know… I know.” God, he almost sounds kind. If you weren’t looking directly at him, you’d believe it. “Do it for me. You’re this tight already… I wanna know what it feels like to have your perfect little pussy milk me dry. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to empty my fucking balls into you, you know that?”
“Oh - fucking…- shit-” Your entire body seems to seize up, and all that molten, coiled tension melts in a series of devastating waves, pulsating, rushing from behind your eyes all the way down to your toes as he continues to rock into you like that through the crash of your orgasm. His breathing gets erratic and he’s leaning down to lick at your throat. After you move your hand to cling to him, he starts to really fuck into you, rearing back just to slam his cock back inside. Suddenly you’re skating on the shockwave of a brand new explosion of pleasure as he sees fit to set a punishing new pace. The curve of his cock finally tends to all those barely-touched nerves in his full, brutal strokes, balls audibly slapping against your body.
“Yeah - keep fucking cumming. It’s okay, I know - it’s a lot to take. You’re doing so good - look at you. Like you were made to take my cock, huh, baby? I’m gunna fill you up, okay? You ready?” His voice is drawn high, soothing, making your head spin as you try to fit the tone of his voice with the sly, mean smirk on his lips. He reaches a hand up and presses his fingers against your lips, sliding two of them over your tongue. “Good girl - good fucking girl.”
The feeling of your lips and tongue on his fingers, the sounds you make, the way you keep clenching around him - it’s the perfect storm. His hips falter at the same time his moans do, and his cock is pulsing inside of you. He pushes deep, fingers matching as they wander toward the back of your throat until you whine, gagging, grabbing at his wrist to stop him. Your teeth scrape his knuckles and he shudders as he moans, rutting his hips in time with each thick spurt of his cum. There’s a wonderful sort of haze where both of your bodies are coming down, muscles relaxing. The beginning of the afterglow. Roman removes his fingers as his body stills, dick softening inside of you. He sticks those fingers into his own mouth without even thinking about it, tasting you, your saliva. Finally he separates from your body and pats the inside of your thigh, giving it a strangely affectionate squeeze. It feels more intimate than everything else you’ve done, in some weird way: the way he didn’t look at you when sucking your saliva off his fingers, the tenderness of the squeeze. Those things go quietly inside of you, somewhere else to peruse later. Things Roman wouldn’t really want you to have; accidental gifts.
“That was…” you trail off, exhaling hard to convey your feelings. You laugh a little bit, a bit of tension releasing as you do. “Jesus Christ.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do all that… you can just call me Roman Roy,” he cracks, smiling wryly. He sighs and pulls himself together, running a hand through his mussed hair before it falls right back into his eyes. “I know, I know. Big ol’ fuckin’ hog, devilishly handsome, and hilarious? I’m the entire goddamn package.”
“Don’t forget filthy rich.”
Roman shakes his head and bows slightly to you, hand outstretched as if giving you the floor. “And filthy rich. If I could just fuck and marry myself, I would. Now, uh… is your back okay? Got a little… scraped up, yeah? You need some, like, Neosporin or some shit?”
“Yeah, in fact - could you also bring me some Mickey Mouse bandaids, maybe a lollipop? Some stickers? I’m fine, Roman… thanks, though.”
“Show you a fuckin’ lollipop,” Roman mutters, running his hands over his face. He snaps his fingers, fidgety, gesturing toward the door. “Come on, let’s get the fuck outta here. Fuck the papers. I’ll make somebody else finish it tomorrow. I don’t care. Romey tired.”
Roman places a chaste hand at the base of your spine, guiding you through the doors to end the evening. There’s a comfortable silence as you separate, Roman heading for his car while you go off to your own apartment in the opposite direction. Closer to arriving home, your phone dings. Roman’s name shows up and you ignore the tiny wisp of a thrill in your gut at seeing his name there inside your phone, not having reached out first.
Overtime required tomorrow. My shopper will have new tights for you - you’re welcome. Make it worth it. -R
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decaffeinatedpartymuggoop · 5 months ago
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I love how PJO was written to be a silly little children’s book and then the fandom decided to be sad all the damn time
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crystallizsch · 27 days ago
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“It’s Always A Dance With You”
yuusha tala💜 x jamil viper🐍 (oc x canon) word count: 500+ words cw: not angst surprisingly notes: takes place during book 5; i got overzealous and wrote a dance scene (insert question mark)
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their first dance in the kitchen was not really any less weirder than being outside ramshackle—
standing on the itchy grass;
next to the gravestones;
with the bugs that crawl at night.
a little more privacy would’ve been nice but they can’t be too picky this late at night.
━━━━━━✦
the prefect looked at the scarabia vice housewarden’s outstretched hand.
🐍: Are you ready?
💜: Sure. But without music?
🐍: Just follow my lead.
💜: But how am I supposed to—
🐍: Will you stop complaining, Prefect? I’d rather not be out here for longer than we need to.
yuusha made a dramatic sigh as she begrudgingly put her gloved hand on top of his.
💜: You’re the boss.
━━━━━━✦
it started with a light step forward, and two light steps back.
and the judgments began.
🐍: No, Prefect. Your other left.
🐍: Why is your back so stiff? Relax. It’s like I’m dancing with a log.
the vice housewarden felt his patience wearing thin.
the prefect knew how to dance. he saw.
well—
she danced with him herself.
the impromptu dance in the kitchen.
sure she wasn’t great, but she knew how to keep in rhythm.
so why now does it feel like the prefect is making it deliberately hard for him?
━━━━━━✦
jamil spoke too soon.
yuusha was a fast learner, of course. he knew this.
or she decided to be compliant out of spite.
either or they were dancing in sync to the tuneless sound of the night, save for the occasional chirp of crickets and the jingle of the bells from jamil’s hair ornaments as they twirled around each other.
there’s always a sudden shift with her that he can’t control.
unfortunately for her, two can play at that game.
the vice housewarden concluded the dance with a sharp dip.
━━━━━━✦
so it was another one of those moments.
did the air become particularly warmer that night or was it just that their bodies were pressed closed together in the dip, their faces were almost touching?
from this angle, the prefect gazed into jamil’s eyes. it sparkled like the night sky illuminating behind him.
that’s a soft, starstruck look yuusha hasn’t seen before.
oh this is dangerous.
at this moment, she forgot the implications of eye contact with the scarabia vice housewarden.
she felt herself letting her guard down, much to her dismay.
unbeknownst to her, jamil fell to that vulnerability first. a vulnerability he didn’t think he’d have again.
yuusha matched his soft gaze which jamil immediately honed in on.
💜: Your eyes are beautiful, Jamil. Have I ever told you that?
━━━━━━✦
the prefect yelped as she landed butt-first onto the ground.
jamil had let her body slip out off his hands, dropping the prefect on purpose.
yuusha attempted to kick his shins in retaliation but to no avail. jamil dodged it effortlessly considering she’s still on the ground.
🐍: We’re done here.
he averted his gaze, trying to hide that he felt warmth rushing through his cheeks.
the hood of his dorm uniform can’t save him right now as he’s not wearing it.
💜: You didn’t have to DROP me! Sorry for complimenting you, I guess.
jamil didn’t acknowledge her complaint and just reached out his hand to her again.
he looks like he’s trying so hard to hide a laugh with that shit-eating smirk of his.
she looked up at him with disbelief but proceeded to accept it anyway.
💜: …..Thanks for the dance, Vice Housewarden.
🐍: You’re welcome, Prefect. Dont ask me ever again.
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viperwhispered · 10 months ago
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Rest
Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.
At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 
However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.
You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.
So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.
It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.
At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.
“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.
Of course.
It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.
You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.
“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.
“Yes.”
“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”
“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.
Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.
“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.
Really, when did he get so tired?
And how did you not notice it earlier?
You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.
Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.
You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.
Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.
Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.
“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.
Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.
“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”
“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.
Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.
But sometimes you really wish it would be.
Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.
Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.
“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”
You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.
“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I���m sure they’ve got it.”
Still, Jamil frowns.
You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?
“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.
And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.
“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.
It seems he has accepted his fate.
You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.
And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.
Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!
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marimbles · 1 month ago
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It seems to be pretty well established that most fanfic authors don’t mind when readers leave comments on old fics and in fact welcome it. But what about authors replying to old comments?
Do readers care in general whether an author replies? Is it expected and seen as rude if they don’t? Is it nice when they do but not expected? Is there a time limit to the welcomeness of replies? Like is it nice if they respond within a few weeks but if it’s been months or years it feels awkward because you don’t remember the fic anymore? I’m curious!
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galaxostars · 4 months ago
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presque vu (almost seen): the intense feeling of being on the very brink of a powerful epiphany, insight, or revelation, without actually achieving the revelation
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Sirius Black is born.
Sirius Black dies.
Everything in between is the unknown.
—from the fic Presque Vu by @starsworth
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capobegone · 1 year ago
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Help I have 3,000 words to write by Saturday morning and all I can think about is baby Hakuji
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BABY BOY BABY :’(
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o-wild-west-wind · 6 months ago
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so, I made an our flag means death themed crossword…have at it, sluts
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sunsetsandsunshine · 3 months ago
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~ 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 ~
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·̩̩̥͙**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝟹-𝟺: 𝙲𝙷𝙴𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚄𝙿/𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙱𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙**·̩̩̥͙
𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝
𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟸,𝟻𝟷𝟼
𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 🏒💙
𝙻𝚎𝚛’s: 𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚎 ⛸️💜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 🥅💚
𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕…𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢. 𝙱𝚞𝚝…𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎. 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝…𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎…
(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!! 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚜! 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍!!!)
𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚒𝚐 𝙰𝙷𝙰𝙷
𝙸𝙼𝙿𝙾���𝚃𝙰𝙽𝚃: 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙻𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙸𝙳𝙴 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝟸??? 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔— 𝙸 𝚍𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚘. 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚝— 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑!
**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚢𝚢𝚢𝚢𝚢𝚢˚*•✩•̩̩͙*˚*·̩̩̥͙
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“Grace…please. Me and Riley have heard enough of your playlist. Just admit mine is better so we can carry on with our sleepover festivites.” Bree sighed, resting her head on Riley’s shoulder.
“Just one more song! Then I’ll be done.” Grace smiled as she pressed play on Shuffle as she went to her Spotify app, “Whatever song it is…I’m 101% sure you guys will lohooooove it.” 
The song played for a bit, the music bouncing around the room as Riley and Bree slowly started to realize what they were allowing themselves to listen to…
“…I-Is this…Peaches from the Mario movie…?” The blue eyed teen snickered, laughing louder as Bree just sadly facepalmed. 
The glasses wielding teenager got up from where she was sitting, standing up and basically snatching away Grace’s phone from her palms. 
“Okahay, yeahhhhhh…no. I’m turning this off.” The purple cladded girl mused as she did just that, giving the electronic back to the green pajama wearing girl. “So, based on popular vote…which was just me, myself and I…I declare myself the winner of Deciding Who’s Spotify Playlist is the MOST Banger! Or DWSPITMB for short.”
“How come you get to decide what playlist is quote on quote 'the best?!' I think mine is pretty suherb.” The smaller teenager huffed. 
Bree adjusted her glasses, raising an unamused brow at her smaller friend as she sighed in disappointment. Riley, though, just chuckled in utter amusement, sitting on her bed criss-cross as she munched on some the leftover popcorn they made earlier in the night.
Bree loved proving people wrong…and Riley loved watching it allllll unfold. 
“First off: it’s superb. And second, no it is not! Your playlist just consists of meme songs!” The chocolate eyed girl said matter-of-factly.
The green cladded teenager scoffed, “Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Goofy Goober…Smash Mouth All Stars…It’s Raining Tacos— shall I continue?” 
Grace crossed her arms, glancing to the side of her as she wallowed in defeat. 
In her defense…although the songs she liked were classified as 'meme songs'…they lowkey kind of ate down…
…Just a bit…
…Juuuuust a tad…?
“No…” The smallest of the three huffed. 
“And you!” Bree said as she pointed at Riley, ignoring the small surprised squeak that came out of the blondie, “Your playlist is just straight up Disney songs!! If that doesn’t scream basic I don’t know what does…” 
The blue cladded teenager swiflty got up and went towards her best friends which resulted into all of them looking like the formation of a small triangle, “Wooooah woah woah woah! Don’t drag me into this! Disney’s songs are peak and they will continue to stay peak!” 
Grace grimaced, rubbing the back of her neck, “After Encanto…Disney kinda fell off I’m not gonna lie, Ri…” She grumbled under her breath. But her dismay, Riley heard it loud and clear..
Crystal clear, to be exact.
“A GIRL WHO HAS 'NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP' IN HER PLAYLIST SHOULD NOT BE TALKING!!!” The girl in blue screamed. 
“IT’S GENUINELY A FUN SONG! YOU’RE JUST JEALOUS YOU DON’T HAVE MY MUSIC TASTE! AND AT LEAST MY PLAYLIST HAS A THEME…unlike someone I know…” The black haired teen snapped back, trying not to giggle at Bree’s loud and dramatic offended gasp. 
“HEY HEY HEY!! DON’T YOU EEEEEVEN START!!” The girl in glasses yelled, “You wouldn’t know good music if it hit you right in the face!”
“Oho I do so know good music! But you have Laufey, Jack Stauber and Green Day all in the same. playlist!!!” The blue iris wielding teenager scoffed, putting a hand on her hip, “And besides, if your playlist is the 'superb' one, what have I been listening to this entire time on my playlist, huh?”
“Trash.” Bree said plainly and simply, the three best friends locking eye contact with one another for a moment or two before bursting into loud uncontrollable cackles. 
The three teen’s laughed at their silliness, all sitting on Riley’s bed as they tried to calm down to the best to their abilities.
“Trash.” Grace exclaimed as she tried her best to match Bree’s voice before breaking character and snickering again, “PFFTHAH! Even the wahay yohou said ihat was juhust sohoho fucking peherfect.”
“Ihi dohon’t know whahat cahame ohohover me…i-ihit juhust happened!” The purple cladded teen snorted, pulling out her phone from out of her pocket, “Fohor the Archives?” 
“For the Archives.” The tallest teen agreed, all of them getting close to one another to take a picture. 
The brown eyed girl pressed the button to encapture the memory through a single photograph, looking down at it happily as she squinted, looking at it more attentively. 
Bree screamed in shock, putting her phone face down on the bed as she pulled her hood up, engulfing her face inside of it as she layed on her back, “MY GLASSES! MY. FREAKING. GLASSES!!! THEY’RE UPSIDE DOWN!! WHY DIDN’T YOU TWO TELL ME?!” She cried in embarrassment. 
Her two friend’s in question exchanged a look with each other, holding back more small snickers, “Ihi thought yohou were gohoing fohor aha look!” Grace grinned. 
“I WASN’T!!!” The purple cladded one huffed, fixing her glasses so they weren’t upside down anymore, “You two are so damn fake…”
“Oho puh-leeeease.” The hazelnut eyed girl sweetly said, wrapping the other in a big bear hug, “You loooooove us.” She teased. 
The blondie leaned on her bed-frame, hugging her knees together as she rested her chin on her knees, watching the other two bicker about absolutely nothing.
And suddenly…out of nowhere, Riley’s fond smile turned to…a small, sad one…
She didn’t know why.
She had no idea why.
But all of a sudden…she just felt…sad.
Not, like, depressed sad…
…But not subtle sad, either. 
“…I’m gonna miss this…” The taller suddenly blurted out, not really carrying if the other two heard or not…
…But, of course…they heard loud and clear…
…Crystal, even.
“…Miss what, Ri?” The smallest of the three asked casually, giving the blue eyed teen her full attention as Bree looked at her as well.
The blonde rubbed her knuckles slightly, anxiously looking away and avoiding eye contact with the other two, “Just…hanging out with you guys, I guess. Just…being here, y'know? School starts in, like, a week and I really don’t think I’m ready…”
“Don’t remind me…” The girl with glasses whined dramatically, flopping on Grace’s chest as the hazelnut eyed teen happily and gladly held her in her arms tighter, squeezing her comfortingly as she took her hood off from her head, “It’s freaking crazy…I remember us cleaning out our Middle School lockers like it was yesterday…” The green cladded girl grinned with nostalgia. 
“Pff…speaking of, you guys remember when I found a year old sandwhich in Ryan’s locker?! That shit was hilarious.” Riley said as the other two laughed. 
“That shit was disgusting. I’ve never seen something so…so…hideous…” The girl in purple pajamas fake gagged, “…Well, besides you of course.” The chocolate eyed teen said as she gestured towards the hazelnut eyed teen. 
“HEY!” Grace huffed, lightly flicking Bree’s forehead. 
The tallest of the three of them let out a short laugh…but, it lasted longer than her usual, genuine laugh…
…This one seemed…forced. 
Her laugh’s started to sound a bit choked as tears ran down her face. In alarm, both Bree and Grace went to her side’s immediately, making sure their friend was okay…
…Well, as 'okay' as a crying person could be at the moment. 
“Sorry…sorry, gosh…I’m…I-I’m b-being so stupid…” The blondie sniffled, wiping her nose and face with her sleeve. “No…you aren’t.” The girl with glasses reassured as she rubbed the other’s back, “You’re just upset…and that’s okay.”
“But…B-But I’m not upset…” 
“…You’re not?” The shortest one of them all asked carefully.
Riley sniffled once more, glaring at her knees, “I don’t…a-at least I don’t think I am. I’m just…scared, I guess.” She explained as more and more tears ran down her face like they were never-ending, “I…I liked Middle School…a lot. I met you guys a-and s-so many other p-people that changed m-my life for the b-better.” The baby blue eyed teen said softly, a wobbly smile stretching to her features. 
“I-I was able to f-find myself and know who I-I wanna be!! A-And n-not to mention I-I was even a-able to d-do d-dodgeball on Gym days! Dodgeball!” The blonde exclaimed whilst sobbing. 
Grace rested her head on Riley’s shoulder, holding her hand in her’s to stop the taller’s excessive hand rubbing, “Still saluting you for carrying our Dodgeball team...” The green loving teenager murmured.
“B-But now…it’s j-just Middle School a-all over again. A-And I-I’m gonna be the n-new k-kid…” The blue cladded kid sighed as she buried her head on her knees, “A-And I won’t have you guys…”
There was a long enough silence that lasted for a while; all that was heard was Riley’s quiet sobs (well— as quiet as one can get when crying) and Bree and Grace’s breathing patterns.
Grace crossed her arms, giggling, “Uhuh…who said that?” 
“You two are gonna be at a different school—” The blonde tried to explain but was almost immediately cut off by her other best friend, “Still doesn’t mean we won’t be there. Phones exist, Ri-Tie. We have our group-chat! We can FaceTime on the weekends and meet up during holiday breaks!” The girl in glasses happily said. 
“B-But…w-what if we don’t k-keep in t-t-touch? O-Or we g-get in a-a f-fight through text a-and we d-don’t talk to e-each other f-f-for months?!” The blue cladded teenager exclaimed in exasperation and desperation, holding her friend’s hand in her’s as she tried to calm herself down.
The brown eyed girl squeezed her friend’s hand comfortingly, her eyes softening, “…It seems like your less worried about school…and more worried about…'losing us…'”
Riley just quietly sniffled, looking away in embarrassment. 
“Ri…you aren’t going to 'lose us'. We legit aren’t going anywhere.” Grace explained thoroughly. 
“But…B-But what if y-you f-f-find someone…better?” The blue eyed girl probed. 
“…Better?” Her two friend’s questioned. 
“Like…me but…better.” The taller inquired. 
“I can’t promise that we won’t…make friends at our new school…but I can promise there will be no person at that place that can replace you. Heck, no one on this Earth can replace you even if they tried. And you wanna know why?” Grace grinned as she squished other’s hand a bit harder.
Riley smiled slightly at the action, squeezing back, “Pff…why?”
“Because you’re Riley freaking Anderson! AWOOGA!!!” The green and purple cladded girl’s both shouted, causing the other to laugh her tears away as she wiped her eyes, “G-Guys…that was so. damn. cringy. PLEASE never do that again…”
“Alas, it is what we do best.” The hazelnut eyed girl said as she dramatically lied down on the bed, “And speaking of which…I think you need some cheering up Ri-Pie…you still look down in the dumps.” And with that, Grace got up and pinned Riley’s wrists to the bed with one hand as the other wiggled teasingly.
The blondie audibly gulped, a small, nervous smile spreading to her features as she blushed slightly. 
The brunette giggled at the sight, putting her hand’s around her mouth to make her own voice seem like it was coming out of a megaphone, “Houston! Houston, we haaaaave a problem! It seems like Ri-Ri needs some tickle tickle tickles~!” 
“SHUHUT. UHUP—”
“And it seems like she’s insulting me, ladies and gentlefolks…! How unfortunate…” The girl in glasses hummed as she sat where the taller’s head was, using her arms and pinning them up so Grace could tickle her freely, “And to think we could’ve gone easy on you…”
The girl beneath squeaked loudly, hiding her face in her arms, “Guhuhuys w-wahahait! Stahop!!” 
“But we haven’t even done anything!” Grace said innocently as she dug her fingers into the blue eyed teenager’s hips, “See? Not doing anything.” 
“BAHAH— hic! NO!” The tallest one of the three squeaked, tugging on her arms but because of her purple cladded friend’s hands…she wasn’t able to go anywhere.
“BREEHEE! LEHET hic l-leHET GOhoh ahahand squeak— GRAHAHACE!! STAHAHOP!!” The blondie said as she kicked her feet wildly on the mattress, “STAHAP IT NOHOHOW!!”
The teen in purple rolled her eyes fondly, “I mean we cooooould…but you need to tell us what to stop doing.”
“YOHOU. KNOHOW!” The tallest of the three shouted. 
“Hmmmmm…do I~?” 
“Y-YEHEHES!!”
“I dunno~! I don’t think I do~!” 
“YEHES. YOU. DO!”
“I don’t, actually…” The brunette inquired, letting go of the other’s arms and digging her hands into her underarms whilst kneading her ribs. 
Talk about double kill! 
The blue iris eyed kid arched her back momentarily, hugging her middles as she belly laughed loudly, “GYAHAH— hic! NOHOH! NOT THERE! NONONOHOH— squeal! PLAHAHEASE!!” 
“You’re a huge walking tickle spot, huh, Rile?” Grace snorted as she scribbled the blonde’s sides. “SHUHUHUT YOHOHOUR MOHOUTH!!!”
“Nah…we’re good.” The two tickler’s said sassily, giggling with each other as they said the exact same thing at the exact same time. 
Great mind think alike! 
“GEHET. OFF!” Cried the blonde, happy tears springing up in her eyes, her irises shooting out of their sockets as Grace unpredictably blew a raspberry on her stomach. 
A warning would have been nice…
“NAHAHAHAH!! GRAH— hic! GRAHAHACE!?”
“Yeeeeees?” The charcoal haired teen said innocently as Bree started to tickle Riley’s neck mercilessly. 
“OKAHAHAY!! OKAHAY!” The baby blue eyed teen screamed,  “AHALRIHIHIGHT AHAHALRIHIGHT! IHI SURRENDER!!!” 
“But we didn’t even get to your favorite spoooooot~!” The black haired teenager smirked, poking the blondie’s foot. “AHAHUGH!! NOHO! I-IHI hic DOHOHON’T HAHAVE hic hic OHONE!!!”
“Oh yeah…that’s right…you have four.” The hazelnut eyed kid taunted lightly, blowing more raspberries on Riley’s stomach as she squeezed her sides. “GRAHAHACE— hic hic NOHO PLEHEHEASE—” The taller squealed, happy tears rolling down her face as the purple cladded one of the three wiggled her fingers over the blondie’s ribs and neck.
“GUHUHUYS— SQUEAK!! IHI’M GOHOHONNA DIE!!!”
“Then. perish.” Bree said simply, tickling Riley’s neck and ribs as the tallest of the group went absolutely mad with laughter. “As I said, no one can replace you, Ri…seriously…I don’t think I met anyone who’s laughed this loud…” The girl in glasses giggled. 
“Agreed…we’ll keep in touch, go to resturants and it’ll be perfectly perfect…ish. It won’t be the same like last year but we’ll just learn to adjust—“
“IHIHI GEHET IHAT!!!” Riley screamed, her cackles dying down as her best friend’s lied down next to her; Grace on her left whilst Bree was on her right. 
“Promise?” Grace asked once more.
“Prohohomise…” The blonde snorted, wiping her eyes as she playfully glared at her best friends, “Don’t think for a second you guys are off the hook…sleep with one eye open…”
“Will do.” Bree yawned, stretching as she quietly went to sleep, Grace soon following as her eyes closed and drifted to slumber.
Riley smiled fondly at her friend’s…
…Her best friends…
Riley might not go to the same school as them anymore…but that didn’t matter.
The distance that was going to be between her and them would be…strong.
But their love and appreciation for one another was stronger…
And no damn distance would change that…
·̩̩̥͙**•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*·̩̩̥͙ 
(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)
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sodafizzyart · 2 years ago
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Meant to draw something more explicit but I couldn’t get through the exposition
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katsukidynam1ght · 2 months ago
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i just saw a reblog of mine from nov 2022 talking abt how i thought endhawks and dabihawks were both gross. would like to update the fandom and say:
dabihawks my beloved
endhawks my beloved
sorry to disappoint you past kats but isn’t that all i ever do. i love my hawks ships (NOT simultaneously ok we do still have some lines. no incest sry folks). that said
i can justify (almost) anything given the right circumstances and time. 20+ year age gap of endhawks? ok i’m 21 now. i’d do endeavor. not sorry. he’s big and hot (haha) and i love him. gimme that sugar daddy call it a crème brûlée
borderline abusive toxicity of dabihawks? listen. listen. the things they do to each other. the foils. they can fix it they just need outside intervention and i am so ready to craft it
anyways there you go. there’s my opinions as they stand in nov 2024. i have no regrets i’m thriving
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