#back to writing grind-

[blackknight-kai]

Let me start saying I love your blog, reblogs and headcanons, truly, all of the above🩷🩷

If you’re comfortable with the question, do you have any for the Destined One with a female virgin reader?

So I wanna say thank you 🫶🫶🫶🫶 I haven’t quite shared my own head canons much but I don’t have any issue sharing them 🫶 others do a much better job of it so I’ve left it to them. But! Your ask comes at a wonderful time as I needed a break from writing a fic 💀 (kill me im up to 20k)

Let’s get after it! Destined One & a female virgin head canons? I’ll give it a shot! There will be a nsfw section below sorry if that’s not your thing. I wasn’t super explicit on body parts etc but let me know if you guys want a Sun Wukong one? I’d try.

If you’re NOT in a relationship yet and he finds out? (Be it you told him outright or it comes out in passing conversation)

He’d would remain expressionless and quiet as usual. Not wanting to make a big deal out of it and remain respectful

But if you look closely you can see him swallowing thickly at the new information

Will NOT treat you differently

He has a LOT of feelings for you and knowing you haven’t shared yourself with someone else, while not a huge deal he’s never really cared one way or another, it’s something he finds himself thinking about often.

It makes him a little hot under the collar sometimes when he looks at you and remembers what you’d said.

NSFW - on the very rare occasions that he takes some time to himself or you’re not around, in the quiet he puts his goal to the side for just a moment and allows himself to think about his wishes and whims. Specially how he’d touch you and make it good for you because you deserve to be treated like you’re special and HE wants to be the one to do it.

If you’re in a relationship and it either came up naturally or during a more…heated moment.

Would absolutely freeze. Like body full on screenshot kinda freeze - only his tail would flick and twitch as he processes

Because honestly it hadn’t occurred to him before but it is NOW. He’s thought of you and making love with you but first or not first hadn’t been a topic of thought

He’d probably internally get flustered and his heart would race ridiculously but on the outside his expression would appear stoic or mildly surprised

Wouldn’t try to pressure you or make a big deal out of it, as though it doesn’t matter one way or another besides making extra sure you’re comfortable

His tail would eventually give him away though as it would be swishing behind him happy and interested as the information settles in his brain

Dude would be first and foremost HONORED If you shared that news with him and were giving him your first

Probably a first for him too ngl. I see him as someone who was so focused on his path that warming another’s bed wasn’t something he was willing to spare time on.

If it’s not a first for him too then it’s not something he’s done often and isn’t an expert

Would definitely thank you for trusting him with sweet reassuring kisses (if they are a little heated don’t blame him too much)

He is respectful! As I said no pressure. No rush. But would the information please him? Yes.

Definitely adds fire to his belly because HE will be your first

Sends a note of possession through him not because he’d “own” you but because regardless of being a first or not you’d be his and he yours.

NSFW:

Regardless of if you’re shy or ready to get the show on the road he’d be so gentle and would be careful, really careful.

Probably a bit unsure and might move a little too fast accidentally in his own lust but would immediately sooth you as soon as he realizes

Looks to your expressions and sounds to make sure you’re feeling good and safe

He wants to treat you WELL views it as HIS duty to make sure you’re happy

It’s a lot of pressure but he’d do his best and set his mind to it being nothing but perfect for you

I imagine at first his hands would be so feather light letting you get used to him and his touch as he undresses you piece by piece- he’d watch his claws unless he finds out you enjoy them grazing across your skin

He’d brush his lips across every piece of new skin revealed to his eyes unable to help himself

Finds out he really loves your chest, both feeling you & tasting you. as well as napping on you later

But over time as the act went on he’d be more confident, still tender but less unsure

He’d be enamored every time he got you to sigh or make a pleased sound

It’s his goal to hears those often

When he discovers how turned on he’s made you it would send waves of pride crashing over him, he had done THAT

Overall though he’d take his time

He probably won’t speak much if at all, but he’d make sure you’re ready every step of the way. If he does speak it’s not more than a few words here or there, low and only for you to hear as he nips your ear

Multiple check ins

He’s a giver, and while he isn’t practiced whatsoever he’d use his mouth and fingers to bring you pleasure, finding out exactly how you like it by listening to the way you moan or the way your body shivers and trembles with specific movements

He 100% will become VERY VERY good with his hands and mouth

His tail is sneaky, he’d use it as a way to hold on to your leg (holding you open while one of his hands is occupied) or would brush the the furry appendage across your skin just to see goosebumps rise in its wake

When you’re finally connected, after time spent letting you get used to him (and him you because let’s be real he’d be overwhelmed by the feel of tightly wrapped around him too) he’d roll his hips gently

He would make sounds, sighs and groans in your ear.

He’d love it if you cling on to him and tell him he’s doing something good

Full on shudders if you scratch his back or dig your nails into him - he loves it and he might accidentally thrust too hard when you do it

Wants to hear you 👏👏

Would keep control for as long as he could but would listen to your requests almost instantly if you asked him to move faster

Would love it if you moved his hand exactly where you wanted him to touch you

Would suck marks on your skin - thighs and neck, wherever he absentmindedly ran his lips. Would be shy about it later but would touch them possessively or when you’re dressed his eyes would stray to where his marks are on your skin.

Afterwards he’d silently but tenderly wipe you down and then pull you into his arms

Would nuzzle his face against you and breathe your scent as you both relax and come down from your high

Would massage any soreness you have that he could and feel pride at wearing you out, although his face wouldn’t show it

His tail would be like a vice around your thigh all night and trying to get out of his hold in the morning is a chore

He’d 100% take care of you especially for a first time is basically what I’m saying. After, he may be a bit rougher with his movements or may be impatient at times especially after a tough fight and adrenaline is still kicking but will always treat you tenderly as you guys build confidence together.

[eskir]

golden hour - aventurine x reader

it'll end with you winning

Aventurine tilts your head up to witness the setting sun on the edge of the horizon, spilling its golden rays for everyone to see. He wants you to revel in this moment, to find peace in joy in a moment that he cannot. He wants you to be happy and free and keep that glimmer in your eyes, the one he lost through unfortunate deals and timing.

So he tries to give you time, letting you win every game since you are the piece that everyone wants. You'll always be on the winning side.

Aventurine's fingers caress your jaw, that habitual smirk adorning his face once more. But you can see the way that his hands tremble slightly, he’s scared. But the moment you see the crack in his facade, Aventurine pulls away with closed eyes and a smile that rarely meets his eyes. He's in love with you, yes, but that doesn’t mean that he’ll open up fully.

If a gambler loses their poker face on the final bet, showing their desperate side, they'll lose the 'prize'. And in this scenario, you are more valuable than any prize could ever be.

So he throws his arms over you as you watch the sunset, his head buried in the crook of your neck, facing the sunset too. He hides the stray tear that falls, pushing it away. Aventurine's embrace is a plea to you to let him stay close, yet also a smirk. You are beautiful in the golden light, and he is in your shadow. You'll always be on the winning side, he'll make sure of it,

he just may not be the winner.

[cupcakeinat0r]

Wake up, babe, DadBodProf!Miguel drop this weekend

[clownmfxx]

refs from drafts ,, sightlyy outdated but the concept still stands yk. these are more of sketches tbh

edit,, there is a playlist tooo

[wizardjail]

In the spring, Chrysothemis begs Iphigenia to braid wildflowers into her hair. They gather a basket of anemones, white and gold and blood-red, from the meadow west of the palace. The greatest prize, though, is the blue bellflower that sprouts in clumps along the faces of Mycenae’s cliffs, like a boy’s first patchy beard. Iphigenia scales the wall of the citadel while Chrysothemis waits below, fretting over the height and the slick stones; but Iphigenia is sure-footed as a mountain goat, and knows that Artemis Acraea will not let her fall. She returns to her sister with a triumphant grin and a fistful of blue flowers.

They sit beside the window as Iphigenia works Chrysothemis’ hair. Her sister’s curls are chestnut brown, lighter than Iphigenia’s own, like those of their uncle Menelaus. She weaves in the flowers as she goes—garnets and sapphires to set in the crown of braids. Electra, four years old this past winter, hasn’t the patience for Iphigenia’s ministrations. She plucks the petals from her anemones, and soon she’s tugged her nurse away to the courtyard to watch the guards in their shining armor pass by.

“On the day I am married,” says Chrysothemis wistfully, “I’ll wear roses in my hair, and violets. Will you weave them in for me then?”

“Of course I will,” Iphigenia tells her. “Roses and violets, and lilies for Hera, and carnations like we wear to the Thesmophoria.”

Chrysothemis hums, leans against Iphigenia’s side. “You will be there, won't you? For my wedding day?” The question is tiny and plaintive. Chrysothemis is the gentlest of Agamemnon’s daughters, keen to be liked and afraid to be left behind.

“Of course,” Iphigenia says again, seriously, because her sisters are prone to fits of temper if they feel they’re being patronized.

“You won’t love Thrasymedes’ sisters better than me?”

“What?” asks Iphigenia.

“Thrasymedes,” Chrysothemis wails, looking up with wet eyes. “He’s to marry soon—Nestor sent a messenger. I heard Father speaking of it to Mother this morning. I don’t want him to take you away to Pylos, Iphigenia.”

They say Pylos is a place of sandy shore and western wind, a city perched upon the sea. Nestor of Gerenia rules there, surrounded by a sizable brood, among whom Thrasymedes is the eldest son. Are there forests in Pylos? Iphigenia wonders, gazing out at the groves of pine, cypress, and yew that spring from Mycenae’s rugged hills. Or is it all sea and sky? Would she spend all her days at her window, a caged gull watching over the harbor?

“Don’t cry,” Iphigenia says. “I won’t marry Thrasymedes.”

Chrysothemis sniffs, blinking away the threatening tears, grasping again for the veil of composure she’s lately learning to wear. “Maybe not Thrasymedes, but you must marry somebody. And then you’ll leave me, just as Mother did our aunt Helen.”

She speaks true, of course. Little Orestes has hardly begun walking, but someday he will sit on the throne of Mycenae; his sisters, in turn, will sail to allied lands and wed their kings. Iphigenia is just shy of fifteen. Fifteen, the age that Helen was when princes from every corner of Achaea came to fight for her hand. Old enough to be a bride, certainly.

She knows the old noblemen of the city mutter their disapproval when her father is out of earshot: of her flyaway hair and rumpled skirts, her tendency to steal away to the woods, the willfulness for which her Lacedaemonian mother must be blamed. (This last, most of all, leaves her burning with indignation.) King Agamemnon has indulged her far too long, they say, but he will see sense. If not queen of Pylos, she’ll be queen of Crete or Salamis or Thebes, the nuts and amaranth flowers she lays at the altar of Artemis replaced with honey cakes for cow-eyed Hera.

Will the queen of beasts still speak to her after she crosses the threshold of her husband’s house?

“I won’t,” she says to Chrysothemis. “My bridegroom will be a bear, you see.”

A little laugh slips from Chrysothemis’ throat—slightly wet still, but a laugh nonetheless. Iphigenia continues. “A great king of the wood and mountain, crowned with laurels, who wanders the forest carrying me on his back. We’ll feast on hare and pheasant and berries, and every summer, I’ll bring you baskets of fresh figs.”

She lets herself believe it for a moment, that she could be a woman with windswept hair and skirts hitched to her knees, darting among the trees like the nymphs loved by far-shooting Artemis; that like Persephone, she could return at the dawn of each spring to hold her mother in her arms; that her father, who looks so fondly on his wild-eyed firstborn, might let her remain a part of his house until the day she dies. It is a lovely dream.

“Not figs,” says Chrysothemis, finally. Her head drops against Iphigenia’s shoulder, and one of the flowers in her hair smears a saffron streak of pollen across Iphigenia’s cheek. “You must bring me bellflowers. No one gathers them as well as you.”

[tsukasalover]

man just put my fries in the bag

[kitsu-katsu]

Me checking the Victor Frankenstein tag every 2 hours as if expecting the tag of the most hated and mischaracterized character of a 200 year old novel to suddenly blow up with content

[ezrazone]

bumping my raglan james x daniel molloy old man yaoi fic again cuz people are enjoying it on ao3 rn

[sleep-nurse]

rift

[hungharrington]

something about teasing steve in public to the point where he's just flustered and so whiny and can barely keep a conversation... aaah

MMMM ANON U ARE SPEAKING MY LANGUAGE 

it won’t even be your fault in the beginning, he’s just a little more keyed up than usual - a steamy dream of your lips stretched around his cock that felt a little too real, had him squirming in his sleep— and worse is, he slept later than usual because of it so he hadn’t even been able to get out of his system before heading to work :( so yeah, his hormones might be flowing a little easier today but steve is fine! he’s fairly confident that the boring lull of his solo shift is precisely the boner killer he needs. 

except, of course, you decide to visit him— because you’re so nice to your boyfriend! and somehow, it’s like you manage to look actually mouth-watering today, like steve does a double take when the chime of the door goes off, head looking up twice and it’s like a visceral reaction, a pulse of heat that runs through his body. steve out right groans a little bit, covers his face with his hands for a moment and then runs them through his hair. you’re frowning a bit because what kind of welcome is that? and steve’s like “no no! not like that!” but fuck, wait those shorts you’re wearing are quite short— showing off your thighs sinfully and steve actually can’t control how he eyes you up and down unashamedly, tongue darting out to wet his lips — you clock the horny in him in a second

“my my, what’s got you in a such a mood today?” you ask, an elbow meeting the front counter as you lean on it, but you might as well be purring the words to steve- the way you just read him in an instant does not help all of the morning’s unforgotten feelings from crawling back into his body— steve groans aloud again when he feels his dick twitch in interest in his pants. 

“don’t,” he warns, jabbing a finger in your direction as his other hand as subtlety as he can readjusts his pants, “i was already nearly late to work because of you!” that makes you frown a bit in confusion, moving to round the counter to properly greet him since it’s so quiet in store- you plunk down a bag containing some lunch of him that you’d brought with you. steve arms are waiting and twine around your waist as your sling over his shoulders and round his neck, a sweet embrace with his back to the door. you smirk up at him just a bit, “late because of me? and how did i manage that all the way from my own home?” 

steve glances at the front door, dutiful in checking there’s no one coming, but even so his voice drops a bit quieter when he says, “you… i had a dream about you.” his face manages to get a little warmer, given away by the colour in his cheeks, and if you weren’t clued in before you definitely are now. steve’s funny about dreams, even though you assure him you’re quite flattered he searches for you even in his subconscious— but he always admits them a bit shyly, like you might react badly.

“a dream?” you echo, slithering your hands from around his neck down his chest purposefully — and steve shivers at the motion. before he gets a moment to tell you knock it off, you’re speaking first, hands travelling to trace over his tummy, “what sorta dream?” you ask, even though you know. steve glares at you because he knows it too. he glances out the front window again and speaks in a hushed voice when he turns back, “y’know,” he says, face somehow growing redder. “like a… a sexy dream,” 

and that makes you laugh a little bit, because how can he be so good at dirty talk in bed and still call it ‘a sexy dream’ like a 13 year old? you’ll never know. all you do know is that you’ve decided mischief is what you’re after today, hands slipping under his polo to scratch lightly along his v line — and it’s enough to make steve’s breath stutter. “what are you—?” he asks, his hands around your waist beginning to move, like he might seize your torturous hands. “what happened in the dream?” you ask instead, cutting him off. you pair your question with a hand that runs down his front, not at all subtle with the way you brush against his cock. it shoots a thrill through you to feel he’s already half hard in his pants- your hand ends up atop his thigh, fingers rubbing the sensitive inner part of it as you ask him again, before he can catch up, “what got you so worked up, stevie?” steve’s eyes scrunch closed, whether from the memory of the dream or your inching higher hand— the other stays on his tummy, thumbing light circles on his happy trail. 

“you-“ he starts, cutting himself off with another little shiver. one hand leaves your waist like he’s going to grab your own but you’re already trailing further up, beginning just lightly palming him through his jeans - and his hand just hovers instead, clenching into a fist. his gaze has moved to watch your hand work him intently “fuck, wait,” he says, breath a little heavier than before. “you— you were,” he’s scarlet in the face by this point, words getting a little weaker. you properly rub him, curling your fingers around what you can feel and giving it a good squeeze and steve audibly swears, some pathetic noise escaping his throat before he can stop it. 

“you gotta stop,” he manages to exhale through a jagged breath, even though his hands stay exactly as they are, flexing through his pent up hormones. “it’s— someone could…” he trails off breathily as you dip your thumb beneath his waist line as you give another delicious rub along his cock, enough that another strangled pitiful noise comes from steve’s mouth, along with a whisper of your name. you can’t tell if it’s lucky for him or not that nobody has come into the store in the time you’ve been toying with him. you pout exaggeratingly, “but you didn’t even tell me what happened in the dream?” 

you choose that exact moment to retract your hands, pulling back just a bit and standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his scorching cheek. steve’s blinking, confused by the whiplash of suddenly having so much touch turn to none but you’re already rounding the corner— “you’ll have to tell me later, i guess! enjoy lunch, baby” and he’s like stammering, turning in time as you approach the door and barely get out his own goodbye before you’re gone, the bell chiming as you go. steve huffs, taking one glance at his pants and resigning himself to spending the next hour pressed against the counter and not moving at all. “little minx,” he curses, tugging his collar away from his neck to try cool off even just a bit. he swears that is the longest shift he’s ever worked - but can’t even be too mad about what you did, considering you were well & truly waiting for him when he came home, ready to bring his dream to life 

[covvboytears]

The Remains of the Day, Kazuo Ishiguro

[triglycercule]

i just learned the fact that ink was created when comyet was 16. bro i NEED to lock in one of the coolest characters ive ever known was made when the creator was around MY AGE???? I NEED TO LOCK IN

[sunsetsandsunshine]

~ 𝙸 𝚜𝚙𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎… ~

❤️👻💜👻🧡👻❤️👻💜👻🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝟷𝟹: 𝙲𝙰𝚁 𝚁𝙸𝙳𝙴˚*•✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟷,𝟾𝟺𝟻

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝚁𝚊𝚙𝚑 🐢❤️

𝙻𝚎𝚛’𝚜: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚁𝚊𝚙𝚑, 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚛 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝙳𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙻𝚎𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝…𝙸 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎…

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙲𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚜 👁️👄👁️…

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚂𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚍𝚗𝚍𝚑𝚜𝚓𝚓𝚜˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“Are we there yet?” Mikey whined loudly. 

“Uh…no?” His immediate older brother said, sighing impatiently. 

“…Are we there yet now?” Mikey whined louder. 

“No, Mike.” Donnie huffed through his palm as he rested his cheek on his hand, effortlessly playing his Nintendo Switch as he started to drown out his younger brother’s consistent complaining and restlessness. 

Which…you would think he got used to by now. 

The orange cladded turtle let out a short grunt loudly and dramatically, dragging his hands down his face, “Are we there yet now—?”

“Mikey, I swear to God if you ask that question one more damn time I will not hesitate to open the car door and throw you into ongoing traffic.” Raph growled lowly at the youngest. 

“Boys…be nice to each other, please…” Splinter exclaimed from the front seat as he drove. 

“But Dad! Mikey’s being annoying!” The tallest turtle moaned and groaned as he sunk in the middle seat.

“When is he not?” Donatello mumbled under his breath. 

“Boys…” The rat said warningly. 

“…Sorry, Dad…” The teenager’s grumbled collectively as they glared at one another. 

The rodent father sighed, plugging his phone into the car unit as he stopped on a red light. “…Why don’t we listen to some Podcasts on the radio?” He offered, trying to find something that his boys would enjoy that didn’t involve ripping each of their tails off.

“Yohou listen to podcasts?” The purple banded teenager exclaimed curiously as he took off his headphones. 

“Of course!” Splinter announced proudly, “I’ve been listening to this one that Spy-itify recommended me…it’s really good and well thought out!”

“It’s…It’s…'Spotify', Dad…” The hazelnut eyed teen corrected. 

“That’s what I said; 'Spy-itify'.” The father said simply, causing Raph to facepalm and stuff his face right back into his phone.

“What’s the podcast about?” Michelangelo asked as he leaned his head on the closed window as Splinter started to drive again once more.  

“It’s about this man talking about nature…it’s extremely interesting; I think you three will enjoy it.” The charcoal eyed rat explained. 

“Huh…sounds cool enough.” Donnie snickered, “What’s the guy’s name? Like, the one who mainly talks in the podcast and stuff.”

“Zach Green.” The rat said. 

“He sounds like a drug dealer…” Raphael mumbled under his breath, earning some small snickers from his younger brother’s as their Dad started to play the podcast in the vehicle. 

A guy, most likely 'Zach Green', started singing as there was a ukulele playing in the background…

…And he sang…

…And sang…

…And. SANG.

And the three teenager’s wouldn’t have minded if the dude sounded…y'know, good! 

But he didn’t sound good. 

At all. 

“Grass is green~! The green is the grass~! The grass is the green and the green itself is greeeen~!” The speaker’s sung as the three teenagers collectively sighed as the Podcast continued to play amongst them. 

“…How about we play 'I spy' instead of listening to Shaggy get high?” Mikey suggested as his Dad hummed along to the tune…

Poor soul probably knew this song from heart…

“Anything but this.” Donnie agreed. 

“Best idea I’ve heard all day.” The second oldest murmured, crossing his arms as he looked at the youngest expectantly, “Well? You gonna say 'I spy' or what?”

“Let a guy think for a moment!” Mikey shrieked, “Okay, okay, okay…I spy with my little eye—”

“—More like pink eye.” The turtle with glasses giggled under his breath, trying to cover it as a cough as he saw his younger brother side-eyeing him. “Y'know, Dee…we could really go.” The orange banded teenager glared.

“Bet. Catch me outside. 3:30 on the dot.” The purple cladded mutant threatened. 

“Bet.” The youngest repeated. 

Donatello raised an unamused brow, “I already said 'bet' you phrase snatcher!” 

“You don’t own the word 'bet', you four-eyed freak!”

“God— 'BET' YOURSELVES!” Raphael snapped, taking a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his snout, “I swear to literally anything and everything holy I am completely envying the fact that Leo doesn’t have to suffer in this freaking hell-hole with me.”

The second oldest leaned forward and tapped his Dad’s shoulder, “Speaking of which…how come Leo got to study with April while I—”

“We.” Donnie corrected swiftly. 

“—I had to stay with these two excuses for mutants, Dad?” Raphael continued, frowning deeper as his Dad became unresponsive and became completely entranced by the radio, “Dad? Dad? Dad? Daddy? Father? Dad— aaaaand you have your 'I’m locked in to this music' face…gotchu...” The tallest turtle huffed as he sat back down in the middle seat.

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted.” The youngest huffed, “I spy something…grey/gray.”

“Grey/Gray? Grey/Gray as in ashy? Ashy as in you?” Donnie smirked, his smirk turning to a smug grin as the orange banded teen glared back at him with a mix of disdain and pure disgust.  

“Donnie, I swear—”

“Is it the car seat?” Raph muttered, dying in complete humiliation about the fact that this was his onlysource of entertainment. 

Michelangelo shook his head, crossing his arms as he leaned back on the seat, “Nope. Try again.” 

“Is it…Dad’s fur?” The turtle with glasses guessed.

“Nooooooope!” The smallest mutant dragged out, sticking his tongue out at the second youngest causing Raph to just sigh, slumping in the chair further.

This car ride was going to be his 13 Reasons Why…

“Okay…seriously, though. Raph-Taff, what’s up?” Mikey asked carefully, looking over his older brother’s stiff and utterly overall unhappy demeanor. 

The second oldest just grunted, glancing away and his frown drooping as he locked eyes with his immediate younger brother, “You can tell us anything.” Donnie assured.

“Well…not everything. Almost everything. Semi-everything.” The genius clarified, “Buuuut you get the point…”

“No, no Ihi really really dohon’t...” The red banded teen grimaced. 

“What Egghead Humpty Dumpty is trying to say is that you can tell us what’s bothering you. You haven’t been your usual…let’s just say 'Sarcastic Sappy Self'.” The hazel eyed teen confirmed, biting back a chuckle as he saw his purple themed brother gasp in offense. 

“I just needa get out of here…” Raphael emphasized, rubbing his temples like he’s seen centuries worth of knowledge, “School was rough. School is annoying. Kids are annoying. Y'all are annoying— no offense.”

“None taken.” The two youngest said in sync.

“And I just need to distress…” Said the older turtle, going on his phone only to be met with a completely pitch black screen, “And my phone is dead. Yip dee doo da fuckin' day…” He cursed. 

Mikey rubbed his chin in thought, leaning on the inside door hand rest, “I have an idea for that, actually. Just trust me.”

“'I have an idea' and 'just trust me'…two words I never want to hear come out of your mouth ever again.” Donatello insisted almost immediatelty. 

“Shut up.” The smallest mutant exclaimed to his immediate older brother, inhaling and exhaling loudly before continuing, “Okay…so I spy with my little eye—“

“Seriously?” The elder mutant deadpanned. 

“Trust me, I said!!!” The younger shouted once more to try and get his point across, “I spy something…black.” 

“…Black?” The second youngest asked, tilting his head. 

“Black.” Mikey confirmed.

“Ohooo…black.” Donatello snapped his fingers, nodding as he relaxed in his seat. 

“Black!” Michelangelo beamed as Raphael looked around in confusion, wondering if his younger brother’s were going to elaborate on this whole 'black' nonsense or if they were just going to communicate via gibberish. 

The red banded teen scratched his head in confusion, “…What is happening…?”

The youngest gave his red cladded older brother a knowing look, causing the red cladded mutant in question to just simply sigh longly, “Right riiiight…trust. I got it…”

“Uhhh…” Raphael hummed, looking around the car for something…well, black; as his little brother’s so veeeeery clearly stated. 

The chocolate eyed teen raised an uncertain eye ridge, pointing at his own black sweatshirt that he was wearing. 

The purple and orange duo nodded, “See? Black!” Donnie grinned, poking his older brother’s sides and causing his older brother in question to shriek loudly and try to cover his middles, wiggling his way over more to Michelangelo. 

Whiiiiiich…was a first. 

“Yeah! Black!” The smallest mutant smirked cheeringly, prodding the other side of the black sweatshirt wearing boy, “You got it?”

“Ihihi gohohot ihihat I-Ihi gahat ihat!!” Raph said immiediatley, kicking his legs on the car floor as he pushed on the other two’s shoulder’s. “Ehhhhh…I don’t think you do…” The young genius teased lightly. 

“Dohon’t a-act smahart with me yohou l-lihittle shIHIT NO!! Mihikey nonononohoh!” He said as he saw Mikey wiggling his fingers near his neck, causing him to try and hide his face in Donnie’s shoulder, swatting the youngest away. 

“D'aww~! Hey, big bro! Need a hug~?” The scientist said innocently, wrapping the taller in a hug as the shortest of the three skittered and scratched the red banded mutant’s shell lightly; almost barelytouching it. 

The red banded mutant in question wheezed loudly, banging his fists on the car seat whilst his legs stomped up and down, “Wohohoah! Mr. Deflating Balloon Man— yohou okay?” Mikey teased, making sure to trace the patterns on his elder brother’s shell in a very veeeery mean manner. 

“Are you boys alright back there?” Splinter asked, getting out of his trance as the podcast soon and finally ended. 

“We’re fine!” Donnie beamed, wiggling his fingers into the crooks of the chocolate eyed teen’s neck right beside him, “Right, Raph?”

Raph squealed loudly with laughter, not answering.

Well…not answering in word form, perhaps.

The Father rolled his eyes fondly at his son's, looking away from the rearview mirror and focusing back on the road. 

“See!? He agrees.” The youngest beamed, “We’re perfectly fine and dandy, Dadio.”

“'Fine and dandy?'” Donnie repeated in amusement, causing the orange banded teen to almost laugh as loudly as Raph currently was.

Key word: Almost. 

“Fine and dandy.” Michelangelo confirmed, kneading his hot-headed brother’s hips and sides as the taller leaped like a drunk frog, “STAHAHOP!! HIC LEHEHET HIC HIC GOHOHOH!!!” 

“People are gonna think we’re beating you up or something by the way you’re squirming, bud.” The purple banded turtle joked, letting go of the taller teenager as the smaller teenager spidered his fingers all over his tummy.

“MIHIHIHIKEY!!!” The older wailed, pushing the other’s hands away as they slowly but surely stopped. 

The two youngest’s giggled, fist bumping each other for successfully turning Raph’s frown upside down. 

Splinter drove into the O’Neil’s driveway as Leo walked out of the front door to the apartment, waving his goodbyes to April as he got into the car. 

The eldest sat in the front seat, buckling up as their Dad drove to their home.

The blue banded teenager let out a small snort, looking towards the back to see his immediate younger brother’s face the exact same shade as his own bandana, “Jeeheez..whahat dihid I miss?” 

“I daha— hic don’t wanna tahalk ahabohout it…” Raph grumbled, his beet red blush deepening on his face as Donnie and Mikey snickered slightly, giving each other one last fist bump of victory. 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[himbohimhoe]

Holding out hope that the writing in veilguard will get more bearable but rook saying to lucanis that it's "not nice that Spite hurt him" and he "shouldn't accept that it’s fine bc it wouldn't be ok if a person did that" like. That is a demon. Built off a single emotion called SPITE. Rook I am finding it really hard to believe that u have lived in thedas for more than 30 seconds.

[inkedhorror]

yeesh... been a while since i posted art. hey chat

reblogs much appreciated tyvm

killer -> rahafwabas

nightmare & dream/dreamtale -> jokublog

[cels-not-so-secret-love-affair]

dead or alive? (sirius & regulus)

a/n: a little black brothers angst! still debating whether or not i like it, but sharing it anyways. heads up for reg not doing too hot.

‘Regulus?’

It is 04:00am and dark. Sirius is sat with his back against the bathroom door in his brother’s flat. His phone lies discarded on the floor, the bright screen of his messages with Barty acting as a torch in the early morning shadows.

‘Regulus?’ he repeats, voice quiet and thin. It sounds less like a name and more like a hope, feebler than he wants it to. He clears his throat abruptly and gives it another shot.

‘Listen,’ he says, attempting to bargain with the nothingness. ‘I’m not asking you to come out here and have a nice little chinwag about your feelings or any of that idiocy. I’m not a therapist, and I’m not going to force you to tell me about any of the shit you’re going through right now, promise. I just need to know that you’re okay.’ Sirius’ eyes flick down to the Whatsapp messages at his feet. He rubs his face roughly with his palm and gazes bitterly at the ceiling.

‘The things Barty’s been telling me are fucking scary, you know that? You’ve got to know that. Just knock or something. Come on.’ The clock down the hall cuts through the silence with a few jarringly loud ticks. It is 04:02am.

‘Fuck’s sake, Reg,’ he swears, exasperated. ‘Open the bloody door.’

‘You can’t hide in there forever. Aren’t you freezing? I’m freezing. Why don’t you ever put the heating on? I know you can afford it.’

‘I swear to God, this is getting ridiculous now. I know you’re there. I can see your damn shadow.’ Sirius’ long pale fingers tie themselves into knots over and over as he fidgets. More agonising silence.

‘Regulus.’ The door remains shut, and the shadow behind it remains unspeaking. It is 04:05am.

‘Should I get someone else here? Is it just me that you don’t want to talk to, is that it? If I got Evan or Remus or, shit, literally anyone else, would you speak to them?’ Desperation is beginning to crawl out of Sirius’ throat, mangling his words into raw, strained sounds that chase after each other quicker than they ought to.

‘Come on. You haven’t got vocal cords for nothing, you are aware of that right? Just say something. Just let me hear your voice, and then I’ll go away and never bother you again, yeah? Just let me know you’re alive. Please, Reg.’

‘You’re my little brother, you know. You’re still my little brother. I know you hate me, a-and I hated you too, for… longer than I should have, and growing up was pretty shite - I think we both understand that now. You know, I’ll always feel guilty for leaving you. I swear, there hasn’t been a single day where the guilt hasn’t eaten me alive, James could tell you. So you’ve every right to hate me. Really, you do. You could hate me for your whole entire life and I’d get it, seriously, I would get it! But you’re my little fucking brother, Reggie. C’mon. Just do this one thing for me, this time. I need to know my little brother’s okay. I need to know he’s here with me and not… not dead on the fucking floor. Give me that much.’

It is 04:12am when the handle turns. Sirius isn’t expecting it at all - he’s aching and exhausted and terrified and too used to silence. He jumps when he hears it, turns wide, shining eyes towards the sound with unsure anticipation. There’s a few moments of clumsy shuffling, and then the door is opening inwards onto a dull gloom that clings to the tiling and old-fashioned sink with unrelenting intensity. It is very quiet. For one terrible moment Sirius thinks, irrationally, that maybe Regulus isn’t there. That he’d been sitting in the hallway for the past twelve minutes begging thin air and the ghost of who used to breathe it. But then the shadows are shifting, taking on form and contour, becoming something more familiar. Regulus crawls out from behind the door with shaky breaths, and lets himself be lit by the phone on the floor in all his wretched vulnerability.

Sirius doesn’t move, at first. He just stares at his brother. Sees his grey eyes reflected back at him in a slightly younger yet equally pained mirror image. Sees those eyes flicker and move and relishes in the aliveness of them. Sees a not dead brother. Then it processes somehow, and he’s pulling that wonderful, infuriating, not dead brother hastily and instinctively towards him with both arms, and holding him, and crying without realising it. Regulus lets it happen. He collapses into the hug.