#bone apple tea i guess

[aeijun]

say less

[timedthirteen]

press, sender presses receiver against a wall. - <3 missy

it took her by surprise like so little did anymore: in the space between instants she was pinned, back pressed painfully to concrete, hissing the pain and the embarrassment through her teeth. she was careful, this time; these things didn't happen to her, not like this, not without warning. " oi! " it was familiar, though, so familiar, the taste of the moment laid naturally over another face, another place, another time. her struggling died before it even properly began: missy's violent lilac welled comfortingly between them, and a belated recognition lit in her. when writ against what their shared future held, the doctor couldn't help but melt, indulgent, into her hold.

" 's this just how you say hello now? gonna snog me again, too? go on then. " she grinned with teeth, tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth in delighted expectation even as a wariness kept her gaze sharp. oh, she'd missed her: of course she had, with every fibre of her being, so necessarily entangled with the master's own, but that didn't make missy any less dangerous. of all the ghosts the doctor had met in recent days, this was the first to put a proper deathly chill into the bones of her fingers - she reeked of it still, maybe always would. destruction followed the master like lilies did rain. even so.

[absolutelynotsanebaby]

Okay so this started as me musing on the different colors and tones you get with ghost cole depending on the lighting but turned into a whole ramble so, uh, bone-apple-tea?

So, obviously lighting effects the colors of all designs but because of the ghosts transparency, it's espicially apparent.

All the top color swatches are of Cole. His base tone is a greyish-green so in most lighting he retains that, except nightime. He can become very blue in the night. Which is a qualiy he actually shares with Yang!

It's interesting to note because both Cole and Yang actually lack a qaulity a lot of other ghosts in the show share! Most of the other ghosts in the show are a bright green with a lime-y shine and glow (except Clouse and Yang's student but I'll get to them). You can see that here,

I neglected to put Cole here but he shares a similar tone to Yang anyways. If I had to guess, I'd say they're brighter to appear more 'villainous'. Cole doesn't get the same appearence because he's a "good guy" and this still is a kids show lol. It doesn't really explain Yang but, there's a decent chance he was modeled similarly because he and cole both share the same point of origin in ghosthood (and he became "good" by the end of dotd).

There is another difference between Cole and (I believe) every ghost in the show is -- eye marks!

Forgive the poor qaulity on these but, every ghost but him has some sort of eye-marking. It's a pretty common ninjago design convention for villains but it is also interesting to note lore-wise. Again, this is likely to do with the fact that Cole is a "good guy" but in universe there's interesting theories to be had about it. As for Clouse though, he already had eye-markings / bags before becoming a ghost so I'm pretty sure that just translated over. They probably didn't want to make a whole new design for him or apply that bright-lime effect onto him for his short-apperance lol.

I also compared some of the mini-figures.

Here you can really see the difference color and transparency wise. Cole and Yang also have more solid forms (along with Yang's student). Yang's students actually have something kind of really interesting about them too.

They're incredibly greyed out! It's partially because of their white gi but from their hair to skin they're all the same tone.

Here you can see that they all have different hair colors, so that at least should make their hair different values but, nope! I wonder if it has to do with the fact that they're not independent and controlled by Yang. And also what those cracks on them mean.

Anyways, this whole ramble didn't really have a point desides writing down some of the things I've noticed about the ghosts. Other people have definitely said all this better but I figured I'd get it out lol. Bye bye.

[taestarii]

hellohello! i was wanting to request a chishiya x sick!reader! im craving fluff rn and i love your ffs! -sincerely, anon! <3

i'm actually sick rn, wish chishiya was here to take care of me

✎ an apple a day - chishiya

[chishiya x sick!fem!reader]

synopsis - you get sick and chishiya takes care of you

warning! takes place post-borderlands but there's no spoilers or anything, just a light-hearted fluffy fic. slightly ooc chishiya

this one is short, but i hope you guys still like it ☆

Everything felt wrong.

You woke up with a sore throat and a massive headache, every bone in your body aching. Unwrapping yourself from Chishiya's arms, you sat up, immediately feeling dazed. Chishiya stirred next to you, "Y/n?," he called, "it's early, love. Why are you awake?" You tried to respond, instant pain hitting your sore throat. His hands rose to your forehead, pulling away the second they made contact. "God, Y/n, you're burning up." He got up, not even bothering to change out of his sleepwear, as he walked into the bathroom. He came back with a small cup, carrying a vile reddish liquid. "Oh no," you groaned, burying yourself face first into the pillows.

"Yes, Y/n. Now." He spoke softly yet firmly. The bed dipped where he sat down, his hands still holding the medicine. You whined in protest again, Chishiya sighing with a mix of frustration and annoyance. "Dear, I'm a doctor. Please take the damn medicine." Huffing in defeat, you turn over, grabbing the gut-wrenching liquid from his hand, and downing in. Chishiya chuckled at the face you made the second it reached your mouth. "Is it really that awful?" You glared at him, pushing the cup back into his hand and turning back over.

You had fallen asleep again and Chishiya sat on the foot of the bed, admiring your sleeping figure. You truly had to be the only person that could make him feel the way he does. Your hair was a mess, pieces sticking to your sweat-covered forehead, body radiating heat. And he still thought you were breath-taking.

-

You woke up a few hours later to the smell of ginger filling your nose. You got up and walked to the kitchen, Chishiya sitting down with two cups of tea and a kettle. "Ah, shogayu tea. Infamous cold remedy." You said with a smile on your face at how thoughtful Chishiya was. "I made this for me, not you." He said with a smirk, sliding the teacup towards you. "I guess an apple a day wasn't enough to keep the doctor away." You gratefully accepted it, taking a sip of the hot tea, it instantly warming you up.

"You know I love you, right?"

"You know you're insufferable when you're sick, right?"

[pavlovianfuckery]

lets be mean to dream 2: electric boogaloo

MASTERLIST

linky for those AO3-ly inclined: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54374959

i can't be the only one who has wanted to hook Dream up to an e-stim unit and zap him until his galaxy-brain turns to mush, right? bone apple tea, i guess?

3.3k of filth under the cut, enjoy!

The way he trusted you would probably never cease to amaze you. Not blindly or without the occasional teasing remark but he did, even if you sometimes treated him a little bit like a science project, especially in the bedroom. Lately one of your favorite pastimes had been introducing him to what one might call the many wonders of modern living. Morpheus himself however seemed to prefer calling it "your inexplicable fondness for lewd objects". But since he was in turn fond of you, it usually worked itself out.

At the end of the day you were just glad for the moments he'd spend with you, both in and out of the bedroom. Here in this little bubble you share, he doesn't have to carry all the weight of who he is. All he needs to be is yours, nothing more or less than that. And if for those small snippets of time he could relax a bit and just feel, all the better. Gods knew that if anyone needed a break, it was him.

You weren't sure how he'd react this time, but you were equal parts eager and nervous to find out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It takes a few days until you see him again, so by the time he visits you in the Waking you've half forgotten about the unassuming black bag on your nightstand. You'd been debating with yourself how to bring it up, or if you even should. While he'd yet to refuse you, what you had in mind this time would push him, perhaps a bit too much. The decision is soon out of your hands because he notices it the minute he enters your bedroom. He doesn't ask what's inside though, simply giving it an apprehensive look.

"You are in a gaming mood tonight, I see."

There's not much point denying it, so you wrap your arms around his waist and give him a quick kiss.

"Maybe." You grin at him, though inwardly you're still not quite sure about this. Maybe going out and buying those extras was putting the cart in front of the horse? "I wanted to try something a bit different tonight."

"You know that I would deny you nothing, my sweet."

That nearly makes you wince, because he clearly has no idea what he's in for.

"Maybe don't make me any promises just yet," you laugh, taking his hand. "Come to bed?"

He follows you so eagerly, it almost makes you feel a bit bad. Only almost though, because this could potentially be fun. Not wanting to get ahead of yourself you sit down and pat the covers next to you.

"Well?" He looks at you expectantly as he joins you there, lips twitching into a small smile. "It is not quite like you to be this secretive." His eyes are full of mirth as he continues, "Should I perhaps be worried that you have planned something nefarious?"

That's one of the things you love about him, the way he knows exactly how to put you at ease with nothing but a few words. You take a deep breath and let it out through your nose.

"That's not the word I'd use, but maybe it's better if I show you." You scoot back a bit and grab the bag, placing it between you. It's quick work to get it open and lay some of the items out on the covers.

"Is this what you were worried to show me?" He picks up some of the cables and frowns in what for him is very apparent confusion. "Pieces of string and..." He picks up another part and turns it around in his hands, "a box?"

Oh, this will be fun.

"It's not just any box, "you're tempted to waggle your eyebrows at him as you continue, "it's a magical box."

"A magical box."

Between his deadpan delivery and obvious scepticism, you can't quite hold back a snort.

"Ok, it's not magical. It can make you feel really good though." You shift on the bed, already imagining all the things you want to do to him.

"And you wish to use it on me, I assume?" He doesn't sound disinterested so far, which makes your stomach fill with hopeful butterflies.

"Yeah. Kind of a lot. If you want, of course." You inwardly cross your fingers as he considers it.

"Very well." He eyes the items laid out between you again and continues, "Though I am afraid that I am quite at a loss as to how you would use most of these items."

"You don't need to worry about that part, let me handle that." You lean forward and kiss the corner of his mouth, smiling as you hook a finger in the neckline of his shirt and give it a small pull. "The clothes need to go, though."

You don't think you'll ever get bored of watching him undress. Even here in the Waking he could simply magic his clothes away, but he barely ever does, preferring to take his time. Just the sight of the lean muscles of his back flexing as he pulls his t-shirt over his head is enough to make your mouth water. He doesn't usually deliberately put on a show, he doesn't need to. But he must be in a particularly good mood because he really takes his time today. Especially when he bends over to pull his jeans off his legs, making you choke on your own spit. You try to keep your cough discreet, but it doesn't work very well.

"Are you quite alright, my sweet?" His tone is airy and nonchalant, but you know that he knows exactly what he's doing. One of these days he very well could be the death of you.

"I'm fine," you clear your throat, "absolutely fantastic."

Finally, he joins you on the bed, the very picture of leisure as he stretches out on his side next to you. For a moment you almost forget what the plan was, he's that distracting. Right. Less ogling, more setting up. As you rifle through the bag you have a thought.

"Can I tie you up, too?" You hastily add, "Just a little bit?"

"Why would you need to do that?"

You debate how to respond to that but settle on something that's very nearly the truth.

"This is easier if you stay still, so things don't move too much."

He seems to take exception to that and scoffs.

"I am perfectly capable of staying still, I assure you."

"Well..." You tap your lip thoughtfully, "It's not that I don't think you can't, I just don't want you to, I don't know, roll over and make me zap you by mistake or something."

"I see." He watches as you wrangle the cables. "How would you have me then?"

"On your back is fine." You swear under your breath as you hit a knot and start picking it out, careful not to break anything. "There are a few parts to make this work, so I hope you can indulge me for a bit."

"As opposed to my usual uncharitable disposition?" He's clearly teasing you, but he's got a point.

You finally manage to get the cables straightened out and connected to the right channels.

"There we go, that's that done. So now I'm just going to connect these here..." you grab a couple of plain rubber rings from the collection scattered on the bed, "and then..." You rifle through the box until you find what you're looking for. "One of these."

The plug is modestly sized, the only thing setting it apart is the shape, with a sweeping curve and bulbous tip.

"You should be able to handle this one, right?" You're sure he can, but you figure it's only polite to ask. When you show it to him, he looks less than impressed.

"As I am sure you can recall, you have had me with larger before." It's not quite an eye-roll, but it's not not that, either.

"That isn't why I'm asking, but I see your point." You connect it too, then put the box to the side for the moment. Giving the bag another rifling through, you come out with what looks like a small syringe, sans needle. "This next bit can be a bit messy, but bear with me for just a bit longer?"

Thankfully, filling the syringe up with conductive gel is a much quicker process, and in a minute you've got it ready, giving his hip a poke with your finger.

"Turn over a bit for me?" He obeys readily enough, letting you slide the slim instrument into him easily. When you press the plunger down, he gives a little hiss. "Sorry, that's cold, isn't it?"

"By some miracle, I am sure I shall survive," He responds dryly.

That earns him a pinch on the backside as you pull the syringe out.

"The cheek of you! Watch the attitude or you might be sorry in a minute."

That catches his interest.

"Oh, will I now?" He turns over and props himself up on his elbows, eyes gleaming.

Definitely.

"Maybe." You retrieve some padded cuffs from one of the drawers of the nightstand and dangle them in front of him. "Do these meet His Majesty's approval?"

"They do. What is your wish?" He lays back, arms above his head and crossed at the wrist, "Like this, perhaps?"

"Almost. Let me." You attach the cuffs to either side of the headboard and guide his wrists to where you want them, pressing a tender kiss to each one before strapping him in. Making sure that the restraints are tight but not overly so, you stroke his hair. "You good?"

"Yes."

That's good enough, so you start lubing the plug up as he watches you with interest. When you're satisfied with the amount, you tap the side of his knee. "Lift for me."

Sliding the plug into place makes his eyelashes flutter, his breath speeding up by the tiniest fraction as his cock stirs to life. You can't quite resist lapping at him, sucking him into your mouth until he grows fully hard there, throbbing on your tongue.

Sliding the rings on him is a bit fiddlier but eventually you get them in place, one going around both his shaft and balls, the other nestled right behind his tip. It's the first time he's let you do something like this, and the sight of his cock this way is mesmerizing.

"Still good?" Applying more of the gel, you make sure there are no dry spots under the rings. When he still doesn't respond you trace your finger around his tip, just barely touching but enough to make him pay attention.

"...Yes."

"Great!" You turn the box on. "How does this feel?" Turning it up to the lowest setting, you watch him carefully.

"Different, but...not unpleasant."

You turn it back down and fiddle with the settings for a few seconds, setting it to a slow wave pattern before turning it back up, a tad higher this time."How about this?"

That gets a reaction, his brow furrowing and his mouth falling open.

"That is...good."

He lets a quiet groan as you turn it up a bit more, his cock starting to ever so slightly throb in time with the pulses, a bead of precum forming at his tip. You settle in next to him, just watching him for a few moments. This might be the most vulnerable you've ever seen him, and you're enjoying every minute of it. Running your hand across his chest you consider turning it up some more, but decide against it for now, instead gently circling one of his nipples with your fingers. Rubbing the pad of your finger across it rewards you with a small moan.

"You like that?" Without waiting for a response you do it again, watching it stiffen under your touch. Every time you rub him he lets out a small gasp, but he seems too focused on the sensations to reply. You flick your tongue over his nipple and blow on it gently, watching the goosebumps erupt all over his pale skin. "Hello? Earth to Dream?"

"Do that again."

"Do what again? This?" This time you do turn the power up and watch as his cock throbs even more, leaking freely now. "Or did you mean this?" You make your tongue broad and flat, dragging it over his nipple before gently sucking the rosy little nub into your mouth.

That makes him grip the sheets, knuckles white. Despite his earlier confidence, he isn't very still at all, hips starting to arch off the bed. Not ready for this to be over too quickly you dial the power back down, but not turning it off. As he eases back down you kiss his shoulder, admiring the blush slowly creeping across his skin, all the way down his chest.

"You should see yourself right now," you sigh, stroking his hair, "you're so beautiful like this, so perfect. You want more?"

Rather than respond he simply leans into your touch, breath heavy.

"I'll take that as a yes, then." This time you turn it up a smidge higher than before, making him arch off the bed again. Watching his cock throb, you count to ten pulses before turning it back down again. You give him a moment to recover, then do it again, this time counting to twenty before turning it back down, leaving him squirming. For a while you simply repeat the process over and over, up, down, ten, twenty. You’re not sure how long it goes on for, but for every cycle he falls apart a bit more, until he’s nearly vibrating off the bed. "Still good, or do you want me to stop?" You eye his dribbling cock with something like pity. “We can take a break, if you want.”

"Don't..." His lips are red and a bit swollen where he's been worrying at them with his teeth, his voice breathless, "Don't stop, not yet."

"Think you can come like this?" You watch as he rolls his hips, his legs opening and closing.

"I think...I..." He swallows and frowns, "Perhaps, I want...I...."

"Want to try?" You're pretty sure you've never seen him struggle for words before. Usually, he's the one picking you apart until you can hardly speak, not the other way around.

"Yes," he nods, almost panting, "yes..."

You turn the machine up again, higher still. Glancing at the display you can see that it's only at 45% power so far, but he's already chasing it, his almost frantic movements leaving the bedding in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed. This time you get count to thirty, but he can't quite get there, collapsing back against the pillows in a frustrated heap, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

"I can't," he gasps, "I want, I can't...please..."

"Shhh, relax, let me help you," you kiss his cheek, tasting his tears. "Tell me what you need."

Feeling a bit evil you sneakily keep your fingers on the dials, slowly increasing the strength as he tries to speak, making his words come out in fits and starts.

"Again, your mouth, I..."

The meaning is clear enough, but you watch him struggle for a few moments more just because you can. When you put your hands on him his skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and the taste of it floods your mouth as you suck his nipple into your mouth again and swirl your tongue over it. Giving the other one some attention as well, you hear his whispered pleas turning louder, growing more urgent as you give him a little pinch.

It's mostly a litany of please, making it clear that for once he's completely lost in sensation, no other thought in that pretty head of his except for pleasure. It doesn't take long for his breaths to become uneven, the 'please' turning into oh, more drawn out for every pulse until he lets go, scrabbling for purchase in the sheets as he finally comes, his release drawn from him in thick bursts. You regret not being able to see him properly, especially when you feel a few stray droplets hit your cheek, because that’s just plain impressive. When his orgasm finally starts subsiding, you reduce the output down to zero, but not turning it off.

"Still with me?"

"I...yes." It's hesitant and a bit breathless, but that's probably to be expected.

"That's good," You brush away a few stray hairs sticking to his forehead. "Look how well you did, love."

Taking a few moments you kneel between his splayed legs and pat him dry with a soft towel as you check the connections, adding some fresh gel to ensure that there are no hot spots. "By the way," you give the base of the plug a few experimental wiggles, rocking it into him a couple of times, "did I tell you my favourite thing about this machine?" Grinning at him you fiddle with the controls, changing the pattern from a slow wave to an alternating pulse, without turning it up just yet. "It's probably better if I show you I think."

When he catches on to what you're doing, he starts fighting the restraints.

"You..." As you start increasing the output he falls back against the pillows again, eyes a bit unfocused as the current bounces between his prostate and his still sensitive cock. "Oh, you cruel creature..."

"That's not very nice," you tut, stroking his thigh. Craning your neck, you can only just catch a glimpse of the base of the plug moving as he contracts around it.

"Release me," he groans, but there's no real force behind his words. Those aren't even the right words, anyway. He could end this at any time, and you both know it. Instead you slowly turn the power up, watching as his soft cock twitches and leaks all over his pale stomach.

"Too much," he gasps, thrashing and pulling on the cuffs again.

"Does it hurt?" You hover your finger over the controls, ready to cut the power just in case.

"No," he moans, face twisted in pleasure as he all but humps the air, his words coming out slurred and messy. "Keep...more."

That makes no sense, but you get the gist. Checking the settings it's still not turned up terribly high, so you kick it up a few notches more until you've got him writhing like an eel in a hot pan, completely uncaring about the pathetic sounds running from his mouth. He doesn't get hard again but that doesn't matter because he spills for you again anyway, a pitiful sound caught high in his throat. There's barely enough to fill a thimble this time around and when you finally cut the power he sinks into the bed, completely limp.

"You alright?" You quickly get to work cleaning him up, gently removing the plug and sliding the rings off his cock before undoing the cuffs, massaging his wrists as you do so. When he doesn't respond right away you almost start to worry that perhaps you'd taken it a bit too far, but then he blinks slowly up at you.

"I...believe so."

This is probably the most relaxed you've ever seen him, and you can't entirely suppress a giggle as you snuggle in close, one arm thrown across his waist.

"Good. So," you trace the curve of his hip idly, "can I ask you something?"

"If it is in my power to answer, then I shall," he murmurs, taking your hand in his and twining your fingers together.

"Okay. So..." You twirl a lock of his hair around your finger. "Is my 'fondness for lewd objects' still inexplicable to you?" As you wait for him to answer, you trail a line of small kisses from his shoulder and up the side of his neck. When he eventually responds, it's with a deep sigh.

"Perhaps not."

[headingalaxys-sweet]

Spooky Season Shenanigans for the Nekos Part 1

America-Cat 

He begins to gather clumps from his litter box and soil that is damp from the backyard. America cat has taken some of his owners socks which he uses as casings to store his ‘ammunition’. This crazy cat is even in the midst of crafting an underground lair of sorts. He’s stored a few long lighters, fireworks, toilet paper rolls, eggs he’s brought to ‘ferment’, masks, costumes, etc. America cat is going to be putting on an entire production. If he already wasn’t the King of Halloween this will make him the king now for like ever meow! 

Canada-Cat 

Has gone to cat markets, candle shops, and bakeries where cat’s all over the world come to visit when Sept 1st hits. There is one shop in particular that sells this legendary Maple Fish Cake, which only available during this time of year. They’re so popular in fact that they have to limit cats with only being able to purchase 5 of these specialty cakes for the season. [Yes, there were many years where scammer cats hoarded the entire stock of cakes in the morning. They’d mark up the price of them 300% to say that ridiculous is an understatement but the cakes are that yummy. And they may or may not have a special cat-nip lacd in them] 

Canada-cat tentatively passes by the costume shops debating with himself on if he’s going to attend his brothers cat’s annual Halloween party and prank-a-thon. 

China-Cat

Busy raiding his owners' pastry / cookbooks to make an entire special Fall menu of food for the season. He will do more to spend time in the sun while it still lasts. China-cat wants his dark chestnut fur to get nice and toasty so he can store it away for the Winter months. [So his old bones don’t get frozen and brittle.] China-cats favorite pass time is to go to Yi Dian Dian & The Alley once or twice a day to get a hot or cold milk tea that occasionally has Boba in it. 

England-Cat 

His tail will be flicking back and forth lowly on the carpet. The season where he got to be on the fresh grass or out on the open sea. When he daydreamed about the wide open waters he thought about the days that he was a mouser alongside his swashbuckling and commanding owner. As England cat was in the midst of his thoughts clouds made the sky darker and the air became colder. When his head rises he was able to catch the last milliseconds of a lightning boldt. He hears low chattering rising from the basement. 

‘Arthur must be at it again so he can try to win Halloween this year against that Yank. I guess now is a good time for me to maybe get ready for America cats shenanigans this year as well.’

France-Cat

He’d invited ‘Charmy Chartreux,’ a famous cat known for doing home holiday decorating, planning, and execution. By the time Spet rolls around, France cat will be ready for the season of the spooky but make it posh & elegant. Tangerine tea lights, pumpkins with the flur de lese, macaroons, & the Eiffel Tower carved into them. He even managed to make a deal with Canada-Cat to have a shipment of Maple Fish Cakes sent to him. 

Germany-Cat 

Planning safety guides for cats and what to do when you���ve had too much cat-nip contingent plans. He knows America-cat is planning an insane rager complete with ill-advised pranks, stunts, and performances all meant to stroke his ego. Germany-cat also makes note to buy extra sausages, treats, and Apfelsaft (Apple Juice—just make it sparkling). He does this so no cat is on an empty stomach and has its whiskers twisted by catnip. 

Italy Cats 

They haven’t thought about Halloween all that much. They’re just vibing with the season changes. The crisper air carried the fresh scent of harvested grapes, olives, pumpkins, etc. The two of them love stealing Felicianos tortelli di zucca (pumpkin soup), minestrone, and strudel di mele. 

“Germany! Germany! Help me! The kitties have run a-way with my delicious food again!” 

Japan-Cat 

Yet, another cat who loves to watch the season transition into the next. He adores watching the thousands of leaves float down to the ground. The mesmerizing colors of the fall leaves are cornsilk, fawn, midnight greens, and burnt oranges. All these colors melded together to create a beautiful scene that is ephemeral and sort of angelic in a way. Japan-cat has a special stash of tuna that he likes to eat when he finds a magnificent view. 

While he eats he’s working out how he’ll survive another America-cat rager. 

Russia-Cat 

Happily roaming the streets receiving belly rubs, scratchies, and treats from the last of the summertime tourists. Halloween only seems to come to his mind when his owner mentions it or begins to decorate for it mid-September. When Ivan does begin to get the decorations out Russia-cat gets far too comfortable in the organs of one of the pumpkins Ivan has made. 

“Really, my little cat?” He crouches down to pet his loveable but somewhat mischievous cat. 

“Meow.” (Da.) Russia-cats beady eyes will be looking at Ivan like: “I’m cute and a cat. What are you not understanding? I’m number one now, BELLY RUBS human BELLY RUBS!” 

[gabriel-xander]

Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

15: Let's Talk About Your Car's Extended Warranty

♪⁠────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

The call goes as well as you expect it to. You made sure to tell her you really couldn’t talk for long since Sans’ brother (yes, you told her his name, it’s only fair if she knows), Papyrus, wants to discuss some house rules over dinner. She let you go soon after, reassured when you told her you call her again later today when you get settled down.

You actually really like the balcony: it’s facing the direction of Waterfalls and it’s just cozy. You might bring a chair out here whenever you want some alone time.

Going back inside and down stairs, you see that the table that was pushed against the right wall (the one with their pet rock that was still there) was pulled away from said wall. There are three, identical wooden chairs: one on the left, one on the right, and one at the head of the table closest to the kitchen. The pie was already freed from its container and set on the table next to the pet rock.

Sans was already sitting at the head of the table, and he motions for you to take the seat on the right side. You do so without any complaint. There’s already forks on the table alongside glasses of water and a pitcher of iced water, too.

Respectfully, they have GOT to rearrange the minimal furniture in this house.

“everything okay?”

“Yep! Gonna call her again later though,” You clasp your hands and set them on the table, “I—told her your name because I thought it’s only right if she knows who I’m staying with.”

He tenses up, “and?”

“And… She wanted me to tell you her name in return,” You smile at him with a wink, “So the story is that Napstablook didn’t tell you shit, okay?”

Sans sighs for the nth time that day, “you’re trying to give me a heart attack, aren’t ya?”

“Whoops! Sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t have the guts to handle it.”

Before the punny monster can quip back, the greatest monster to have ever lived bounces into the living room with a flourish. Two plates of spaghetti in his hands and he sets them down gently in front of you and his brother.

“where’s your plate, bro?”

“IT SEEMS THAT I MAY HAVE UNWITTINGLY UNDERESTIMATED HOW MUCH I NEEDED TO MAKE. I’M SO USED TO MAKING ONLY ENOUGH JUST FOR YOU AND I.” Papyrus sighs so sadly,  “BUT YOU TWO NEED NOT WORRY. I AM WILLING TO MAKE THIS SMALL, YET PAINFUL, SACRIFICE SO THAT YOU TWO CAN ENJOY MY COOKING!”

Jesus.

You’re slightly scared for your life, but you can’t help but still feel grateful he cooked something for you at all to welcome you. Even if it’s going to taste bad (maybe it’s not that bad and Sans was exaggerating?), you want to at LEAST take ONE bite.

“Thank you for the food, Papyrus!”

“YOU ARE MOST CERTAINLY WELCOME! FEEL FREE TO DIG IN,” He widens his eye sockets, “OH, I NEARLY FORGOT SOMETHING. I’LL BE RIGHT BACK.”

As the frantic skeleton hurries back to the kitchen, you scrunch up your nose and take the fork. Whelp, rip in pieces you. You stick your fork into the noodles (they feel kind of stiff, you don’t think they’re fully cooked) and twirl the utensil. Sans looks at you like you’re fucking crazy.

“you’re not seriously gonna eat it, are you??”

“Well yeah, dude. What else is there to do? He made it for me, of course I’m gonna eat it,” You shrug and bring the food to your mouth, “Bone Apple Tea, I guess.”

“wait!”

But wait you did not.

Your face reflexively scrunches up.

The taste is indescribable.

…

IS WHAT YOU WOULD SAY IF YOU’RE BEING NICE ABOUT IT!!!

You grip the fork tightly in your fist, your other hand covering your mouth as your body hunches over.

The noodles are under-cooked and you can just tell he didn’t add salt to the water. The tomato sauce was too clumpy and whatever fucking seasoning he used made it taste as though it was already expired. The meat for the meatballs was way overcooked, super dry, and was a horrible mix with the sauce.

Your heart (and taste buds) was broken and hurting: how could ANYONE lie to Papyrus about his cooking?! The food is so awful and not fit for consumption; this could seriously get you sick were it not for the fact that it’s made of magic.

You force yourself to swallow it down even though you weren’t done chewing. It hurt like a bitch but you couldn’t keep it on your tongue without running the risk of throwing it up.

That’s what she said.

You notice Sans’ pained and sympathetic expression as you reach for your water and chug it down like there’s no tomorrow. It wasn’t nearly enough so you stole Sans’ water (“hey!”) because you can’t wait to serve yourself another glass.

You slam the glass down. “Ahhh! Oh, my God!!” You whisper-shout, “What the hell was that?!”

“i warned you not to!”

“I didn’t think it would be like that!!” You look down at your plate to glare at the offender but, “…Huh?”

“YOU DIDN’T THINK IT WOULD BE LIKE WHAT?”

Papyrus comes back with a bowl of grated cheese, setting it down on the table. You can feel you have some sauce at the corner of your mouth, but you are NOT licking it off. You wipe it off with your thumb instead, eyeing your empty plate.

“YOUR PLATE…!”

Yeah, you’re fucking confused, too! The pasta has completely vanished from yours and Sans’ plate with the only evidence that it was ever there being the sauce residue on the plates, your fork, and now on your thumb where you had wiped it off your face. Sans said he’d help you out, but what did he do? This is his doing, right?

“YOU… YOU REALLY LIKE MY COOKING THAT MUCH, THAT YOU ATE IT SO QUICKLY?”

His face is full of hope, and his hope is so unbelievably fragile. You know that when the day comes and you finally tell him the truth, it’s just going to hurt more. You could just not do that, but it goes against your morals and principles.

Ohhh, you don’t want to lie to the poor baby! Some way or another, Sans seems to notice this dilemma, and comes to your rescue.

“you should’ve seen it, bro. i don’t think i’ve seen anyone enjoy food like that before.”

“OH, WOWIE!!” Papyrus bounces from joy. “MARK MY WORDS, [Y/N]! I, THE GREATEST CHEF, PAPYRUS, WILL MAKE YOU ALL THE PASTA YOU COULD EVER WANT!”

…Yayyy…

Sans can clearly see the disdain behind your polite smile. He can’t help but feel bad since… Yeah, they (as in himself and his other friend) never should have lied to him about his cooking. Maybe then he would’ve taken the criticism and gotten better. Still, as long as he just uses his magic to toss the spaghetti into the garbage dump, then you’ll be fine.

“I-I’m still feeling kind of hungry though,” You purposely avoided saying anything about the food, huh? “Let’s eat the pie now and talk about what we originally supposed to talk about.”

”YES, GOOD IDEA! FIRST, LET ME TAKE THESE…”

The tall monster takes the plates, forks and the poor bowl of cheese back into the kitchen. You clear your throat and reach for the pitcher of iced water. You refill yours and Sans’ cup.

“… Sorry, your water tasted better,” You lamely say, “Much crispier.”

“eh, forgeddaboudit. you earned it after that stunt,” Sans nods in approval. “you sure got nerves of steel.”

“I also got ten years of my life taken away from me after that,” You huff while shaking your head, “It’s-It’s fine though, what’s done is done.”

Papyrus comes back with three plates, new forks, and a knife. He sets it down in their proper places before he starts to cut up the pie.

“SO, WHERE DO WE EVEN BEGIN?” He asks.

You look at the brother’s silently, but they’re both equally silent. You don’t know why you even expected Sans to know, he hasn’t had anyone other than Papyrus. That’s fine, you’ll be happy to start it off.

“We can start off with discussing some routine we’re all used to. You know, things you guys do everyday, and what I do everyday,” You put a hand on your chest, “For example, my usual routine is make breakfast, clean up around the house if I need to, shower, and lately, I’ve been going out with a friend after that. If it’s a lazy day, I’ll spend it inside and do some of my hobbies. Though hopefully now that I’m here, I can replace that with work.”

“OH, I SEE. SO PRETTY BORING, THEN.”

“PFFT!!” You can’t even get mad, “Yeah, pretty much.”

“I CAN’T SAY MY SCHEDULE IS SET IN STONE, I DO WHATEVER I FEEL LIKE.” By now, the younger brother has given you and himself a nice slice of pie, currently getting another for Sans, “I EAT BREAKFAST, THEN I TRY TO WAKE UP SANS.”

“You try to wake him up?”

“THAT SKELETON WAKES UP WHEN HE WANTS TO WAKE UP.”

“Damn, you’re so real for that, Sans.”

“thank.”

“Welcome.”

“UGH! ANYWAY,” Now that everyone has a slice, he sits down at his seat, “AFTER THAT, I WILL SEE WHERE THE DAY TAKES ME. SOMETIMES I WILL RECALIBRATE MY PUZZLES, OR I WILL TRAIN WITH UNDYNE. OR MAYBE, I’LL DO NONE OF THAT, AND JUST HAVE FUN IN SNOWDIN.”

You’re already eating the pie, feeling the magic replenish your exhaustion. Sans was already halfway done with his slice; it was odd to watch either of them eat because where is it going???

Sans finishes chewing then finally shares his side. “like i told you on the way here, i work at the sentry stations around different parts of the underground. i kinda just work at my own time, though.”

“YOU ALSO HAVE AN ILLEGAL HOTDOG STAND BUSINESS.”

“it’s only illegal if you say it’s illegal.”

“SANS, YOU KNOW THAT’S NOT HOW THAT WORKS!”

“says who?”

“SAYS UNDYNE.”

“but she’s not a cop.”

“BUT SHE IS THE CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARDS!!”

“you know, i think that’s what’s wrong with this society. too many authoritative figures trying to take down my small business.” Sans points his fork in your direction, “you got my back, right [y/n]?”

Girl, HUH? You were just trying to enjoy the show, not be a part of it!

You laugh softly at their banter still, “I think if you’re gonna do crime, you gotta do it right. I mean, are you even stylish with it, Sans?”

“uhhh…”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING! HE HAS NO CLASS AT ALL!!”

“Damn, you think you know someone and it turns out he’s not even flamboyant with his illegal activities,” You give Sans the side eye, “To think that I admired you.”

“how did this get turned on me???”

“Not now, Sans. We gotta talk more about our new lives together,” You smile at Papyrus, “Seems like our schedules won’t clash very much. Next we should talk about what we’re expecting from each other.”

“WHAT? BUT I AM EXPECTING NOTHING FROM YOU.”

“yeah, same here.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Really now? So… you don’t expect me to pick up after myself if I leave my things around?”

“uh…”

“WELL…”

“What if after I shower, I leave a mess in the washroom with water puddles and towels everywhere? Oh God, and my hair?”

“YOU-YOU’RE HAIR…?”

“oh god, what about your hair?”

“In simple terms, I shed.”

“WHAT?!”

“oh…”

You start laughing, “This is what I mean! I get it if you’re trying to be polite, but telling me things like you expect me to clean up after myself is important.”

You continue with a more patient expression, “Which is another thing. I personally don’t mind helping with cleaning up around the house, but I don’t want it to turn into me doing ALL the cleaning ALL the time. I also don’t mind doing the cooking too, but if there are days when I don’t wanna do it, then it’d be great if you guys can take care of it. You get what I’m saying? Those are some things that I’m expecting from you two.”

“wow, someone even more responsible than papyrus,” Sans props his elbow on the table and leans his chin on his fist, “but i dunno if that’s sayin’ much if he’s not very responsible to begin with.”

“WHA—I AM CERTAINLY MORE RESPONSIBLE THANYOU ARE, THAT’S FOR SURE!” Papyrus huffs and crosses his arms, “[Y/N], YOU BRING UP VERY GOOD POINTS. I DON’T HAVE ANY PROBLEMS WITH YOUR TERMS.”

“same here, it sounds reasonable so far.”

“And, like, not to sound prissy, but I gotta point out the obvious fact that I’m a lady, and a human. This is a terrible combo because that means I’m a little more high maintenance than the average.” You pointedly shake your head, “Please, do not touch my things, and do not go through my things. I’ll try not to leave my crap out everywhere, but if you see a lady product here and there, just look away.”

“IS BEING A WOMAN SCARY, [Y/N]?”

“Oh, dude. Like you wouldn’t believe,” And that’s putting it gently, “This is all I can really think of right now. If there’s anything else really important you guys need to know, I’ll bring it up later.”

Papyrus strokes his invisible beard, thinking hard about something. You go back to eating your pie, and as you do so, Sans speaks up himself.

“in that case, i can’t really think of anything but this one thing,” Sans tries to hold up his pointer finger, but his mittens make it a little hard, “my room is off limits unless i tell you you can go in. capiche?”

You figured he’d say something about that eventually.

”Capiche. Not to sound like a maid, but if you—both of you, want me to clean your rooms, then I can help with that too.” You say with a wince, “I got real good at that when staying in the Ruins. I think I have to actually call it a hobby now.”

Sans snorts, “duly noted.”

“I REALLY CAN’T THINK OF ANYTHING TO ADD,” Papyrus sighs rather dramatically, “PERHAPS… IF YOU ARE TO GO OUT ANYWHERE, MAYBE LET EITHER SANS OR MYSELF KNOW BEFORE STEPPING OUT. IF YOU SOMEHOW GET CAUGHT, OR IN TROUBLE, WE’LL AT LEAST KNOW WHERE YOU ARE.”

“Okay, I can do that,” You nod, “Uhhm… Oh! Uh, I should probably get a spare key eventually, right?”

“BY GOLLY, YOU’RE RIGHT!” Papyrus suddenly stands up, his hands on his sassy hips, “TOMORROW, WE WILL GO OUT TO GET A KEY COPY, AND PERHAPS OTHER MISCELLANEOUS THINGS YOU MIGHT NEED.”

“Oh, by the way,” You reach into your dress pocket and pull out your phone, “I should get your guys’ number. You never know, I might find a funny looking rock and I’ll need someone to tell it to.”

“YOU’D WANT TO TELL ME ABOUT A FUNNY LOOKING ROCK?”

“Of course, I would!” You hand over your shitty little phone.

“I CAN ALREADY TELL THIS IS GOING TO BE A WONDERFUL FRIENDSHIP!!”

Sans stands up, “hey, [y/n]. mind helping with putting the table back?”

“Hm? Oh, sure.”

You guys have finished your pies, so you get the plates and forks off the table first and take them to the kitchen. You fully intended to take them to the sink, but…

“Aw shit,” You’re staring right up at the tall, tall sink.

Snap!

The plates and forks illuminate a soft, light blue before disappearing from your hands. You gasp and widen your eyes in surprise, then you hear a soft clink from above in the sink. You quickly turn around and make eye contact with the smiling skeleton. He just winks at you and motions for you to get back there.

You know what? You need to start getting used to that so you opted to not question it.

Papyrus hands your phone to Sans, and while the shorty is busy with entering his number in your phone, you and Papyrus move the table back together. The chairs were pushed in under the table and you also pack the pie back up and put it in their Food Museum.

…

One half is filled with different pastas, and the other half just has an empty bag of chips.

You’re going grocery shopping tomorrow, too. You cannot let them live like this. You feel bad you can’t clean the plates, but you can’t do much about it if you can’t reach it.

“SANS, CAN YOU READ ME MY BEDTIME STORY NOW?”

“sure thing, bro. get ready and i’ll meet you there.”

“[Y/N]!!”

You jump, “Papyrus!”

The tall boy bounces into the kitchen with a wide smile, “IT’S A SHAME THAT WE HAVE TO CUT IT SHORT FOR TODAY. BUT, TOMORROW WILL BE OUR OFFICIAL DAY OF FUN!”

“I’m looking forward to it, Papyrus. Seriously, I have to thank you again for taking me in.” You’re so thankful that you almost want to bow but you refrain from doing so.

“THERE IS NO NEED TO THANK ME. HAVE A GOOD NIGHT, [Y/N]. IF YOU NEED ANYTHING, YOU CAN ALWAYS COME TO-”

“-me,” Sans interrupts swiftly and casually, “you know how cranky you get when you’re woken up in the middle of the night, bro. ‘sides, you have more trouble falling back to sleep than i do.”

“HM, YOU’RE RIGHT ABOUT THAT. THEN PLEASE, IF YOU NEED ANYTHING, YOU CAN ASK SANS.

You nod in understanding, “Roger. I’m staying up for a little longer, so you have a good night, Papyrus. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“GOODNIGHT, [Y/N]. MAY YOU HAVE THE GREATEST OF DREAMS.”

(Un)expectedly, Papyrus gives you a big hug, lifting you off the ground. You laugh and return the hug, patting his back in good faith. He sets you down gently as he did the last time, and walks out of the kitchen with a pep in his step.

What a cutie patootie.

Sans lingers back to return your phone to you, “wait for me, okay?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Oh… kay?”

He winks before leaving you alone in the kitchen. You roll your eyes with a smile and check the contact names they set themselves as.

—

sans

THE GREAT PAPYRUS!!!!

Toriel the Beloved <3

—

You deadpan, changing Sans’ name to “Sansational.” Wait, “Snas” is funnier. But you also like “Sansational.” Hm. As a final decision, you change his contact to “Snasational.”

Kekeke.

Speaking of your contacts, you should call Toriel now. You walk out the kitchen and head up the stairs. When you’re quietly passing by Papyrus’ room, you can hear Sans’ baritone voice read out the title of “Pick-a-Boo with Fluffy Bunny.”

How cute.

You go right down the hallway and walk out to the balcony. The time says it’s almost 8pm, but it still looks so light out. You feel a little tired, but not enough to sleep just yet. You put the device up to your ear, waiting for her to pick up.

Ring… Ring…

You lean forward on the balcony and cross your feet to get comfortable.

Ring…. Ring…

Rin-

“Hellloooo?”

You snort at the slurred tone, “Hey, mom. You good?”

“Oh, yesss. I had just… found this old bottle of Moonshine in the storage room, and-” She hiccups, “-I just wanted to have a little some.”

“Moonshine?” You grin and tease her, “Aw, really? Miss me so much already?”

“Pfft—Yesssss! I miss you alreadyyyyy! I don’t…” Her tone becomes somber, “I want you to come home soon…”

Uh oh.

Your smile slowly falls; memories of your other mother come to mind at Toriel’s behavior. You try to stop thinking about it. Toriel isn’t like her.

“I know, ma. But you’re going to be just fine without me, okay? And remember that I’m not going to be gone forever. And I’ll still call you as often as I can.”

“But you left…”

“You sent me away.” You remind her gently but assertively. “And for good reason, remember? This is going to be good for me and make me happy.”

“I did… I DID send you away…”

The line is quiet.

You sigh. “Hey, look-”

“I—I think *hic* I think I shhhould get some-some sleep,” Toriel sniffs grossly, making you wince, “You—You just forget about this, my little, little child.”

…No, you’re not going to just forget about it. It seems like something she seriously needs to talk about, but when she’s sober. For now, you’ll let her off the hook.

“Get some sleep, mom. And drink a lot of water before you sleep, okay?”

“I will, just for-just for you.”

You smile, “Goodnight, mom. I love you.”

Toriel whimpers as if she was going to start crying, “I love you too, my [Y/n].”

You wanted to change your mind and talk to her for a little longer, but she hung up on you first. You sigh heavily and put your phone in your pocket. You drag your hand down your face and shuffle your feet back so you can bend over a little more.

You know that awkward pose of leaning over something but when you arch your back like a slut then it’s just comfortable? Yeah, you do that. It’s the way of your life, you can’t help it.

Ohhh, Toriel.

You knew she liked to drink, especially wine before bed when she reads a book. But you didn’t think she was the type to drink her sorrows away. It’s taking a lot in you to not go to her right now to take care of her. That’s not your job, and you stopped doing that for any parental figure when you moved out at eighteen.

You stare out at the Waterfalls, feeling better at the scenery.

You REALLY like this balcony. You can tell the brothers don’t use this place very often since the snow on the rails and floor was perfectly untouched before you came along. You’ll ask Sans or Papyrus if they have an extra chair they can spare for you to bring out here.

Anyway, Sans said to wait for him? But you kinda just wanna finally take your shower and sleep. As you’re straightening up, the door behind you opens.

You turn around and nod at the skeleton, “Hey, bone boy.”

“hey,” He leans against the open door frame, “everything okay?”

“Okay as everything can be. So, what’s up? You needed something?”

“figured that i owe you for that creepypasta. you’re not satisfied with just one slice of pie, are ya?”

“Can’t say that I am. So, what do you got in mind?” You tilt your head, having a feeling that you know where this is going.

He takes out his right hand and points his thumb behind himself, “wanna come with me to grillby’s?”

Taglist:

@lemonboy011

@adriixboo

[apocky13]

Edit: I guess it would help if I added the link...

Read my insanity here: https://medium.com/@noneisone.oneisall/the-wild-beyond-eden-5cea548a2592

Bone Apple Tea.

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Fic request!!!

Caleb bothering Philip because he see him with the Blight girl and his Duty of older brother is bothering him!

(For context, the "Blight girl" that anon is referring to is the Blight ancestor / descendant that Philip is dating in an au. Headcanons about her are here and art for @dannystarsstuff's Blight ancestor / descendant Amelie is here.

Anyways, enjoy! <3

💐 Flowers and Chocolates 💝

Caleb was strolling through the Bonesborough marketplace with a shopping list in his hand.

Evelyn had sent him out to get the ingredients needed to make her "world-famous" Bone Apple Tea, which consisted of dragon bones, blood apples, and tea leaves.

During his pursuit for the three items, the blonde spots his little brother from across the market on his own wearing his brown wooden mask as he makes his way towards a flower shop.

Before entering, the brunette stopped and checked his surroundings to ensure he wasn't being observed or followed.

He failed to notice Caleb on the other side.

It was quite apparent that Philip didn't want anyone to recognize him, but Caleb could tell it was him from a mile away based on his hair and clothing.

The mask was also a dead giveaway as he had carved it for him when he was a young boy.

A mischievous smile starts to sprout.

Caleb knew exactly why Philip was buying flowers and decided to spy on him from where he was standing.

After leaving the flower shop with a bouquet of abomination flowers, Philip enters a chocolate shop that was just so conveniently located next to it.

Minutes later, he comes out with a heart-shaped box of chocolates that was beautifully wrapped for his beloved.

"Let me guess, those are for her, aren't they?"

The teasing voice made Philip squeal as he turned to see his older brother standing behind him with a big dumb grin on his face.

He positioned his mask on the side of his face, revealing his terrified expression.

"Caleb?!" He squeaked, quickly hiding the flowers and chocolate behind his back, but it was too late.

His brother had already seen them and was going to tease him mercilessly.

"She's going to love them, Philip," he cooed.

"W-Who?"

"Oh, don't play dumb, little brother. We both know who I'm talking about. The Blight girl. I've been keeping a close eye on you two, you know."

Blue eyes begin widen as Philip's face turns seven shades of red. "Y-You've been stalking us?!"

Caleb proceeds to point a finger at him. "Ha, so you do admit to knowing her!"

Choking down his panic, Philip shot a glare at Caleb, bringing the flowers and chocolates back into view.

"Also, me? A stalker? Never. I was just following you both around one day without either of you knowing." The blonde beams him a smile.

Philip shares his annoyance with a frown. "I hate you."

"Oh stop, you do not." Caleb's voice went singsongy. "Philip likes witches, Philip likes witches, Philip likes witches, he's got a witchy girlfriend~!"

"Shut up, I do not! I still think witches are the scum of the earth, she's just..." Philip had to pause, looking away in thought.

"Trying to come up with a good lie or excuse~?" chuckled the elder.

Philip huffed, red returning to his face as he brought his gaze back to Caleb.

"Listen, she's just different, okay? Unlike the others who are all savages, she's actually quite sophisticated."

Caleb crossed his arms, continuing to smirk. He hums. "Uh-huh. I said something similar when I started dating Evelyn."

Philip rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. Just please go away." He starts to walk off, only to hear footsteps behind him.

"HEY EVERYONE, DID YOU HEAR THE BIG NEWS? PHILIP'S GOT A WITCH GIRLFRIEND!" Caleb loudly announces, gaining the attention of some who stare at the two as they chatter amongst each other.

"Wow!"

"Did you hear that?"

"Philip's got a witch girlfriend."

"Who the heck's Philip?"

Embarrassed, Philip proceeds to walk faster, sending his brother a death glare. "Shut up!" He growled.

"PHILIP'S GOT A WITCH GIRLFRIEND, PHILIP'S GOT A WITCH GIRLFRIEND, PHILIP'S GOT A WITCH GIRLFRIEND~!" He proudly sang, quickening his pace.

The brunette then begins to run with the blonde now chasing behind him. "I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP! AND STOP FOLLOWING ME!"

"Never! The whole Isles has to hear about this blooming romance of yours! HEY, PHILIP'S GOT A WITCH GIRLFRIEND!"

"Alright, Philip!" A random male passerby cheers.

"CALEB, STOP IT! YOU'RE BEING INCREDIBLY STUPID AND CHILDISH RIGHT NOW!"

"I know you are, but what am I~?"

"UGH!"

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #317

After writing last night's letter to you, I was very disgruntled to discover a deer tick on my left arm, near my elbow.

I dunno if it's the same in your world, but in my world, it's very important, especially if you live in the Northeastern United States, to thoroughly check your body for ticks anytime you go walking in nature. The ticks in my part of the world carry nasty diseases, and one of the nastiest ones they carry is Lyme disease, which is carried exclusively by deer ticks; I think I covered it in a previous letter.

I quickly pulled it off of me (albeit while crankily muttering a few choice expletives like "twatwaffle, "cockgoblin", "dickbasket", and "buttmonkey", but still!!). Like in the last letter in which I wrote about ticks, it wasn't on me for long enough to get a chance to feed, so the odds of me getting infected are relatively slim. Still, the bite is circled with permanent marker, and I'll keep an eye on it and on how my body is feeling generally for the next several days.

I went to bed a little later than I should have last night. And then I woke up a little earlier than I should have, after that. Nonetheless, I somehow felt pretty good, I guess? Which is surprising, considering how angry my legs were after last night's walk. I made an epic sandwich out of roast beef, salami, colby-jack cheese, onions, pickles, and mayo:

I also made a jasmine green tea for the first time in a while to go with it; the swirls were particularly tasty-looking today:

...And here was the resulting plate of noms; want some...?

...For whatever reason, today I decided to start a batch of bone broth. I've had a bunch of bones and a bunch of veggie scraps just sitting in my freezer for a while now. Today, I had energy. So today, I decided to make use of them:

This is a mixture of pork, beef, and chicken bones. Scrumptious, no?

But you can't just have bones for a good broth; you gotta have veggie bits, too:

...I like to add even more things after that:

...It's a combination of various teas, both herbal and non-herbal. There's juniper berries, and rosebuds, and dried mulberries and everything.

I even added some dried stinging nettle; it's bad to touch it, but it's very nutritious when steeped in hot water...

...I topped it off with a branch of mugwort, given to me by... shucks... someone who... decided they don't wanna come around anymore...

...I miss them. But they have to do what is best for them, I suppose...

...

Anyway, to this, you add an acid - just a splash will do. This helps to break down the bones and the veggies and the teas and herbs so that all those juicy nutrients can seep deliciously into the water! I usually like to use apple cider vinegar; it's good stuff!!

...From there, we fill our pot with water, pop a lid on it, and let it simmer for somewhere between 36 and 48 hours:

...It'll be ready in a few days.

It's basically like brewing potions in a cauldron, hahaha! Already, my house smells amazing. Suppose there's no better day than today for doing this sort of thing! Today is Halloween. I suppose in some ways, it's kind of like Pumpkin Fest in your world, except the history is different. There's no Dark Army coming to get us, because we don't have flesh-and-blood magical creatures in my world.

That said, a long time ago, it was common for a bunch of people called pagans and druids and stuff to believe in and honor nature spirits, and spirits of the dead, and other similar stuff. Nowadays, unfortunately, there aren't as many pagans or druids anymore as there otherwise might have been (because of our horrifying history). Still, the existence of non-corporeal magical entities is hotly debated in some circles (with most people believing that they don't exist).

...I think the reality we live in is too weird and fantastical to discount the possibility of the existence of non-corporeal creatures. But if they exist, it's not stuff I can see with my normal senses or measure with currently-existing instruments, and I'm hesitant to play around with things that I don't understand.

Anyways, the Celtic peoples commonly celebrated a holiday called Samhain (pronounced "sah-ween", because the Gaelic languages use Roman letters differently than English does, which is totally cool!); on this day, it's believed that the veil between the corporeal world and the non-corporeal world is very thin, and so people, in an effort to honor and appease the spirits on the other side of the veil (so that they don't become hostile!), went from door to door, saying words in exchange for little treats.

...And then early Christians showed up, and they REALLY DID NOT LIKE people who didn't practice Christianity. And so they forcibly morphed this pagan holiday into something else - now known as Halloween, or All Hallow's Eve, and a couple other variants. Halloween has a number of the same elements as Samhain, except... whitewashed and censored to appease delicate Christian sensibilities.

...It's fucking lame. Though I know that not all Christians nowadays are horrible colonizers who are willing to beat, torture, and commit genocide on others for the sake of cultural homogeneity (a non-trivial number of them still absolutely cannot tolerate the existence of other cultures...), but... the early ones absolutely were horrible colonizers who went around to other places, forcing people to abandon their own cultures and beliefs or else face gruesome punishment, while also stealing their resources and exploiting them however they possibly fucking could, and insisting that they were somehow "lesser" to justify their continued exploitation, and... just...

...The history is bloody and horrifying. To give you an idea of how it goes... nowadays, this is our "fun" caricature of a "witch"; I'll leave a link to a picture; I didn't draw this:

...This is cute unless you know the history of witch trials. I'll give you a VERY oversimplified summary of the history...

A long time ago, early Christians got so scared of anyone that didn't share their beliefs that they decided that everyone else was some kind of devil-worshiper that needed to be eradicated in a variety of brutal and vicious ways. And there was a "witch hunt" craze that went along with that. And also Crusades and Inquisitions... but those are outside of the scope of today's letter. And also they're just as (if not more) fucking horrible and depressing as this other shit I'm about to tell ya.

In any case, "witches" were people who were thought to practice any kind of magic, and Christians in those days were very afraid of them. Even some Christians now are still VERY afraid of "witches"; a non-trivial number of them believe that "witches" get their "power" from demons or the devil or whatever.

In the days of witch hunts, women held an even lower position in society than they do now, and so they were the most common target. If a woman turns down your sexual advances? Accuse her of being a witch to get revenge. If you're tired of your wife? Accuse her of being a witch to get rid of her. If a woman is a little too good at her choice of occupation and it pisses you off? Accuse her of being a witch to make her stop existing. There were LOTS of excuses in those days. So lots of women who were healers, or who made ale, or who were reasonably good with animals, or even if she was more skilled than a man at any task ever... well... you get the idea.

So the accused woman would be snatched up and taken to a place where she'd be beaten and broken until she "confessed" to being a witch. And if you don't wanna know the details about this, you should probably skip the rest of this paragraph, because they put these women through unspeakable torture to get these "confessions". They'd break fingers and hands, pull out nails and hair, break teeth, break ribs, break the face, and worse - you name it, and it was probably done. Hell, they probably did things even more vile than anything you can think of. And sometimes they'd do this for days on end. It was pretty fucking bad, and that is a huge fucking understatement.

...By that point, the woman would "confess" to just about anything, in order to get the torture to stop. And so... she'd come out, bound to something, and she'd be paraded around the village with a crooked, broken nose, broken, crooked teeth, a swollen face, gnarled hands, ratty-looking hair, a hunched-over posture, skin black and green and blue and red and discolored from all the fucking bruises...

...Look at the "cute" picture up there again. Description fits, doesn't it? This is our "witch". This is how the modern imagery of one came about in my world. The modern imagery is the end result of the endured torture. From there, the freshly-convicted "witch" would be hanged, burned, drowned, have rocks thrown at them until they die, or some other similarly horrifying method of "disposal".

...Great thing to dress up as while going door-to-door to get candy. </sarcasm>

...

...Still, beautiful, 80-degree Fahrenheit (27.7-degree Celsius) weather we're having for the kiddos to gather candy in while dressed in costumes...

(It's supposed to be 50 degrees F (10 degrees C) at most, this time of year. 😳😳😳)

...We bought candy just on the off-chance that we'd get a few kiddos stopping at our door; our Homeowners Association generally discourages any kind of walking or trick-or-treating (because they're a bunch of crotchety old geezers who hate children and have nothing better to do than be angry and uptight about innocuous things), but we did get like 2 trick-or-treaters, so that was kinda neat.

...I guess I'm glad that they'll be able to be comfortable in their costumes outside without getting cold and needing to cover up their costume by putting on a jacket halfway through...

(THIS ISN'T NORMAL.)

...

...Sephiroth... I... I think of the state of my world, and I think of the color of my skin, and I think of the way my ancestors were to the rest of the world (the way a non-trivial number of people with my skin color STILL ARE to the rest of the world!), and... I kind of resent the history that led up to my creation. That's because this horrifying history is the root cause of a lot of what's wrong with my world. It's complicated and messy and... it's not something I have the power to change on a mass scale.

...I know that I can't change what the people of the past did. I know that I did not consent to being born into a system that assigns unfair and arbitrary disadvantages to people who don't look like me. I know that all I can do, with what little power I have, is to advocate for change.

But... though my skin is pale (seriously, why in fuck do we fight over melanin??? of all the stupid, useless, asinine shit to fight over... for fuck's sake...), I was still assigned female at birth, and this comes with a lot of drawbacks that shouldn't exist (because apparently we gotta fight over who's got what kind of genitalia, too); my voice doesn't carry a whole lot of weight in this place.

...All I can do is keep writing, and keep trying to treat people kindly so that maybe someday all this weird nonsensical fighting and bloodshed will stop. I don't know what else to do, so I'll keep trying to do my part to make things a little better, even if I don't always know exactly what that is; I don't want anyone to have to suffer.

(...really, I just wanna get the hell out of here and go to a place with all different kinds of people, and still none of them are fighting; instead we're all just hanging out and making pretty things and eating tasty snacks and doing fun stuff together...)

For now, I suppose I'll just vote, and hope that bad things don't happen...

Anyhoot. I should probably get going; I was looking forward to watching more Trinity Blood with a friend today; maybe watching the character that reminds me of you will help put my frazzled brain at ease.

I love you. And I'll write again tomorrow, okay? So please stay safe out there.

Your friend, Lumine

[sweet-chimera]

Aesthetics meme

Tastes: Starchy baked goods, honey buns, stick rolls, apple cinnamon, ginseng and nut meg spice, whiskey, jarred preserves, rassberries. Alot of tart sweet spiced combinations. Autumnal foods. Smells: Outside, cold autumn mornings, cinnamon, nut meg and spices, vanilla, propolis, flowers, baked goods, gardens, moss, ngl kinda sweaty and musky natural scents. Sights: Pumpkins, bricks, golden leaves, ripe fruits, sweaters and yarn, woods and sweaters, alot of warm colors and cozy vibes, browns and golden, cottages, tea, wicker brooms, patchy fur and scars on her body, moss taken rubble Sounds: White noise when sitting outside, mourning doves, crunching on a fresh pinecone as you step, scottish lilting, wind chimes, muffled airy hoof steps, a little jingly bell when her collar moves around, loud boisterous laughter Sensations: Soft fur, matted used sherpa, fraying well loved yarn sweaters, bruises forming from being smacked while she laughs, soft pillow hugs from her plump body, feeling flour and sugar underneath your finger nails as you bake with her, burning muscles from fighting alongside her Outfits: Rompers, overalls, cotton dresses and linen skirts, aprons, dark academia and cottage core, sun flower vibes, yarn and canvas pinafores, leather collar and gardening gloves. Jade jewelry.

Tagged by: @xxlordalexanderxx

Tagging: Idk @valiant-au-save-slot-a @splinter-sister / @bone-pile-rp. Anyone i guess.

[commodorecliche]

Hey so y'all remember when I was writing this Escus Modern Gay Horse Farm AU like a million years ago and then life stepped on me? Well GUESS WHAT, I AM BACK BABY!!! And chapter 9 is a GO.

It's a nice, long chapter, so long I actually had to split it up into two parts, but the second part is finished and just undergoing final edits and should be up by Saturday or Sunday! But until then, check out all 12,400 words of Chapter 9, part A. This chapter features gratuitous misuse of the weather and the laws of nature for the sake of the plot, bone apple tea.

Chapter 9a AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31534703/chapters/122557675 Title: shed my skin to let you in Rating: E Pairing: Marcus/Esca (The Eagle) Chapter: 9a/11. Fic Summary: After a less-than-pleasant break up with his long term partner, Liathan, Esca decides he needs a change of scenery. On a whim, he purchases a horse ranch in rural Tennessee, hoping to start anew and pursue his life-long passion for horses. Esca longs for time to devote solely to himself, a place to think, and as much distance between him and the awful memories he left behind in England. What he doesn't expect is the overly-friendly and overly-handsome farrier, Marcus, for whom - despite his best efforts - Esca can't help but fall.

Read from the start...

[thusaliar]

MUN'S COMFORT LIST

Comfort food(s): store-bought sushi, rice with apples Comfort drink(s): tea (hard guess huh), diet coke Comfort movie(s): Harry Potter (Prisoner of Azkaban specifically), Fantastic Beasts (only the first one), Shrek, Ant-man and anything with Tom Hanks in it Comfort show(s): Bones Comfort clothing: oversized hoodies, penguin onesie (for real) Comfort song(s): Nieznajomy (or Little Stranger) by Dawid Podsiadło, anything from Mother Mother Comfort book(s): Great Expectations, The Alchemist, Warrior Cats and anything from childhood/school period (yes, mandatory Pinocchio included) Comfort game(s): Portal/2, Stardew Valley, Subnautica and Slime Rancher (or what I currently fixate on)

tagged by: snatched from Shai and Gio, snatch it for yourself if you wanna

[bloombird]

Kabi and Hiraya moment

Kabiguan: here everyone! Bone apple tea!

Hiraya: oh you learned how to coo-

*the most monstrous and disgusting plate of food*

Dave: *passes out*

Kabiguan: doesn't it look so good?

Hiraya: ye- yeah... What is it?

Kabiguan: it's supposed to be bread!

Hiraya:*looks at Gabby*

Gabby: guess it's a thing for the Santos family... Well on my father's side...

Hiraya: so... Is the kitchen alright?

Kabiguan: yeah!

*they looked at the kitchen, it was perfectly fine, but Pochi Mochi was crying, who threw up on the countertop*

Hiraya: hey, what's wrong sweetie?

Pochi Mochi: it smells so bad! It tastes bad! That's not bread!

Hiraya: it's okay, I'll make something delicious...*sigh* hey, why did you make this?

Kabiguan: I love bread! I thought I could do it! Seems easy enough... It's my favorite dessert! Well my second favorite is ice cream!

Hiraya: bread isn't a dessert

Kabiguan: it isn't? Well what's qualified as a dessert?

Home bot/ security robot: *...*( Any pastry with cream and sugar)

Hiraya: yeah, like that, like the donuts you tried in California and-, *has an idea* you know what I'm in the mood to make pancakes!

Kabiguan: what's a pancake?

Hiraya: it's a dessert that you can have in the morning

Kabiguan: ooohhh! Sounds fun and delicious!

Hiraya: First things first! I need to clean Pochi's mess.. Then, pancake time!

Pochi Mochi: Sorry mama..

Hiraya: That's okay-

Home bot: *cleans up the mess*

Hiraya: Oh uh- thanks! So what flavors do you guys want?

Kabiguan: Woah! There's different flavors?

Hiraya: Well, I've recently looked up some flavored recipes like Red velvet pancakes and the like- *opens the drawers* Or.. we could try Ube pancakes! My specialty!

[pavlovianfuckery]

you're getting very sleep- oh wait. oh no

MASTERLIST

I have no excuses but I'm blaming this one on David Anders and his lovely speaking voice, I'm almost entirely innocent in all this, I promise

Since Blaine sits so prettily smack dab in the middle of the venn diagram of 'needs to be in control at all times'/'likes fucking with people'/'absolute clown shoes character' I think he'd find this sort of thing very funny, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Also this fic was being so naughty when I was trying to post it so if you see any mistakes or things looking off, give me a shout, if there are some in there and I've missed fixing them I swear to god, I will turn into an oyster out of pure shame

I might have blacked out, this got long, bone apple tea ig

7k of hypno and your garden variety filth under the cut, beware schrödinger's spiked drink if you care about that sort of thing

You don't have a pavlovian response to the text alert on your phone, but it's a pretty close thing at this point. And to be honest, the butterflies that start swarming in your belly at the sound of the little 'ding' aren't exactly helping, either.

Had an interesting brain in the last shipment, you up for a test drive tonight?

You frown at the screen. That sounds less like a date and more like work. Could probably still be fun, though.

Is this your way of asking me to come over?

You pause after sending, then quickly tap out another text; Interesting how?

The minutes crawl by, and then the phone chimes again.

You'll see. 10. Wear something pretty.

"'Wear something pretty', huh?" Considering that he could probably charm the hide right off a crocodile if he tried a bit more effort would be nice, but despite that you still can't quite keep a smile away. For a minute you think about responding with something petty to tease him right back with. A few quick taps later, you quickly hit send.

You too

At least there's plenty of time to get ready.

⁂

Curled up on the corner of the couch you watch from across the room as he goes to pour himself a drink. You have to admit that while his idea of an invitation might have been somewhat lacking, he clearly puts that effort into other things. The deep blue shirt brings out the colour of his eyes and between the usual tight denim, rolled up sleeves and undone top buttons, he looks positively edible. Seeing the lines of his shoulder blades move under the thin fabric makes your mouth go a bit dry, completely derailing your train of thought. It's almost hard to believe that he's all yours, even if it's just for tonight.

"You want anything?" If the twitch at the corners of his mouth is anything to go by, your ogling has not gone unnoticed.

"Whatever you're having is fine." You shrug, mostly content to enjoy the view for a bit longer. "So, are you going to explain the 'interesting' part?"

"It's meant to be a surprise." You can tell by the gleam in his eye that this will probably be good, but you're still a bit hesitant.

"After the week I've had, I'm really not up for guessing games."

"That bad?" Despite the way he's not looking at you and busying himself with getting glasses out, it's almost sweet. Until recently you doubt he'd even ask. Even if plain and simple lust is what got you into this mess, this is exactly the kind of small thing that keeps you there. Those tiny cracks in the veneer that make you want to dig your nails into them and peel, to see more of what lies underneath. Not that you're naive enough to think there's a heart of gold hiding underneath the surface, but surface clearly isn't all there is, either.

"You have no idea. Not going to bore you with the details, though." You sigh, watching him get a bottle out. It looks exactly like the kind of expensive stuff that would be perfectly wasted on your half-dead palate. "I just need to not think for a while, so try to play nice?"

"You saying I don't usually?" He's teasing you again, eyebrows raised and his face a perfect mockery of innocence.

"No," Rolling your eyes at him you can't quite keep the fondness out of your voice, "I'm having trouble even imagining it, actually."

He's shaking his head, smiling as he unscrews the cap of the bottle.

"You know," he pours an even measure in each glass, glancing at you as he does, "I might have just the thing."

"The thing for what, exactly?"

"For when you don't want to think." Putting the cap back on the bottle and putting it down, he fishes a bottle out of his pocket. It's a tiny unassuming thing of tinted glass, and you can't see what's inside of it.

"What's that?" You frown, not sure where this is going.

"Just a little something to help you relax." His tone is airy as he holds it between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a little shake. "You trust me?" That's a question that really doesn't help you think less. It's not as if there's been a lack of opportunity for him to hurt you, hell, at times you've even asked him to. But him outright asking you to trust him is different. For a moment there's a blink-and-you-miss-it tension to his shoulders, then he shrugs and starts to put it away again. "You don't have to-"

"No, I do," You wet your lips, flicking your eyes between the bottle and his face. "I trust you." And it's not even a lie. You can only hope that he won't make you regret it as you watch him empty the bottle into one of the glasses, giving it a few quick swirls to mix it all together. Because he's seemingly always finding new ways to annoy you, he adds ice to yours before sauntering over and handing it to you with a little mock bow.

"Madam." He looks so pleased with himself that for a second you hesitate before accepting the offered glass. It almost has you rolling your eyes at him, because you know that he knows how you don't like ice in your drinks, but it doesn't feel worth getting hung up on. At least it doesn't look any different and as he sits down next to you, close enough to touch, you give it a cautious sniff. Doesn't smell any different either. As you take a small sip you can feel his eyes on you, but all you can taste is the same smooth burn you'd been expecting.

"So..." You roll the glass around between your hands, in no hurry to empty it. "You still haven't told me what's supposed to be so interesting about this brain you're on."

"You're really not letting that go, are you?"

"Nope, so you might as well tell me."

"Alright, but it's not as exciting as you probably think." He takes a sip of his drink, nodding his head. "Short version? There was a bit of a mix-up."

"And the less short version?"

"Someone bought what was supposed to be street magician brain because they thought it'd make good blue brain material. Party tricks, that kind of thing." That makes sense, you suppose. "But turns out that same someone didn't bother reading the fine print."

"And...?" You're not entirely sure where he's going with this.

"You ever been hypnotized?"

Now that's a bit of a surprise, the words 'street magician' mostly bring to mind something like card tricks or perhaps pulling hankies out of orifices.

"Oh god," you can't quite suppress a giggle, "you're not going to try and make me quack like a duck or something, are you?"

"No, but..." he leans in a bit closer, lowering his voice a little bit, "what if all I had to do was snap my fingers,"he does exactly that for emphasis,"and I could make you do whatever I wanted?"

"You could always just ask." You shrug, taking another small sip of your drink. Is it just you, or is the room getting warmer? And you could have sworn that there was ice in this, but that must have been your imagination.

"Sure, but where's the fun in that?"

"You might be surprised," The thought certainly doesn't lack appeal, and even if it does feel a little silly, it could be fun. Besides, having someone else take the reins for a bit sounds exactly like what you need right now. "Alright, I'll play. So how does it work, exactly? You going make me look at a swinging pocketwatch or something like that?"

"That's a bit cliché, don't you think?" Shaking his head, he flashes you a quick grin, "No, I'm just going to tell you what's going to happen."

"And that's just going to work?"

"Oh, it will." There's not even a hint of doubt in his voice. "That little freebie I slipped into your drink? Doesn't just relax you, it makes you...suggestible." He gestures to the glass in your hand, "By the time you finish that, you won't be able to resist. Or move much."

"I guess we'll see," you quip, taking another swig from the glass. But you can already feel it, warmth slowly spreading through your limbs like syrup, and not just from the alcohol. With a body temperature that hasn't gone above room temperature in so long, you can't remember the last time you felt this hot.

"Looking a little flushed, there." He leans back and watches you squirm for a few seconds. "It's nice, isn't it? Almost like being alive. Makes you real sensitive, too." He drags the tip of a finger up the inside of your arm, and it's true. What the hell did he give you?

"Do you mind if I open a window?" You blink a few times trying to clear your head, but he's still touching you. Every brush of his skin against yours feels as if he's reaching deeper somehow, touching the nerves themselves. Every move of his fingertip on your heated skin shoots straight to your core, making it hard to think. "I need some air."

"Be my guest." You're sure that your legs weren't this wobbly just a few minutes ago and he clearly notices too, though he doesn't say anything as he takes the half-empty glass from you. Walking over to the door leading out to the balcony is much harder than it should have been, and the entire time you're overly aware of your own body. Just the feel of your clothes and the way your own thighs rub together has you biting your lip. "You good?" The reflection in the glass is a bit blurry, but the amused expression on his face is clear enough.

"Yeah, it's fine." When did you get so lightheaded? Cracking the door open an inch lets the evening air in and it does help, at least a little. Leaning your forehead against the cool glass, you take a few deep breaths. It's only a short distance back to the couch but right now you're not feeling too confident. You only make it a few steps before he stops you.

"You might feel better if you take your top off." That sounds like a good idea, actually. He's still smiling, making your stomach fill with butterflies as you pull the offending garment over your head. "Better?"

"I don't...know?" You frown. Why is it still so warm in here?

"Lose the skirt too." His hungry gaze almost feels like a physical weight on you as it glides over your breasts and stomach, drinking in every inch of exposed skin. "That'll help." Of course it will, it has to. The zipper doesn't want to cooperate but eventually you get it, and as the skirt slides off and falls to the floor, it actually does feel better. It's still a bit too warm and too much somehow, but at least it's bearable now. "Come here." He pats the empty seat next to him. As you go to take a step, your legs wobble again, making you hesitate. It would be so embarrassing if you tripped and fell.

"Are you...laughing at me?" You narrow your eyes at him.

"Not at all." Resting his chin in his hand you can't quite see but you strongly suspect that he's not being entirely truthful. Something is clearly very funny, because his eyes are crinkling at the corners. "You can crawl, if you want." It's still a bit embarrassing but at least it's better than tripping over your own feet, and being on your hands and knees for him feels correct in a way that you can't quite put a finger on. He looks so inviting sitting there, so rather than getting back up right away you crawl between his nonchalantly spread legs. As you rub your cheek against the inside of his denim-clad thigh it actually helps with the light-headedness, because right now it feels as if he's the only solid thing in the room. Then he's patting the seat next to him again. "You should sit."

"But this is nice." Everything feels so intense and as you slide a hand over his calf and up to his knee, you wonder what'd be like to touch him without anything in the way when you're feeling like this.

"You want to finish your drink, don't you?" Now that you think about it, you're actually really thirsty still, so you probably should. Clambering back onto the couch, your fingers are a bit sluggish as he hands you the glass again, but you pay it no mind. "Go on."

There's not that much left, but you only manage about half before your limbs get so heavy that you fumble and nearly drop it.

"What did you...?" You trail off, frowning again. This is his fault, isn't it? He did something.

"Told you it'd help you relax." And it's true, almost too much so. As he reaches over and pulls the nearly empty glass from your clumsy fingers, it's as if somebody has filled your limbs with warm sand. He gently taps the glass against your bottom lip. "Bottoms up, doll." You're not sure if it's on purpose or not but when he tilts the glass he does it a bit too steeply for you to keep up, making the last of the amber liquid drip down your chin and neck.

Then it doesn't seem terribly important anymore because he's chasing the spilled liquor with his mouth, tongue lapping at every stray droplet until you're shivering, weakly squeezing your legs together. Every little touch is overwhelming and as he licks and sucks at your neck, the scent of him nearly makes your mouth start to water. It's a hint of no doubt expensive cologne and whatever product he puts in his hair, all underlaid by what you suppose is just him and you probably shouldn't be associating it with words like 'comfort' or 'safe' but somehow despite yourself, you've started to do that anyway.

"Look how relaxed you are," his voice low and smooth in your ear, almost making you dizzy with want. Pulling away he gives your shoulder a little push. It makes you sway in your seat and as your head lolls back, he wraps a steadying hand around the back of your neck. "That's good. Feels good too, right?"

"Uh-huh." Words aren't usually this hard but everything feels soft and warm, like your brain has been coated in cotton. It's a bit like being underwater and while you can still move, everything seems to move at half speed. Then he's touching you again, tracing the lacy edges of your bra. Even through the thin fabric, everything is so magnified and so focused that when he scratches across one of your nipples with a blunt fingernail, it sends a little mewling sound tumbling from your mouth.

"You must be so damn sensitive," he murmurs as he does it again, "I'm barely even touching you." Every relentless back and forth of his fingers has little jolts of pleasure running through you until it feels like you could melt into the cushions and disappear. When he stops, the lack of it is almost painful. Not for long though because then he's dipping his head down, replacing his fingers with his mouth. If his just fingers felt good, the feel of his tongue and teeth as he sucks you through the saliva-dampened fabric is downright heavenly. Then he's pinching your other side, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers and for a few fleeting seconds you think that if he keeps doing that maybe you might come without even needing anything else. But you don't want to, not yet, so soon and so empty. Somehow you're certain that it would break the spell you're under, and right now everything just feels so good.

"I wanna touch you," you whine, tugging at the edge of his shirt. Clearly you haven't thought this through because that makes him stop, which is the opposite of what you want.

"You can touch, if you want to." When did buttons become this difficult? It really shouldn't be this hard but your fingers aren't quite doing what you tell them to, making you all the more frustrated. "It's okay." When did his voice get that soft, like something you could reach out and touch? It makes you ache to rub up against it even though that makes absolutely no sense. And of course, he makes the buttons look so easy it's almost upsetting. But then he's grabbing your wrist, guiding your hands and pressing them to his bare chest. "Better?"

"A little." When he's this close it feels as if you could drown in his eyes but it's still not close enough and there's some primal part of your mind that wants to crawl under his skin, let him fucking eat you. Something must be funny again, or he wouldn't be smiling at you like that. "What?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head and it's very confusing, because you haven't done anything, have you? But then he's kissing you and it doesn't seem terribly important, anymore. With your mouth starting to turn as clumsy as the rest of you he doesn't push but takes his time, turning the kiss into something so slow and careful that it leaves you short of breath. You almost don't notice his hand moving across your back, fingers slipping under the band of the bra. But then you can feel his lips curve against yours in a grin as he gives the closure a quick little twist, and when it pops open you're almost a bit offended that he makes it look that easy. As he slides the straps down he presses a quick kiss to each shoulder, making your heart do a tiny somersault in your chest. With the bra finally discarded on the floor somewhere he hooks a finger in the elastic of your underwear, giving it a little tug. "Tell me you want me, doll."

"You know I do." For some reason those words are much easier to wrap your mouth around, so easy to get out without having to fight your own body. You're basically vibrating under his hands already, so he has to know. How can he not know?

"Tell me anyway."

"I want you," you breathe, painfully aware of how heavy your cunt feels, wetness starting to seep into your underwear. The words come in a rush you're not quite prepared for, almost falling over themselves. "Fuck, I want you more than anything."

Your hips lift almost on their own when he gives your underwear another tug and then they're slowly slipping down, down, down until he's crouched between your legs, pulling them the rest of the way off.

"You're so pretty," you sigh, gently petting his hair. How can everything about him look so damn touchable? Impossible man. You feel too warm and fuzzy to mind it when he laughs at you, content to just watch the way his mouth and throat move. It makes you want to put your fingers in his mouth. There's no real reason for it and you know that all you'd find in there are lies and teeth, but you want to anyway. Then he's laughing again, shaking his head and pulling on your hand and did you really say all of that out loud? You must have done because then he's rubbing the tips of your fingers over his lips, pressing a quick kiss to each one before slipping two of them into his mouth, holding them gently between his teeth. To him, it's clearly just another way of teasing you and it should feel much sillier than it does, but that doesn't keep your breath from speeding up. It's intimate even though you can't quite articulate why and then his tongue slides over your fingertips, mostly putting a stop to thinking altogether. Your heartbeat feels incredibly loud as you mindlessly trace the edges of his teeth, pressing down on his tongue. It feels like it's only a few short moments later that he's pulling your fingers back out, pressing one last kiss to your knuckles.

"Still with me? Looking a bit zoned out, there." For a few moments, the words bounce around inside your skull like the world's slowest game of pong and you can't quite respond.

"Yeah, I..." you blink rapidly a few times, but it doesn't really help. It feels as if your head is filled with sickly sweet fog that could start leaking out of your ears if you try too hard to think, and the words are shaky and halting as they stumble from your mouth. "You didn't have to."

"You wanted it, though." Then he's on his knees proper, hands gliding up your thighs at a snail's pace, keeping your legs apart even when you unconsciously try to squeeze them together again. He's so close to touching you where you need it, and it's as if he can see how badly you want him. Just his breath washing over you has you clenching around nothing. "Fuck, doll," he groans and then he's touching you, if you can call it that. It's barely the ghost of touch, so feather-light that it's more like torture when you know it'd be so easy for him to sink those gorgeous fingers into you, filling you up. "You need it, don't you?"

Then the tip of his tongue is slipping through your folds, dipping into you. It's too gentle, nowhere near enough and the way he's studiously avoiding your clit makes it obvious that he's doing it entirely on purpose. It makes you clumsily grab at the back of his neck in that way you know annoys him because at this point, you'll even take his teeth over more of this teasing. All it gets you is another huff of laughter, bright eyes boring into yours until you're pinned down like a bug on a board. When he finally brushes against your clit it's still just with the very tip of his tongue, too slow and too soft to do anything except frustrate you. Every muscle in your body is slowly turning to jelly and when you try to push him away, nothing is moving how it should.

"Please." It's small and strangled and almost blurring at the edges, only barely squeezing out past the whimper growing at the base of your throat. "It hurts." And it does, you're so empty and needy that you're swollen with it, it aches and every flick of his tongue is making it worse, not better. "Need you," the words keep sticking like velcro to your tongue, and it takes more effort than it should to get them out.

"What do you want, hm?" He rubs at you, watching your reaction as he idly spreads your wetness mixed with his saliva around. "You can have my fingers." Resting the tip of a finger at your entrance he just barely dips inside. It makes you twitch and shudder, your body trying to pull at him all on its own, but the feeling passes quickly, leaving a gaping kind of hunger in its place. "Can have my whole hand, if that's what you want." As you struggle for words he bites down on the inside of your thigh, a slow steady press of teeth intended to leave a bruise. That hurts too, but it gives you something else to focus on, makes it easier.

"Just need you," you grit out, breath coming in quick little gasps, "inside, please, please..."

"Yeah?" He presses a sloppy open-mouthed kiss to the bite, laving his tongue over the little divots left by his teeth, so close to breaking the skin. "You want my cock?"

"God, yes." Your nails scrabble weakly against the expensive leather of the couch. Some gibbering and altogether vicious part of your mind insists that him just fucking you isn't enough, he needs to get his cock out and hurt you with it, to leave you with marks so lasting and so deep that the only thing you'll ever be is his. It's thoroughly ugly in all its possessiveness, but you can't bring yourself to care. "Please."

For a second he looks at you with something that's almost like pity.

"You can't move, can you?" His tone is soft and sweet like molasses as he wraps a hand around your wrist, stroking it with his thumb. Before you can even try to answer he lifts it a few inches, then lets go, and you can't do anything except watch as your arm limply falls back down. "Oh, sweetheart," he breathes, eyes going half-lidded and dark," Oh, that's perfect, fuck."

Having to watch him undress without being able to touch him is its own kind of torture. Every movement from the way he shrugs off the undone shirt to how he peels the tight denim down is deliberate and just a hint too slow, making you wait for it. He's close enough that all you'd have to do is reach for him but your limbs just feel so heavy, as if any minute you're going to sink down all the way through the floor. He's half-hard already, tenting the fabric of his boxers and as he pulls them off too you can't quite hold back a frustrated little noise.

Then your mouth really does start to water because the way he touches himself is deliberate too, slow and teasing and just out of your reach. The temptation to get on your knees and wrap your lips around him is so strong that you're almost feverish with it, but even if you could move, how could you trust your own mouth right now? Every slide of his fingers draws the tension inside of you tighter until it drags the breath from your lungs in a desperate little whine.

It's not even words anymore, just noise. You can't even ask for what you want. Then he's stepping closer still, until he's just inches away, the tip of his cock flushed and wet and all but begging you to wrap your mouth around it. If you could just move-

"Shh, I know," he soothes, stroking your hair, "you don't need to talk, it's alright..." Despite the breathy edge to his voice the words are still so soft, and you can't quite understand why. Every little movement and slick sound has heat curling low in your belly and as he swipes his thumb over his slit and gathers the beading precome on his finger, you think you might actually cry. He's close enough that you can smell him and now he's just being mean, why can't he just-

Then his finger is pressing against your mouth, rubbing it over your lips until they glisten with it and now you know he's definitely just being mean on purpose because that has to be payback for something you've done. "You're so fucking pretty like this, come here." He grits out, cupping your jaw in his hand. "Open." His grip is gentle as he coaxes your slack mouth to open properly, not letting go and taking himself in hand until he's satisfied that it's wide enough. Hand cradling the back of your head, he doesn't fuck your mouth the way you expect him to. Instead he just barely slips between your lips and rubs his tip against your tongue with a low moan, not seeming to care that you can't really do anything. For a minute it's so close to being what you want, but it's not quite what you need. You'd thought that tasting him would make you feel better, but instead all it does is make the ache between your legs all the more urgent. It's not just the inside of your thighs that are getting slick with it, the luxurious leather under your ass is also starting to turn slippery, and if he doesn't take pity on you soon, sliding right off the couch could be a very real possibility. While getting fucked on the floor is starting to sound more tempting by the minute, you know that it'd probably be a lot less fun in practice. You wish that you could at least swallow properly because he's leaking into your mouth, twitching and messy and entirely too lovely. The little groans spilling from his lips have no business sounding as good as they do and you selfishly hope that he doesn't come like this and leaves you hanging.

When he finally pulls away the rise and fall of his chest is a shuddering, uneven thing and he looks almost as tense and desperate as you feel. As he wipes your chin and as he cups your cheek, thumb tracing your cheekbone, you can't recall ever wanting him more."Just blink if you still want it, doll."

So you do, as slowly and as purposefully as you can, despite the thick fog swirling around in your mind, making it hard to think. It seems to get the message across because his face is a mixture of relief and desire, hot and sharp and focused entirely on you as he captures your mouth with his.

"Good," he sighs against your lips, "that's good." When he pushes you down you go so easy, as boneless as a puppet with its strings cut. It's a tight fit and not entirely comfortable when he tries to slot himself between your legs and in hindsight, the couch really isn't the best spot for it. He seems to agree, knocking a few of the cushions to the floor with an impatient little 'tsk' sound and giving your legs more room to spread. "There," he grunts, pressing close and covering your body with his, "that's better."

With his weight holding you down it does feel better and as he rubs his length over your aching center, even better still. Every slow roll of his hips has your traitorous heart pounding just a bit harder in your chest because he could have just turned you over and used you but instead he's taking his time, all but melting against you in a way that's bordering on tender. You're still not naive enough to fool yourself into thinking that this is something as stupid as love, but with the way he's looking at you, it makes it hard to believe that this arrangement between you is as clear-cut as it had been when it started. Then he's bowing his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck, breathing laboured as he sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin.

"You just keep that pretty little head of yours," his voice is shaky and fraying at the edges, "nice and empty for me." With the way he's caging you in with his arms, he's already the only thing you can think about right now but it's not like you'd tell him that, even if you could. Then he's reaching down, feeling you out and angling his hips just so, making thinking superfluous at best as he presses against your opening. He's not even inside of you yet but he's already trembling. "Fuck," he gasps, brows knitting into a small concentrated frown. "oh, you're so fucking ready for me, aren't you?"

For once he's not hiding and you can't look away, and as he finally slides into you, all you can do is breathe and let him. There are no masks, no walls, only the way his mouth goes slack and pupils dilate, breath coming out in stuttering little bursts. He takes his time with this too, easing into you so carefully, as if he's worried that you might break, despite knowing better than that. Having him buried inside like this, throbbing and lovely and pushing into the deepest parts of you, it's perhaps the most right you've felt all night. And that's when you realize that even though it's only a little, you can move.

"Oh fuck, sweetheart, you don't have to..." The words are staggered and a bit unsteady as he trails off, frown deepening and eyelids fluttering as you squeeze around him again and again. Once you start, you're not sure how to stop. Not when it's dragging the prettiest, almost obscene noises from his mouth as he rocks against you. It feels as if he's barely moving an inch, only just pulling back before thrusting back in, nudging and massaging at that sweet spot deep inside. If you could only touch yourself you'd be hurtling towards that precipice so soon, but you can't. Even if your arm wasn't hanging uselessly off the edge of the couch, there's no room. Instead, he's pressed in so close that every move has you rubbing against him. Compared to his fingers or his mouth it's too broad, too imprecise, but it doesn't matter because it's still enough. You can feel your climax slowly starting to build, a roiling, twisting, hungry thing that's already making your thighs start to quiver. There's no hurrying it along, there's only frantic little breaths and waiting for him to bring you there, a low keening sound trapped in your throat. That, and watching as he slowly falls apart. Because he does, control steadily eroding until he's tense and still and spewing profanities into your ear.

"You gotta fucking," his voice is rough and strained, chest heaving as he twitches inside of you," oh, you gotta stop that." You almost don't want to. He's beautiful like this, so tightly wound and on the verge of losing himself in you completely. With your own release looming just out of reach it's almost impossible to stop, but you do. It's like a tide retreating and if you could move, you'd be clinging to him right now, begging for it, but all you can do is breathe. "I'll take care of you, just let me," and then he's kissing you again, quick and sloppy and gorgeous, the words tickling your lips, "I will, just be still for me, just let me..." And then he's moving again, pushing himself deeper and fully bottoming out, forcing your legs apart until one of them limply slides off the couch, the plush rug tickling your foot as it dangles over the edge. It's not the most comfortable position to be in but he's not letting you fall and with the slight change in angle, there's more room now. He wastes no time taking advantage of it. It's still a tight fit as he slides a hand between your bodies, pressing down and rubbing exactly where you need him to the most. The pace is no longer something deep and slow, and you can tell he's trying to hold back, but you're not sure how long it's going to last. You know it won't be long for you though, between the way he fills you up so perfectly and rubbing slick little swipes in a merciless back-and-forth over your clit, your walls are already starting to flutter.

"Hold on for me, doll, I'm almost there, just a bit more..."The desperate edge to the words drags you even closer to your peak and his fingers are so insistent and so good that you can't, you can't. He looks almost pained as he chases it, driving into you at a pace that's nowhere near gentle or controlled anymore. "I want to be right fucking there with you," and that nearly does it, the way he chokes those words out, voice so breathless and lovely. You try to hold on, you do, but he's making it impossible. Then he's making a strangled noise and you're no longer going, you're gone, spasming around his cock until you're nearly pushing him out with the force of it. In the midst of the searing pleasure you're almost sorry but then he's making an absolutely filthy sound and you can feel it when he tips over the edge only seconds behind you, swelling and pulsing as he pushes himself against your grasping walls. After dragging it out for so long it's not quick, every drop of pleasure wrung from you until you're gasping and dizzy. Even as he's starting to come down, you're still convulsing around him until he's oversensitive and shuddering. But rather than pull away he leans into it. There's something almost cute about how the aftershocks of your release make him twitch and gasp and despite looking at least as spent as you feel, he still rolls his hips a few more times and rubs his softening cock against your weakly fluttering walls, making himself shiver with it.

When you finally go still he lets out a breathless little laugh.

"You done?" He smiles, resting his forehead against yours. You frown and blink slowly up at him because he doesn't do that, not really. The gesture is too intimate, too familiar, but there it is anyway. It makes you want to wrap your arms around him and for some reason, you can. It's jerky and clumsy but at least it's movement, so you'll take it. The smooth expanse of his back is almost warm as you run your hands over it, waiting for him to push you away.

"I..." your mouth feels as if it's coated in rust, dry and miserable, but at least it's working, sort of. Clearing your throat, you try again."Think so. Definitely." You're vaguely aware that there are tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. As you blink they fall and then your shoulders start tensing almost on their own.

"Hey," his voice is so hellishly soft again and he's pulling away, sitting back from you. It hurts, causing a few more tears to stubbornly fall. It's embarrassing and he shouldn't have to see that so you turn away, curling up on your side.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath. There's barely space for it but he squeezes in between you and the backrest of the couch anyway, plastering himself to your back. It's not exactly comfortable and you're not sure why he's doing it at all. As a small sob rattles your ribcage he wraps an arm around your waist, pressing a quick kiss to the back of your shoulder. "You okay?"

"I'm not sad, not really, it's fine." It's probably not very convincing and you wipe at your eyes with a little hiccup. "Fuck."

"You sure?" He rests his chin on your shoulder, tightening his grip just a fraction. That's not something you're used to either from him, but if he's offering you're not going to push him away.

"Just, that was...a lot." You shake your head, a wobbly little giggle bubbling in your throat. "What the fuck did you put in my drink?"

"Just water." He sounds so utterly pleased with himself when he says it, too. "Got you good, didn't I?"

"What...?" That doesn't sound right at all and you frown. "If you're lying to me right now-"

"You don't remember anything, do you?" His voice is almost giddy in your ear and before you can question what exactly you're supposed to remember, he snaps his fingers again, making you jump. It's hazy, coming back in fits and starts, and then-

⁂

"Deep breaths, just relax for me." All you can see is his eyes, drawing you in. "Just listen, you're going to..." And you want to listen, it feels so good to listen, letting his voice wash over and through you until everything else falls away, until all that exists is himhimhim-

"You're doing so well, doll." Every word slips and skids across your brain like honey in a hot skillet until it feels like they're coating the inside of your mouth, sweet and sticky.

"In a moment you're going to wake up..." And you still can't look away, his voice is so soft, wrapping around you and filling you up until your head is swimming with it. "You're not going to remember this until later, okay? Nod for me if you understand."

You're swaying in your seat, neck like rubber and you nod, you want so badly to do as he says, anything, just as long as he keeps talking-

⁂

"What the hell did you do?" Despite yourself, you tense up, heart tapping an uneven rhythm against your ribs.

"Nothing you didn't enjoy." He sounds almost unbearably flippant. One of these days, you're going to have and try to take him down a peg or two. "Mostly wanted to see if it'd even work."

"You better tell me, or I swear-" You don't really think he's done anything horrible, but you are curious enough that resorting to violence isn't entirely out of the question.

"Alright, keep your panties on. Or don't," he gives your shoulder a little nibble and you can feel him grin. "The general idea was that the more turned on you got, the less you'd be able to think or move." He shrugs, tightening his grip. "Also the drink thing, but that was just for fun."

"And there was nothing else?"

"Scouts honor." There's a pause, and then, "Would you have preferred it if I'd made you cluck like a chicken?"

"Anyone ever tell you that you're a bit of an asshole?" It comes out a bit sharper than intended, but it just runs off of him like water on a particularly smug duck.

"Oh yeah," he murmurs against the back of your neck, "there's this awfully pushy woman that keeps constantly reminding me."

"You really think I'm pushy?" You can't even bring yourself to be annoyed, not really. The fondness fizzing in your chest doesn't quite let you, not right now. "So this might be a silly question, but..." You bite your lip, running your fingers over his forearm," could we keep this one? It was a little interesting..."

[officialcameronfrye]

thanks u for tagging me silas @muirneach :) these questions are so fun

1. do you make your bed

uhhh not usually :(

2. favourite number

don't really have one but i guess if i had to pick... 4?

3. what’s your job

criminal law clerk lol

4. if you could go back to school, would you?

nah i'm all good

5. can you parallel park

no..................... i avoid it at ALL COSTS

6. do you think aliens are real

yes !!!!!!!!!! somewhere

7. can you drive a manual car

no wahhhh!!!!

8. guilty pleasure

i watch too much crime tv like criminal minds, svu, and bones... it's not good but it entertains me

9. tattoos

none, i'm not a needle fan and i'm seriously too indecisive to put anything on my body 100% permanently

10. favourite colour

blue !!!! every shade of blue :)

11. favourite type of music

yknow i love a lot of stuff but i always come back to 70s and 80s new wave. and just 60s and 70s rock and folk

12. do you like puzzles

theyre fun :) i havent done one in a while... maybe i should

13. any phobias

none !

14. favourite childhood sport

i liked swimming and i did some form of martial arts and i really liked that

15. do you talk to yourself

frequently

16. tea or coffee

tea, preferably peppermint with sugar

17. first thing you wanted to be when you grew up

first things i remember were a marine biologist or an apple picker

18. what movies do you adore

looooooove a good horror movie!!!! also love 70s dramas

i'm going to tag @bobdylanhater1965 @jaimeroyalrobertson and @wonderwall1968 :)))