#filled out !! wowie

[heybiji]

[akkivee]

oh boy!!!!!! that’s another ‘gee we’re getting quite a bit of focus on chuuoku using prisoners as test subjects lately and it’s kinda making me worried!!!!’ for the books!!!!!

[random-writer-23]

Logan with a reader who loves to cook for him?? I’m from the south and food is a love letter here!! 😤 deer steak, peach cobbler, biscuits and gravy!!!

Need to fatten him up before the Canadian winter gets to him 🥺 come home Logan your dinners gettin cold

~~~Wonderful request gorgeous!!!! Had my stomach grumbling while I was writing it. I hope you enjoy it and that this is at least somewhere along the lines of what you were looking for!! This was the only photo of Logan I could find where he’s eating~~~

~~~On a separate note, I'm sorry I've been away for a bit y'all I've been having a rough time, my nana passed away recently so I've been struggling with that. I may be posting less frequently for a while, hope y'all understand. But I did wanna get back into writing and I feel this is the perfect request to write to make my return. My nana was always making that good Southern food for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Her collard greens had to be the best I've ever had in my life, her broccoli casserole, mac and cheese, biscuits the whole shebang. She always had me in the kitchen with her insisting I learn how to make everything so I could carry on her recipes so when I saw this request I knew I had to pull out her recipe book. I know she'd also want me to go back to writing cause she loved Wolverine. She never got to see Deadpool and Wolverine but I showed her the clip where Hugh's shirt explodes and she went WOWIE! and watched it at least 10 times so I feel this is a good way to honor her memory, she'd want me to be thinking about Hugh Jackman. Nana this one is for you I love you.~~~

~~~Mostly fluff, implied oral at the end but nothing is explicitly written, also mostly unedited cause it's just a quick little thing~~~

I focus on my Nana's broccoli casserole recipe in front of me, carefully mixing the blend of cream of mushroom soup, eggs, onions and mayonnaise in a bowl until it’s thick and creamy. I pull the bag of broccoli florets out of the freezer and add them to the mixture taking care to make sure they’re thoroughly coated. I take some of the cheddar cheese shreds and sprinkle it into the bowl stirring it in thoroughly before pouring the ingredients into a dish. I take extra care in sprinkling whatever shredded cheese I have left on the top of the casserole. I read from my Nana's recipe, crumbling up a few packets of Ritz crackers, and sprinkling the crumbs along the top of the casserole alongside the shredded cheese, just as she taught me when I was little. I grab my oven mitts opening the oven door, gripping the casserole dish tightly in my hands, slipping it into the oven. I set the oven timer to 45 minutes, pulling my oven mitts off. I turn my attention back to the pots on the stove, lifting up the lids to check on my collard greens and mashed potatoes. As soon as I lift the lids up the sweet aroma of a home-cooked meal fills the kitchen. A smile making its way onto my face. I begin clearing the table setting up the placemats and getting the plates and silverware ready. I jump slightly as the front door opens and closes, Logan's voice wafting through the air. “Darlin I’m home!” He calls out and I grin as I hear his voice, I poke my head out of the kitchen and I sight watch him kicking off his shoes at the front door. He looks up catching sight of me and I watch him take a deep breath inhaling the smell of my cooking. “Something smells delicious” He chuckles taking a few steps towards me, I step out of the kitchen, meeting him halfway and his eyes roam my figure hungrily taking in the sight of me in my apron. “And something else looks delicious” He chuckles wrapping his arms around me.

“Hi baby” I grin, giggling as he nuzzles his nose against the top of my head, “have a good day?” I ask softly, and he grunts running his hands through my hair and kissing the top of my head. 

“Better now I’m with you” He chuckles gruffly holding me tighter and I smile, “So whatcha got cooking for me” he pulls away slightly, his hand cupping my face, tucking my hair behind my ear, his other hand finding its place on my lower back.

“Hmm, some broccoli casserole, mashed potatoes, collard greens…” I grin looking up at him, fingers lightly tracing shapes on his chest. He groans, his lips falling down to mine in a passionate kiss. 

“Oh darlin you treat me so well” He chuckles, his lips falling from mine, ghosting along my jaw where he presses light kisses against it. His lips kiss down my neck and I let my head fall back slowly as he nips gently at the skin of my collarbone “Always cooking delicious meals f’me” he groans lightly, burying his nose in the crook of my neck inhaling deeply.

“Well you take such good care of me, only fair I take care of you too” I giggle.

“And you do it wonderfully” he grins, tightening his hold on me, I wrap my arms around his neck. “I appreciate everything you do for me" He kisses me, murmuring against my lips "lemme show you how much” He kisses me again, his hands leaving my lower back to palm at the fat of my thighs, massaging the skin rhythmically. I giggle leaning into his touch, closing my eyes only to have them spring open at the sound of the oven alarm going off I chuckle lightly as he groans loudly at the interruption. Keeping his forehead pressed against mine.

“Baby as much as I’d love that,  I gotta go check on the food… can’t let it burn” I say softly pushing lightly against his chest and he grumbles reluctantly letting me go. 

“Fine fine, just so all your hard work doesn’t go to waste” He grumbles and I smile patting his cheek lightly, weaseling out of his arms and walking back into the kitchen. He trails after me sniffing the air, humming quietly to himself. I grab a pair of oven mitts, opening the oven taking the food out putting the dish on the kitchen counter. I turn the stovetop off stirring the collard greens and mashed potatoes one last time before grabbing two plates gently scooping a large portion of food onto Logan's plate. Repeating the process and scooping a slightly smaller portion onto mine. I hand the plates over to Logan who sets them down on the table pulling my chair out for me. 

“Thanks honey” I grin and he pushes my chair in when I sit down, he grins at me slyly pouring me a glass of wine. Pouring another for himself before settling himself in the chair on the opposite side of the table. I take a small bite of each food giving it a small taste test, while Logan across the table digs in like a man starved, practically scarfing down his food. I chuckle lightly sipping my glass of wine. 

“Oh baby you outdid yourself” He mumbles through a mouthful of food, making me laugh. “Absolutely delicious” He compliments and I smile. 

“Used Nana’s recipe” I grin, “same one she used for Thanksgiving dinner” I chuckle, scooping up another forkful of food and guiding it into my mouth. “well thank you, Nana” He chuckles raising his glass of wine, waiting till I tap mine against his, before he takes a sip. It doesn’t take too long for us to finish up our food and I start to stand up as soon as Logan's plate is cleared, reaching across the table to grab it from him, but he tsks shaking his head at me. “Oh no you don’t” he says making me pause my movements my hand hovering over his empty plate. He smiles walking behind me putting his hands on my shoulders massaging gently kissing the back of my neck, gently pushing me back down into my chair.

“What?” I laugh, letting him guide me back into my chair.

“You cooked, which means I do dishes” He insists, and I chuckle.

“Alright, alright” I smile watching as he clears the plates from the table, he puts all the leftovers in containers and stores them in the fridge. Carrying the pots to the sink pouring soap in the pots letting the hot water run and fill them up. I watch him from my seat at the table taking another sip of wine, watching the muscles in Logan's arms flex as he scrubs the pots and pans rinsing them of soap before putting them in the dish rack to dry. He grabs a tea towel using it to dry his hands, as he turns around leaning back against the kitchen counter, his gaze landing on my figure. 

“Well I’m stuffed” he smiles setting the tea towel aside, “but…” He grins standing behind my chair massaging my shoulders again. He takes my hand tugging me out of my chair, holding me close to him, kissing me softly hands gripping my thighs, lifting me up slightly to sit on the dining table. He pulls my body to the edge of the table, making me lay back leaning on my elbows. He pulls up the chair I was previously sitting on, perching himself on the edge of my chair. He pulls my shorts off, my panties following not far behind. He tosses them aside letting them land in a forgotten corner of the room, his lips trailing along my thighs kissing them gently groaning softly at the taste of my skin. He grips my thighs guiding my legs over his shoulders, biting softly at my upper thighs, “I think I’ve saved just enough room for dessert” He purrs, his head dipping down between my legs. 

[halliestinks]

Hello I love your work, could you write seperate headcanons for kenny & butters with a reader who can’t help but talk a lot and is insecure about it?

Butters & Kenny x Reader who talks a lot (HCS)

a/n: reader is gn, characters are in highschool. this was kinda rushed so sorry if it isn’t the best !

Butters Stotch

• butters absolutely adores it when you rant to him about whatever is on your mind, he simply loves the sound of your voice

• he will occasionally pipe in and add something to the conversation, whether it be his own opinion or rather agreeing with what you’re saying

“and that happened all in one day!!! can you believe that?!”

“wowie! well that’s just the darnedest thing i’ve ever heard!!!”

• you also always fill him in the latest gossip, he’s basically one of the girls at this point. (the other girls usually include him whenever there’s a big shit talking session 🤭)

“and she had the audacity to tell me to calm down 😒”

“well— she sounds like a real bitch to me!!”

“that’s exactly what I said!!!!”

• his jaw drops the moment you apologise for talking too much, immediately reassuring you that you aren’t annoying him at all

“sorry if i’m talking too much..”

“huh?? well don’t be sorry!! I don’t mind at all!!”

“are you sure..? one of the kids I sometimes hang out with told me I talk a lot and I just—“

“y/n!! whoever told you that is just a big ol’ meanie, don’t listen to them. I think you have the most beautiful voice and you need to use it all the time”

“butters.”

“y/n..?”

“I love you so much.”

“aw…!!! well i love you too!! 🤗”

• he says the sweetest things without even realizing it. It’s one of the main things you love about him because you know he’s being completely honest

Kenny Mccormick

• kenny goes completely silent whenever you start your rants, his eyes locked on your lips as he observes every little expression you make

• the way your eyes shine whenever you’re talking about your interests, and the way your nose scrunches up whenever you talk about something/someone you dislike

“and that’s when she told me— kenny?? are you even paying attention??”

“sorry, your lips keep distracting me”

“well pay attention, i’m getting to the good part!”

“you mean the part where we make out? 😝”

“😐”

• other than that, he does really enjoy getting to hear about your day. he just gets sidetracked really easily, sometimes tuning you out while he stares off into the distance

• whenever he does this you always notice, trailing off until you stop talking completely. he picks up on your silence pretty much right after, wondering why you stopped

“what’s wrong?”

“am I talking too much?”

“huh?? where did that come from??”

“this kid got really mad at me today and asked if I knew how to shut up because I apparently never stop talking”

“the fuck??? who told you that? I’ll beat their ass 😠”

“I dunno. they aren’t wrong though, do talk a lot”

“so what? you’re not hurting anyone. fuck them, you can just talk to me. I don’t care that you talk a lot, I love listening to you”

“awww, thanks ken”

“yeah yeah, anyways what were you saying about yesterday?”

• even when it may seem like he isn’t paying attention, he remembers everything you say— down to the minute details. (his favourite part is still once the conversation is over and he gets to kiss you 😙)

[scribble-dee-vee]

You have some great quotes here!! "Ravenous and loud" is a funny and accurate way to describe that scenario. Also, are Ilya and Agafiya GOOD??? Somehow, the fact that this passage comes from a journal makes it even more ominous. I feel like I could find this in a survival horror game.

My answers/tags are under the cut for convenience!

Find the Word Tag Game

I haven't done a tag game since like,,, 2019??? But find the word is my favorite, and I finally have a longform current WIP, so let's GO

Quotes are going to come from the working draft of Lost Letters (which was a prequel to Heart of Lead, and is now the first book in the series, for anyone who's followed this project at any point in its ungodly long timeline. I should probably make a proper update post if I'm getting back into writeblr for 2024).

I will leave this as an open tag, because I'm rusty on the blogs in my orbit that are A.) still active and B.) tag-friendly. Feel free to lmk for future games, if you'd like. Moots and other writers, please consider finding bone, run, focus, and relief within your wips.

Night

This draft currently sits around 71,000 words, and "night" is ninety of them. Many passages with "night" are CHOCK FULL OF SPOILERS, so I can share surprisingly few of them.

Here's a non-spoilery paragraph that has persisted through several drafts, from Dale's POV:

And we ended up back at the bar, and the night started sliding from there. It blurred into an evening that I’d lived a thousand times. An endless range of bottles in our server’s steady hands. A couple of young ones passed out in the back. A dazzle of light in Starbell’s streets, when one of us rallied to go and dance outside. We emerged from the door too fast, too many, and Charles caught me close before I fell. I pressed my face into his chest, and he asked if I wanted to leave – but I couldn’t leave, I had no other friends and nowhere else to go, and Rosalind pulled me away from him to dance.

Another fun fact: "night" is the very first word of this draft!

Night descended heavy in the Diamond City's slums.

And here are some fun variations on "night" that pop up, really leaning into the Victorian aesthetic – "nightcap," "nightgown," and "fortnight."

Touch

Touch has some ~spicy~ variations, which I shan't share bc of the spoilers. Hehe. It also comes up in most of the story's dreams and visions, to contrast the cerebral aspect. Here are two of those instances.

From Cecelia, who is having dreams of grandeur:

I could see the benevolent face of my Queen, the snowfall of her silver hair, as she touched my chin and told me she was proud.

From Dale, who is having a certified Bad Time:

I steadied myself against the bench and Jamie’s shoulder, unwilling to touch the wallpaper. It looked wet. Bloody. A grotesquely regular arrangement of torn flesh, crawling and moving in the haze.

Window

There aren't many interesting instances of "window." I would have expected some more, with setting description, but I did find a few solid ones.

Quintessential Charles Angst™:

I never lingered long at any window. I’d frighten them, an outsider, a phantom.

And... this!! I'm giving you no context, to avoid potential spoilers. It's fine. Everything's fine. Don't even worry about it :)

September on the road was very beautiful back then. He grabbed my hair through the window and pressed his knife up to my throat- said I’d make him a pretty penny- and then- do you remember how his brain went everywhere? My dress, my face, your journal. It was sticky in your hair.

Weight

Dale sucks, but this is a whole mood:

I recognized that it was cold, unseasonably cold, but I could hardly feel it. I felt weighted, ponderous; if I sank into the earth, perhaps I could escape the demonic Miss Lake and her sycophants. Worth a try. I closed my eyes.

Huzzah! Now on to use "night" ninety more times in the back half of this draft.

T A G : FIND THE WORD

Jumping in the open tag from @oh-no-another-idea. Thanks for leaving the tag open! 😊

The words they've given are: raven, wound, travel, and hand.

RAVEN

I... I don't think I've ever used... this word in my writing? I'm so confused; how can that be??

That being said, I have used ravenous, so that's what I'll substitute it with. Here's a little excerpt from An Entity In Your Midst, my standalone horror that I've been working on for centuries:

Being in school was a welcome change, especially with what had been happening at home. She’d begun to question her own sanity, and when her mother had suggested that she stay home for yet another day, Anya had put her foot down. She didn’t tell anyone about it, not even her best friend Daria, who’d tried to get her attention all throughout first period. She couldn’t avoid her forever, though, and at the end of second period, when lunch had finally come around, Daria pulled her back while the class shuffled out, ravenous and loud.

WOUND

Since I've already gotten us started with An Entity In Your Midst, why not continue? :D

An excerpt from Agafiya's journal:

Ilya refuses to tell me what he and Sergei saw that night. He came back covered in scratches and mud and bruises and a broken arm – and even then, he still held his rifle with a death-grip, and his eyes were wide and wild. When I saw him like that, for a moment I feared he was on of them, come for us. But then he dropped to his knees and fell forward, unconscious with what I think was both exhaustion and shock. Maria and I did our best to treat his wounds, but I fear it is the mental wounds that will need the most time to heal.

TRAVEL

This game has me reading back over AEIYM and I LOVE ALL OF IT. (Where's the rest of it??? Why is it not finished??????) No wonder I was obsessed with this wip for a little while.

When he had heard about his dear friend Mikhail Volkov and his charming family, he felt the pain in his bones. What misfortune had befallen them had been unexpected and terrifying. Nobody could explain what had happened to them, only a handful of days after he had traveled down there to check on young Fyodora.

For reference:

Mikhael Volkov OC intro

Fyodora Volkov OC intro

HAND

So many to choose from for this one, but I decided on this excerpt:

“Please keep this between us,” Mrs. Volkov said. “She’s been very ill. She’s not herself.” “She’s another person entirely,” Nina grumbled, shaking her head. She was still waiting for her heartbeat to slow down. She became aware of Mrs. Volkov’s hand, still holding her shoulder in a firm grip, and stepped back, opening the front door. “It’s been very difficult for all of us.” Mrs. Volkov held a knowing look, but there was fright etched onto her face, and it unsettled the young girl. “I have to go,” Nina whispered, backing out of the door. “My parents expect me home. I have to go.” And with that, she turned and ran.

I'm going to tag a few peeps for this one, but please feel free to ignore! @dyrewrites @leave-her-a-tome @contes-de-rheio @scribble-dee-vee @akindofmagictoo @wiredhouse

Your words, should you accept the challenge, are: night, touch, window, and weight.

[glassrowboat]

Princess. Boothill.

Summary: The summer is always the best time to sit back and enjoy the sounds of nature on a horse back ride, especially when it's with you by his side.

Word Count: 1,800+

The trot of horses on an old path was a welcome one as the trees covered the sky above, blocking out the beaming sun in a canopy of the most vibrant greens. Birds singing in tune with a stream nearby, one you know well from your many times running to it as the heat got the best of you just to kick at the waters for the chance of being splashed with a refreshing cool.

Fortunately enough, today wasn't unbearable. Hot, still, but that's nothing new.

“What's with ya and always takin’ it slow, princess?” A voice called out to you, trying to distract you from the task at hand. That being: getting used to riding a horse in the first place.

Your teacher for…well..the mare you were currently on top of.

“Cmon girl, I swear I taught you how to gallop by now. Less ya scared?” A snort came from him, unlike the ones the horses huff out after being ordered to go into a different direction than the one they wanted.

Stubborn creatures they were, but your teacher had assured you the one you were riding on, Crafty, was the least stubborn of the bunch. A ‘tamed lass’ or something along those lines. At least that's what he claims, but you've personally experienced being bucked off before.

It was unpleasant, to say the least. The moment you hit the rough patch of dirt, grass tickling your skin, you were unable to breathe despite your attempts to gasp for air. Quite literally knocked out of you as you choked on the spot. Your body refused to fill your lungs.

Now, you had never been much of a smoker but in that moment you would have gladly taken a puff from a spit covered end if it meant getting what you longed for.

It was only when you were breathing again that you noticed a certain someone (a complete prick) was standing above you holding Crafty's reins in hand and laughing.

“Well, it was bound to happen ‘ventually.”

Those words made you want to punch him as your teacher leaned down, hand taking your own, and helped you up.

Afterward, you immediately ran off to shower. The need for a break and a good wash far too tempting to resist after getting knocked off your ass.

Since then you had been dubbed-

“Princess?”

That.

You glanced over at him, despite knowing you should keep your eyes forward lest Crafty follows the direction you're gazing at, to catch the sight of his black and white hair thrown up in a messy ponytail. Hat, as always, perched right on top of his head.

“Everytime you call me that, I want to call you Cruella De Vil.”

Your teacher awwed at your words, cooing the harsh tone in your voice. “You wanna give me a nickname now? I didn't know we were at tha’ stage in our relationship yet.”

“We are in nothing close to a relationship.” You snapped.

“Wowy pardner, way to-” You glared at him, waiting for your teacher (Cruella) to dare and even try to finish his sentence when you both knew he was going to attempt to say something along the lines of ‘shit on my parade’- “rain on my parade.”

“Yeah, that's totally what you were going to say.”

“Obviously.” He said, drawing out they ‘ly’ the same way you would when mocking how a country singer says the word whiskey.

You found yourself going “uhuh,” nodding in agreement just to get him off your back. Shame it didn't work as well as you wanted it to as Cruella over there kept jabbering. Stuffing your ears full of words like a tamale.

“Ya know, if it gets any hotter I'm sure we could fry an egg just by puttin’ it on a rock to sizzle up real nice. Would you like that, princess, me cooking you up a meal? Maybe we can have a beer or two to top it-”

Eventually, you found your legs squeezing the horse below you, signaling her to pick up the speed. Your hips meeting the same beat hers did as she ran, just like you were taught.

it's easier that way, apparently. Puts less stress on your body.

Hoofs beating against the well-worn path, but your teacher was far more comfortable going at a faster pace, making him catch up with you easily as he whistled at the horse to slow down. Her legs were already betraying you as they moved back into a slow trot all the way to a stop. Crafty staring back at you like she was expecting you to give her a treat for the treacherous behavior.

Well, she was certainly well trained, at least. Maybe he did have a point in saying Crafty was a tamed lass.

“Tryin' to run from me now?” He asked, laughter in his voice even as your teacher clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“You were the one complaining about us going too slow earlier.”

“Huh? Can't seem to recall that.” Reaching over, he took the reins from your hands, slipping them as easily from your gasp as any trained pickpocket might. “Mind getting off ol Crafty here so we can talk?”

“I'd rather not.”

“Course not. Real shame you're always so stubborn.” If he wasn't so close, you might have missed the part your teacher whispered about how he should have expected you to be harder to deal with than a newborn foal.

Yeah, fuck you too cowboy.

Running a hand over Crafty's neck, you couldn't help but cringe slightly at the feeling of her fur being so coarse. You'd have to remember to brush them down after cleaning out their hoofs. Something you like to do before and after every ride. After all, they deserve it for carrying you around like this.

“I don't know how you put up with Cruella over here.” You say to her. “Not when I'd never know when he's planning to turn my hide into a hat.”

Your teacher barked out a laugh as he picked his hat off his head, waving it slightly in front of your eyes so you could get a proper view of it. “It's not even made out of horse hide, ya see?”

“Yet.”

“Yet.” He repeated with a raised brow.

“Yeah, I'll give it until Crafty's leg finally gives out.”

The last thing you saw before your vision was covered was your teacher rolling his eyes right before he placed that dusty hat on your head. If you remember correctly, didn't that mean something like you were his girl or….

Ah.

Ah!

With a face as hot as the blazing sun shining down on you two, right in the midst of summer, no less, you shoved the hat back towards him. “That's sweaty and gross! I don't want it!”

Laughter caught on the wind as he took it back, holding it to his chest as your teacher pouted.

“Ya wound me. Here, a simple cowboy is offering you something to block out that blasted sun, and you don't even make use of it?”

“I can manage just fine without it.” You hissed.

“You have also been riding with narrowed eyes this entire time, princess. It kinda gives you away.”

“I said,” taking the reins from his hands you pulled them back into your grasp, careful not to accidentally kick Crafty up by startling her, “I'm fine.”

Turning around on the path you both had been riding down, you were met with the sight of the lush greenery you two had passed and two sets of horseshoe prints littering the ground.

“And I'm heading back.”

“All on your own? Didn't know you could handle that by yourself.”

“Yes, on my own, cowboy.” You said with a firm nod. “I'll fill the hay and everything so there's no need to worry about it.”

Even if it meant getting that blasted stuff in your bra. It always had a way of sneaking in there despite your best efforts and highest collar shirts.

“All covered then, eh?” He asked as Crafty nickered underneath you.

This time you didn't grace him with a response as you made your way down the path, the sound of the bird chirping and Crafty's tail trying to wack any bugs away from her your only company as your teacher watched you go.

“She's so stubborn, ain't she?” He found himself asking. Though the grin on his face was a clear indication that the thick headed nature of yours wasn't exactly minded.

“Guess I gotta try harder to build up a romantic mood to confess next time. I'll get her to listen for sure. I just need a bit of time.”

In return, your teacher was met with the huff of the horse he was sitting on as his hand moved up to block the sun in his eyes.

Back then his hand was flesh and blood.

But now?

His metal hand was blocking out the full moon, bright as it could be as he gazed up at the stars reflected on the aluminum coated surface he was still learning to get used to. The way they moved was nothing like real fingers that would hurt at the slightest papercut.

He would always stick the hurt finger in his mouth and say that would do the trick even as the little miss royal ass would insist he wash off.

Soap and water.

He needed a bath, or at least his hair needed to be washed off. The rest of him maybe needed a shining? Maybe a good wipe and oil capped off?

Boothill dropped his hand, letting it fall to his side as he looked back up at the sky.

If he closed his eyes right now, could he pretend it was sunny as can be? That the leafs above and Boothill’s hat were the only thing keeping his eyes from being blinded, that there was a stream right down the way he could hear just as clearly as the trot of two horses side by side?

Could he, just maybe, hear your voice?

Yet all he heard was his own breathing that was…altered in a way. Affected, just like the rest of him the moment he took on this hunk of a junk body.

It was agonizing to wake up from such a peaceful dream. One he wanted to go back to despite it long since having burnt to ash. Crumpled between warm fingers that had once touched your hand, now gone like the rest of him.

Grabbing his hat, Boothill got up where he was standing, trying his best to once again walk away from your memory. The same way he did as Boothill realized he had to flee that fateful day without erecting some sort of monument for everyone in their honor.

For Nick.

For Graey.

For his little girl.

For his princess.

[devils-dares]

The Anatomy of a Hug

summary: it's the middle of the night and you've been crying. seeking comfort, you knock on his door.

pairings: unspecified male character x gender neutral!reader

warnings: mentions of friends with benefits type relationship, no smut, crying, mentions of not eating or sleeping, only description is reader is shorter than character, hun as a pet name.

wordcount: 819

a/n: wowie, i'm breaking my hiatus! tbh never thought this day would come. this is written with the call of duty fandom in mind, but can go for practically any male character.

-----

“Wha-” he rubs his eyes, trying to scrub the sleep away, “you’re here. Why are you here?”

It’s a fair question. You knocked on his door in the middle of the night, eyes red from crying. He has every reason to close the door and go back to bed. It’s cold.

You shrug, tired bones too exhausted to even think of a reply.

“Hey, now. C’mere, come in,” he says, stepping to the side to let you in, “talk to me. What’s going on?” It’s warm in the house, walls bathed in honey colored lighting from the incandescent bulbs that buzz away when they’ve gone dim. It smells like him, and you can feel his warmth without ever having to touch him.

“What are ya thinkin’?” His voice is deep, gravelly, a sure sign you’d woken him up from a deep sleep.

“Just wanna be held.” You say, voice shaking on the verge of tears. He stands still for a second, hesitating.

“You want me to- to hold you?” It was a fair question. The two of you didn’t have that kind of relationship, moreso two acquaintances who found comfort in each others’ bodies between the sheets.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” You say. He tuts after shutting the door, shifting his weight onto one leg. His arms are folded across his chest, making his frame appear so much bigger than yours, and making you crave his embrace that much more.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I’m well aware.” You say, chuckling sadly.

“And you came… here?”

“I can go-”

“No. Don’t leave. Let me hold you, yeah?”

“I don’t wanna be a b-”

“Bother? You’re bothering me by looking like you’ve been crying for hours.”

“Flattery was never your strong suit.” He sighs, crossing the room in three big steps and pulling you into his arms. Your head gets buried in his chest, the scent of him forcing you to settle against him. The weight of his arms is comforting, one wrapped around your waist and one trails up your back to cup the back of your head.

“This is nice, didn’t know you knew how to be soft.”

“Shut up and let me hug you.”

“Okay, sorry.” The two of you fall into an easy silence, nothing but your soft breaths filling the room.

He’s warm, something you always liked about him. He was built like a goddamn furnace, and you were always freezing. It also helped that he was massive, your head just barely reaching his pectoral muscles. Not to mention for how strong he was, he was holding you surprisingly tender.

He held you up. His one arm around your waist held you up without struggle. Your bones and muscles appreciated him, even though you were mentally unable to share your thanks with him. God, he just made you melt like hot butter in his arms. He hated physical affection, never going much further than cuddling during aftercare, but this, it felt like he needed it a little bit too.

“When was the last time you ate, hun?”

You’re not sure what it is about him, an otherwise stoic man breaking his walls down to hold you in a vulnerable moment, or the fact that he felt like he actually wanted to be there. You’re not sure what it was, but almost immediately after the pet name left his lips, you let out a sob, followed by an onslaught of tears that did nothing but soak his shirt and obscure your vision. He freezes against you, muscles tensing where they hold you, but he thaws eventually.

“‘m so tired.”

“I know, let me take care of you for tonight. Don’t worry.” It’s effortless, really, the way he softens his voice and holds your entire weight in his arms, letting you wet his shirt with your tears without saying a word. It feels like you cry for ages, sobbing loudly until you have no tears left and your head is pounding from the onslaught of emotions. It’s silent for a while, you don’t know how long you spent in his arms.

“Sorry.”

“What for?”

“Waking you for that.”

“I’d wake for you if you got a damn papercut, now, when was the last time you ate?”

“What did you say?” He looks at you after you ask.

“I’m saying that if you knocked on my door because you couldn’t sleep at night, I’d pick you up and throw you in my bed to make sure you slept, because lord knows you have a shit sleep schedule. Lord also knows you never eat on time or properly, so I’ll ask you once more, when was the last time you ate?”

“I don’t… I don’t remember.” He tuts again, dropping his arm from around your waist to a little lower, and scoops you up in his arms.

“Come now, let’s get you something to eat.”

[lychgate]

Echo brain comic?? My beloved?

this one's pretty new and id like to in the least get some segments drawn up if i can

i went balls deep in depth about my personal ideas of Echo's structure and how it works, it has much more writing rn then art lemme get some snippets:

tech and echo begin digging around in his wiring as echo's health has lately began to decline rapidly. Blood transfusions are becoming daily, exhaustion occurs much quicker, and newest to the issues are these seemingly random seizures. They've attempted many outside options at remedying the problem but it was becoming urgently clear that the only way to get answers would be to open up his system and understand exactly how his body operates from the inside out. Echo is mostly on edge because he fears finding the answer that is he's just doomed to die soon, and that his body was in no way sustainable outside of that fridge. He fears the idea of dying so much that he has manic considerations of being put back in some sort of stasis chamber. Death, which he never feared prior to the citadel, but now he's come to be you know uhhh quite traumatized from it. But he also hates the idea of that fridge!! caught between two terrible options, wowie here ill add some more breakdown of that in a read more if anyone is interested in paragraphs of bullshit:

as for a brief descriptor on the shit on his head and body, from this paragraph:

Tech: these rivets across your skull are not simple ports one can just plug into. They're a very unique structure, containing an extremely delicate, but long system of thin metallic fibers wiring throughout your brain. These 'rivets' then act as anchors to those metal fibers, which then respond to very specific electric signals that we can access at the nodes on the surface here. If the signals sent are not exact. Well. Echo: yeah I get it I get it.

and some write up on how Tech begins to diagnose the problem:

Eventually Tech will find his way into deeper functions of the brain, finding shortcuts that were already developed by the Techno Union scientists for the sake of their own equipment likely. Categorized sections for monitoring all sorts of chemicals and levels within Echo's body, most of which were left on an automatic function to regulate.

Tech begins to understand that the key issue is that this program, and these automatic functions, were fitted for exactly the stasis chamber Echo had been put in, and if they want to begin fixing Echos phsyical body, he would have to start going in and coding line for line, functions that pertain to the body on a sustainability outside that fridge. Some functions were completely turned off, being that Echo was getting fed certain synthesized chemicals thru the machine, his brain had to be telling itself NOT to produce said things naturally.

But it's all very finicky work that requires continuous maintenance and updates, not much unlike a patch update to any other computer program, except this is Echo's life. It's an impossible amount of code to do in any short time frame, and so Tech will begin splicing lines of code from similar organic droids with systems of similar complexity.

They handle these sessions once per week, giving time for Echo's body to catch up and adjust. At first he begins feeling some nausea, his heart rate starts rising, but he insists something feels good about it and urges Tech to keep going. Echo begins to feel warmth back in his body, his mood increases, after about a month hair begins to grow again, muscle mass fills in what once was skeletal limbs, nail beds regain a lively shine. Besides a few errors in updates like over producing a chemical or small bouts of insomnia, everything seems On Course.

and then:

So now we get into the meat of the drama, which is a lot of Echo mania and identity issues:

By this point Tech has outfitted much easier screw on parts so they can go in and out of this program faster (the set up previously was hours of work) so pulling that up he theorizes that he will have to do more then just reverse programs that the Techno Union set up. Tech now believes he'll have to create NEW systems, as the old program appears to be getting corrupted from all of Tech's editing. The seizures are, at this point to their best guess, coming from this. That parts of his brain are literally crashing, and soon he's going to start having more serious issues like bro is gonna just have a massive stroke at some point. Tech points that out all regular voice and Echo is just 'great im back in the mental swamp' Now that Echo's learned that he has corrupted files eating away at his brain, and that the chance of having a massive stroke is like inevitable, he's back to feeling like anxious shit. It doesn't help that this will take Tech a lot of time to figure out. Truthfully he's putting as much effort as he can into it, but this is when Echo begins to get Really mentally unwell. He's both worrying and also trying NOT to worry out of fear that it's going to complicate the program even more. Echo begins to have identity issues, coming to rely more on the mechanics then the organics that make him. He doesn't feel like a human with robot parts anymore, he feels like a robot with human parts.

and it keeps going like there's parts where echo is begging Tech to up programs on dopamine generation and Tech has to turn him down cause that would just be creating an addiction problem, situations where Echo starts trying to mess with his own brain, situations where he tries to kill Tech, its a lot of rambling but im not a writer, like i can't write for shit and I'd like to try and draw it instead

[coff-in]

hi pookie. Back at it again.

hi pook. It's my birthday today, and you're gonna give me a birthday present :3

I was wondering what birthday sex would be like with Andy dandy? Like he can't get you anything for your birthday and he just ends up fucking you and claiming its your birthday present? :3

notes from coff-in: happy birthday pookie!! my birthday is also in june, we're like twins!!! wowie zowie! anyway, tried my best to keep this as gender neutral as possible :3 happy anniversary of your escape from the womb

[gender neutral] reader-insert, NSFW

andrew would feel bad that he couldn't get you a cake or something you wanted for your birthday. however, he's sure that birthday sex would be a reasonable substitution. he'd wait for you to get home if they're working, maybe try to cook them something for lunch or dinner (i don't think he's the worse chef ever), then lead them to the bedroom. he wouldn't let [reader] undress themself. he would kiss their face then trail his hands under their shirt to lift it over their head and throw it to the ground.

"look at you," he'd coon at [reader] with those fucking sexy bedroom eyes he knows he has, "so pretty for me, aren't you?" he'd run his hands up and down their sides then pull down their pants/skirt. "go lay down on the bed for me." he wouldn't let [reader] do ANYTHING today. it's their special day today and he plans on treating them like royalty today!

he would get between their thighs and kiss them, biting them and leaving his marks on their skin. he'd laugh when [reader] covers their face, just finding them so fucking cute! "hehehe, no no no. don't hide from me, baby, let me see that cute face of yours." he'd make them keep their eyes on him as he eats them out/sucks them off, obscenely slurping and licking them like a fucking freak. he'd moan around them and tongue them and just :3 heehee i can't get it out properly im sorry :3 :3 

grrrr.... he'd tease his thick cock against [reader]'s wet and slick hole because he's still an asshole. "yeah, you want it baby, yeah? you want it inside? you want me? you do, don't you? it's ok, i'll give it to you. i'll give all to you, don't worry baby." he fucks [reader] gently at first, slow and deep thrusts. then he goes harder and harder, panting over [reader] as the room is filled with moans and harsh plap plap plaps. he kisses them as he cums inside, filling them up with his hot seed. a birthday creampie :3

they're both hot and sweaty as andrew cuddles up to them, wrapping an arm around [reader]'s body and kissing them on the forehead. "happy birthday, [reader]." ofc if the birthday baby is up for it, he can go for another round or two ;)

(he'd make you lay on your chest and bend your hips so he could spread your asscheeks and take a bite out of that birthday cake)

----

coff-in

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Outmaway Debut: Super Mario Bros. Wonder

It's officially been over a month since Super Mario Bros. Wonder was released, meaning our embargo for covering its plethora of new enemies has been lifted!

Or at least, that's what it looks like on your end. Hi! I'm Mod Hooligon from a month ago, and I'm writing this post on October 21, 2023, having beat the game just earlier today and going "Wowie-zowie! That was Super Mario Bros. Wonderful! Those sure were some Weird Mario Enemies Dot Tumblr Dot Com! Time to write posts about them that won't be published for another month instead of finishing my galaxy rankings like I should be doing!"

Anyhoo, to kick things off, let's talk about Outmaway! Right off the bat, Outmaway makes a great first impression with all the hallmarks of a good enemy: cute little creature, Eyes-in-a-Black-Void-Face, funny name, and the trademark Mario Enemy Shoes. It's such a Video Game Enemy Design in all the best possible ways.

If you couldn't tell from the fact I bolded the word earlier in the post, Outmaways love to kick things that are in their way that should be the name of the enemy we're talking about. Or maybe they hate it. It's hard to tell when they have a serious case of resting cute enemy angry eyes.

Regardless of how they feel about their lot in life, kicking things out of their way is what Outmaways do best, whether it's blocks of ice or Koopa shells. Do you ever think of how often you kick Koopa shells to take out rows of enemies? Well Outmaway is here to turn the tables, and show you how it feels! You can try throwing a shell at it, but don't say I didn't warn you...

Of course, if you're a fellow Weird Mario Enemies Afficionado who read the line about it kicking around ice blocks, you might be thinking "Hey, that's kind of like Buster Beetle, isn't it?"

Indeed, Outmaway is the second enemy to join the exclusive club of "2D Mario Platformer Enemies That Attack By Using Ice Blocks As Projectiles." But can the two co-exist peacefully, or is Outmaway here to steal Buster's job...?

As we mentioned in our original post on Buster Beetle, the decision to make Buster Beetle a Buzzy Beetle relative feels weird and arbitrary given how little the enemies have in common. And if you couldn't guess from our blog title, we love weird and arbitrary! But it is a questionable choice from a game design perspective, given you'd expect a Buzzy Beetle relative to behave like a Buzzy Beetle. It's very possible that this is why Buster has been missing in action since Super Mario Bros. 3, and that Outmaway is less stealing Buster's job than filling an opening.

Regardless of how you feel about Outmaway replacing Buster Beetle as Mario's voice actor, I think it's a great enemy, and I hope it can become a Mario Mainstay. When it comes to new Weird Mario Enemies, it can be difficult to tell which will stick around. Some of them rise to the occasion, like Goombrat, while others go the way of the Dondon...

I'm hoping for an ideal world, where we can play as Outmaway in Mario Tennis: Ultra Smash 2! It doesn't even use a racket, it just kicks the ball back.

[decaffedthoughts]

Kinktober Fic 8

Kinks: mirror sex and breeding kink

Other content: dom minho, sub reader, reader calls minho master, afab reader with no other explicitly gendered language, minho calls reader kitty and kitten

Word count: 1960

a/n: wowie, it's here. Thanks for your patience everyone, as a lil treat you can see I broke my 1k rule. Edit: I didn't post this last week???? My bad y'all, that's wild

It's hard when Minho goes on tour, but you also love watching all the videos of him as people post them online. It's a little less hard and a little more funny when people put captions like "my husband" or "wow my boyfriend did so good tonight" underneath when you know he calls you almost every night. Well, he does when it's night for him after the show. Sometimes it's before or after work, and the occasional lunch break, for you.

Now, it's almost over, just one more day before he'll come walking in your front door and be laying in this bed with you again. It's hard falling asleep without him, but you sleep alright when you do, and even better on weekends like this when you can sleep in and not worry about any alarm or responsibilities. Apparently, you slept so well this time that you missed someone climbing into bed with you. You assume the warmth is one of the cats, you swear they can open doors even if Minho promises they can't, but you proceed to hear a very human noise.

It takes a moment to process, and then when you do your eyes fly open to see Minho already awake and looking at you. Why he's awake when he definitely fell asleep later than you is a question for another time. For now you throw yourself towards him, and he giggles before holding you close.

"Oh my god, I missed you so much. You should have-" You start, muffled in his shoulder.

"I should not have woken you up, I bet you've already been having trouble sleeping as it is."

Caught and called out, you just huff and wiggle closer to him.

"Fuck you, meanie."

"Meanies don't usually fuck you, darling. I have lots of other options."

You blush a little and smack his other shoulder with one hand, secretly delighting in the cackles Minho lets out in response. You can't deny that you haven't missed him like that though, and Minho often gets too hot under the blankets so he wears some light and small clothes, easy access for you.

"Mm, but you're gonna be nice and fuck me today right? Waited so long for you."

Minho sighs and shakes his head at you.

"Wasn't I on the phone helping you two days ago?"

You hum, fake forgetting about that particular moment, like it hasn't played on repeat in your mind since it happened. Minho leans in close to kiss you anyways, and it feels more like home than you've felt the whole time you've been here alone.

One hand holds you by the back of your neck, and the other goes down your body and past your underwear, making you gasp at the forwardness. No time to waste this morning. You retaliate by pulling down his flimsy underwear, slowly stroking and feeling his dick harden in your grasp. You separate your mouths with a little wet noise and giggle as Minho tries to follow.

"Please, Minnie. Just wanna be yours."

Minho tongue licks his lower lip, staring at you, like he's confirming in his mind what you want.

"Gonna let me fill up and mark that pretty pussy?" He asks, like he doesn't already know.

You nod, and Minho seems to have an idea at the same time. You watch, a little confused as he gets up, but see quickly what he's doing when he pushes your floor length mirror to the side of the bed. Sitting up, you direct him so you can both get a good angle when you look. It's close enough and perfectly set so you'll both get good angles of yourself and each other, which makes you wonder just a little if Minho practiced this or if he's just naturally good at it, as he is many other things.

"Out of your clothes, kitty. Lemme see you." Minho orders, still softly.

You don't hesitate to obey, not having the patience for any playing around today, even if it sounds a little fun. Minho stares at you the whole time, standing slightly behind the mirror, waiting. It's fun, knowing that Minho is watching you undress. It may not be the most sexy or appealing action you've ever taken, but you know he's watching and waiting to pounce anyways. It's when you've bent over to take off your sweatpants, his that you actually stole, that Minho does something unexpected and lets you know of his own impatience.

You don't hear him, but he steps forward and presses his cock between your legs, letting you feel how hard he is already. You gasp, but let him do it. After a little while, you test the limits and grind your hips back a little into his. When he says nothing and only groans a little in pleasure, you continue.

This isn't what you were expecting, but damn is it hot anyways. What is for sure, is that you have ruined both of your pairs of underwear with how soaked you are. Tragically, Minho seems to have the mental clarity to pull away eventually, and only then do you realize how close you were and how much your legs have begun to shake. You still whine, not wanting the pleasure to stop, even if it was not the most comfortable position by far.

"No. Come sit in front of the mirror kitty, I need to see your face when you cum." Minho says, sitting and spreading his legs to create the perfect space for you.

You don't wait to go to him, though you stumble a little because your legs aren't ready to support movement. It doesn't matter in the end, because you probably won't need them for the rest of the night.

You sit and sigh in relief when you can feel Minho's cock pressing against you again, just wanting him so damn bad. Minho frowns and wiggles a little under you, not satisfied with something yet.

"Actually, hands and knees, face the mirror."

It's another bit that betrays his restlessness. Normally, he would have made you cum another way first, but if it's like this then he's almost guaranteed to be fucking you, and good. He takes off your underwear first, humming when he sees how wet you are. It seems he can't resist either way, and takes two fingers, rubbing up and down and coating his fingers with it. You try not to move, to let him have his way as you know he likes to do but it's fucking difficult.

Minho knows this, and doesn't spend long there. Instead, you soon get a replica of your earlier moment, but better. His cock rubbing between your legs, but so much more sensitive and wet with no layers between you.

Once again, Minho gets the awareness to stop and continue, while you sit there still whining for it, even if you know what comes next will be better. You turn to pout at him, but Minho just clicks his tongue and you settle down a little, not wanting to truly test his patience tonight.

You let out a satisfied hum as you feel his cock sink into you. Despite craving this the whole time Minho has been away, you forgot how good it really felt for him to fill you up like this.

"Fuck, such a perfect pussy for me kitten." Minho groans.

Your heart flutters at the praise, as dirty as it is. You like pleasing him.

"Please, master. Please fuck me, I need it." You beg, unprompted and trying to pretend blatantly showing how needy you are doesn't affect you.

"You need it?" Minho prompts, and chuckles when you simply agree. "Watch yourself take it in the mirror then."

You gasp quietly, having forgotten the mirror was there. Both of you look half a mess in the mirror already, which is a little embarrassing in just how frantic you were. Still, you watch your mouth fall open in the mirror and your eyes half-lid as Minho finally starts pounding into you, just like you asked for.

It's wet and it's loud and it's hot, and you vaguely wonder if anyone around can hear you considering this apartment isn't exactly soundproof. Quickly, that becomes much less of a concern as your brain becomes less able to hold onto thoughts other than those related to your pleasure.

"Ooooh yes, yes, yes." You chant, letting your support off one arm to use two fingers to rub your clit. "Mmph!"

You squeal and you can see Minho's grin as he hits just the right spot. Slowly, slowly, you both get just a little louder and you listen as close as you can to hear every sound Minho lets out.

"You feel so good baby. Such a slut, you must have kept this hole ready for when I came back."

He's not technically wrong, over the last few months you spent many a night laid out on this bed fucking yourself and desperately wishing and imagining it was him. Clearly nothing can compare if he's already made you feel this good, but damn you tried anyways. It helped when he had time and you could listen to him talk you through it.

"I know you did, you called me so many times. Begging me to come back and fill you up. Now I'm here, now I can breed this pussy the way you wanted so badly."

"Oh yes, master please. Want you to breed me, fill me up." You whine, beginning to throw your hips back to meet him, not able to stop yourself any longer.

Minho lets it stand, knowing you're half out of your mind by now, a skill he takes great pride in.

"Good kitty, gonna stuff this pretty cunt."

You're being much louder than you really should be at this time of day on a weekend, but there is nothing in your mind beyond the feeling of Minho's dick and wanting both of you to cum. Thankfully, you both seem to be building very quickly to that point. Minho's grip on you is getting tighter and the slap against your ass has gotten much harder, not that you'll be complaining.

"Please master, cum inside. Want it so bad." You plead, feeling how close you are, and wanting to feel him close after this long.

"Good baby, gonna make you so full."

The last words he gets out before he cums and, the dutiful man he is, keeps fucking you through it even as you know he gets more and more oversensitive. It works, because with just a few more high moans you cum. You keep frantically rubbing your clit, and basely trying to fuck yourself on his cock, like you're trying to take it deeper. Your remaining arm collapses under you, and you find your face pressed into the sheets. When you open your eyes, you look so debauched and borderline scandalous.

You're mildly sweating and flushed down to your chest. Your chest is heaving as you desperately try to get more air in, yet your mouth hangs open as all you can is moan as you cum. Minho shudders as your orgasm ends, yet you squeeze around him a few more times.

He pulls out slowly, making both of you hiss with the overstimulation, slight as it is.

With a short "can I?" Minho pulls out his phone and watches as you clench down and his white, sticky cum starts coming out, filling you as it is.

He puts his phone away and looks at the mess between your legs that he made, grinning.

"Oh no, it all came out. Guess I'll have to try again." He says, not even trying to sound like he feels bad about it.

[gaylordscooter]

Don't Bring a Papyrus to the Castle are you Insane

It's been awhile since Nightmare’s tormented them. This was, of course, a good thing. Supposedly.

It could mean that he's been planning something during the time of inactivity. It put Horror on edge. He's always been the most paranoid, even with the tough competition.

The main difference between Horror and the other two was that they would roll with the punches. Horror wanted to be prepared, which was a problem, because he ended up driving himself insane trying to figure out what Nightmare could possibly be planning.

In all honesty, Nightmare was slacking in his latest attempts to boost the negativity in the air. The last thing he did was play a bunch of scary movies and then pretended to be like the monsters in said scary movies when it was time to sleep. He did not account for them blowing him up when he acted like the Thing.

It was ever since they started working together. That's when Nightmare started losing his edge.

No one was going to mention it, but it was almost kind of…fun? Living at the castle. The alternative for Killer and Dust was an empty world with nothing else to do except think about how horrible they are. As for Horror—well, he at least had a stable source of food. For the most part, they were never actively put in danger. Almost everything Nightmare did was simulated, albeit simulated situations of terror cultivated for them. They also had comfortable shelter with their own rooms and all.

At first, the three hated each other. They still kinda do, but working together lessened it a tad…maybe more than that, but again, no one was going to mention it.

“what if he gives up and kicks us out? or what if he just kills us?” Horror guessed as he paced around the so-called “living room” which was really just the great hall of the castle but none of them called it that. “he keeps us around for our negativity, we know that much, so what happens once he can't get the amount he wants from us anymore?”

“he wouldn't kick us out,” Killer said dismissively. He was leaning back on one of the chairs, propping his legs up against one of the many very long tables in the room. “i think he’s gotten attached to us. that's why he hasn't been doing anything.”

Dust, who was sitting next to him, scoffed at the notion.

“what? you think i’m wrong?” he questioned.

“i doubt he cares about us,” Horror muttered.

“atatata, i said attached. big difference,” Killer said. “we're like toys to him, toys that a little child doesn't want to let go. children don't go out of their way to toss their toys out.”

“i don't think you can equate him to a child,” Horror retorted.

Killer cocked his head. “really? ‘cus he sure acts like one sometimes.”

The doors to the living room swung open and a familiar darkness filled the air, but instead of Nightmare entering the room—it was Papyrus instead.

Killer fell backwards, the chair clattering against the floor, while Dust turned away while clutching his hood. Only Horror was able to look him in the eye.

“WOWIE! THREE OF MY BROTHER?” Papyrus quickly looked over the room, narrowing his eyes and stroking his chin, as if looking for something. “IT IS A LOT CLEANER HERE THAN I EXPECTED! CERTAINLY YOU THREE AREN’T DOING ANY CLEANING.”

Killer remained on the floor. He brought his hands up to his face. “this is a sick joke. this is a sick joke. tell me i’m hallucinating. is this a bad trip?”

“this is real, bud,” Horror answered.

Killer groaned.

Horror glanced at Dust and back to Killer again. Clearly, neither of them were equipped to handle this. He sighed, “i’ll talk to papyrus and tell ‘m to leave you two alone.” He walked over to Papyrus, which took a minute with how huge the hall was. He internally grimaced as he saw Papyrus's expression flicker to worry when he noticed his injury. “hey…bro. don’t mind the gaping hole in my head, i forgot to wear a helmet, y’know how it is.” Despite being such a long time since he’s talked to Papyrus, he was able to slip right back into old habits. Such as lying to him.

“I SEE…” Papyrus looked tempted to CHECK him, but decided against it to Horror’s relief. He peered behind Horror to get a good look at Killer and Dust.

The two of them simultaneously turned even more away from Papyrus’s gaze as if it’d turn them to stone.

“don't mind the other me’s, they're—uh a bit…different?”

“YES, YES, ALTERNATE VERSIONS I AM WELL AWARE OF THAT,” he declared proudly like he studied for this.

Horror blinked, not expecting that. How much does he know? He asked himself. He was scared to know the answer. He choked down his mess of emotions to keep a neutral face. “right…uh, yeah. it would be best if you left ‘em alone. they might explode or something if you approach them.” That might not even be hyperbole with how those two were reacting.

“VERY WELL! NOT EVERYONE CAN HANDLE THE GREAT PAPYRUS’S OVERPOWERINGLY POWERFUL PRESENCE.” Even though the “everyone” he was referring to were copies of his own brother.

“yep…you're just too cool for ‘em.” This was very quickly steering into an awkward direction. Scratch that, it was already awkward. He was talking to a younger version of his brother before he manipulated him to eat human flesh. As far as he knew, this Papyrus would never have to go through what he had. And that's not to mention the two brother killers in the same room as them. He could only guess how stressed those two were.

Nightmare was probably reveling in it. Asshole.

Papyrus sighed uncharacteristically. It wasn't his dramatic sigh that was for the sake of gaining attention. He was troubled. “Are we doing the thing where we pretend everything’s fine and dandy despite everything telling us otherwise?”

Horror choked on the spit in his throat that wasn't there. “i—uhhh.” He darted his eyes to the side, suddenly the wall to the right was very intriguing and he would much rather look there.

“There's a GAPING HOLE in your skull and I don't even WANT to ask where that eye came from!” Papyrus exclaimed while throwing his arms out. He gestured to his torn shirt with blood old stains right at the edges. “I just know THAT’S not ketchup stains. Sans, how dense do you think I am?”

“i—”

“Actually, don't answer that. I already have a hunch.”

Horror hung his head in shame. “‘m sorry,” he mumbled.

Papyrus's expression softened. He knelt down to Horror’s level to look him in the eye and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not mad…I’m just worried. You always hide stuff from me and it hurts you!” He was very clearly looking at the hole in his head. “You hid what happened from your brother didn't you?”

Horror flinched. “yeah. yeah, i did.”

Then, to Horror’s surprise, Papyrus brought him into a hug.

Silently, he brought up his arms to return the hug.

Dust and Killer dared to turn around to see the display. Only to quickly look away once more when Papyrus looked at them with a warm grin.

The silent hug ended and Papyrus stood at full height once more.

“how much do you know?” Horror asked.

“WELL!” Papyrus started, already returning to his cheery and boisterous demeanor. “THE GOOPY THING SURE SHARED WAY TOO MUCH PERSONAL INFORMATION ABOUT YOU THREE. IT WAS PRETTY RUDE, HONESTLY, SO I DIDN’T WANT TO BRING IT UP UNLESS YOU DID.”

Killer and Dust couldn't avoid looking at him now.

“EVERYTHING. I KNOW EVERYTHING THERE IS TO KNOW,” he clarified.

Killer reached a shaky hand up to grip Dust’s jacket from the ground, perhaps looking for comfort, or because if he didn't hold onto something he would dust right then and there.

Dust grabbed his wrist in turn, gripping it way too tight.

Papyrus narrowed his eyes at them. “YOU’RE GOING TO KILL ME AND YOU CAN’T EVEN FACE ME HEAD-ON ABOUT IT?!”

Killer blinked. That wasn’t a pun, was it? No, of course it wasn’t.

“DON’T GET A-HEAD OF YOURSELVES, I’M NOT MAD. NO NEED TO DIVE HEAD FIRST INTO SUCH ASSUMPTIONS.”

It most certainly was a pun. Killer tried to suppress a chuckle, but he failed. It was like a dam broke as he bursted out in hysterical laughter, rolling around on the ground.

Dust looked down at him in shock and let go of his wrist.

“papyrus, you—you can't just do that to us!” he cried between laughs. “i can't breathe!”

Papyrus smirked. “YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! WHAT? ARE YOU GOING TO KILL ME IF I DO?”

“papyrus, please.” Killer gasped desperately for air.

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT. THAT’S ENOUGH MACABRE JOKES ABOUT MY OWN DEATH FOR NOW. I DON’T WANT YOU TO DIE FROM LAUGHING, I’M NOT HERE FOR REVENGE.”

Now it was Dust’s turn to laugh, except it was silent and he was banging his fist against the table trying to keep it that way.

Papyrus looked pleased with himself.

Horror couldn't help but smile genuinely. Leave it to Papyrus to make him laugh no matter the situation.

“NYEH HEH HEH! AS ALWAYS, YOU CANNOT STAY GLUM IN MY PRESENCE FOR LONG!!”

Of course now was the time Nightmare decided to enter the room—or make his presence known. For all they know he could’ve been here the entire time, just hidden.

Killer immediately got up from the floor while Dust regained his composure.

He approached Papyrus and Horror, using his tentacles to lift himself up and tower over the two.

“No. No, you're not supposed to be happy,” Nightmare said in disbelief. His single eye was cracked wide open with utter contempt. The air around him was suffocating. “You're not supposed to just forgive them.” Tentacles stretched out and pointed at the three Sanses as if threatening to impale them. “They all betrayed you.”

He flicked a tentacle at Dust and Killer in particular, “They KILLED you! Multiple times! Even when you begged them to stop!” He was screaming, but it didn't have a threatening edge to it, despite his anger.

He turned his attention to Horror, leering down at him with his eye going slit. “And you. You think you're better than those two just because you didn't actively kill all those people, but you're not. You doomed everyone. You manipulated your brother into eating human flesh. He didn't want that.” His gaze finally landed back on Papyrus. “How could you forgive them?”

Underneath that anger he sounded…wounded.

Papyrus answered him without hesitation, “They must've had a good reason.”

Nightmare flinched back like he was hit. His tentacles retracted and curled against his body. His aura grabbed at their souls with an unbearable pressure. “You choose to believe in them, despite everything? Even though they harmed you in ways brothers should never?!” he roared.

“I will never stop believing them!” Papyrus declared. Those weren't empty words, he knew that.

Something in Nightmare snapped. He couldn't bear to stomach Papyrus’s unfaltering belief any longer. He opened a portal to the Papyrus’s universe but when he tried to grab him to toss him through his touch instantly encased him in ice. He didn't even process it as he made the motion to toss him into the portal anyway.

Once the portal closed he saw the three Sanses on the floor, struggling against his aura. They’ve never had that problem before, usually they could withstand it when his aura leaked through.

He finally registered the flecks of ice on his hand. He was revolted, he's only used that kind of magic once before and he made an effort to never let it happen again. When did that happen?

How did that happen?

He froze that Papyrus, he realized.

He never meant to—

He didn't even want to—

…He wasn't keeping track of his aura. He wasn't keeping it in check. He was killing them. He wrestled with his magic trying to force it back to normal. It was so much harder than usual.

What was happening? He was losing control. He couldn't lose control. That wasn't something he was allowed to—

Ah.

There was a knife impaling him, in one of his tentacles.

Killer glared at him with fury he’s never seen or felt from him before. For once, he had eyelights in those usually lifeless sockets and they were piercing through him just like his knife. He didn't hesitate to draw the knife back to drive it back in again over and over, it wasn't until Horror grabbed him from behind to drag him away from Nightmare.

“you just saw him freeze papyrus with a single touch and you're gonna get closer?” Horror said.

Killer struggled against his hold, swinging his knife and trying to reach Nightmare in vain. “i don't give a shit!”

The sound of a blaster rang out. It was aimed right at Nightmare’s head.

“dust, don’t,” Horror warned in vain.

Dust shot him a look of malice.

The blaster fired anyway, hitting Nightmare square on the forehead. He let out a horrific screech and a tentacle reflexively struck at Dust. Luckily, it only pierced the floor in front of him.

“you think you're real funny, huh?! bringing in a papyrus and trying to turn him against us? go on and have a tantrum because shit isn't going your way! when will you learn that we're not your fucking toys, asshole?!” Killer barked and wrenched himself free from Horror's grip. Thankfully, he didn't bother to get closer to Nightmare again.

Nightmare shrieked inhumanly in response. He frantically glanced between the three, bracing for another attack that never came.

“i remember when i thought you were terrifying! but you're just so immature. you just gonna scream your lungs out instead of talking?” he taunted.

A tentacle shot forward at Killer's head. He didn't even flinch as it halted an inch away from his nose.

The look in Nightmare's eye was rabid. He only had a speck of self control left. It took every resemblance of logic in him left to refrain from killing the three of them right then and there. He wanted to. Oh how he really wanted to.

A small voice told him he would regret that.

He tore his eye away from the three, turning around to open a portal. He had to leave, now.

He went through and it snapped shut, and the three were free of his presence.

They let out a breath they didn't know they were holding. It was easier to breathe now, too, without Nightmare’s aura choking them to death.

Killer sighed and put his hands in his pockets, letting his shoulders slump. “‘m going to my room.” He walked off towards the end of the hall.

“killer, wait,” Horror said.

He paused mid-step, sighing. “what?”

“i’m not just gonna let you board yourself up in your room.” He turned to Dust. “none of us should be alone right now.”

Killer chuckled, amused at his concern. “oh really? what, so you can act like a support system like you’re someone who actually cares about me?” he spat. He shook his head dismissively. “i am going to my room,” he repeated slowly, enunciating each word this time.

Horror sighed as Dust also walked off.

However, Dust wasn't walking to leave the room, but rather towards Killer. He grabbed Killer's shoulder from behind, stopping him in place.

“horror i said—” His eye sockets widened when he turned to see Dust instead. He frowned. “you too, huh?”

Dust patted him on the shoulder with the same hand.

“‘m not even going to pretend that means anything.” He shrugged his hand off. “you forget that i have just as high of LV as you. i know what that does to you. we don't have the capacity to care. we're numb!” he said bitterly.

“you sure are the most emotional for someone so ‘numb’,” Horror chimed in.

“that's not—”

“true? you were laughing just a moment ago. you’re so shaken at what happened you want to be alone. you're gonna tell me that's ‘numb’?”

“well i’m not feeling normally either!” Killer snapped. His hand mindlessly hovered over his soul, covering it from their view. “it's all so short lived what does it matter anyway?! i just need a second alone, everything will go back to normal, and then Nightmare will torment us again, cycle repeats,” his voice broke, unusually filled with emotion. “that's our lives now.”

“you don't have to isolate yourself—”

“shut up! you don't care about me! neither of you do! you never will, because i killed papyrus—the only person who’d care for us unconditionally. i can blame the anomaly or nightmare all i want but it's my fault that this is happening.”

Dust was taken aback. His face was hardly visible, but Killer could see that he was stunned.

Killer always insisted he wasn't at fault for what happened in his universe; that it was just the anomaly's fault. It was what Dust hated so much about him, half because he was mad at his audacity to shift the blame and half because he was jealous he could do that. Turned out he was jealous at nothing, because he couldn't do that.

Dust tried to sign something.

“i don't know what that meant, but i assume it's an insult.”

Dust shook his head. He tried again, but in a way he hoped Killer would understand, by pointing at him and motioning to where his own soul is.

Killer tilted his head. “you want my soul or something?”

Dust face palmed.

“don't be dense, killer. he's telling you that he does care about you!” Horror interjected. “we both do, dumbass.”

Dust brought his hand down and nodded.

Killer scoffed and crossed his arms. “well don’t expect me to reciprocate.”

“okay ‘mr. edgy i can't feel anything but i need to go in my room to cry’,” Horror teased.

“i wasn't going to cry!” he retorted.

“right…” Horror trailed off, getting an idea. “either of you wanna get a snack? nightmare's not here to stop us from raiding the fridge.”

“of course you would think of that,” Killer said.

“you down or not?”

“duh!” Killer threw his arms up. “let's go!”

The three of them walked out of the hall together and made their way to the kitchen.

The kitchen looked much more modern than the hall, as if it belonged in a mansion rather than a castle. None of them questioned how any of the appliances were powered.

To their delight, they had plenty of time for rummaging through the fridge and eating. They ended up staying at the table and chatting even after finishing their food.

Nightmare was taking much longer to come back than any of them expected. It was almost nighttime and he had yet to show up. They almost wondered if he was coming back or not.

To everyone's shock it was Papyrus that entered the room. They weren't sure if it was the same one at first until he started talking.

“I AM HERE YET AGAIN!” he announced.

The three of them gawked.

“YES, YES, I KNOW IT IS SURPRISING, BUT THE GREAT PAPYRUS CANNOT STAY DOWN FOR LONG! I HAVE RECOVERED FROM THAT CHILLING EXPERIENCE…” his eyes shifted to the side, “MIRACULOUSLY!” He posed proudly with his cape-scarf blowing in the nonexistent wind behind him. “ALTHOUGH, I WON’T BE HERE FOR LONG. I AM ONLY HERE TO SAY FAREWELL.” He extended his arms out, offering a hug.

Dust hesitated, while Horror couldn't even react before Killer sprang up out of his chair to accept it.

“IT’S UNFORTUNATE I HAVE TO GO, BUT I HAVE MY OWN UNIVERSE THAT IS IN NEED OF A PAPYRUS!” He said as he patted Killer on the back and ended the hug. He walked over to one of the windows. “TRY NOT TO MISS ME TOO MUCH!” He jumped through the window. Just like that he was gone.

Horror hurried over to the window to catch the sight of a portal closing and sighed in relief. “he always knew how to make an exit.”

They assumed that since Papyrus arrived, Nightmare would show up at any moment, but it took another hour for him to arrive.

He hurridly passed through the kitchen, probably on his way to his room. It seemed he didn't expect them to still be hanging out in the kitchen as he made a note of ignoring them.

Dust managed to sneak a glance at him and the huge scorch mark on his back. In addition to that, he had less tentacles out than usual, he swore he saw legs underneath his cloak which were usually covered up.

Killer and Horror were too caught up in talking about the sudden Papyrus encounter to care.

Meanwhile, in Nightmare's room he stood in front of the mirror hung on his wall, glaring at himself in contempt.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

It was the very thing he said to himself when he decided to do this. When he decided to gather those three and take them to the castle.

Don’t get attached.

He told himself. Yet here he was, in front of his mirror trying to convince himself that he hasn't gotten attached.

They were supposed to be his source of negativity, in a way, mere food.

The scorch mark on his back and missing tentacles were proof of his failure. He wouldn't purposefully seek out his brother if he wasn't attached to them. He wouldn't try to salvage the situation he created specifically for his entertainment.

But it wasn't entertaining. Not anymore. That was the problem.

He hit the mirror off the wall with one of his remaining tentacles.

He didn't know where to go from here.

[rabbitbakery]

A captain and his crew

FINALLY i pick this back up, the brainrot has returned 👹

This is part two to this, so technically it’s part 3 in total???? It’s my story let me cook 👹

Warnings: none!

—————————————

“Capin? Caaapin?” 

Black Pearl cookie was awoken by the sound of sailors… finally, it’s been forever since she’s gotten to have some real fun. Her large tail propels her out of her nest, the waves smashing against the rocks as a large monsoon of a storm forms above.

“Hehehe…” 

She could see the little cookies struggle to stay aboard their hollow whale as her seas rock it. Oh how it filled her with cruel glee.

“Who dares enter my seas?!”

She rises from the waves, her titanic form casting a dark shadow on the crew. Oh how she would take joy ripping this boat to smithereens-

“AYE LASS WAIT-“

Captain Caviar cookie interrupted her fun, her slitted eyes moving to him for but a moment.

“Dats my crew, they were comin to get me, membr’?” His voice was frantic, almost scared. His crew was like family, he loved them way too much just to watch her drown them. Ah. Her storm quickly vanished, her seas calming to still murky water.

“Oh.” She could feel her heart drop just a bit, not wanting to scare him off, she doesn’t think her soul jam could handle another loss

“I… apologize..” The siren mumbled, sinking back into the murky depths. God she doesn’t think she’s felt embarrassed in a millennia.

“Captain you’re ok!” A small, shrilled voice called from the deck, one that she recognized as a child.

“Corse’ I am! This ol sea beast wouldn’t hurt a fly!” He put his hands on his hips triumphantly, which caused the blue one to shoot him a look.

“Maybe not, but she sure was planin’ on us as a replacement.” He said, his snarky remark making Captain Caviar cookie let out a loud chuckle.

“Aye shes a dear once ya meet er’!”

“Capin’ wait-“ the blue cookie shouted too late as he watched his captain dive back down into the blue abyss.

“Lass why don’t ya introduce urself? I’m sure me crew has been dyin’ to meet da legendary sovereign I been tellin’ em about!” The laying siren curled further into herself upon the sea floor, growling a bit.

“…I’m not a people person.” Black Pearl cookie growled, her tail slapping the sea floor slightly. It took her at least a month to get pleasant with him, Black Pearl cookie hasn’t a clue how to talk to his crew.

“Yea I know dat but dis is my crew! You’d love em’!” She growled a bit more, like a displeased cat, but ultimately forced herself above the waves, half her head and slit eyes looking at the small crowd of land creatures.

“…hello..” Black Pearl cookie grumbled out, hearing that childish squeal she heard before. The small cookie’s olive eyes lighting up upon seeing her.

“Wowie!-“ Their little voice shrilled before the Blue one slapped his hand above the youngster’s mouth.

“Aye don’ be shy! Give the Lass a warm welcome! Show er’ your captain taught ye som’ manners at least!” Captain Caviar popped out of the water next to her, patting the side of his boat, the Salty Shark with his rough hand. All his crew went stark stiff, before the blue haired one spoke.

“…I’m Azul Coral cookie” He sounded very unenthusiastic, his shaking dough still recovering from his first interaction with her. He gestured to his crew mates, pointing to the little one first

“Dis’ is Rookie Cookie”, the little one waved at her enthusiastically, gosh it’s been forever since she’s seen a child.

“And dis’ is Lilac coral cookie” The purple haired one, stayed quiet, but was looking at her in awe.

“…Mr Fishbowl for a head didn’ come wit’ us, old dog refused to even git’ on board”

Azul Coral cookie finished. Ah.. that old sea pest decided to not greet her this go around. How curious..

“What’s wit’ da look on ya face boy? Ya think I was lyin’ to ya?” Captain caviar cookie laughed out at the pu- Lilac coral cookie, the pile of crumbs shutting his mouth and looking at his captain 

“Ah hush it! I jus’ bout’ died and ye laughin’ at me!” Their voice was not all far off from the sailors she usually sinks, she swears all their voices blend together.

The crew discussed for a good while, the siren silently listening. She supposed their company wasn’t unpleasant.. maybe. Eventually they all joined her in the water, their dough must be similar to their captain’s, as they didn’t appear to be crumbling.

“Wowie your cooler up close!!!”

The child’s voice broke her thoughts, her slit eyes falling on the small cookie now in front of her.

“…” Peculiar, she used to be so good with the guppies in tear crown, yet she cannot think of what to say..

“…thank you” is all she can muster. Uugh, children could be so difficult-

“Can I touch your hair?” Rookie cookie so he’s named swam closer to her, his little, bright eyes focused on her cloud-like hair.

“- um, I suppose, sure.” UUUGHHH- She feels PATHETIC, it’s. A. Child. She’s the great sovereign of the dustgloom sea how is she struggling to communicate with a CHILD-

“Wowie! You’re so cool miss!”

Black Pearl cookie looked down once more at the young cookie, his little hands gently petting her hair. Eventually he swam off to his fath- she means captain, giggling and splashing him, much to Captain Caviar Cookies amusement…. She could get used to this.

[martisno]

I'm talking about gays at 2 am again, what a shocker.

Anyways, a few days ago i talked to a friend about how Taranza has a type and stuff as a silly joke, but then it went deeper and we went on and on about it for a bit.

Bottom line was that if we saw them in more "canon personalities" big quotations on that; their relationship would be sooo fucking funny?.

To me at the end of the day Taranza is a hopeless romantic who's hurting and is desperately seeking someone to fill the void that Sectonia left in NOT a healthy way. So he would gravitate towards Magolor since he's similar in a few things with the late queen.

And what would Magolor do? He would feed into it; he does love attention and recognition, plus wowie! His own minion, so cool!. Although after a while he gets kinda tired of it, is not fun anymore having someone hovering around you all the time just telling you what you want to hear, but also Taranza is one of the few people who willingly sticks next to him.

It becomes a back and forth that is quite interesting to see and how they try to navigate their weird ass situationship.

And their own internal problems, are the catalysts for this going on and getting bad, but they can't keep each other out of their lives. Both have become quite attached, that's why they keep coming back to the other.

They do unintentionally help and heal each other, Taranza realizing he's stuck with these unresolved feelings and having the courage to finally start the path to heal, and subsequently helping Magolor realize that maybe he doesn't really want to just own and control everything he sees.

At the end of the day Magolor is quite hard to decipher as a character; which is good! But we do have a lot of proof that what he desires the most is friendship and to be perceived, but he has never had that before and subsequently his copying method, to an extent, is to try and force the things he wants, bia manipulating or trying to take over the fucking galaxy.

It would also be really fun to see how Taranza takes at face value everything Magolor says to him, lie or not, because he has pink tainted glasses. Totally not gonna backfire at some point but oh well.

I don't know, I'm very normal about these two and Kirby stuff in general as you can see ✌️.

[verdantlights]

Smoldering Flames atop the Highest Mountains

hey chat its ya boy. sorry. anyways my last 2 ocs for alnst 41, Lys and Everest! They are..... romantically intertwined but it's complicated.

Lys is a non participant (my first non participant wowie)

Everest is participating.

TW for a very brief and vague mention of SA by the segyein towards Everest.

Lys

She/Her, AFAB

Human

5'9" and 134 lbs in American

Owner is Abnoma

Brand is across the back of her neck/nape

Trivia!

She considers Ichor to be her brother since they're under the same owner, and vice versa for Ichor (he sees her as his sister). They're sworn, so to speak.

She's calm, but passionate, ferocious, and brave. She's been told that her eyes look like there are flames trapped inside. She likes these comments and it makes her more passionate.

Lys has a beautiful, powerful, soul filled voice. She loves putting everything into her song. She makes sure that everyone can hear her and that they can feel her emotions.

She loves her hair and takes care of it very well, she does it the same every day. Lys finds the 'space buns' funny, considering her circumstances.

Lys knows what's going to happen to her, and she's not happy about it. She tries to find humor in it, but it just seems to piss her off more often than not.

Her name is taken from a fleur-de-lys! Her character in general is inspired by Louisiana and Cajun culture, which is why her name can be pronounced both "leese" and "lee." She just doesn't like it when people assume her name is Alyssa and/or pronounce her name "liss."

She really likes spicy food and just food in general, but she scrunches her nose and turns down anything that's bland.

She likes art! She draws occasionally, and it's usually scenery that she draws. Sometimes she'll draw people (couGH everest), but those stay hidden where no one will see them.

She has a crush on Everest, but you couldn't waterboard that information out of her.

She stays on good terms with the admin so that she's not collared and punished, but she doesn't like behaving. She doesn't like the staff and/or any segyein. Her owner is an acception, but they're on thin ice.

Fluent in sign language for Ichor!

Everest

She/He, Intersex

Tube Baby

5'4" and 120lbs in American

Owner is Venlyx (ven-lix)

Brand is on her abdomen

Trivia!

Everest identifies as nonbinary-intersex and considers herself as sapphic. She's usually gendered femininely, but also enjoys presenting masculine. (60% fem/40% masc)

She is albino. I know I have Seraph, but considering his... story... this is a bit different.

The only altercations made to her gene pool is that her eyesight is normal (20/20 vision, no sensitivity, and no lazy eye) and her skin is not as sensitive as it usually is for albino people.

His owner is very wealthy and very famous. Everest won the 36th Alien Stage, causing him and his owner to rise to (even more) fame. Everyone loved his performances and he continued to perform for the segyein after winning. His owner took him out of ANAKT after winning, choosing to fund his career as a performer.

Her fame died down after a few seasons passed, so Venlyx admitted him back into ANAKT for season 41.

She doesn't quite mind her situation. While yes, she doesn't quite like battling for her life, she knows she has to. She will do whatever it takes to seek validation and to win.

Took a liking to Lys when she got back to ANAKT. She lets Lys braid her hair and talk to her about music and art.

People think he's a bit strange. He hides his emotions behind a calm smile, but under everything, he is desperate for an escape. He locks that part away, because there is no escape. The people around him can almost feel that turmoil within him, thus deciding to stray away from him, despite how enchanting he might be.

Considered to have very good genes and exceeds beauty standards. The segyein love him, and during his time after winning, he was bought out by other segyein for events and parties. He has been used for the pleasure of the segyein due to his unique genitalia being desirable. (he has both, if youre wondering) He also locks those thoughts and memories away. He doesn't like the way his skin crawls when thinking about it.

She loves anything cold. She has no aversion to heat or warmth, but she just likes feeling cold and eating/drinking cold things.

Is never seen with her collar because she never misbehaves. The staff actually love her, too. A few of them are familiar with her from s36, so she's on good terms at ANAKT.

Sometimes, she is taken out of ANAKT briefly for a photoshoot, but is back before the day ends.

That's all i think. here are their inspo sheets :D

For Lys:

Raiden Shogun Ei, Raiden Bosenmori Mei, and Raiden Mei. (AKA All three Raiden Expys from the hoyoverse games.)

Talkin' Bout Bri - MegaGoneFree (her appearance itself was an inspiration too hehe)

LABOUR - Paris Paloma

Princess Tiana (represenative of the louisiana culture,,, and shes just my favorite disney princess i love her so much)

Mina Ashiro from Kaiju No.8

Me <3

For Everest:

Princess Yue/Moon spirit from ATLA

Shinobu Kocho from Demon Slayer/KNY (representing the internal turmoil thats hidden very well)

Luka from ALNST

Luna Lovegood (look guys- she was my favorite)

My Clematis - STUDIO LICO

Me <3

i dont have their playlists yet, but i will be posting everyones voice claims for both speaking and singing,,,, hopefully later tonight? (its 6.14 pm as i type this so idk)

anyways, my fire and ice parallel ocs <3 they are lesibanas and i love them. lys isnt too freaky, but everest can get pretty freaky...

taglist! no pressure :3 @rockwgooglyeyes @tsukacchako @aakaneeee @bluemoonscape @starry-skiez @yunoftheclouds @pwippy @junebluues @alien-til-i-stage @waterydream

edit: sorry if youre only jsut now getting tagged/the notification,,, the tags fucked up and i only just notced 😭😭

[hwaightme]

One new message

(masterlist) (join taglist)

📱 pairing: mingi x gn!reader 📱 genre: angst, hurt, comfort if you squint and look under a microscope 📱 summary: notifications from mingi lose meaning when you crack the code behind them, and goodbyes become easier once the rain begins to fall. 📱 wordcount: 2.5k 📱 warnings/tags: language, situationship, unrequited love, a little bit of spite, no one is the villain but the heart works in mysterious ways, bai attempting to write in present tense *screaming* 📱 a/n: i really should be working right now, really should be, but this idea would not leave me alone :) so behold a sorry attempt at angst ahah~ crawling out here to say i love you all, miss you all, and all reblogs messages comments notes are much appreciated! Much love! *crawls back into the work abyss*

📱 perma-taglist: @doom-fics @legohwas @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @mystar1024 @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt

The day is average. Average temperature, average weather, average traffic, average mood. Nothing special, unalarming… bleak. Not a thing to highlight, not a thing to disregard. So horrifically average that it is easy to assume that you are floating in outer space, where there is no sound, no feeling, nothing; a whole lot of nothing to accompany you and your noisy thoughts. There are many, oh so many. A cacophony. And yet, you smile because that is what you are always able to do regardless of the storm that is inside. Adaptable. Average.

A paper cut on your finger which is refusing to heal because of its location - a bitter reminder that you cannot care less; but there is no one there who would care in your place. You do not mind. At least the stagnancy in your present day is continuous. After what feels like an eternity of suffocating turbulence, the ups and downs, pushes and pulls, it is almost a relief that there is nothing at the end of it. No fireworks. No grand celebration to symbolise the conclusion that you had finally come to. Only the buzzing of the refrigerator is reminding you that you are surviving as you amble into the kitchen to take a bottle of water from the bag of groceries that you had left unpacked from this morning. It can wait. Just like you had done until your limit had been reached.

It is clear now. Always, you were at your most lonely when you were with Mingi. Among the myriads of notifications, there were none that caught your eye until his name graced your screen, which is now a rare occurrence, be it by his or your own volition. You like to say that it is a joint effort. An event even rarer than the sunny days outside as the rainy season caught up to your blues. But what did ‘with’ mean? A lingering hope for a future together? A series of unspoken promises, spun like fine thread around you until you turned into an obedient marionette, awaiting his every command. Technically, he is no one to you. Most certainly, as you had come to accept, you are nothing to him. Perhaps a passing interest. A way to fill a timely void, occupy the mind with an intriguing crush until a new one, a better one comes about. A way to fuel the ego until a better hit arises in whatever it could be. Whatever, except a true adoration that you had been hoping for.

Let’s travel to the sea

How? When?

Tomorrow. You will meet my aunt!

Bombs. Verbal bombs littering your rationality until there was nothing left but a barren field in which you tended to budding flowers of affection. You had chosen to believe Mingi, chosen to believe that his plans had been made with a clear sense of determination. You recall with a bitter chuckle the conversations that you had, the video calls that you had made late into the night; you had chatted away about everything and nothing simultaneously, and at the time you were certain that the feeling of excitement for a shared tomorrow was mutual. You listen to the crack of the bottle cap, so loud against the ambiance of the room that you can almost sense each little prickle, the desperate clinging of piece to piece as you twist with a sharp snap.

Hey I’m free now

Hold on Y/N I’ll be online in five… Running~

Running??

Okay I managed to escape dinner now where are you <;33

The eagerness with which he had expressed his interest in you had been like a tantalisingly warm summer. It had enveloped you wholly, wave after wave, until you began to crave it and before you knew it, you had fallen into a pattern. You had been so stoic, so unapproachable, and now here you were, learning about his every passion, every hobby just so that you could keep up conversation, ask him impressive questions, and make him care more than he ever could. 

Pay attention now, this is what happened at the end of episode fourteen, I’ll quiz you on this you know!

Presentations. Silly little presentations made for one another when you could not meet up in person. Lectures delivered over calls to one another. Words upon words that truly meant something entirely different - all that both of you wanted to say but always danced around with such grace and professionalism. Anime, hip hop, rap… hell, even mental mathematics. You could listen to it all for hours on end. To that raspy, deep voice of his that had made you fall deeper and deeper until that was all that resonated in your ears. As weeks had gone by, you had come to believe that there was no music sweeter than his every tone, every inflection and every sigh. You were ready to worship Mingi’s every hum had he asked so. But all too soon did that hum turn into a low thunderous rumble, alerting you, so ominous, of changing tides between you. The recollection makes you clench the bottle tighter in your fist until you hear the plastic begin to crackle. Discontented with the cacophonic struggle of the material, you watch the water droplets trickle back to the still body, and seal it shut to return it to the bag, liquid left untouched.

Stay quiet, my friend is in the room.

A ghost on his computer screen, hidden behind tabs and windows. Erased at a moment’s notice as you silently stared at the passing figure behind Mingi. A friend. A friend who knew nothing about you. Why? Because Mingi deemed you to be not up to the ranks of being introduced, perhaps? Your hands clenched into fists as the thought travelled and picked up speed in your mind, buzzing incessantly and slamming into the skull until it left a throbbing ache. With a smile, you had continued conversing with him as he drifted off into his own life, his own friends, other friends, far from you, and how he was making plans with them. Plans with them, not with you. Your mouse had hovered over the end call button as you contemplated if the action would cut the strings that he had wrapped around your neck, and return your heart to you. And yet, you had waited. And waited. And waited. Gleaming, chuckling at every odd and untimely joke simply because Mingi was the one to say it. Right up until your time was up and Mingi had other things to attend to, a different schedule. Not that you minded, at least in front of him you did not.

The playlists you had made for him in the very beginning, songs that set the rhythm to your enamoured stride turned into toxic tauntings, and your thumbs drifted to the buried sombre, melancholy tunes of the broken hearted. In the darkness you lay on your bed, wondering if the phone would ever light up your day and your heart, to no avail. As the streams that etched their paths on your cheeks dried and fatigue overtook your muscles and memories, you drifted to sleep, waking up to a

Got caught up with things, what’s up

What was up? Would you ever respond truthfully? You tried. Patiently explaining one thing, another until you were met with an ‘I’m sorry you feel that way’ and ‘let’s talk about something more fun now, yeah?’. Yeah. That, you could. Whatever could bring that smile of his back to your field of vision. You bit your lower lip until it bled, chewing at your remarks until they were nothing but mush, and you swallowed them into a nauseating bile, only for it to remain in your stomach and grow with every passing day that the conversation drifted into the realm of a fever dream. Who had you talked to that day, if not Mingi? Perhaps this had been wishful thinking on your part all along, and you had never been more than a loon. Eventually words trickled down to being a burden, and to your attempts to salvage what you had believed in and had witnessed blossom for a fleeting season you only received the merciless

?

…

[Read]

Eventually, you could predict how he would respond, to the point where conversations could be held before they happened. That way, when you did get that pointless notification on your phone, it hurt a little less. With every passing day, Mingi transformed in your vision to resemble the biting winter winds, piercing the bleeding soul at the most unexpected opportunities, getting his unfair share of the remnants of adoration that your heart still possessed, only to fade back into the abominable breeze. His promises were beautiful, his words resounded in your head and heart, committed to memory until they turned into a slow detonation, a reminder that you were at his mercy. You despise yourself for wanting to run to him if he were to say the word. You subject yourself to self-loathing for leaving your love out in the open for a villain of your own creation to take. You hate yourself for being ready to forgive him at any moment, should he say the word. You had always been ready to give him the stars, the galaxies, the infinite expanse of space itself - he already had your world, what would the universe mean?

You peer outside, at the grey sky, barely noticing the difference between rain and rooftop. The landscape is nothing but a blur, with only a subtle variation of averages to glint in frustration in your field of view. The earth is still. The sky is tearful. You wish you had the energy and grit to cry out, yell, smash a plate, break a door as it slammed, employ all forms of expression to feel anything, to experience temperament above room temperature once more and to rise up into a note more personal than the occasional random selfie from the man who you had fallen in love with, only to be met by refusal, and paired with his desire to be revered and praised, to have someone right there in his contacts who would drop everything for him and run. Faster than lightning, in the middle of the night, at a moment’s notice. Except, instead of this being a form of reassurance, this was a form of power. It was not tyrannical by any means, simply not the same love. It was a love for the self that he had seen in your eyes, you were sure of it. And you were tired of being a mirror. It was agonising, being a mirror. It was exhausting being a supporter, someone’s biggest and closest fan, ready to do everything for them, with this to never be reciprocated.

As you unlock your phone and look over the camera roll, dismissing the photographs that you have of Mingi one by one, pretending as though you do not remember exactly when each one was taken, when each one popped up on your phone first as a ‘ding’, then as a priceless image, you cannot not help but wonder why. Why does he have to be the one who is ‘too good to be true’? Why does he have to become the source of your doubts, the cause of your tears? You do not want to blame him; indeed, what is there to blame except your foolish heart wanting someone who does not want you back. That sunny smile, that laugh, that precious, marvellous face… you would be lying if you were to say you do not think about his embraces. Those strong arms wrapping around your body - your illusion of safety, a mirage.

You became more numb by the week, and eventually, were dismissive of his attempts to gain your attention - the attention that he could feel you were losing. Your gaze no longer settled on him, no longer did you seek him out in a crowd, nor did you hope to hear his voice over a phone call, coaxing him to have a chat with you. He likes the pestering, despite it getting on his nerves, he likes to be loved because of how in control it makes him feel. He had grown accustomed to your presence, but the commitment, the search for something more is something he did not wish to deal with, and so initially, the distance that you were building was somewhat of a relief. But as the gap became wider until it was a ravine, a drop into an abyss, Mingi felt concern rise in his chest, for the first time since he had set his sights on you, and identified an opportunity. He needs the return of the feeling. Unsure of how to define it, he simply inches forward in the darkness in search of familiar shapes until he falls back into the patterns, hoping that they will return what he perceives to be his, right back to him. It is easy enough, right?

Somewhere across the city, in the middle of a crowded room, Mingi stands tall and with an unreadable expression refreshes his notifications. Except there are none that are new. None that would make him instantly smirk with victory, only to lock the phone once again and return it to his back pocket. If there is one new message now, there will be one new message later. And while he does not read it, it shall energise him, so that he can enjoy his day to the fullest with the thought that in that tiny apartment across town you are by the phone, waiting for him and only him. Why did you not send him much of anything anymore? Surely you must be busy, or going through a mood. He opens your contact, clicking his tongue as he checks the time between the passive thumbs up you had responded with and the hour striking on the clock. Before Mingi knows it, he is typing away, trying to throw the hook into the digital ocean.

Just as you set your phone back onto the kitchen table, you see the screen light up, and a familiar name burns itself into your retinas. And yet, the day is still average. The clock ticks at the same speed, the rain does not let up, the groceries are still unpacked and you are still fatigued. Your lips threaten to curl into a grin as you let the screen go dark, and you step away, ignoring your imagination, ignoring how you wish Mingi would feel. Like a mantra you repeat to yourself that there are those damn groceries demanding your efforts still left in the bags, a life left to live with colours you are yet to discover, your tomorrow to look forward to. Your tomorrow, no one else’s.

Perhaps the most terrifying, and the most reassuring notion is that indifference, and only indifference, is the true opposite of love. Blooming in what could have been, a comforting insignificance, a pleasant average dismissible by a swipe of a finger, no longer a number worth counting, or counting on.