#get this offa me''

[catcze]

Wriothesley can hear your loud stomps from a mile away as you furiously speed-walk to his office door like a bloodhound trailing a scent. Even if not for that, the way that you bang your fist on the door is enough to grab his attention.

"WRIOTHESLEY." Comes booming in from the other side of the door. It's thick wood. He wonders how deaf he would have gone if the door hadn't protected him. The door (the thick, supposedly impenetrable door) rattles on its hinges like a screen in a hurricane when you try to kick it again. "DID YOU EAT MY DONUTS."

It's not even an accusation at that point. It's practically a declaration of war.

"WRIOTHESLEY!" You yell so loudly a group of guards turning the corner down the hall scramble back the way they came. "Open up, jackass!"

Wriothesley, knowing he cannot escape the consequences of his actions, merely settles deeper into his chair as he drinks his tea. His last meal. Drink. Similar thing.

The door keeps rattling as you yell profanities at him, until one of his traitorous guards approaches you hesitantly, saying not a single word but offering up the spare key to his office with shaky hands, head low and aggressively avoiding eye contact.

"Oh!" you say, demeanor switching immediately, losing the intimidating glint in your eye as you gingerly take the key. You smile kindly. "Thank you very much!"

Then you turn back to the door, the threat of violence in your eye as you wield the key like a weapon of war, inserting it into the keyhole and twisting it with a dark finality. The guard wonders if they should fear for their superior's wellbeing.

Wriothesley looks up from his newspaper as you close the door ominously behind you, somehow maintaining a blasé facadé even while staring down certain death.

"Well?" you prompt him, eye twitching like a stressed villain from a kid's cartoon show. You round on him in an instant, too quick for him to escape. Somehow, he keeps up his poker face. "Care to explain where my donuts went, Duke of Meropide?"

"I didn't eat them," He deadpans, staring you right in the eye. He pointedly does not acknowledge the white powdered sugar on his face.

"There's white powdered sugar on your face."

"Ah. So there is."

Another cartoony villain eye twitch. "Want to try that again?"

"...I love you?"

"And I love you. Last chance, though."

And he folds like a lawn chair. Wriothesley knows this is a fight he can't win. Even Neuvillette would tell him it's best to just kick the bucket and plead guilty at this point. He sighs breaking eye contact first like a wolf with its tail between its legs.

"Okay, I'll buy you another dozen of them."

You cross your arms, staring at him. He sighs.

"Another two dozen."

You soften just the slightest bit, coming close to perch on his lap and lean into his space. Instinctively, his arms come to wrap around your middle, pulling you against him.

"And?"

Wriothesley leans forward too, enough for your foreheads to touch. You can feel the breath of his sigh against your lips.

"And you have my sincerest apologies for taking your things. In my defense, I thought they were mine at first.”

“Apology accepted,” you say, satisfied, and peck him quickly on the lips. Before it can turn into anything else though, you’re springing up from his lap. Ignoring the disappointed furrow in his brow and the way his arms have still not moved from their position holding you earlier, you take his hand and pull him up from his chair with such startling enthusiasm and surprising strength that it has him stumbling for a second. You pull him towards the door regardless.

“C’mon, you’re making good on that apology right now, Wrio! Hope you finished your work!”

And no, technically he hasn’t finished his work. But he already knows that you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and that pushing that work to tomorrow wouldn’t hurt. Probably. Whatever— it’d be worth it.

So he just sighs and gives the palm resting in his a squeeze and let’s himself be pulled along. You squeeze back.

“As long as you let me have a few. Those were pretty good.”

[eclown4hire]

tatsumi being a good roommate and helping koga out after top surgery

[luck-of-the-drawings]

ouhh ouhh the ol 'started as a scribble n then got RLY COOL' conundrum... i titled it 'flying microtonal FISH' bc i was listening to alot of THIS song (ANOXIA - KING GIZZARD AND THE LIZARD WIZARD. LISTEN TO IT) and i based the colors off of the album cover. this was also meant to be the scene right before the noctis arc, when gillion gets CRAAZy struck by lightning and acts all deranged through the storm. LOOOVE that fish i think he should kill more

[sluckythewizard]

i keep forgetting i can post wips here. thisll either be a small part of a bigger doodly page, OR ill make the bodies look scarier and give this THING a life of its own. in the meantime im PROUD so it can try to break containment. if it wants to.

[acesluvrxx]

he’s literally all over all of my papers ..

[scattered-winter]

i NEED top surgery. NEOOOWWWWW.

[crystalline-coochie]

Boston being disgusted by someone secretly recording him while holding onto a 2 year old video of his friends that he recorded without their consent is just....so very Boston of him

[forthegothicheroine]

Trick or Treat! 🧙

Trick! You get the Ghostbuster guy's other movie songs!

[thedogeveryonehates]

obsessed with this image of a moose sniffing the screen

[pcktknife]

going on instagram fr makes me feel like I'm haunted by ghosts

[friendraichu]

ohhh the chest dysphoria is so major recently

[ravenmoodle]

Happy Pride- have the husbands from That One Comic as they would/will appear in chapter 2

[candylandsys]

AUGHRBGHHVGHBVH (ripping apart our brain with our teeth) . the blurry + insys fighting combo is dumb as fuck

[scummville]

If you touch that skull, he’ll say “Get offa me!”

[kotenokk]

the woes of trying to look masc with huge knockers

[xiakeik]

What if... these two met? Draw them in your style Thanks~!

"Sir, we found a platypus roaming around in our ventilation system can you please take it back with you..."