#goopy oneshots

[cinnamochis]

Soft As Clouds

After a night of stargazing, Hilda and Goopy have a much needed rest. Oneshot.

Another fine night had come and gone. Another fine night of basking in the pale moonlight, wondrous stargazing, divining fortunes from alignments of the planets. And now as the rays of dawn peeked over the horizon, Hilda Berg found herself finally feeling tired. 

She’d been excited all through the night, drawing up new star charts in her favorite place in the clouds, and now as the day just began, she could feel exhaustion overtake her. 

Wearily, the zeppelin woman stretched and yawned, snuggling into the soft clouds for a little nap. 

At her side, her good friend Goopy Le Grande was curled up and snuggled up in the clouds next to her, fast asleep. 

He’d offered to stay up all night with her, eager to experience Hilda’s passions for himself. 

“It’s what friends do!” He’d said with that silly grin on his face, and of course she’d accepted. 

And he had stayed up, for a good while at least, trying to help count stars and sight faraway galaxies in her telescope. But, as expected, sleep finally snuck up on the proud slime boxer, and it knocked him out cold. 

Hilda laughed lightly, watching his light breathing.

Goopy was the only one Hilda knew who could walk-or bounce- on clouds as easily as she did, and her theory was, as a slime, he was mostly water based- but quite simply, it might have just been because he most wanted to be there. 

Carefully, Hilda stretched herself and laid down in the soft clouds, pushing her books out of the way. A little nap wouldn’t hurt, then right back to work.

There was nothing quite like sleeping on clouds. The softer than cotton feel, the warmth from the sun, the views of the landscapes below as you drifted off to sleep… 

In her dreams, Hilda saw a blue moon surrounded by infinite stars. 

Snuggling further into the clouds as she dreamed, Hilda’s fingers brushed against Goopy and rolled him towards her, pulling him in close and squeezing him gently.

So soft…just like a cloud…

Hilda’s eyes shot open, heart beating fast as she suddenly became aware of where she was and what she was doing, Goopy still sleeping soundly in her arms. Her face went an extreme shade of scarlet and she stumbled backwards.

“I’m working myself too hard…” she mumbled, sitting up and taking a breather. 

But she looked back to see her good friend still snoozing away, and her heart started racing again. 

It’d felt really good to hold him..

Hilda began to organize her books and papers from the night before, trying to collect herself and prepare for a full day of studies. Meanwhile, a sweet smile had formed on Goopy’s face, and the deep sleeper snuggled deeper into the clouds. 

[untitledgoosegay]

re last reblog I do see fanfic culture pushing/replicating a certain model of "what trauma looks like," "how trauma works"

this is a problem across all areas of society obviously, but transformative works are, well, transformative. they're about crafting and modifying narratives where the fan-creator sees a flaw or a lack -- often for the better! don't get me wrong, I've done my fair share of "I take a hammer and I fix the canon," it's the main thing that gets my creative gears spinning -- but what happens when that "flaw" is simply a narrative not conforming to popular expectations?

some people just don't get PTSD from events that sound obviously traumatic. they're not masking, and they're not coping; they just straight-up didn't get the permanently-locked stress-response that defines PTSD. they walk away from a horrible experience going "well, that sucked, but it's over now." some people do get PTSD from events most people wouldn't find traumatic. we don't really know why some people get PTSD and others don't. but fandom has an idea of events that must be traumatizing, of a "correct" way to portray trauma. you see the problems with this lack of understanding in e.g. fans pressuring the devs of Baldur's Gate 3 to add dialogue where the player character badgers Halsin about his own feelings on his abuse -- because he must be traumatized, and his trauma must fit a certain mold and presentation of sexual trauma, under the mistaken impression that anything outside that narrow window is somehow "wrong" and disrespectful or even harmful to survivors.

take, for another example, the very common trope of a traumatized character who hates touch or sex "learning" to like touch or sex as a part of their healing process. certainly that can be healing for some people; other people will never like, or want, touch or sex, because of trauma or because they just don't. the assumption that someone who doesn't want sex or doesn't like to be touched must be traumatized, must be suffering from this perceived lack, is seriously harmful -- to asexual people, to people with sensory issues around touch, and to people for whom healing from trauma means freedom to refuse sex or touch.

and there's a secondary trope, one that's slightly more thoughtful but ultimately repeats the problem -- that once someone has learned that their boundaries will be respected, they'll feel it's safe to soften those boundaries. once they feel safe refusing touch or sex, they'll feel comfortable allowing it on their own terms. but many people don't, and many people won't! many people will simply never want to be touched, and never want sex, and they are not suffering or broken or lacking because of it. the idea that proving you'll respect someone's boundaries entitles you to test those boundaries -- the paradox is obvious, and yet this is something i've seen hurt (re-traumatize) people i care for.

people are imperfect victims. people don't heal in the ways you expect. many people have positive memories of their abuse, of their abusers. many people hurt others in the course of their trauma, in ways that can't easily be unpacked in a 5k oneshot. very few narratives of trauma and recovery actually fit the ones put forward by popular children's media and romance novels -- which are the ones I most see replicated in fandom spaces, because they provide the clearest narrative and easiest catharsis, and so they're easy and soothing to reach for.

that's not necessarily a bad thing! i am not immune to goopy romance tropes. i am not immune to teary catharsis. not every fic has to grapple with ugly realities. but there's a problem when these narratives become predominant, when people think they're accurate and realistic depictions of trauma, when the truth of trauma is unpleasant and uncomfortable, and doesn't fit any single narrative, let alone one of comforting catharsis

[ask-sibverse]

passive nightmare x reader oneshot?

When nightmare becomes passive again when Dream takes the apple how would reader react and help nightmare when they and the gang find out

So you probably mean one of two possibilities, I'm going with the Shattered Dream option because I like that option better. (Is each "version" of Reader getting a side with each Dreamtale twin at this point? That's what it looks like, lol)

You... Definitely weren't expecting Dream of all people to eat a corrupted apple. Slightly less unexpected was for him to grow his own goopy tentacles and go completely out of control. You all returned home with your tail in between your legs after that, and you had no idea what became of Blue or Ink after that fight.

Nightmare retreated to his room and locked himself inside. You and the rest of his men were left to tend to your wounds alone. You expected him to come out eventually but... He didn't. Days passed without even a sound to indicate he was even alive, and the aura he naturally exuded was getting weak.

Which is why you were breaking into his room now. You were totally prepared for yelling and scolding and maybe to be thrown out by his tentacles.

"Come on, it's just me," you said gently, trying to coax him out. "I saw some injuries on you, can you please let me take a look at them?"

What you weren't expecting is to find Nightmare so... Small. And fragile looking. That bashed in part of his skull reminded you a lot of Horror. He seemed determined to hide his current state from everyone, even you. You only caught a glimpse before he was out of sight again.

"I already treated any wounds," he said gruffly, facing away from you.

"Oh yeah? And when was the last time you changed any bandages? Over a day?"

"I've been keeping clean!"

"Then let me see."

He finally edged back into view. He looked shorter than you like this. The corruption must've given him a height boost somehow.

"So did the corruption transfer from you to Dream?"

"It would appear that that is what happened, yes." He refused to meet your eyes. "Do not tell Killer about this."

"He's going to find out eventually." You started changing his bandages, leaving his eye alone for now. "He lives here, and he's worried about you."

"I'll never hear the end of it, ending up like this. I look frail and weak, hardly fitting to appear to be a leader."

You snorted. "As if that should stop you? You've bosses those boys around for decades now. A little change in appearance shouldn't change anything."

[delusional-mishaps]

Random weird thought that turn into oneshot

Twisted date

Content Warning: Mention of swearing (once), captivity (to reader), nightmare being fucking weird and he's not hiding it what the fucc

Summary: Nightmare 'take' you on a dinner date.

☆★

Gripping the fork in your hand, you narrowed your eyes and took a deep breath, determined not to let your emotions get the best of you as you hold the urge to demolish that stupid goopy skeleton in front of you.

The guardian of negativity tilted his head, his smug grin widening at your reaction. His cyan eyes fixated on your chest, where your very soul seemed to reside. He appeared strangely fixated on it, slowly slipping into a trance.

"I must admit, you're quite an intriguing pest among the others. I'd normally be repulsed if it weren't for the fact that I find you rather 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨," he spoke softly, a stark contrast to his usual mocking and cruel demeanor.

Your eyes twitched. His voice was groggy, yet oddly smooth, like someone drowning. It was unnerving how his words seemed to weave their way into your ears.

He shifted in his seat, resting his elbow on the table and leaning his cheek on his palm. "Are you enjoying our dinner, my little pest?" He chuckled as he watched you seethe in silence on your chair. His slimy tendrils held you in place, preventing you from doing anything other than mechanically shoving food into your mouth.

|| - "𝙁𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪." ☆

|| - "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘯. 𝘊𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮."

He laughed heartily, clear amusement from your frustration. His tendrils began to massage your body in an almost soothing and disturbingly intimate manner. Fuck, you wanna stab his face so bad.

"Good~"

═══════════════════════════════

A/n: rewatching the underverse make me wanna stab nightmare so bad. I don't care if he had a petty backstory, he's so pathetic

GRRR I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM (i want him to do things to me w/ his tentacles)

THIS IS SOOO!!!! wasnt expecting a fic in my inbox whoa!!!

[blood-mocha-latte]

how would everyone feel if current loosier oneshot was put on hold to instead write the most insane goopy rom com ass loosier i’ve ever written in my entire life. because honestly that May happen actually

[solaneceae]

nest

a team bolas oneshot (read on ao3) this one is all fluff and found family and all that cute shit.

Some days aren’t as bad as the others. As far as Team Red is concerned, day Four is one of the better ones, because their minds aren’t as hazy with the fog of war and bloodlust and they can actually, finally think properly. “The others will want our heads today,” Phil grunts, ripping stray roots off the black stone wall to free up a little alcove. (Jaiden will want to put red candles in there, he thinks, right in the middle of the many gas masks hooked to the cold stone. Add to the ambiance.) “We won twice in a row, so I think they’ll just try to trap and spaw-kill us."

“That’s low,” Foolish hums, places a Baghera skull on the improvised altar they’ve set up in the center of their little cave. Cellbit did a good job picking it free of flesh, and its smooth, bleached white surface makes a stark contrast against the red stone. “And boring.”

“Maybe, but they’ll be desperate after the bullshit we pulled yesterday,” the crow snorts, glancing back at the rest of the group — Charlie is recovering from a pretty bad glitching episode in his little ‘hot tub’, his form melted into goopy blob mode to conserve energy. Cellbit is off on the other side of the base, humming into their comms to let them know he’s close, not gone, stay, stay. Baghera has been cooking something in a hidden corner of the base, something she doesn’t want any of them to see yet. Jaiden is perched onto makeshift scaffolding, a bucket in her hand and the other dripping red, tracing lines and curves onto the wall. Carré sits among their chests, checking over weapons and food and head-deep in inventory work. He’s been spending more time with them lately, which Phil is grateful for. Carré is strong (“Carré, more like Carry!” “The goat, the goat!” "La Bestia Argentinia!"), Carré is funny, and more importantly, Carré is one of them. 

The old crow’s heart swells up with pride, pride for what his team had accomplished despite their natural disavantage. He feels lucky to be among fellow hybrids, fellow avians, hindbrain thrumming pleasantly with the proximity. His diaphragm vibrates with the low croon of flock, flockmates, yesyes, and he hears Jaiden and Baghera echo the sentiment back to him, in their respective high-pitched trills and throaty quacks.

Purgatory was Hell. Everyone had been blinded by competition and percentages and the weightless promise of getting some eggs back, unable to consider that hey, maybe the fucking cyclops that despises us and calls us sinner is fucking lying, hello! Too too focused on winning and competing to see the bigger picture like he did, but there was nothing he could do about it for now. So if he couldn’t protect his eggs, he’d settle for the next best thing and protect team Bolas. Flock. Family… 

His eyes cloud over, memories of pain and betrayal drowning the world out in static-fuzz. Étoiles had stabbed him in the back after promising to be there for him. Fit had struck him down like a heartless machine, his face steely and without the slighest trace of emotion, and Phil knows the man has serious trauma from 2b2t but he can’t bring himself to care right now. (Fuck them. Fuck everyone that isn’t on his team. The communicator strapped to his wrist still shows unread messages from Tubbo, and he refuses to read them.)

“Still can’t believe we won that, honestly,” the conure chirps from atop her bamboo scaffolding as she paints the cave wall in dripping red. Phil doesn’t know what she used to make the dye, and he won’t ask. “But yeah, I think we should just stay inside today. Let them look for us, we ain’t fucking budging.”

“They won’t find us, yes?” Carré asks, accent heavy and whistle-y as he closes the chests and hides them behind hanging vines. “They could, they could look at the map and see.”

“Nah. Cellbit made sure that the place shows up like a natural cave in maps, and our stuff is scattered enough. They won’t find it, unless they zoom the fuck in and spend five minutes checking every single cave in the area. We’re good.” Cellbit’s smart, so fucking smart, Philza Minecraft is so fucking proud right now. “How’s the food situation?”

The Argentinian smirks. “Bastante bien. Zanahorias y pan, suficiente para un día o dos.”

“He says we got carrots and bread, enough for a day or two,” Foolish pipes up, and Phil is so fucking glad he and Cellbit are here to make up for the lack of their usual translators, left behind outside of Hell. “Soooo, technically, we shouldn’t need to commit self-cannibalism today. Unless you’re down for some medium-rare chicken breast.”

“Not a chicken, you fucker,” Baghera yells out from afar. “And you don’t medium rare chicken, you want to catch salmonelle?”

“I can’t!” the shark-totem boasts with a flash of razor-sharp teeth. “Iron stomach! Comes with being part-totem.”

“Please don’t actually immolate yourselves,” Phil rolls his eyes, washing his hands in clean water (at least they have that, thank fuck) before plopping down in front of the campfire. How they haven’t suffocated in smoke with fire in a closed up space is beyond them, but maybe they have and he’s just dreaming all of this. Wouldn’t be the first time his mind fucks with his perception of reality. “We can’t make beds, so if you die you’ll just spawn right into Bad and the other’s hands. We don’t want that, you don’t want that.”

“I really don’t,” Cellbit says, his bulky frame appearing from behind a stalagmite. His jacket is strapped around his waist, for now clean of blood, cat-like eyes gleaming in the dim light. It’s the most clear-headed Phil’s seen him yet. “The elevator’s done by the way, shouldn’t show up on the map.”

“And the sound?” Carré checks, ever-vigilant and detail-oriented. Cellbit shrugs and grins, exposing sharp fangs. “Haven’t figured that one out yet. But it doesn’t matter for now, since none of us are going out. Fuck today, right?”

“Fuck today!” Jaiden woops, jumping down the scaffolding to admire her handiwork — a great frieze depicting all six of them in bright, darkening red, all donning masks of course. “We’re going all moleman up in this shit.”

“Holy fuck,” Foolish laughs, bark-like, clapping enthusiastically at the display. “Oh, oh, I almost want the others to find our base just so we can see their reaction.”

“Oh my god, that would be so fucking funny. They expect an iron farm and crops everywhere, and they get the gas mask and blood cult.”

“I finished!” Baghera pops her head out from behind the wall, waving at them with her beak stretched into a ducky smile. “Come see, come see!”

Baghera has built them a nest. An honest-to-god, proper nest, and Philza could cry actually. “Where did you even get all this stuff?” Cellbit whistles, impressed, patting the comfy-looking amalgamation of moss and large leaves and colourful strips of cloth. Baghera smiles. “I have my ways,” she faux-whispers, and everyone knows that her ‘ways’ just amounts to wandering around getting lost until she spots something of interest. Which seems to always work out for her somehow, to be fair.

Phil can spot feathers woven into it here and there, pale yellow and white and blue and black. “So that’s why you wanted those,” Jaiden oooh's, thinking back to their first preening session back at their old base. Baghera nods, the feathers on her neck puffed up in excitement. “Yes, exactly. I thought it would be nice, for a nest. Do you guys like it?” she preens, and the others cheer her on because yes, it’s great Baghz, oh we so fuckin' do. The duck glances at Philza, wings ruffling, and she croons out inquisitively. happy? proud? The crow cocks his head, yesyes’s back at her, because he does like it — it’s plush and colorful and just the right size for all of them to huddle, and her face lights up with joy. “Yes! I’m glad,” she laughs, adjusting a stray piece of cloth near the center. “You wanna add something in it?”

Cellbit donates his jacket, all rips and tears and darker areas where blood used to soak the fabric. Jaiden weaves in some flowers she found the day before while Charlie, now back to his not-too-goopy self, shoves pieces of glowing stone into glass vials filled with slime to make his own version of lava lamps that he places strategically around their new resting place. (“Now there’s pieces of me watching over us at night!” “That’s so gross, I love it.”). Phil unties a ribbon from his robes and lets Carré wrap it around a few emeralds to hang them up above the nest, like some sort of mobile. Cellbit in particular eyes it with rapt fascination, the moving glint on the polished surface of the gems making his pupils expand and his fingers twitch. “Check this shit out,” Foolish boasts as he burns through stacks and stacks of strings to form a tightly-knitted blanket, the other cheering him on as he does and throwing in different dyes in no particular order or pattern. “Eso Foolish!” Carré shouts, everyone else joining him, accents and all.

Baghera is choking on barely-repressed sobs by the end of it, a crack in her ‘I’m fine’ mask. “I wanted to make a nest, with my kids,” she confesses, trapped between five other bodies as they all sit inside. There’s dark tear tracks on her face, still dusty from working on the cave earlier. “With Pomme, and Dapper.” Her hand fiddles with the little charms around her wrist, crudely-shaped pieces of wood shaped like an apple and a tophat, attached to a red ribbon. “I miss them.”

(She misses her kids, she misses her brother, she misses her best friend and father of her son. And she knows that Bad and her briefly talked the day before, that he spared her after she pulled her puppy eyes on him. He still loves her, she knows, and she still loves him. But it still hurts to know he won’t hesitate to drive a sword through her body next time.)

Day Four goes by slowly, punctuated by the occasional death message from Gay Ninjas or Soulfire, and many, manyrequests for red team to ‘come out and die already’. They ignore it all, too busy feeding the fire and tearing their voices out singing, Slime and Baghera being the menaces they are and outlasting everyone else, although Cellbit and Carré put up quite the fight. The Argentinian, usually fairly withdrawn, gradually opens up and cracks them up with perfectly-timed quips and easy smiles. Baghera asks him for PvP tips, just so she can not immediately die whenever another team raids them, and they spar with sticks while everyone cheers her on. “You’re one of us Carré,” Jaiden woops, pulling him into a side-hug and gently batting at his back with a wing. “I don’t care that those ears and tail are fake, you’re one of us freaks.”

“Honorary hybrid, nice!” Foolish nods. “He already barks perfectly.”

“Cats don’t bark, asshole,” Cellbit pipes up, and Phil wheezes with laughter because oh, he just wasn’t denying it anymore, was he? “Speaking from experience I take it?”

“Shut up dad,” the Brazilian sputters, but he’s smiling, and the crow rolls his eyes at the nickname. “Dadza!” Baghera quacks, her feathery tail wiggling in amusement. “Please don’t go and buy milk though. Don’t be Kameto,” she pleads, and Phil almost falls over losing it. He loves these little shits.

Slime decides to climb up a pile of scaffolding as the evening approaches (which they can only tell from the comms, because no outside light reaches them deep underground) and raises his arms towards the gem-encrusted ceiling of their new home, belting out an improvised sermon with his karaoke-destroyed vocal cords. He speaks of masks and sins, of death-touched angels and base instincts, of the beauty of caves and the song of Mother Earth, eyes wide and shining with fervour behind his thick glasses. They all listen and cheer when his speech warrants it, the flames casting eerie shadows onto the walls as they all start dancing to a music only they can hear.

Foolish, Jaiden, Baghera and Charlie’s eyes all start to flicker green-violet as they start smiling a little too wide, laugh a little too brokenly, and Cellbit has to quell Phil’s sudden concern with a tired smile. “It’s like your Death-touch, Phil,” he explains, referring to the strange wither effect Phil’s attacks had gained recently, whenever things got… intense. “Entity stuff.”

“Enigma do Chaos!” Charlie yells, and barely avoids the rock Cellbit throws at him. “Bitch!”

"They’re okay, just… four Chaos-bound together can be a lot when they start syncing up like this. Just be ready to throw water on them if they get too crazy, or something.”

“Can I choose my entity, when we get home?” Carré asks, and Cellbit looks like Christmas just came early. “Sure man, holy shit. Please do.”

“Oh he’s Chaos for sure,” Jaiden laughs, gesturing at Carré who’s just starting doing Casualonas in the empty air, undeterred by their intense cackling — Baghera and Charlie are now dancing together, and it’s wild and uncoordinated, almost a fight. “Now if Felps logs on we can have a party.”

“Oh, meu deus,” Cellbit winces. “No no, we can’t have six Chaos players on at the same time, we’ll actually blow up this place and die.” Foolish yells out a high-pitched yeaaaaah! at that and starts barking again, and it’s all over, everyone else putting their masks on and barking at the metaphorical moon until they all end up on the floor, dizzy and sweaty and twitching with remnant giggles.

“Where’d the blanket go?” Charlie slurs out, blindly feeling out the soft ground in search of it. His glasses have fallen at some point earlier, and he can’t be bothered to look for them even though he can’t see shit. Baghera and Jaiden have passed out already, huddled together against the edge of the nest, Jaiden’s larger wings around the both of them. Foolish takes a break in his own nesting to throw it at him. “Thanks dude.”

“Get yourself into a burrito,” Cellbit orders, fiddling with his trusty knife at the center of the nest. “Your codified bits leech off heat like crazy.”

“Es fresco,” Carré confirms, poking at Slime’s uncorrupted arm. His finger dips into greenish skin, not quite going in, but close. “¿Por eso te llamas así? Like, popsicle.”

“Oh, I’m sorry mister Living Heater,” the slime hybrid scoffs, but there’s no heat to it — literally and figuratively. “Get your ass over here and cuddle me dammit.”

“Still married, Slime.”

“Hey— hey now, I know I’ve got a bit of a reputation, alright? But this cave is cold and damp, and I very much fuck with that usually, but my timer’s about to run out and send me into fuckin’— Sleepytime Junction, and this place is throwing me all out of whack and you run the warmest out of all of us I want me a heat pack, slash p. P means platonic, if you didn’t know.”

Cellbit’s hindbrain does a little jolt at the word. Pack, it whispers, a hum-buzz making his brain a little stupid. He glances at the others, at Jaiden with her head cushioned against Baghera’s chest fluff, Foolish curling up against her back with a tired sigh. He sees Phil right behind them, propped up against the moss and out cold as well — not because he chose to, but because his timer ran out earlier when he was trying to wrangle everyone into not drawing dicks and vulvas on the walls. His body had swayed as the device strapped to his wrist buzzed ominously, sending targeted jolts of electricity up his nervous system and into his hypothalamus to force him into unconsciousness. Carré had caught him, fortunately, saving him from one killer headache next morning.

“...Fine,” Cellbit relents, discarding his knife outside the nest before shuffling over to the others. Charlie flashes him a triumphant smile and plops down next to Baghera, who stirs with a quiet croon as the slime hybrid runs his non-code hand through her left wing, straightening out some feathers stuck in an awkward angle. Carré settles a little to the side, happy to be close to everyone but still needing a little more personal space than the rest of them, and the detective lets Charlie lean into his side with a click-chrrr noise he cannot parse. Cellbit blinks, replies with a hesitant mrrrp. Carré makes a terrible and inaccurate meowing noise and the Brazilian hisses at him for it. “Just wanted to feel included, pendejo!” the human laughs, and it’s bittersweet. (He misses Roier.)

Cellbit sighs, body sinking into the plush bottom of the nest (their, theirs. Pack-flock.) Charlie seizes slightly as his comm goes off with a little beep-beep as it reaches zero, and he goes limp against him. He blinks, staring out at the emeralds slowly spinning above them and resisting the urge to bat at them, play, play, hunt! “No hunting today,” he reminds himself with a whisper.

He looks higher, at the small blue and purple gems jutting out of the dark stone ceiling. They are gleaming in the orange light of the dying fire, like a pale imitation of stars in the night sky. His eyes trace their constellations anyway (a capybara. a duck. a sword. a boat.), mindlessly matching his own breathing with the sounds of his team’s soft exhales, in. Out. In. Charlie glitches, just a little bit, a garbled whine escaping his throat. Cellbit loops an arm around him to pull him closer, a very quiet purr rattling his chest, and the hybrid settles. He feels the edge of Jaiden and Baghera's wings against his hair, Phil’s hip digging into his shoulder. He hears Foolish snoring, he hears Carré’s toss-and-turn because he’s a restless sleeper, that one.

And he can smell them all, their comforting presence, hidden underneath the scent of blood and grime (they really need to take a bath tomorrow, or his nose will start to itch). The scent of them, each one distinct and unique and burned into his memory-hindbrain.

Seasalt and gold, and the subtle tang of divinity. 

Ozone-void, bone, and the honey-tar of nightshade. 

Steel and wool, thick and scratchy in his nose. 

Apples and moss, fresh snow. 

Quartz and poppies, the smell of the sky before rainfall. 

And closest to him, slime, and the electric tingle of a thunderstorm on his tongue. Tongue he has to keep firmly in his mouth before he does something stupid, like trying to groom his sleeping friend’s mop of dirty blonde hair. (Curse this place, exacerbating their mob instincts like this.)

He hears his timer go off, a spike of startled anxiety. Then he relaxes, his brain buzzing with sleep, sleep, and the world melts into cotton-soft, warm darkness.

Tomorrow is another day. And today… today was okay.

[indecentpause]

WIP Wednesday

here have Jordan and Darcey being goopy with each other from an untitled Two Heartbeats oneshot! happy valentimes

cw: suggestive

When Jordan drops his head back to the pillow, Darcey catches his own lip between his teeth, pink and kiss-swollen, right where Jordan’s teeth had just been. Jordan’s eyes go wide and he inhales sharply, a soft whine starting in the back of his throat. He swallows it down, pulls Darcey’s shirt the rest of the way to his shoulders and tugs. “Well, let’s get rid of his bullshit first.” Darcey smiles, a soft little smirk, lip still between his teeth, and he pulls back to kneel and pull his t-shirt off. Jordan’s breath hitches again and he runs his hands up Darcey’s stomach and chest. Darcey hikes an eyebrow. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and Jordan fucking loves it. Darcey’s body has softened since Jordan met him, no longer the hard expanses and sharp lines of overly-defined muscles, no longer the traumatized man fresh out of the military, still stuck in his old routine. His stomach is softer. He’s lost some of the definition in his chest. His arms are a little less bulky. He’s still fit, still strong, but no longer excessively so. Darcey’s getting better. He’s healing. He’s thriving. “God, you’re gorgeous.” Jordan’s breath stutters a little when Darcey lowers himself back onto his elbows.

Current taglist: @abalonetea @only-book-lovers-left-alive @poore-choice-of-words @leadhelmetcosmonaut @jasperygrace @drippingmoon @athenswrites @magic-is-something-we-create @idreamonpaper @winterandwords @thelaughingstag @revenantlore

this is my general taglist! if you want to be added or removed or just put on a list for these short stories, just let me know!

[hotchlove]

Baby Names | Reader X Aaron Hotchner

i take requests! plsss dm me or leave them here if u have anything fun you'd like me to write. it can be angst, anytype of trope, smut, etc. • PLZ NOTE: i ONLY do oneshots. they differ from long to short depending on the character and story. i do not write series! • baby names - 696 words • desc.: - so much fluff!!! - pregnant y/n

• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • •

i'm on the last trimester of my pregnancy, only two more weeks to my due date. i'm nervous and anxious and scared, sure, but aaron has been so supportive. he's been staying home with me for the past week and will continue doing so till the baby is here. he does go to work when there are emergencies - like special calls, stuff he needs to be there for. which i understand of course, his job is so important. but i'm really glad he can be here for me. it's not easy carrying a child for nine months, alright? but the sight of sweaty, angry aaron whilst struggling to assemble a crib makes it all worth it. "can i help you, honey?" i ask whilst flipping through a baby name book. it's gonna be a baby girl, we found out three months ago at the tiny gender reveal party we hosted together with our family and aaron's team, they are family too. everyone came with gifts, so we didn't really have to buy much for the baby ourselves. not even the crib, dave got us that. i almost jumped up in his arms out of happiness. and now i'm about to jump into aaron's seeing him so sexy assembling it. "no- no, i got it." he exhales, "you found any good names yet?" he asks and grabs his screwdriver. "clementine?" i joke and aaron scrunches his nose, "no, that's too corny." i nod in agreement and flip through more pages. "what about.. priscilla?" aaron freezes and gives me one of those scary profiler looks, "perfect, let's find her an elvis to marry too" he scoffs. i grin and bite my lower lip, "alright, so not priscilla." "halo?" "where are you getting these horrible names from, y/n?" aaron laughs and comes to take a seat next to me, looking over my shoulder into the name book. "horrible? okay then agent, you try." i place the book in his hands and he chuckles, placing a kiss on my cheek then flipping through the pages. "here's a good one," he smiles "genesis." he grins and my mouth parts open.

"help me up, i'm filing for divorce." i tease him and grab his hand to stand up. he laughs, "alright, alright. so not genesis." he grabs me and drags me to sit on his lap. i play with his hair as he continues flipping through the book, "angelina?" aaron mumbles, i nod at first. angelina is cute, it's girly, it's murdery. "that sounds like a serial killers name. next." he scoffs, "seriously? serial killer?" "don't know, you tell me, mr. profiler." "so not angelina." i make a 'hmm' sound, like i'm thinking, when a good name finally pops into my mind, "cora." "hm?" aaron asks and looks at me, closing the book. "cora. what do you think? cora hotchner." i grin and he looks up to the ceiling, like he's trying to convince himself, but then he smiles and nods agreeingly. "cora hotchner," he says, sounding proud. "i love it, honey." his lips touch mine for a brief two seconds. "what about a middle name?" i ask, "i feel like we should give her a middle name, no? you have one, i have one." "sure. but let's do a better job than my parents did." "whaaat? i love yours. benjamin. it fits you." i peck his lips and he shakes his head, "what about grace?" "grace?" i ask. i like it. "grace. means blessing." he places a hand on my round belly, "our little blessing." i smile, "i love when you say goopy stuff." i kiss him and he smiles. "cora grace hotchner." he says like a proud soon-to-be-girldad. "i love it. i love her already. so much." i place my hand on his cheek. "so do i." he looks me in the eyes and his soft gaze melts my heart, "i hope she gets your eyes. if she does, she'll be the most beautiful girl in the entire world. just like her mother." i blush a little as he says that. "i love you, aaron." "i love you too, y/n." he kisses me, then looks down to kiss my stomach, "and you, cora grace."

[vampsquerade]

Hallooo! I've made sure to read the rules and bio before requesting :')

Can I please request an xreader/oneshot (can be an hc if you want ^^) for Jäger? Maybe his s/o (can be gender neutral or what you write the most) got infected however still conscious and doesn't really attack him despite being an infected,, love this man alot,, I hope this is ok, feel free to deny this request if i've crossed anything against the rules ^^

thank you so much for requesting anon! it means a lot to see you made sure to read my rules before requesting because that shows me people are considerate of things i’d write for c,: i hope you like this Jäger fic! it’s mostly angsty but he ends up getting a bit of a happy ending

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jäger x GN!Reader: Human After All

Trigger Warnings: angst with a good ending, body horror, near death experience, slight body takeover, Archæan infected reader, shapeshifting, implication of PTSD (Jäger)

The outbreak started so suddenly all those years ago. With the crash of an old spacecraft infested with whatever alien parasite that was in it, you and two other CBRN operators joined Rainbow to figure out what’s going on in the first place and how to get rid of it. Once that mission was complete, you continued to work with Rainbow throughout the years until suddenly—the parasite resurfaced. Your previous studies and research came to use for the ones you knew how to deal with but there was something different about them. Several new Archæan have come into existence and are able to resist the previous cure made by you and several other professionals.

It had gotten so bad in the beginning, that even you got infected.

You had no clue how you were even conscious, as the parasite’s way of infection was through host control. It horrified you, to see the spikes that replaced the very limbs you once called arms and legs. Your entire body was seemingly covered in what was a type of goopy and disgusting slime. Looking at yourself in the broken glass once you had first been infected made you want to cry, as the moment your fellow operators saw you—they’d surely kill you. You feared most if it was Marius, your boyfriend of 7 years, that came to be the one to stumble upon your new and grotesque form. What would he do if he saw you? Would he scream? Would he be so disgusted that he just flat out killed you? Or would he try to save you?

Whatever it was, you were terrified of the reaction.

Days turned to weeks where you figured you weren’t even being looked for and you hoped it would remain that way. But sometimes, it doesn’t work out the way you want—after at least one year of the second outbreak, you were finally found by your fellow operators. Instead of the usual 5 like your previous missions, only 3 of them showed up. And from the way their new and improved uniforms looked, you figured they were better prepared than you were when it started. “It seems like the irregular reading is in the room across from us. Let’s proceed carefully.” a familiar voice said. Julien was the one that was speaking, and you watched the other two nod and turn to where you had been hiding.

“There it is…move carefully and quietly, we don’t want it to alert the others downstairs…” another one said softly. Shuhrat’s voice, one you barely heard when you worked together but could identify easily. The third of the trio didn’t speak as they began to slowly and carefully inch towards the room you were in. Afraid of being taken out, you begin to back away until you hit the wall behind you. They carefully enter the room, weapons drawn and aimed right at you. You make a small click of fear, putting your arms in front of yourself as a method of defense.

“Is that you…Y/N…?” the third finally says softly.

And just as you were hoping to avoid, Marius had come on the team of operators sent to scout the area for a strange Archæan. “Mar…i…us…” you croak hoarsely, lowering your arms to properly look at him. He slowly places his carbine on the floor and raises his arms, coming closer to you. “Marius, don’t get too close. We don’t know if they’ll attack or not.” Julien warns. Marius doesn’t care however, walking closer to get a better look at your face. Despite many of the new Archæan looking completely different than the ones that were previously here, you were the only one that managed to keep your face. You didn’t even know if other humans had been infected like you, as Archæans seemingly came from their reinforced nests.

“How…” Marius whispered as he reached out to touch your face. You flinch a bit, only to relax slightly once his hand comes into contact with your cheek. “Stop touching their face. You already know what we’re here for.” Shuhrat says coldly. You have to look hard just to see Marius’ eyes, and you could see the pain within. “Right…” he says softly. Marius then takes something out to take a small vial of your blood, and you keep yourself still. He hands it over to Julien once he’s finished, and then Julien nods once he processes it.

“Tier Three Archæan: Tormentor. Can shape-shift to the organic growth, Sprawl, to ensure a fluid-like speed. Uses small homing projectiles in rapid succession or a larger and slower projectile to attack. The weak point of a Tormentor is its head.” he explains, turning to look at and giving you a cold, hostile glare. “Stop looking at Y/N that way. They haven’t even resisted or alerted any of the others. If they’re truly going to be of use to getting rid of the Archæans, it’s better to bring them back to us.” Marius says in defense of you, crossing his arms. “And for how long will they be unresponsive to our presence, hm?” Julien says.

Marius falters slightly, only to remain firm in his belief of you being harmless, “They’ve been missing for a year and don’t seem to have moved from this floor of the building. There was no other Archæan up here but Y/N—it’s safe for us to bring them back to base.” he says. “They risk infecting the entire facility if we bring them back.” Shuhrat says curtly. “So then we keep them in a completely quarantined part of the facility. That containment room is finished, right? We can just leave Y/N in there until we figure out the best way to get rid of these new variants of the Chimera bacteria.” Marius says sternly. “Marius, even if that was possible, who would be the one overseeing them? Who would make sure nobody gets infected?” Julien asks.

Marius falters once again and shakes his head, “We have tons of doctors working with us. Only one will be closest to the and will gather samples the further along they go with their research.” he says. “Tsk…we’re going to have to ask Eliza and Elena if this is a good idea…” Julien says softly. He then exits the room to report to Eliza about this new proposition and after a few minutes, he then re-enters the room. “Let's hurry to the extraction zone, we have to go now before the other Archæans get any ideas somehow.” Julien says.

“Danke…I’m grateful you considered my words. Come on Y/N, let’s go…” Marius says, turning to look at you. “No…danger…” you say softly. “We’ll be okay, please…” he pleads. You shake your head, carefully extending your arms and pushing him away. “Hey. Don’t push him.” Shuhrat says, raising his LMG and aiming it at you. “Leave…please…” you say. “I’m not leaving without you. I spent so long searching for my lost love—just come with us and we’ll help.” Marius says, turning back to look at you. “Make a decision now, Y/N. Either you come with us or you stay behind and die.” Julien says.

Frozen in place upon hearing his words, you think for a moment before finally deciding to go with them. You carefully lead them towards the safest path towards their extraction zone, only to have a few isolated Grunts become alerted. “Shit! Run to cover!” Julien exclaims. The Grunts come towards you all quickly, and you quickly become defensive of the trio as they make their way to some cover. Shape-shifting into Sprawl, you make your way towards the Grunts and attack them in order to protect your former colleagues. Though primarily under the impression that you were going to aid them in attacking Marius and the others, they didn’t think much once you came right towards them. You let out a screech to establish your dominance.

Firing your projectiles right at them, you make critical hits on them to ensure their deaths. One of them still seems to be alive however, and this enraged you. “Protect…Marius..!” you exclaim. Rushing the straggler, you use the sharp point of your arm and drive it right into the Grunt’s face to effectively finish it off. Breathing heavily, you wait to see if any other Archæans will make its way to the 4 of you. You’re lucky, as you detect no others coming up the stairs. Turning to look at the trio, you then go back into Sprawl form and reappear with them. “How are you able to do that?” Julien asks. You simply look at him like he’s stupid and gesture to your practically humanless figure. “Right, right…sorry…” he apologizes nervously.

You then shake your head out of disappointment and safely lead the trio to their evac site. Once there, you see a helicopter already there and waiting to take them. Unsure whether or not it’ll be a bad idea for you to get on with them in the state you’re in, you turn away from them and take a few steps. “Grab them, now!” a voice you couldn’t quite recognize yet yelled. Before you could move, you were captured and made unconscious. Hours would pass and you’d soon wake up once again, finding yourself tied down and hooked up to machinery. Nobody was inside the bright room with you, but you could see several doctors outside discussing things you wish you could understand.

Scared more than everything, you see the doctors scrambling to try and calm you. The entrance to the room you were in was then opened, and a figure heavily covered in a hazmat suit frantically ran towards you. “Mein Engel, what’s happening? Why are you panicking?” the figure asked. “Marius..?” you ask. He frantically nods, gently putting his hands on your face to hold it. “Don’t…tie me up…let me go…” you say. “I-I…mein Engel I can’t do that…” Marius says sadly. “Please…” you beg softly. Marius’ heart aches upon seeing you in the state you’re in, and he turns around to look at the doctors that were watching on.

They seemed to be deliberating to figure out what decision should be made, only for them to look back at you and give Marius the signal. Marius then begins to shakily and quickly remove everything from you to keep you happy. Overwhelmed with a sad emotion upon finally being reunited with your lover, you embrace him tightly. Stunned and slightly afraid of this, Marius pushes you off of him. You then become even more upset and back away from him, figuring he must be detested by your form. “N-No, no wait, please! I just…I will admit I got a bit scared…it reminded me of the time I was surrounded by so many Roaches…” he says, reaching out and carefully grabbing your arms.

Looking into his eyes, the level of pity and grief he held for you was genuine. “I…missed you so much…sorry…” you apologize softly. “I missed you too, Y/N. I promise we’ll fix you…we can be together again and live our lives until the end…just promise me something, too.” Marius says softly. You nod, your piercing red eyes staring into his, “Please, promise me that you will never hurt anybody that doesn’t deserve it…” he says. “I promise…love…you…” you whisper, voice shaky as your emotions continue to overwhelm you. “Ich liebe dich auch, mein Engel…” Marius whispers back. This time he embraces you tightly, holding onto you as he begins to cry.

Though you are unable to shed tears of your own, you wished it was possible.

[cinnamochis]

Girl's Night!

Baroness Von BonBon plans a girl's night with her best friends: Cala Maria, Sally Stageplay, and Hilda Berg. What could go wrong? Oneshot.

It was a wonderful summer evening in Sugarland, and Baroness Von BonBon was just finishing up the icing of the ruffles on her dress, humming to herself ever so sweetly.

She just couldn’t wait for her very good girlfriends to arrive, and to give them all a tour of her wonderful home!

Just as expected, in a few moments she heard the doorbell in the great hall of her candy castle, and she giggled and skipped out to host the sweetest, most delectable girl’s night ever! Oh, there would be a tour, and a big dinner, and then movies, and staying up late, and talking all night-!

“MUFFSKY! GUMBO! WHY AREN’T YOU OUT HERE GREETING MY GUESTS?!” Bonbon screeched. 

Bonbon’s attendants Muffsky Chernikov the muffin and Sargent Gumbo Gumball the gumball machine scattered across the hall in a panic. “Sorry, Miss Bonbon! Sorry!”

Muffsky finally heaved the heavy door open for the Baroness, and in walked Hilda Berg and Sally Stageplay. Behind them, Cala Maria was sitting in an enormous rolling bathtub, which was her go-to travel transportation. 

“Sally!” Bonbon squealed, waving her arms and pressing two quick kisses on either side of the older woman’s face. 

“You’re looking splendid, darling,” the actress said, smiling, “It was so nice of you to invite us all here! I notice my dear frienid Rumor didn't get an invitation.”

"Rumor Honeybottoms and I are no longer on speaking terms," Bonbon said with a dramatic sniff. "She's insulted me and written nasty, hurtful things about the delicious processing that goes into my candy too many times!"

Bonbon then went to embrace Hilda, but the zeppelin woman took a step back and gave her a discouraging look. “No thanks.”

“I heard you have quite a feast for us,” Cala said with a glint in her eye, smiling. “I’m famished!” 

“Yes, yes, of course, sweetie!” Bonbon giggled, squeezing Cala’s hand affectionately. She knew how her large friend had a rather large appetite, and enjoyed some of the same exotic cuisine she loved herself! “But first, a grand tour!”

She turned back to her attendants. “MUFFSKY! GUMBO! ROLL MS.MARIA AROUND THE GROUNDS!”

Bonbon then smiled and led her three friends around, first showing them a lovely view of the ice cream mountains just beyond the castle walls, and leading them forward and into the magical land of sugar she ruled over.  Meanwhile, her servants shoved and puffed trying to push Cala’s enormous bathtub to keep up with the group. 

“Why, it’s such a perfect place to live!” remarked Sally, gazing in awe at the forest of chocolate bars and rivers of soda. 

Hilda Berg looked somewhat amused as she tasted a low floating cloud of swirling cotton candy. “Logically it makes no sense,” she tutted. 

“When has anything ever had to make sense?” Bonbon laughed, grabbing a can of whipped cream and pouring it into her mouth. “And the best part is, the dirty little children love this place!”

Cala’s eyes brightened. “Yes, do tell us about the dirty little children.” 

Bonbon’s grin widened. “Oh, I’ll tell you. They come in here, sneaking little things! Hungry for my sweet treats, greedy, eating more and more! And once they’re all nice and plump…”

She stopped mid sentence, spit dripping down her chin and breathing hard.

Hilda and Sally were looking at her with confusion.

Bonbon cleared her throat. “Well, you’ll see for yourselves,” she said cheerfully. “It’s just about time for dinner!” 

Once back inside, Bonbon had her guests seated at a giant ornate table in the dining hall.  Cala’s bathtub was wheeled to one end while Bonbon sat at the head of the table, Hilda and Sally being seated on opposite sides. 

“Dinner should be ready in just a few,” Bonbon said excitedly, “so girls, dish! What’s going on with you all lately? What’s going on in the world? On account I can’t really leave Sugarland and all that, y’know?” She burst into maniacal giggles. "And it's been a few months since we all last hung out, ladies!"

“Same old, same old,” Cala Maria said, looking bored with the conversation and running her fingers through her tentacle hair. “Everyday, sailors come, everyday, sailors die. They stand no chance against the seabeast, Cala Maria.” 

“Haven’t you ever thought about settling down and finding someone?” questioned Sally, to which Cala shuddered with disgust. Sally frowned. “Well, the hubby and me are happy. Working and acting together has been so good for our marriage!”

Hilda scoffed, and Sally turned to her. “Well, what about you?”

Hilda crossed her arms. “I’m content just stargazing and reading my fortunes.” 

Bonbon began to giggle uncontrollably. “Not true! I know for a fact that you have a huge crush on Mr. Goopy Le Grande! The last time we were together you practically told me so yourself!”

Hilda’s entire face went as red as her dress. 

“So have you kissed him yet?” Bonbon teased.

“This is why I don’t hang out with you,” Hilda said, covering her face with embarrassment.  

“Dinner is served, Madame Bonbon,” spoke up Sir Wafflington from behind, and some of the other attendants came out from the kitchen wheeling a large trolley with steaming, covered dishes. 

“I hope you all enjoy what I prepared!” Bonbon said sweetly. “It’s my specialty!” 

“Finally!” Cala shouted, tearing off the lid of the dish, “I’ve been looking forward to some delicious, plump-”

She stopped right there. 

Hilda and Sally uncovered their plates too and looked down to see life-sized sweet treats of what looked like children to be on their plates. Two gigantic child-shaped cookies, one with blue and pink icing, the other with nuts, with frozen looks of horror on their faces.

“You like them?” Bonbon asked. “They’re nice and fresh.” 

Cala was furious. “You told me there would be juicy, plump, dirty, disgusting children to eat! Fresh meat! Alive! Not…this!” she fumed, throwing an enormous pink jellyfilled child donut to the floor. “What is this?! This isn’t food! This is…absolutely horrible! You’re a monster!” 

Bonbon gasped in shock.

“Let me get this straight, these are people?” Sally asked with a quivering voice. 

“They were,” Hilda answered, excusing herself from the table.

Sally fainted dramatically. 

“I thought as my bestie, best friends, you’d all like how much effort I put into all this!” cried Bonbon, her big eyes filling with water. “Well fine! Girl’s night is officially off!” 

“Help me,” whimpered one of the candified children weakly. 

Bonbon clapped her hands and made a high, piercing whistle. “Whippet! Whippet!!” 

There was a thunderous shaking, and suddenly the castle itself began to shake and groan. The candy castle was alive, and suddenly gigantic peppermint swirl arms crashed through the sugar crystal ceiling and descended down upon the group.

“That’s a good Whippy-poo,” praised Bonbon, stroking the arm of the horrible castle monster. She then pointed at her friends. “Will you show mumsy’s guests out, please?” 

“Your cupcake poodle is no match for the Cala Maria!” Cala growled, her eyes turning to slits and her tentacles forming into vicious snakes.  One of the giant arms launched at her and grabbed her from her bathtub, wrestling with her for a moment, before flinging her through the shattered ceiling and out of sight with a yell.

The castle made a victorious roaring sound.

“Who’s next?” squeaked Bonbon happily. 

“I’m good,” said Hilda flatly, snapping her fingers. A soft white cloud appeared at her feet, and she promptly used it to float herself up and out of there, and as far from Sugarland as she could get. 

“H-uhhh?” Quietly, Sally stirred, coming back to consciousness. The first thing she saw were the giant arms reaching out for her.

Sally fainted again.

“Well, I’ll say it went better than last time,” Bonbon sighed, tucking into her own plate and enjoying the delicious dinner she’d made for herself.

It would be a few weeks before she invited them over again, but one of these days they’d get girl’s night just right!

[luxrayblues]

Hi so I saw your tweet (the art is absolutely adorable, by the way) and it inspired me, so I hope you don't mind me asking:

Could you do a oneshot (not a reader insert) where Raihan calms down a crying Goomy? I resonate with this headcanon and I love it! I enjoy your work!

I know this probably goes against your rules so fell free to delete this, but I just wanted to ask

It's not against the rules! The main thing I dont do is canon x canon pairings but I can do stuff like this! :D also thank you so much for the compliment eehee

I hope you like it, I had some fun with this lol

Raihan fic - Baby blues

Raihan was pretty tired lately what with having had his egg hatch. He had a brand new pokemon to care for and as happy as he was about it, the little mans was a lot of work. He had made sure to feed him and clean him up before finally setting him down to rest while he went to train with his older pokemon.

He had a little bed set up in the shade with a bowl of water for Goomy while he got to work. The baby was watching his dad and older siblings training away, content for a while before he realized the attention was not on him.

It took a minute with how noisy Raihan's pokemon were in the heat of battling each other before he finally caught the sound that had become quite familiar to him now. Making a surprised noise, he turns to look and see his goopy little man in a puddle, sobbing noisily.

"Time out, guys! Let's take a break!" He calls to flygon and duraladon who were more than happy to rest for a bit while he ran over to goomy. "Hey, you! What's going on?" He drops down with a thud and reaches out to the baby pokemon. The little purple goop was already shloopin into his arms, still wailing away. By now goomy had forgotten why he was crying in the first place.

"What is it, huh?" Raihan touches him gently, trying to make sure his temperature was good and he wasnt overheated. His voice and touch were gentle despite his usually rough outward demeanor. He was a sucker for his baby. He couldn't help his smile as goomy cries and inches his way up into Raihan's arms, wanting to be held.

"Ooh you're just fussy, huh? You want attention? ... it's okay, I get it buddy." He chuckles and hugs him close, cradling him in his arms. He coos to the little fella for a moment before starting to sing softly. He didn't have the greatest singing voice, but it didn't matter to goomy. The baby's crying starts to subside and he looks up at Raihan who was singing something from his childhood, gently pinching at Goomy's cheeks and squishing him playfully.

It didn't take long at all before goomy was trilling and trying to sing along, flailing a bit. His antennae woggling as he bobbed to the beat.

"Yeah, that's it! " he chuckles, loving that the baby was getting into it. It made his heart feel full seeing him enjoying himself like that. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah go goomy go go go baby~" he cheers on that little dude, his other pokemon even coming over and joining in. They wanted to cheer up the little man and sing along too! His training session turned into a fun little rap session with his team which was just as important as battling.

[mochamvgz]

is it new years yet?

; wherein you count down to the new year with your boyfriend and fall asleep on call

; jake x reader

; genre: fluff, established relationship, long distance, drabble, oneshot

; warnings: none

; 0.3k words

; tags: @inkelea @bunreis @sobun1est @kbookshelf

“3..2..1..”

“happy new year sweetheart!!!”

“happy new year honey!!!”

you and jake exclaimed at the same time

the clock had just struck 12 and 2023 was officially something to be talked about in the past tense

you thought this would be the year you finally get a new year’s kiss. but alas…your boyfriend was out of town and you were currently on a video call with him

you were a little disappointed over the fact that he wasn't by your side but you tried to be more cheerful for the sake of starting 2024 with a positive mindset

you'd received invites for new year’s eve parties but you had opted to stay in

“i wanna wrap you up in my arms right now so bad” jake brought you out of your thoughts

“ugh don't even get me started”

“i love you” the endearing smile on his face turned your heart into a goopy puddle, it was the one he saved especially for you. you felt so lucky to be able to see that smile almost everyday and yet you still couldn't get enough of it

“i love you..-” your response is interrupted by a yawn slipping out, “-too”

that got you a chuckle out of jake “let's get you to bed yeah? i'm not hanging up don't worry” he added when he saw you open your mouth to protest, only for it to morph into another yawn

you'd been trying to catch up on assignments all day which had left you feeling drained so you decided not to fight jake and pulled your blanket tighter around you as your eyelids began to droop

“g’night sweetie”

you mumbled an incoherent reply as you drifted off to sleep…

; a/n: happy new year guys!!!! praying this one doesn't flop like my last one🤞🤞 this is pretty lazy but it's also cozy and I like cozy sooo i'm posting this anyway wishing you all have a bright and prosperous 2024 🤍🤍

© mochamvgz on tumblr | all rights reserved | so not plagiarise, repost or translate

[ghostgargoyle-art]

paris alodia is a character i played for a monsterhearts oneshot! it was the day of homecoming, but everything seemed to go wrong when we discovered a ritual and a dead classmate in the middle of the dance... paris is the queen, and as such, has a clique-- consisting of britnee, allison, and the most hated member for absolutely zero reason-- JESSICA. but paris' connections didn't end here, as they also included my friends' characters alexander (paris' wrestler ex-boyfriend from freshman year), agate (paris' football player ex-girlfriend from junior year), and lizzie (NOT another one of paris' exes, but instead her best friend! there is so much tension).

the goopy eldritch form to the right of paris is still her-- just her as her darkest self! did i mention she's the leader of a cult she inherited from her parents and also the potential host body for an eldritch deity? well i have now!

monsterhearts is SUCH a fun system, ive had the honor of both playing in and running oneshots using it, and am excited for future games my group does with it in the future :D

drawn march 2022!

[gliyerabaa]

random oneshot idea popped up and will not leave me alone

it's FLUFF y'all. pure, goopy fluff!!!!!!!!

[h0w4m1h3r3]

Hiii! 1. That's not how humans work, hun

2. How to care for your human

An vague idea of like periods (if you are OK with this) , with nightmare, swap papyrus and maybe horror sans (not sure how many characters I can request but I if I had to choose 1 it would be nightmare)

Take care of yourself, don't forget to drink water and eat!!!!! 💞

Thank you anon! Here it is! I tried to make this as GN as I could but reader is implied to be AFAB.

Nightmare:

You rolled over in your boyfriend's bed, sweat clinging the back of your neck and dry saliva in your mouth.

Being just about to drift back into sleepy land you were rudely awoken by a sharp pain in your lower belly. The drowsiness from your mind cleared instantly and you practically leapt to see blood stains on your boyfriend's sheets.

You ran to get a change of underwear and then to the bathroom (which he had installed for you) where you shead your stained ones.

Having being all to acquainted with this you made quick work of the mess your body so insistently made every month. Warm water to get out blood and wash to your nether regions, the choose your preferred method of catching blood-

Oh.

Your boyfriend didn't have any products.

This wasn't good.

You were mulling over what to when your boyfriend burst through the door.

"Human."

despite your oversized shirt you flushed.

"Are you hurt, human?" He asked as he walked towards you.

"D-Don't worry, I'm just on my period." You wanted him, a little embarrassed.

Nightmare raised a both questioning and metaphorical eyebrow. He looked at you as if expecting you to elaborate.

"I didn't take you for punctuation." He responded in a monotone voice. Was he attempting to make a joke?

"Do you have pads or tampons?" You questioned in a pleading tone, and his metaphorical eyebrows knit with worry and confusion.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, my dear."

Oh, he was a skeleton. He had never had a partner before you. Of course.

You were worried he would find it disgusting as you explained to a very worried skeleboi that no, you were not hurt, and yes you are healthy.

To your relief he was far from disgusted and more than happy to find the most comfortable products and pain killers in the multiverse, and to give you all the goopy cuddles you could ever need.

He had consulted his human care guide multiple times, which had been heavily corrected and edited by you. It was beyond cute to see him whip out his 'human care guide for every level' and intensively scanning a specific page before 'porting away for a hot water bottle and the like.

he might take a snack on your pain as well.

Horror:

So, you're bleeding? And heathy? With an increased libido? And release helps the pain? O H H O H O . . .

I would be more than happy to do a spicy oneshots with our big boy here :))

Stretch has probably had multiple human girlfriends, as per my HC, sorry TwT

[siancore]

Coming Soon | Newsworthy  (oneshot)

Pairing | Sarah Wilson x Bucky Barnes 

Excerpt:

The reporter announced it loud and clear with an incredulous tone: The most famous superhero in world, Captain America, has a sister who’s a fish monger? That story and more coming up soon. But firstly, why Spider-Man’s identity has been revealed and no one seemingly cares.

“You seein’ this, Sarah?” asked Sam into his cell phone.

“Yeah,” she replied with a yawn. “I wouldn’t say I necessarily care about the Spider-Man, but I was kinda surprised to find out he was a kid.”

“Sarah Louise Wilson.”

“Samuel Thomas Wilson,” she proffered, growing annoyed by his early morning call.

“This is serious,” said Sam, firmly.

“And so is getting a full eight-hours, Sam,” she retorted. “Especially when you got two kids. I don’t know what the time is wherever you are in whichever part of the world you’re in, but it’s late here. What’s the big deal, other than them calling me a fish monger?”

Sarah rolled her eyes even though no one else was with her in her bedroom to see.

“The big deal is that there are people out there who will try to find you because of me,” Sam explained.

“Boy, you ain’t that famous,” Sarah teased; Sam did not find it amusing.

“You know what I mean, Sarah,” he pressed. “I’m a Black dude wearing the stars and stripes. I got a huge target on my back. People who might wanna hurt me could try and come for you.”

“Let ‘em try,” said Sarah. “I can handle a few paparazzi. I did when you were an Avenger. There’s nothin’ for them to see here, anyways.”

“It’s different now, sis. The world is different. I just want you and the boys to be safe,” said Sam, the strain in his voice evident.

“Okay, okay,” Sarah relented. “What d’you suggest?”

“Lay low. Photographers and a whole bunch of media assholes might show up. Any type of big bad guy might as well.”

“I can take care of myself,” said Sarah.

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t wanna have to take time off this mission to come and rescue you,” Sam teased, causing Sarah to chuckle.

“Yeah, whatever,” she said with a smile. “What d’ya want me to do? I can’t take a few days off. Business isn’t great.”

“I know,” Sam replied. “Send the boys to stay with Misty for a week and I’ll get someone to watch out for you.”

“I do not need a babysitter, Sam. Or a damn bodyguard who’s gonna get in the way and cause more trouble than this whole situation is worth.”

“I’m not getting you a babysitter or bodyguard,” said Sam as he rubbed his brow. “I’m getting a professional. You’ll be in good hands.”

“Who’s this fake Kevin Costner Bodyguard you got lookin’ after Sarah?”

Sam rolled his eyes, sighed, and then spoke into the phone, “Hello to you, too, Buck. What you know about the Bodyguard?”

“Sarah loves Whitney Houston,” said Bucky with a shrug. “We watched it together a little while back.”

“Okay, whatever,” said Sam. “Thompson is actually a highly trained professional. Sarah’s in good hands.”

“Umm, no. I don’t think so.”

“If I wanted your opinion, Bucky, I’d have called you.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” asked Bucky, somewhat somberly.

“What, to look after Sarah?”

“Yeah.”

Sam laughed.

“Have you seen the tabloid news about Sarah?” asked Sam as he got comfortable.

“Yes, of course,” Bucky replied as he knit his brow. “She looked really beautiful in the picture.”

“And therein lies your answer,” said Sam with a chuckle. “You can’t look out for Sarah if you get all goopy and smitten when you’re around her.”

Bucky shook his head even though Sam could not see him.

“I don’t – and are you serious? I can’t look after Sarah? And this tracksuit wearing asshole can?”

“Bucky, how do you know what Thompson’s wearing?”

“I’m sitting outside of Sarah’s place right now,” Bucky explained. “I’ve been here for almost an hour, and he hasn’t noticed me.”

“Buck –”

“Not good enough. Especially for Sarah,” said Bucky as he got out of the rental car. “I’m gonna go relieve him of his duties.”

“Shit, okay, Buck, you’re right,” said Sam, mentally making a note to have a talk with Thompson when he got back. “Just don’t hurt the guy.”

Bucky chuckled and said, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Bucky made his way stealthily past the man Sam had hired to watch after Sarah. He crept up to the backdoor of her charming home and knocked thrice. After a moment, he heard some rustling from inside, before the door opened and he was met by Sarah Wilson holding AJ’s baseball bat.

“Bucky?” she said, eyes wide with shock and something else. “What the hell are you doin’ here?”

Bucky gave her his brightest, most genuine smile and said, “Hey, Sarah. I’m here to look after you.”

A/N: Please let me know if you enjoyed this snippet and would like to read the rest. Thanks!