#green and teal pillows

[equestrianvaulting]

Backyard in Atlanta Inspiration for a mid-sized coastal screened-in back porch remodel with decking and a roof extension

[heartnosekid]

🕯️ bruno madrigal 🐀

with a focus on bruno using his gift for @yoursweet-obedientgirl!

🐀-🕯️-🐀 / 🕯️-💚-🕯️ / 🐀-🕯️-🐀

[apollos-daydream]

I drew my ponysona sick because I am

Drew my bed and it's massive amount of pillows

The only thing I didn't draw in my bed was the massive amount of plushies that I have on it that's too many to draw and I do not want... Like there's a lot...

Unfortunately from the angle I drew it I could not draw the pride flag and the battle ax I have on my wall lol and the background would've probably looked a little better and less shit

[greenleafgoddess]

gorgeous green variety 4 pack of pillows. super soft fabric

Embrace the green!

Amazon link:

[erkiengill]

Kids Room Miami Remodel ideas for a kids' room for a mid-sized timeless girl with green walls and a medium tone wood floor.

[tragedy-of-commons]

“Cat.” And Dan Heng

You can't breathe.

Maybe it's the innate delirium that comes with the hellish hours of the night, or maybe you've just finally lost it, but you've been laughing at the image displayed on the blinding light of your phone screen for half an hour.

Your face hurts from all the smiling, and you've begun to muffle your wheezes into your flattened pillow, completely gone.

The image in question?

It's a soggy, completely drenched, black cat. Cute animals always pop up on your feed, yes, but this is different! You're entrenched in hysterics because this kitty resembles someone you know to an almost uncanny degree.

Underneath the picture, the caption of the post reads:

🐱 what would his name be?? comment below! #catgram #ca...

Without hesitating any longer, you almost choke on another giggle, swiping your thumb down to add your very correct answer to the pile of suggestions below.

yournameshinjikin: DAN HENG IS HIS NAME ALL OF YOU R WRONG !! 🗣🗣🔥🔥

Satisfied with this, you wipe a nonexistent tear from your eye. You miss your boyfriend dearly, so perhaps you're just seeing him everywhere - but this photo has truly done you in. The kitty also has wide eyes stained river teal, ringed with softer gray patches of fur that resemble the shape of Dan Heng's eyeliner.

...also, he does look as pathetic as the cat and question after a shower. Too bad you won't be seeing him for at least another week; the Astral Express is fickle when it comes to the timing of certain emergency trailblazing expeditions.

Your laughter subsides, and then you're left with an emptiness in your heart.

Both of you try to message everyday, but he is somewhat of (and you say this with love) a dry texter. It's not comparable at all to what it's like spending time with him in person, and he knows that very well. You shift and wiggle back under the covers, assuming snorkmimi position.

Maybe he's thinking about you too. Hopefully. Your phone burns with radiation and low battery from putting off sleep all night, but you decide to delay it just a bit longer. You traverse your windows until you find the neglected messages app, no unreads, as predicted.

But you do almost shoot up in bed when you see the little green bubble in the corner of Dan Heng's icon, signaling that he's online. System time doesn't often sync up with whatever planet he's on, so it makes sense he'd be awake; it's probably the middle of the day where he is.

One little text won't hurt, you decide, hope blossoming in your chest as you open up your last conversation with him. The keyboard thrums under your excited fingertips.

That spark dies almost too fast. You type out various mishmashes of greetings, deleting them as they pop up on screen. Doubts and anxieties that never plague you during the day creep in, forcing you to overthink every single variation of 'I'M GOING TO BLOW UP A LIBRARY IF YOU DON'T GET HOME SOON' and 'u busy? :3'

You huff into the pillow which you've wrestled into your lap, eventually settling on a response, practically chewing your nails to bits like this is a first crush and not your life partner.

The sound of it sending is sobering.

You: [One game attached] Let's play 8 Ball! 🎱

You hope he's eating enough. His little ragtag group (that take up the task of mothering him when you're not around) in your heart, must be enjoying a filling meal at a local restaurant, not at all in peril danger.

To your dread and delight, the little seen indicator pops up beneath the game link. You wait for him to join the match and play a round, but his typing bubble appears. Dan Heng has something to say.

The only thing that could possibly pull you away from your phone right now would be an incoming hurricane. Actually, no, you'd fly away with the wind and rain before that. It vibrates finally--

Dan Heng: Are you okay? It's early over there

Your chest tightens painfully, which you laugh off.

You: yeah ofc!! just adasdawe3u4eusu missing u and stuff. didn't wanna be weird. hope ure having a good deal of fun w everyone

The seen indicator materializes again, but no typing bubble pops up immediately. Why is this so awkward?! Honestly, you should have just chanced your luck and called him instead...

You're in the middle of crafting a topic change before Dan Heng beats you to the punch.

Dan Heng: It's not weird

Dan Heng: I miss you as well. The journey has been standard, but I think you would be particularly fond of this planet; I've forwarded some of March's photos to the Express' archives and also your email

You're smiling so hard that it nearly splits your face in half. Email is such a questionable channel of correspondence nowadays... you and him don't work an office job! The mental image of him in a pressed dress shirt and checkered tie is enough to remedy that leftover icky, nagging sadness.

You: YOUY DID???! thank you 😭😭 im gonna check as soon as i clean out all my spam

Dan Heng: Your proclivity for clicking malicious links is... unique.

You miss him so much. A giggle escapes your lips at the halfhearted jab.

You: thats low hanging fruit dan heng............ ill never recover from my broken heart

You: come home soon ok ? also wtf dont ignore my 8 ball invite </3

You almost hear him sigh. Almost. A harrowing minute or two passes.

Dan Heng: [One game attached] It's your move! 🎱

Dan Heng: Go to sleep please

You have reacted to the previous message with '💗'.

Satisfied, your battery flickers at 3%. Thinking of his stupid kissable face, you sit up to charge the device. Before you do so, however, you change his icon from a nice candid to that soggy wet cat from earlier. It'll have to be your lighthouse in the midst of the dense fog until he gets his ass home!

You're looking forward to pestering him. Dan Heng won't put up a fight.

[seoulmatez]

— 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ౨ৎ

itoshi rin x reader. 1.6k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ established relationship ﾉ mentions on injury ﾉ repost from old blog :3

you whistle the melody of the song that’s been playing on repeat in your head as the elevator dings, announcing your arrival on one of the upper floors of the building. hoisting your bags up, your feet carry you down the hall until you reach the familiar sequence of numbers that you’ve come to call your own. another high-pitched beep and a click drift through the air when you hold the key fob up to the scanner of your door.

the stream of air pushing past your lips dies down as you step into the apartment, its noisiness drowned out by something else.

did you forget to turn the tv off before leaving to run errands? you could have been sure you hit the power button on the remote prior to going on your way, but the quiet buzz of voices is unmistakable. you click your tongue at your scattered brain as you set the bags of groceries on the kitchen island before padding into the living room to actually turn the tv off.

though, when you get there, you’re met with an unfamiliar sight. stretched out along the length of the sectional is all six feet and more of your boyfriend. silky, dark green strand of hair fall on the upper half of his face. the plump skin of his cheek is smooshed against the arm splayed out beneath him, lips slightly parted in his slumber. if the sports commentary coming from the speakers is any evidence, he must have fallen asleep watching an old match.

you grin as you round the couch to stand in front of him. a soft snore meets your ears when you crouch down so that you’re level with the man. almost unconsciously, your hand reaches out to brush back the hair that obscures his eyes and forehead. “rin?”

thick lashes flutter on the tops of his cheeks as rin rouses at the gentle call of his name. he’s taken aback for a moment, nearly shoots up from his position in a panic, but the feel of your fingernails just barely grazing his scalp and the easy smiling pulling at your lips keep him grounded.

“what are you doing back so early?” you ask. you normally wouldn’t expect him back home for a few more hours, when the sun began to sink into the horizon.

“i got sent home.” remnants of sleep linger in his voice, the sound a little raspier than usual. “sprained ankle.”

“really?” you rise from your spot on the floor, eyes shooting to the opposite end of the couch where his feet are. surely enough, a bag of mostly-melted ice is sitting on his right ankle. he isn’t showing any signs of pain or discomfort but you can’t stop yourself from asking, “are you okay?”

he drags himself up into a sitting position with a low groan, lithe fingers adjusting the haphazard placement of his black muscle tee. “i’m fine. it isn’t that bad.”

you hum in understanding as you pick up the dripping bag of once-frozen water that was likely sent home with him. a wet spot darkens the cushion but you pay it no mind as you snatch a pillow to stick beneath rin’s ankle so it’s elevated. you turn to him. “how long are you out?”

“they told me to get it checked out again in a week,” he replies, letting his head fall back on the cushion behind him. seven days; it’ll feel like an eternity to rin. you’ve never known him to be the type to happily take time off, although, the injury would force him to slow down and take a break. you don’t plan on telling him so since he’s already bitter about the circumstances, but he deserves some time to himself—time to relax and heal.

“looks like i get to play nurse for a while, then,” you say with a smile, joining him once more at the other end of the furniture.

“i don’t need a nurse,” he’s sure to tell you, his teal gaze flitting from the light fixtures on the ceiling to your face hovering above him. he takes the opportunity to pinch at the meat on your thigh and the action draws a surprised squeal from you.

“yeah, yeah.” you swat his hand away and rub at the sensitive site. the thought of scolding him as you usually do crosses your mind but you decide against it—it’s nice to see that he isn’t entirely dejected despite his unfavorable injury. “have you eaten yet? i got some groceries so i could make you something.”

rin shakes his head, lifting it up from the padding behind him. he moves almost as if to get up. “let me help.”

“ah-ah-ah.” you wiggle your finger at him before opening your fist and using your palm to push him back down. his eyes widen at your refusal of his offer. “you, mister, are staying here. i’ll get you some new ice and then cook you lunch.”

you turn on your heel and start toward the kitchen before he can protest. after pouring the bag of water into the sink and putting the refrigerated items from the store away, you grab an ice pack from the freezer, closing the door with your foot. rin’s arms are crossed against his chest when you return and you playfully roll your eyes at his show of defiance. gently prodding at his ankle, you look back at him to gauge his reaction. “does it hurt?”

“no. i told you, it’s nothing.” you know his downplay of the injury is a ploy at getting you to concede so he won’t be helplessly glued to the couch for any longer.

“it won’t be ‘nothing’ if you keep up that attitude,” you comment, carefully wrapping the ice pack around his ankle. you’re sure he doesn’t see it, but rin can be frustrating. he’s so used to doing everything himself that he has trouble even entertaining the thought of letting others assist him. you’ll have to work on that while you’ve got him home. “just sit, i got this.”

a breathy sigh that borders a groan follows you into the kitchen but you pay the sound little mind.

through the clanging of metal pots and pans and the crunch the accompanies the chopping of vegetables, you can hear rin flipping through the channels in hopes of finding something to watch that grabs his attention. you take a peek over your shoulder as you drop the handful of peppers and onions into the pan. to no one’s surprise, he settles on a horror movie he’s seen more times than you can count. a creature of habit, you think with a grin, turning your focus back to the stove.

“bon appetit,” you announce, returning to the living room with a bowl of stir-fried vegetables and noodles and hand. you pass the dish to rin and take a seat on the part of the sectional that isn’t occupied by his legs.

“thanks.” he mixes the contents of the bowl with his chopsticks while looking at your empty hands. “you aren’t having any?”

“i already ate,” you assure him with a small smile. the upturn of your lips grows with your teasing thoughts. you tilt your head and add, “plus, what if you need me to feed you?”

“my hands work fine,” rin mumbles through a mouthful of noodles, his gaze whizzing over to the tv. he may not be looking at you, but it’s impossible to miss the pink blossoming across his cheeks as he chews. a light-hearted laugh pushes past your lips at his unconcealed flustered state. the sound makes his eyebrows knit together and you’re once again the subject of his scrutinizing stare. his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and his tongue darts out to lick his lips before he tells you, “you’re having too much fun with this.”

you shrug one of your shoulders, an entertained smile still lingering on your lips. he isn’t entirely wrong, but there’s definitely more to your teasing. “kind of,” you admit, “but i just like being able to take care of you.”

your words catch rin off-guard and for a moment, he’s speechless. a warmth heats up his cheeks, even hotter than the one he had felt earlier. his heartbeat is deafeningly loud in his ears, loud enough that he worries you might hear it, too. despite the symptoms clearly telling him otherwise, there’s only one thing he can think to say. though, before he has the chance to get it out, you’re cutting him off.

“and before you say, 'i don’t need anyone to take care of me,’” you imitate his voice with the statement, taking the thoughts straight from his head and putting them into words, “everyone does. let me be that person for you, at least for the week.”

you can see right through him, rin thinks as he fidgets with his chopsticks. he tells himself that it’s a long shot, but maybe a little part of him wants to be taken care of. it’s a foreign thought, one that, before today, he would have a hard time believing was his own. but it is, he comes to realize as he looks at your hopeful smile.

the emotion that causes his heart to bang against his ribcage like the pound of a drum is unmistakable.

he clears his throat and blinks before meeting your eye. it’s okay to be the one in need sometimes, right? the comforting sparkle shimmering in your irises answers his unspoken question.

“look after me well, then,” he agrees with a nod.

thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! ❤︎

[captain-hawks]

ask me

barbatos x f!reader

summary: you can't stop thinking about Barbatos' forked tail, and he's well aware, so he decides to show you exactly how he likes to use it over tea one afternoon.

word count: 2.2k

content: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, masturbation, tail kink, penetration in both holes, tail sex, praise kink

“Ask me.”

The smooth, low tone of Barbatos’ voice softly nudges you away from your idle thoughts, and you glance up from where you’d been staring down into the depths of the cup of tea in your hands. 

You furrow your brows in confusion. “Ask you what?”

A ghost of a smile plays across his lips as he tilts his head to the side, casually running a gloved finger along the filigree adorning the lip of the mug. As if in answer, his tail winks into view for a moment as his demon form pushes to the surface, twin tips twirling together before disappearing back under the table. 

Your heart rate picks up at the sight, and your fingertips dig into your thigh as you stretch and rotate your ankle in an attempt to stave off the desire to bounce the nervous energy right out of your leg. 

“The servants are a chatty, nosey bunch,” he muses, steepling his hands together as his green eyes sparkle.

Not quite trusting yourself to respond otherwise, you launch another question as you evenly ask, “Are they?”

He raises his eyebrows slightly and nods, leaning in slightly as if he’s readying himself to share a secret with you. “Leave anything out in the open, and they’re certain to see it.”

It doesn’t take much guesswork to figure out what he’s getting at. You’ll never forget the horror of tiredly walking back into your room at the House of Lamentation after a long day of classes last week to discover you’d left a new toy right on top of your sheets.

Asmo had excitedly drug you to a naughty looking little shop in town when he’d found you loose-lipped and horny enough one night to blurt out that one of the things you missed most about the human world were vibrators. Needless to say, you’d worn yourself out that night as you shamelessly plunged your new purchase into your needy hole, bringing yourself over the edge thrice before you finally collapsed beneath the sheets, tossing the sticky toy aside and quickly falling asleep.

And it would have been fine, really. 

You’d have no issue earning yourself a whispered little reputation at RAD for masturbating, for fuck’s sake. You certainly weren’t living in a house of angels, after all. 

The issue was the specific vibrator that you’d chosen. The one you’d been unable to look away from after your eyes landed on it across the store, subtly clenching your thighs together the entire way home as you felt the weight of it in the shopping bag knocking against your leg with each step.

When Asmo saw the immediate glazed over look on your face the moment you walked into the store, he had gleefully explained that the Devildom’s selection of vibrators and dildos might be a little…kinkier than you were used to seeing in the human world. 

Kinky didn’t even begin to describe it.

But there was one particular thing nestled amongst the shelves of monstrous cocks of all shapes and sizes that you couldn’t look away from: a teal-coloured vibrator shaped like a forked tail. 

To your surprise, Asmo said nothing when he met you at the counter with a basket full of his own purchases—he simply offered you a mischievous grin as he nudged a small bottle of lube toward the cashier for you as well. 

It was only later, safely in the darkness of your bedroom, that you let yourself think of it. 

Think of him.

Face buried against your pillow and tears of pleasure leaking from the corners of your eyes, Barbatos’ name was a silent scream on your lips as you fucked yourself with the toy, one end of the tail stuffed into your cunt while you slid the other into your ass. 

You came so hard the first time you nearly blacked out, holes squelching wetly as you greedily chased two more orgasms while the demon butler’s face flashed in the forefront of your mind. And you’d left the evidence like a beacon right on top of your bed when you’d rushed out the door for class the next morning, not sparing a single thought for the servant that would likely be in to tidy up your room in the afternoon. 

Something brushes against your bare ankle, bringing you back to the present, but you can’t bring yourself to look at Barbatos. Not now that you’re certain he knows you purposely bought a fucking vibrator that looks like his goddamn tail. 

As if he can feel the mortification pouring off of you in waves, Barbatos lays a gentle hand on top of yours. “Ask me if I enjoy using my tail on my lovers.”

You suddenly wish you’d taken Solomon up on his invitation to join him in researching teleportation spells. Turning your hand over, Barbatos begins to rub a comforting circle with his thumb into your palm, patiently waiting for your response.

One could say it’s difficult to want for anything with seven demon brothers willing to dote on you day in and day out during your stay in the Devildom, especially when you live with them. But, in perhaps the most cliché manifestation of the age-old adage of wanting what you can’t have, you’ve found it a battle in and of itself to stop thinking about Diavolo’s elusive butler. 

At first, it was his deep voice that set you off-kilter, the tone stroking its way down your spine like liquid fire. Paired with eyes that always look like they know more than they let on and a disarmingly handsome face, the brothers and Lord Diavolo himself are hard-pressed to maintain your attention at the times when Barbatos skirts about the edges of the room, unnoticed by some but always seen by you.

While your time spent in his presence has been meager in comparison to how frequently you see your housemates, Barbatos often makes the most of it with playfully witty remarks that leave you reeling long after he leaves and kind gestures that make your heart ache, like the way he made sure the House of Lamentation was stocked with your favorite tea after you made an offhand remark about it one day. 

With a menagerie of demons eager to monopolize your attention, you were nearly ready to accept defeat in the face of an impossible conquest—because in what world was Diavolo going to let you seduce his fucking butler?

Your plans to stamp out the burning embers of your little crush went to hell in a handbasket the day you saw Barbatos flash into his demon form though, unfortunately. As if seeing his elegant horns wasn’t enough to get your heart positively racing, you’d outright choked on your soup when the real star of the show revealed itself—that goddamn fucking tail. 

Levi had patted you on the back as you gasped for air, vegetables and broth launching an assault on your throat as your wide eyes took in the sight of Barbatos threateningly pointing the forked appendage in Mammon’s face as he held out a hand for the money he owed Diavolo. 

Once you saw that teal, forked tail in all of its slithering glory, there was no going back. The only direction you could spiral was further down into a frustratingly horny purgatory, wondering whether or not it would be uncouth to proposition the demon butler to fuck you with his tail. 

And now, it’s the steady reassurance in Barbatos’ eyes as he squeezes your hand that allows you to let the words tumble from your mouth before you can think better of it, “Do you enjoy using your tail on your lovers, Barbatos?”

What can only be described as a devilish smile curls at the corners of Barbatos’ mouth, and he briefly darts his tongue out between his lips before coyly responding, “In many ways. Was there a specific one you had in mind?”

Your mouth goes dry, confidence faltering at the insinuation in his tone. “I…” you trail off, unable to muster up the filthy thoughts about the male sitting in front of you that have long-since taken up residence in your head.

A contemplative noise escapes his lips as he shifts into his demon form, slowly pushing both of your teacups aside as his tail slithers up onto the table. Your breath hitches in your throat as he lazily flicks the forked edges before pressing it closer to you, the surface of it cool and smooth as it ghosts along the curve of your jaw.

“I’ve been told the secretion has a…pleasant flavor,” he muses, eyes glittering with delight when you unconsciously part your lips at the feeling of his tail now prodding against them. 

Sweet, viscous liquid that vaguely reminds you of honey, though more slick than sticky, hits your tastebuds as one forked tip presses against your tongue. 

And fuck does it taste good. 

You let your jaw relax, and Barbatos readily accepts the invitation, slipping his tail further into your mouth as the other tip caresses your throat. A fresh spurt of the sweet nectar pours onto your tongue, and you greedily gulp it down, moaning softly as you begin to suck on his tail. A soft growl of encouragement rumbles in Barbatos’ chest, plates and mugs clinking in protest when he tightly fists a hand in the ornate tablecloth. 

“And there’s also this…” he adds, tail sliding out of your mouth and trailing down your chest, effortlessly flicking open the buttons of your RAD uniform. 

Knowing full well Lord Diavolo could return to the Demon Lord’s Castle at any time, it’s a battle in and of itself not to cry out at the feeling of Barbatos squeezing your breasts with his tail. But once he uses the twin tips to tease both of your peaked nipples at the same time, the shameless whine you let out can’t be helped, not in any realm. 

Meeting his gaze, you try to steady your breathing as you ask, “Where else?”

Barbatos licks his lips. “Would you still like me to…show you?”

You nod, and his tail disappears under the table, wrapping around one of your ankles and tugging your crossed legs apart. One forked tip pushes your skirt up and out of the way and then tugs aside your underwear, the other spreading your thighs so wide that you slip down in your chair slightly.

And the moment that Barbatos slides his dripping tail through your equally slick folds, your body trembles with a jolt of searing hot pleasure, and a moan so wanton and desperate tumbles from your lips that you know you’ll never be satisfied again without this—

The feeling of one end of his tail firmly massaging your swollen, throbbing clit, the other teasing at your entrance.

The desire written plainly across his face as both tips curl around one another before he begins to ease them into your cunt.

The way he leans across the table and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist, fangs scraping against your skin as you roll your hips to meet his thrusts.

The damp material of the chair beneath you, sodden with the combined arousal leaking from his tail and your wet heat.

The softly uttered, “Beautiful,” as you whimper his name. 

The feral, possessive snarl of frustration that escapes him at the sound of the front door opening downstairs.

…the way Barbatos continues to fuck you with his tail even as Diavolo unknowingly strolls into the room with a grin on his face, seemingly none the wiser to the activities hidden beneath the long tablecloth. But after he deftly snatches the last biscuit off of one of the plates in front of you, he offers you a sly wink before turning on his heel and leaving, none too discreetly closing the doors to the sitting room behind him.

You’re nearly on the verge of making a comment about what just happened, but all rational thoughts leave your head when Barbatos quietly rasps, “This is my favorite place to use it, though,” just as a forked tip nudges at the tight ring of muscle nestled between your asscheeks.

He pauses, just for a breath, and you whimper, “Please.”

Appendage covered with both of your fluids, Barbatos begins to stretch your asshole open. If you weren’t so busy moaning and whining unintelligible sounds, begging him to go deeper, you’d laugh at the thought of the silly vibrator now tucked away in your room. Because while the toy had certainly felt good, you know now that nothing can compare to the exquisite pleasure of Barbatos using his real, dexterous tail to fuck both of your holes at the same time. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, reaching across the table once more to stroke your face, thumb sliding across your cheek. “So wet for me. You take me so well.”

You shudder at the praise, hardly able to contain yourself as a wave of pleasure like you’ve never felt before rises up inside of you. And when Barbatos curves his tail so that the part not ruthlessly plunging into your fucked out holes rubs against your sensitive bundle of nerves, you tug on the tablecloth so hard the teacups go crashing to the floor, your entire body shaking with the force of your orgasm. 

Barbatos lets you catch your breath a moment before he pulls his tail out of you, and you can’t help but whine at the emptiness that follows. 

Smirking, he brings the forked edge coated in your cum to his lips and licks it clean before purring, “I have some other things I can show you, if you’d like.”

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

[theoxenfree]

LUCID

sleep paralysis demon x reader | 3k | 18+

you've never known a true, good night of sleep in your entire life. when your doctor and best friend, dr. sujay patel, offers to vouch for you as the perfect candidate for a "last resort" sleep study and medication trial, you don't have high hopes. the first night of the trial, things go sideways very quickly.

warnings; technically somnophilia, dubcon, hair-pulling, restraint, some eerie/unsettling details, breech of patient-doctor boundaries, alcoholism, implied addiction/addictive personality, academic cheating, some culturally sensitive discussion, roughly proofread.

this is the first concept piece for my upcoming sleep paralysis demon x reader story!! to help me shape the story, pls answer feedback questions + reblog!!!

Children at your daycare liked to draw you fanciful pictures of the other lives they lived in their dreams during afternoon nap time. You were shown orange tabby cats with green eyes garbed in full-plates of knight’s armor, brandishing a fish sword against a foe to save the world. Most often, they dreamed of their families and drew bright, brave versions of themselves holding hands with a parent, a sibling, a bipedal family dog with an electric collar. A few of the children never smiled in their self-portraits.

The proportions of everything were always silly: gigantic tree trunks with tiny, green bundles sitting atop of them, three enormous fruits supported by brittle vines and growth in bushes, cats and dogs with ears as tall as their bodies, Mom with purple skin instead of brown, Big Sis looking particularly volatile with a theratrically large snarl. Despite this, the children beamed in pride whenever yesterday's drawings would come down off the wall to be replaced with the new.

For some of these kids, this was their own equivalent of having art hung on a refrigerator; to you, it evoked dull, thready jealousy because they were in possession so simple, so biologically normal to them and everyone else around them that to be incapable of the same thing was, surely, a major defect.

Sleep was already a treasure you were seldom allotted the pleasure of greedily surrendering to, but to dream sounded like a terrifying experience to you altogether. It took work; a stringent routine of warm showers (hot and scalding water was forbidden), with an array of chalky, dissolvable tabs and shower gels and shampoos and moisturizers and essential oil dehumidifiers and soy candles and hot tea and special pillow sleep spray you’d seen in an online ad while thumbing through socials.

It took pajamas that were loose, soft but not silky, it took a satin bonnet and a satin eye covering (the kind with pockets for your eyelashes to move), comforters soused in lavender spray meant to magically work out the tightness in your shoulders and calves without the need of paying for a masseuse’s bony elbow. It took purchasing a battery-operated alarm clock to wake yourself for work so you could shut off your phone and leave it plugged into the wall downstairs.

You'd nearly forgotten—you couldn't have sugar after half past six, you had to stagger your water consumption after that time as well because the urge to piss would keep you awake for hours after the fact. The television needed to be off once you finished putting away dishes after dinner.

If you were lucky, this would work and you'd sleep a total of two or three hours uninterrupted—never fully tipping over the edge of wakefulness into deep sleep, but enough to keep yourself going during the day, grocery shop, wrangle the small children, scrape at a bar, get dicked down into your mattress every now and then, and visit Sujay for your usual appointments.

“How do you feel about trying something different?” he always gestured to one of the modern-looking armchairs upholstered in teal polyester before bringing you a tea of some sort. Today was a floral white tea with a spoonful of honey. “Ah, my friend, I worry for you. We've done so many studies, we've tried so many different things. Does none of it help? At all?”

“Not really.” you admitted after a sip, singing your tongue once and placing aside the cup and saucer pair. “I don't know if I can keep doing this until the day I die, Sujay. What do you recommend next?”

Dr. Sujay Patel was your neurologist, an utterly brilliant man, and a close friend from your early university days. Despite the rest of your friend group falling apart, pulled in separate directions by the strings of fate and temptation of money, you'd managed to stay in contact with Sujay throughout grad school. There'd been an intermission, probably a period of two years, where you'd forgotten he even existed.

You were out making a disaster of your life on sleepless, drunken benders because you hoped enough alcohol would either knock you out or kill you. The normal distractions came with it: your entire family dynamic corroding and combusting, an ex getting too big for their britches, and a roommate suspiciously eager to rally behind that ex.

Sujay came back into the picture following a nasty incident of alcohol poisoning that left you bedridden in the hospital for a week. You had decided then, in that uncomfortable bed with their starchy, crunchy white sheets and the bathroom being too far away to simply get up and walk to, that you'd abstain from alcohol forevermore.

He'd seen you in a state of soul-weary disarray not long after you were discharged and had decided to take you on as a patient.

“Now, you have a choice here, just remember that.” Sujay sat adjacent to you in the exact chair you were in. He wasn't daunted by the heat from his tea and took some time with it, whether to savor the subtle notes of it or to consider his words, you weren't sure. “But, a colleague of mine at a… pharmaceutical company has been working to get an experimental sedative into some studies. Testing periods, I guess you could say.”

You're convinced by his dedication to his tea to pick up yours again. “Does it work?”

“As of now, one-hundred percent of those who have participated have reported high-efficacy, or at least have claimed it to be effective in some manner.” His mustache moved as he sipped. You drank as well. “I think you should submit to the study and if you're accepted into one of the control groups—commit to it. We're running out of options otherwise. I don't want you to start mixing up your own cocktail of things. All it takes is the wrong thing once, y'know?”

The chair groaned while you adjusted your weight in it. You sighed. “Would that once be such a bad thing, though? At least I could sleep.”

“I'm a doctor,” Sujay looked over his square-rimmed glasses at you, forehead wrinkles enormous, whites of his eyes showing more than the hazel of his irises. “Behave yourself.”

“Fine.” Mesmerized by the stray tea leaves that had managed to escape the metal ball steeper, you said, “tell me what I need to do.”

Sujay had sent you away that day with a whole host of follow-up appointments and a glowing review to his colleague in hopes of skipping the line as much as possible. Sometimes, it was beneficial to have friends in high places, especially when that means you get a call two days later for preliminary, formal interviews and an offer to participate in said study once clearances came through and your blood work came back as desired.

A month to the day when Sujay first mentioned the possibility of a magical cure all to your relentless insomnia, you were brought into a minimally furnished room—the standard, bland cookie cutter type that hadn't an ounce of personality—dotted from head-to-toe in stickers for neuromonitoring, heart rhythm, and whatever else they fancied, you supposed.

It was only after you had changed into your soft, but not too soft, pajamas and covered in wires that you were handed a tiny purple pill. The color of it was obviously a dissolvable casing and food coloring, but what amazed you was the fact a drug this small was meant to induce the best sleep of your life.

“Take the pill, drink at least four ounces of water, and lie supine.” The technologists outside your room, speaking into an intercom, elaborated afterward that they wanted you to stay on your back while you slept. You didn't bother to point out that you weren't stupid—just tired. “We understand that not everyone finds this position comfortable, but to receive adequate results and to measure your vitals at all times, we ask that you try your best.”

You weren't going to hassle them about this and did precisely as they instructed. Shoved the pill down the back of your throat, drank the bottled water, and tried to get comfortable on your back.

You closed your eyes.

A part of you wondered why you had assented to Sujay’s suggestion so easily, especially where everything else had failed. He was one hell of a friend, and had always been that way for you, but as a doctor, you wondered if two years of cheating through medical school, so as to not royally piss off his parents and be disowned for failing, was finally catching up with him somewhat.

You recalled being startled when he told you he hadn’t married yet and didn't intend to as some deep-rooted act of spite against his family and the traditions they had held over his head all his life. Traditions that had been weaponized against him, rather than supplement his life as an extension of his history, of the things he loved, of a chance to explore more of himself.

You had listened wordlessly the entire time he spoke about it, still sipping on his tea, the results from your latest brain scan clamped to a clipboard on his lap—

This wasn't working.

This was so stupid.

You opened your eyes and sat up in the stiff bed, carefully maneuvering your fingers around your orbital bone to force away the puffiness and exhaustion still lingering behind them. It was only as you rubbed your eyes that you noticed your face was empty of cold stickers and a thousand wires. You didn't hear distant blips in the machine measuring your heart rate, nor track the voices of anyone outside your door.

The room was still the same—the outdated, bulky dresser with claw feet, a few gray chairs you could buy on display in a window somewhere, a low oval table, a bedside table for your glass of water and a crisp, neatly folded change of clothes for the next day.

It was only unusual that you were bare of the technologist’s monitoring equipment and sitting amid an unfaltering, deep silence that amplified the sounds of your very existence. Your slow breaths with a quickening heartbeat, blood pumping in your ears, and the coarse rustle of bedsheets as you shifted around the mattress to bring some sense to what was going on.

Would the technologists have come into the room and removed everything from your body without waking you? More miraculously, without you rousing and throwing your hands on them for touching you first?

“Maybe the drug worked?” you had to consider the possibility, even though it still felt as far-fetched as the holistic medicine practitioners online telling you that an herbal cleansing juice could regenerate organs entirely. “Did I actually sleep? I don't remember dreaming, though. Aren't I supposed to dream?”

You looked to the one, single-paned window across the bedroom to spy how far along the morning had progressed, but found yourself sucking in and holding in a breath instead.

There, standing in your view of the outside, was the silhouette of a tall man. Everything about him was indistinguishable aside from the depth of darkness that made him up. Within the confines of the dim room, alight by a single lamp with an amber bulb that seemed to weaken by the second, this man stood apart from the shadows as something deeper, blacker, but corporeal.

He was every bit a part of the dark as much as he wasn't. And you couldn't tell if he was fading you or turned to look out the window at the parking lot two stories below.

“Hi—hello. Are—are you one of the techs?” you had finally let out that breath, now focusing on gauging the guy’s level of sociability, and by extension, his friendliness and the likelihood of him lunging at you. “I, uh, just would've really appreciated it if someone had woken me up before taking off the stickers.”

You were able to see out the window from the gaps around his body, taking note that it was still dark. Very dark. Beyond that, nothing else was discernible from where you sat and what he blocked.

The study wouldn't have finished yet.

Those techs would've taken precaution to wake you up if something had happened.

“Am I asleep?” you asked the wordlese man. “Am I dreaming now? Are you a dream? Is that what it's like?

You never imagined that there could be so much lucidity within a dream, a level of consciousness so similar to a state of wakefulness. When you thought about moving, you could perfectly flex your fingers, curl your toes into the high-pile carpet underfoot, touch the airy fabric covering your body and feel it touching you in turn.

How normal was this really, though? No one had ever told you about dreams like this. Theirs were always fragmented and discombobulated, just like the kids in daycare who drew pictures of pig astronauts and flame extinguishing spatulas. You knew of a rare few in the population capable of controlling their dreams, steering the outcome in the direction they pleased, but even those people were overrode by their own brains.

This was something completely different.

You became especially convinced of this when you thought the stifled air suddenly shifted with a light breeze, a soft whoosh in your ear. A chill erupted over you, making your skin burst with goose flesh, your brain chasing a shiver down your spine as if cold fingers stroked you all the way down the length of it. Those same fingers stayed low, hovering across your lower back before pushing into you, arching you down onto the mattress.

That freedom you thought you had only moments ago was gone, stolen by this invisible hand on your body that was rounding to you and reaching for your chest. Until now, you thought this had simply been a part of the dream—something you had believed to be in control in when the reality was much different—but, as the buttons on your sleep shirt unfastened before your eyes, the thin layers opening you to the cold, inky air, you weren't sure what to think, to do.

Another hand joined the first with long, heavy fingers to knead at your body and take your pants off of your hips until you were fully exposed to the darkness and the thing still dwelling within the room. It hadn't moved an inch since you'd noticed it a while ago; it never became any clearer, any more defined in the clothes or wore, and trying to look upon its face only filled you with puzzlement and dread.

The large hands were so cold despite all their movement on your hot skin, all of the work they did to start riling you up and making you moan. One of them groped your chest, felt your throat, squeezed your jaw as though to force your gaze at one point in particular (the ceiling), pushed apart your lips to dip into your mouth and wet its fingers on your tongue.

You did so as it was the only thing you could do freely right now.

Those fingers, covered in your spit, caressed you between your legs, stroking you in motions neither gentle or harsh. The muscles in your thighs flinched, stomach tightening, your throat vibrating to produce a moan smothered by the second hand circling your throat, gripping firmly enough where you could breathe, but just barely.

The thing couldn’t stop your thoughts, as much as it seemed to try, so it took to interrupting them—distracting you but squeezing your neck, yanking your head back into the pillow by your hair, adjusting itself to thrust multiple fingers into your body, burying them to the knuckle.

You tried to win this war of willpower by thinking about Sujay and his mustache and his stupid glasses. They were green, sometimes blue; seldom did he like the tortoiseshell look.

The thing lunged at your neck again, this time taking you underside the jaw and forced your head back into the pillow while it fucked you deeper on three fingers.

You wanted to make a sound; a moan, a scream, a torturous whimper or pleasure for the way your body was rocked on the bed, creaking with the weight of a pair combined and not just how it appeared. Your nostrils flared, heart rate at an uneasy high, breaths stuck in the column of your throat behind the hand holding it.

The pressure continued to stack higher and higher, building to such a point where you knew you were about to lose it, unravel, praying that this thing would grant you the kindness of fucking you out of your orgasm.

Your abdomen was wound tight, your groin ached terribly, and your thighs started to shake. Behind your eyes, the kaleidoscopic wheels of color intermingled with the darkness and it all slowly burned to white.

And then—

“Good morning!” you were being shaken awake by one of the technologists, a middle-aged woman with blue eyeliner. she didn't expect for you to jolt upright, stick straight, and launch the covers off of your body. “Oh—hey, honey, you alright? We’re done until tonight. How do you feel?”

You were slow to respond to her, occupied by the morning light filtering in through the window across the bedroom. She gave you some time to gather your bearings and took her time removing the stickers and wires from your skin, suggesting you spend some time really scrubbing in the shower later to get off all the adhesive.

“How about now, honey?” she pulled the last sticker and wire combination off of your shoulder. “You with us?”

You didn't know how to answer that, especially not with how damp you felt inside your thighs.

a/n; thank you for reading and choosing to help me shape the story further!! this is all inspired by the fact that I have frequent bouts of sleep paralysis myself and on three consecutive occasions, after taking some questionable drops from an ex-friend, I saw something. I want to make this very clear that this story is intended to be pretty extreme psychological horror. anyway, here are the questions

sujay will be a major supporting character in the story, so what would you be interested in seeing more: 1) sujay and mc further blurring that boundary and possibly becoming a pair, but their "relationship" becomes thwarted by SPD 2) sujay, possibly, ends up with more yandere tendencies as the story progresses and with the development of the plot, could result in a terrible ending for him—but interesting 3) sujay and mc are inherently a toxic duo, but he tries his best to support mc (platonically or one-sided romantically) as they spiral out of control?

in terms of SPD's appearance, what idea do you like better: 1) him, eventually, having a definitive, solid form and features across the span of the story 2) he remains like a "black silhouette" with the invisible hands, but he has the sort of voice that's lulls and lures and manipulates 3) he takes on features that mc (you) find attractive, but they're all wrong and progressively becomes more monstrous 4) he has a physical appearance that's "all wrong", but you can never figure why or what he actually looks like despite SEEING him. if you want to choose multiple, you need to get VERY specific.

I intend for this story to be incredibly dark in terms of sexual content bc SPD is a demon/monster. he is not good. he is not loving. when you think of "dark" for smut, what would you want to see??

[glitterp0prhaps0dy]

Heartbreak part 2

WARNING: I DID NOT PROOF READ THIS, IF THERES ANY SPELLING MISTAKES OR GRAMMER MISTAKES JUST IGNORE IT I WROTE HALF OF IT DURING SCHOOL.

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John Dory burst from Branch's bunker, a whirl of emotions etched on the faces of those left inside. Floyd's expression was tinged with worry, Bruce wore a mask of confusion, and Clay seemed nothing short of irritated. Branch broke the tense silence with a blunt, "What the actual fuck just happened?

Seated on a beanbag, Floyd shifted, glancing at his brothers. "He looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack, not at all himself," he said, his concern palpable as he exchanged a meaningful look with Bruce. "I'm going to check on him. We can't let him wander off when he's this upset," Floyd declared.

Floyd grasped his wooden cane and painstakingly rose from the beanbag. He made his way to the bunker's elevator, pulled the lever, and ascended, leaving the bunker.

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John Dory burst through Rhonda's door, slamming it shut as he collapsed to the floor, his breaths coming in heavy gasps and sweat beading his forehead.

Gathering his strength, he pulled himself up using the countertop for support and staggered toward the loft. Once there, he climbed into his bed and reached under his pillow for something concealed there—a blue plushie. This wasn't just any toy; it was a Flopper Hopper, distinguished by its large green button eyes and long, fuzzy ears, though one ear was notably damaged, missing its latter half.

Clutching the plushie tightly, John curled into a fetal position and began to cry, his tears soaking into the soft fabric of the doll.

John's eyes wandered upwards, resting on the tapestry of memories plastered across his ceiling. Among the snapshots capturing his wild escapades on the Neverglade trail, one photo held his gaze longer than the others. It wasn't just any picture—it was a heartfelt reminder of a different kind of adventure.

Centered amidst the chaos of his thrilling journey memories, this particular photo was more personal, more intimate. It featured a woman with hair that flowed like a cascade of deep, reddish-pink sunset, her skin aglow with a yellow sparkle that seemed to light up the room. Cradled in her arms was a baby, a tiny mirror of her luminosity but with hair the color of the deepest sea green, tinged with teal.

This picture, unlike the others, spoke of a journey not across wild landscapes but through the

realms of love and connection. The striking visual contrast between the woman and the baby, with their shared glittery skin and uniquely colored hair, painted a vivid image of familial bonds and the beauty of heritage. It was a precious, frozen moment that John cherished, a beacon of warmth and love amidst his adventurous exploits.

This photo was John's sole keepsake of them together, the singular testament to their intertwined lives. Clutching the child's doll, he felt the weight of memories it carried. Beneath his glove, hidden from the world, lay his ring—a silent vow, a whisper of a life once promised. These items were more than mere objects; they were the guardians of his regrets, the symbols of the heartbreaking truth that he would never see them again.

As tears streamed down his face, soaking into the fabric of the doll, John's whispered apologies filled the quiet of the room. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I couldn't protect you, I failed you both," he repeated, his voice a broken melody of sorrow and guilt. Each word was a testament to his pain, a sorrowful lullaby that spoke of loss, love, and the unbearable weight of his remorse.

The persistent knocking at the door seemed to dissolve into the void of John Dory's grief, his ears deaf to anything beyond the echoes of his own sorrow. When Floyd received no response, driven by concern and impatience, he decided to take matters into his own hands. With a determined push, the door swung open, and he entered the armadillo bus, his presence unannounced

Navigating the stairs proved a challenge, his cane a necessary but cumbersome companion that made the ascent more difficult than usual. However, Floyd's resolve was unwavering. As he entered, he paused, scanning the space with a keen eye. It didn't take long for the muffled sounds of John's despair to guide him towards the loft.

Spotting John, Floyd hastened his pace, an urgency fueled by concern propelling him forward. The ladder to the loft posed another hurdle, but Floyd navigated it with a clumsy determination, mindful of the limited space. John's form occupied most of the loft, leaving Floyd to awkwardly balance on the ladder, his presence now impossible to ignore.

Floyd's heart ached as he witnessed the depth of John's sorrow. With every fiber of his being urging him to offer some solace, he carefully navigated the tight space of the loft, settling near John yet ensuring he respected his need for personal space. In the dim light, Floyd's presence was a silent beacon of empathy and understanding.

"John," Floyd's voice was a soft murmur, a gentle breeze in the stifling air of grief. "I'm here for you." His words floated in the space between them, an offer of support, laden with unspoken promises of companionship through the storm of sorrow.

The loft was cramped, but at that moment, it felt like the entire world had narrowed down to this intimate setting of raw emotions. Floyd, sensitive to John's need for space yet eager to offer comfort, extended a tentative hand but paused, letting it hover in the air for a moment. He wanted to bridge the gap between them, to offer a touch that said everything words could not, but he also understood the sanctity of personal grief. He waited, allowing John to dictate the terms of their interaction.

As the silence stretched on, Floyd remained a steadfast presence, his heart silently breaking for his brother. "If you need anything—a glass of water, or someone to just sit with you—I'm here," he offered softly, his words laced with the warmth of genuine concern.

And so, Floyd waited, a quiet guardian in the night, ready to provide comfort or companionship, to listen or to share the silence. In the loft that night, amidst tears and whispered apologies, the foundation of their friendship deepened, grounded in the understanding that sometimes, just being present is the most profound support one can offer.

John continued to sob into the plushie, his emotions spilling over. Slowly, he rolled over to face Floyd, revealing eyes swollen and red from crying, with tear tracks marking his cheeks. As their gazes met, a fresh wave of tears surged, amplifying John's cries in a heart-wrenching crescendo of grief.

Floyd, moved by the sight of his brother's pain, reached out to pat John on the back, his expression etched with concern. "I couldn't save them. I couldn't protect them. I'm so sorry... I'm so, so sorry," John's voice broke with each word, a confession of his deepest regret.

Floyd, initially puzzled by John's words, followed his gaze to the collage of photos adorning the ceiling above the loft. His eyes settled on the photograph of the woman and the baby, a realization dawning on him. With a heavy heart, he whispered, "Oh... John, I'm so sorry," now understanding the depth of John's loss and the source of his profound sorrow.

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i hope you guys like it :D i have alot of ideas for this au! feel free to give feedback or ask questions

[starferret]

Never got the motivation to properly draw the next part so y’all get the sketches + infodump!!!

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

And then there’d be a cool fight between them, and then Mario would be like “we can’t beat him on our own” and then they’d fuse and then an even cooler fight scene. And then Fluorite would be like “well 3 against 2 is hardly fair” and then BAM he pulls out the Chaos Heart and fuses with it. Whaaaaaat the Chaos Heart was actually a gem?! No way!

Wow bro learned to stand- uh I guess they’d be called Super Fluorite or something. And in the midst of the battle, they’d drop this big lore bomb

Woaahhh that’s crazy!! This is Magenta Spinel, aka Shadoo/The Pixl Queen. I’m going off the theory that Dimentio is the Magician’s son, and that the Pixl Queen becomes Shadoo (I don’t remember if that’s confirmed or not)

Oh no she’s emo!! Also here’s the sages’ designs

I didn’t draw them with eyes since in the comic it was going to be in same style as the episode “Your Mother and Mine”. Plus I didn’t know whether to give them a single Sapphire eye, or two eyes- mainly because whenever I tried to draw the single eye it looked weird. Merloo = Green Sapphire, Merlight = Teal Sapphire, Merlumina = Star Sapphire, and Merlimbus = Magenta Sapphire

Now for fun extras!!

Here’s some experimenting for the Mario + Bowser + Peach fusion (I was thinking maybe Sunstone), as well as a Mimi + Mr L fusion cuz I love those lil green guys

Some screenshot redraws, cuz it’s oddly relaxing to just draw over screenshots and not having to worry about anatomy and fitting the art style. Just a lil something for fun :]

Ooooo some little guys. When I was working on the plot stuff I was playing through M&L Dream Team, so I wanted to include them somehow, and the Dreamy Luigi’s fit perfectly with the fact that gems of the same type look very similar. Also Dreambert is a Peach Moonstone.

The Malachite and Super Dimentio comparisons don’t stop here, cuz y’know that scene where Steven is in her mind and sees Lapis and Jasper? Yeah there’s a scene of that with Fluorite. And our lil pillow boys are apart of that process

Oh yeah and here’s an attempt at a height chart

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Due to the cold weather, Reader snuggled up with Jason (bonus: if His mask was so cold that reader had to move away in the end.)

Buy something that is the same color as his beautiful blue eyes. I think he himself would be happy about this. In the end, he might secretly get something in return and leave a gift above the head of the bed.

Might be a little hot But I'd love to see Jason fidget as Reader sucks on his food-coated fingers. Because reader were tripped over her own feet and spilled food on Jason. (you like that don't you? something bad happend to reader's toes or feet)

reader wears a dog collar- (*cuagh* NO)

When reader said trick or treat, Jason placed his pistol in her basket. (He doesn't have any snacks.)

Gotham’s cold weather is just as bad as rainy seasons.

How Jason managed to stay warm in just a leather jacket over a padded suit was beyond your belief. Sometimes, even your blankets weren’t enough warmth once your walking furnace slipped out from under the covers.

After some puppy eyed begging, you hear a loud, exaggerated grunt erupt through his modulator before crawling back into bed, now a few pounds heavier with all his gear. Helmet included.

Said helmet was left on the desk, unconventionally close to your sealed, frosted window.

Piercingly cold, red metal pressed along your lower cheek when he attempted to return towards his cuddly position prior. Every bump on your skin rose as you hissed, tilting your head off towards the side.

“Cold, Jason,” your sleepy voice whined out in irritation.

“Mm, how’d you suddenly get so warm?” His teasing tone reveals his audible smile, clutching you closer like a doll to your irritating dismay. Pressing his helmet closer into the crook of your neck, you could only writhe uncontrollably until it warmed.

“Jasooon!” You squeal, his other arm slipping under your body, keeping you trapped in his temporary prison.

“You wanted this, Princess! I’m just doin’ what you asked for!”

- -

You’d be a fool if you said Jason didn’t enjoy books. You’d also be a fool if you didn’t think red wasn’t his favorite color.

He’d say it is, but you knew it was blue. Sometimes green.

Understandably, you knew if you had borrowed one of his favorite, well worn copies of Shakespeare, he’d definitely notice within the same day after you hid them in your closet.

So, for his birthday, you get him brand new books with an added twist.

After receiving his gifts from the rest of the family, putting on smiles and words of thanks, he opens his new copies of Hamlet, Pride and Prejudice, and Kings of war.

Freshly printed words on silver lined paper, on intricately designed, teal hardback covers. Each one personalized with his name in slick, silver lettering on the bottom.

His silence had never been met with a smile so big at the sight of them, the art of speech lost on the vigilante for a good few minutes as he traced the designs, brushing his thumb over his engraved name.

He’d keep an eye out for weeks for a thank you gift. Who gives presents as a thanks after getting a birthday gift?

Try arguing with him when you see an expensive jewelry store box sitting on top of your pillow two days later.

- -

Strawberry jelly on toast. It was as simple at that for you on some lazy Sunday mornings. That, and you needed to do shopping.

Last you recall was turning your body around, blunt spreading knife in hand to toss into the sink, only to be met with a wall of muscles that constructed your boyfriend.

You gasp, not only from the startle, but from pure panic when Jason’s hand clasps yours, preventing the dangerously dull butter knife from doing any damage.

“Open those eyes, sweetheart,” Jason jokes after shortly letting you go, putting the knife in the sink for you.

“Sorry,” you immediately say, feeling a bit bad regardless. It was a butter knife, something so flimsy and useless, besides smearing condiments.

“S’alright.” Jason’s head glanced off towards the various counters in the kitchen, his slightly raised hand displaying the smear of strawberry jam on his thumb.

He was moments away from shrugging off his search and simply licking it off, until he feels your hands grasp his wrist and palm, gaining his attention.

Without a single word said, your tongue brushes along the edge of his calloused thumb, collecting the sticky, overly sweet jam juice off his skin.

Jason nearly froze on the spot, his mind spiraling to imagine a response to say as the pink, little tip of your tongue peeled through your lips, repeating the action once more until you were satisfied.

“Were we.. outta napkins, babe?” He questions, shortly swallowing after forgetting all about his morning coffee.

“Ran out last night,” you reply, proceeding to lick a thin dot of jam on your own pointer finger, all while maintaining eye contact.

“I see.”

- -

Everyone agrees that Jason’s hand alone is more than substantial than any collar.

He proved his point shortly after forgetting about your strawberry toast.

- -

(Sorta dark humor joke)

“Did you just-“ you glance down at the gun inside the empty candy bowl.

It was a joke. You had an empty bowl, walked up to him with a teasing chime in your voice when you asked, and this is how Jason responds.

The weight of the weapon alone told you it obviously wasn’t fake.

Your deadpanned expression flicking in between the gun and him. He had an apple in his other hand, why pick the gun?

“How do I—… do I just shove it in my mouth—?”

“Huh? What—no!”

[theboxfort]

List of details I've noticed in TPOT 1

Because I miss Pie, Liy, and Stapy. Gonna start AFTER the Cake at Stake

A lot of the focus will be put on Death PACT Again because. That's my favorite team.

Also ran out of space, so all the Exitor stuff after the credits is in the reblog!

Details in the elevator scene (seen above):

The most obvious one is where Two opens the door and it hits Puffball's face

Pie gets pushed into the elevator by the crowd (she's just sitting there)

Alternatively, she might actually be sliding backwards by herself instead of being pushed by the crowd

Coiny is most likely the first object to get into the elevator, as seen here

Fanny started out quite far away from the elevator but then scampered into the elevator. Also her legs barely moved

Pen was just out of the shot and had to haul ass into the elevator

Lightning waited for everyone (aside from Two) to get into the elevator before getting in there himself

Alternatively, an observation by @sweeswawswussy on twitter (a REALLY good one)!

lightning kinda look like hes contemplating to either float down the building with black hole or getting into the lift the face he made when he looks at black hole tho hhh looks like he felt sorry for him

BH didn't get in, because he didn't want to accidentally suck anyone up (which will 100% happen in such a small space), so he went down on his own

The rest of these are set AFTER the team picking scene (under the cut, because it's LONG)

When Two announced the challenge, everyone's standing in teams :]

The painting in the lobby, next to the elevator

During the elevator gets stuck scene with Just Not, while everybody reacted to the alarm, Pillow didn't. When the elevator falls, she's the only one smiling

Remote added a face to her drawing after she finished explaining <:]

PIE HOPPED DOWN FROM THE STAIRS LOOK AT HER GOOOOOOOOOOOO

Are You Okay's scene, yeah, let's go

This is shown in order! TB does not scream at all. GB seems excited at first, but after she got flung back, she's now. Not screaming in excitement. Eraser has the classic BFDI mouth in the first two flings.

COMPUTER ENHANCE THE PILE

80% sure that this is Cloudy's pile, I think that's a painting/drawing of Cloudy? The shape seems to fit him. There's also Balloony and Woody in the background, and maaaaybe Roboty to the bottom right, I'm not too sure.

BACK TO DEATH PACT!!!

In this scene, Fanny's the only member who doesn't seem to be tired! She's not panting, she's up straight (can't really tell if she's sitting or standing), and she's >:C

Remote gets recharged later, that's why she's also up in the second pic

When Just Not made it to the top, Book has the scrunkly old BFDI arm asset (the arm that's waving)

FANNY, SHE'S SMILING EHEHEHEHEH IT'S NOT A DETAIL, I JUST LIKE HER!!! Also Pie opens up her eyes :]

Sorry for the Death PACT Again stuff, I really like them. Here's a shot of them getting thrown by Remote

Remote grabs Trees and tells him to get Black Hole

TINY DEATH PACTERS...

Okay, so I counted all the hits Two got in this scene, and here's a list of what happened:

2 punches from Snowball

1 kick from Eggy

Another smack (1) from Snowball

1 jump/stomp from Marker

2 face slams from Robot Flower

1 slam from Bell

2 zaps from Lightning

1 BODY SLAM from Basketball

1 tray slap from Pillow

1 vomit to the face from Rocky (with Tree holding him)

1 jump kick from Foldy

1 knee strike from Basketball (GO BASKETBALL GO)

At least 10 stomps from Grassy (since we don't know if he kept stomping after the cut)

So in total, Two received 25 hits from these guys. The team that did the most damage is...

The Strongest Team on Earth with 20 hits! 10 from Grassy (the MVP), 3 from Snowball, 2 from Robot Flower, 2 from Basketball, 1 from Bell, 1 from Eggy, and 1 from Foldy!

A tangent here, from this screenshot, we can see that there's 6 floors in the hotel! Each floor is color coded too, red = lobby, orange = 2nd floor, yellow = 3rd floor, green = 4th floor, teal/cyan/blue = 5th floor, and the roof. Is a roof.

Fun fact, Basketball's lab from TPOT 2 is on the 4th floor!

Exitor stuff in the reblogs!!

[selfindulgentpixies]

Answered prayers

Zhongli x GN!reader So i've been playing a lot of genshin impact recently and this idea kinda smacked me over the head. Not sure if I'll write more for Zhongli and Genshin impact but here's a thing at least. CW: GN!reader only they/them pronouns used for them, reader has a dendro vision, near death experience WC: 965

___

Warm blood seeps against your palm, passes between your fingers as your feet struggle to find purchase in the loose rain soaked soil. Each of your steps leave behind a small bloom, the power of your vision seeming to spill from you just like the blood you’re so desperately trying to keep within yourself.  You supposed this was your luck to die alone after letting your guard down and getting ambushed by treasure hunters. The mountainous region of liyue was too unforgiving. You’d never make it to a village in time. Not in the rain slicked rocky terrain, especially not in the dark.

The earth gives way beneath your next step send you tumbling down a slope, smacking against a rock with a choked gasp and cry of pain, the first to rip itself from you, the blade that pierced you earlier having failed to do the same with the adrenaline pumping through your veins at the time. It’s only once the ringing in your ears fades and that you pry your eyes open that you realize you’re no longer in complete darkness, no now you’re cast in a soft blue light. Looking up it’s then you realize what had stopped your fall was the base of one of the geo archons statues. Timeless and unmoveable much like the mountains around you. You let out a humorless laugh, you force yourself to sit up, smearing a bloody palm across the stone base, your blood seeping into the earth below you. “Maybe I won’t die alone then huh? Will you keep me company as I slip away, Rex Lapis?” You lay your cheek against the cool stone, not caring that you’re likely speaking to no one but yourself. No one was around to hear. Your heavy eyes fall closed. Consciousness almost entirely out of your grasp you can hardly register someone stepping through the flowers blooming around you wherever your blood touches cracks in the stone, a morbid thing of beauty. You think it must be a hallucination of some kind or perhaps a dream as you pass into death when warm fingers brush over your cheek. Your lashes flutter open slightly, golden eyes the last thing you see before you lose the fight to keep your own open. What a pretty sight to see before you go.

___

You wake with a choked gasp, going to sit upright only to curl in on yourself. You’re warm, wrapped in blankets while hands gently press at your shoulders to get you to slowly lay back. So many sensations when all you expected waited for you was nothingness in the void of death. It takes you a moment to take in where you are. A room lit with soft orange light, all dark woods and teal and green accents. And then your eyes trail up and meet those same eyes from before. 

“Careful now, the healer may have closed your wounds but they’re still fresh enough that you could reopen them.” The voice is a smooth rumble across your senses, the sort of voice that makes you want to rest your head on his chest and listen to him speak.  The thought is inappropriate given the circumstances but it comes to you regardless.

You go to speak but your voice cracks out of your dry throat. 

“Ah wait a moment.” He turns from you and seconds later he’s back with a glass of cool water to press against your lips while tipping your head up with his free hand. “Drink.” 

The cool water is the best thing you’ve ever tasted and you’d guzzle it if the man holding the glass would let you. Once the glass is mostly empty he pulls it away and lays your head back down on the pillow. “Don’t want you to make yourself sick.” 

You stare at him for a moment before clearing your throat and speaking. “Thank you.. If I may ask.. Who are you and where am I?” 

His lips twitch into a soft smile. “You may call me Zhongli. As to where you are, you’re in a room at Bubu pharmacy where your care is being seen to.” 

It’s a lot to wrap your mind around, you’d been so sure you were going to die alone in the cold downpour. Your lower lip quivers and the man’s expression shifts, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. “Did you save me?” You don’t actually need to ask, you feel it in your bones, see it in those eyes that he’s the one

“I did,” and his voice is almost achingly gentle, like he’s just realized he’s holding something fragile. As if you’re glass or a baby bird with a broken wing. 

“How’d you find me..?” You can’t help the wetness gathering in your eyes, emotions crash into you and do your best to keep a hold on them but barely escaping a lonely death? It does something to you. 

“Call it intuition, I was out and felt as if I should make a detour.” 

You nod, not having the energy to question why he was out in a storm like that. “Well… thank you. Truly thank you, Zhongli.” You push yourself up somewhat and his hands hover, ready to assist as you bow your head slightly to him only for him to gently tip your head back up with his fingers on your chin. 

“You are most welcome but truly there is no need for that.” He releases you. “Rest now. I’ll go get the doctor to see to you now that you’re awake.” 

You nod and lay back, watching him as he goes out the door. You’d been so far in the mountains how’d he find you and get you to bubu pharmacy in Liyue harbor before you could bleed out?

___

Like i said above I'm not sure if i'll write more for Genshin impact or not but I wanted to get this idea down. Kinda surprised my first dip into the fandom was with Zhongli and not Kaeya or Diluc.

Ahhh not sure who to tag for this: @fushigurro @zorosdimples @strawberrystepmom I think all three of you are moots who play genshin impact

[greenleafgoddess]

Adorable ruffle pillows! Comes in soooo many colours but these are my favs! Which is your fav?

On sale on Amazon now, links below :))

[cozzzynook]

I bring some wholesome Megarod

Leaning back against the plush mound of pillows and blankets Rodimus quickly found himself melting in the sweet scent of his bond-mate-to-be. He happily flapped his spoiler when he heard the sound of the Hab's door opening only to be followed by the sound of heavy pede steps. Rodimus barely had time to sit up and greet his partner when he entered the berth room, the flurry almost made the red mech fall off the plush padding completly.

"Rodimus? Are you alright?" Megatron spoke as he raised a brow as he slowly walked over to join his partner's side.

"Oh! Yep, cool every thing is cool Megs!" Rodimus bashfully smiled as he was finally able to finally sit still despite the fuzzy feeling of warmth blooming in his tanks and spark. "I-I'm just nervous...I-I think?"

Megatron gave a soft chuckle as he sat down on the berth next to Rodimus. The grey mech leaned over placing a gentle kiss on top of the red mech's helm. "I understand, I'm...also rather nervous. This is a big step for the both of us. But are you sure you want to spark bond? I don't want to hurt you..."

Flicking his spoiler Rodimus leaned into Megatron's side wrapping one arm around the larger mech's frame. "I'm sure, First Aid gave the all clear" He then looked upwards giving a sheepish smile before placing a soft kiss on his partner's cheek. "You won't hurt me, promise"

"Mmm good" Megatron placed another soft on top of Rodimus's helm before wrapping on servo around his waist. He then gave a little smirk as he shuffled their frames a little further on the berth until he was hovering above the red mech. "Comfortable?"

"Very much so" Rodimus beamed as he bit his lip watching as one dark servo carefully ran down his plating. He then gave a little gasp when he felt one digit run along the transformation seems along his spoiler. "Megs, you're going to get me charged at this rate" His optics narrowed as he gave a little pout.

"Sorry not guilty" The large mech purred as he gently ran soft kisses along the smaller mech's neck until he was kissing the gold chest where his partner's spark quietly hummed and waited. Megatron then placed one last kiss before gazing up at those blue optics. "Ready my flame?"

"Mhm ready" Rodimus flicked his spoiler again as he leaned as far back as he could on the berth. He then took in a deep vent calming the last of his nerves as he finally allowed his chest plates to open. The bright blue light of a spark shone through the dim shadows of the berth-room. Megatron gave a soft smile as he carefully placed a soft kiss just outside the rim drawing a soft shiver from the red mech.

The sound of shifting metal drew Rodimus attention making him gaze in awe at the shifting of Megatron's chest plates. There a bright green light joined the blue making the surrounding light meld into a soft teal. Gently giving a slight nod Rodimus gave a soft smile as Megatron gently placed on top of the red mech's helm before shuffling a little lower and lower until their sparks were just inches from each other. With one finale gaze they wrapped their arms each other finally allowing their sparks to crash and meet, they felt their memories, hopes and fears all starting to rush and mingle with each other. They spent hours or was it only a few klicks? They didn't know all they knew was each other and what the other felt in that moment.

Finally after awhile Megatron pulled away only to flop onto his back in order to avoid crushing Rodimus. He quickly shut his chest plates before wrapping one arm lazily around the red mech's waist before giving a droopy love drunk smile. Rodimus returned the smile with his own before he weaselled his way closer giving a soft purr as he nuzzled his helm into the larger mech's side. Megatron would gently pet the gold fins of Rodimus's spoiler before returning with his own nuzzle. "My sweet flame, I love you"

"Love you too Megs" Rodimus softly smiled as he rubbed one sleepy servo before snuggling closer as he slowly drifted off into recharge. Megatron pulled the red mech closer placing one finale kiss on his partner's cheek before drifting off into his own recharge for the night.

{Hope you enjoyed}

This is so beautiful and i like the surprise of Megatron having a green spark. I love it!