#i loved writing this SO much

[naffeclipse]

Paper Burn

Animator!Reader x Ink Form!Sun and Moon

Commission Info

I'm not normal about @pure-plum requesting a little hurt/comfort moment from my BATDR DCA AU called The Jester and the Tagalong! I also have to thank Plum immensely for teaching me about animating and what a character like the reader in this instance would do with their work! It was a great help and made the fic so much better for it! Enjoy an inky world that you and the jester are determined to endure <3

Content Warning for self-neglect, pain, and angst.

———

Your inky hands twitch after you jot a number down in the corner of the animation page. A cramp shoots a spasm of pain through your drawing hand and you’re forced to lay down your pencil, then catch it again before it can roll off the uneven table—the muscles at the base of your thumb ache. Sucking a breath between your teeth, you slide the pencil into the front pocket of your jumper.

It’s not enough. The sprawling stack of thin paper lies empty and the few pages you dare to spare for a rushed storyboard are almost crumpled in your offhand. You force your fingers to unfurl and slowly, methodically, fold the storyboards into your front jumper pocket. At least you can take a moment to flip what you do have. Inwardly, you cringe at the inconsistencies you’re sure to find among the pages, spurred on by attacks and sudden escapes to another workstation.

This is the roughest you’ve ever done storyboards and animating with pencils. You have no x-sheet, no light disk, and no peg bar. Inking will be an entirely different hill to climb, but you’ve done it before. Ink the lines and paint the colors, and then you’ll need to find cels. This is stepping farther and farther out of your realm of skills, but the robotic jester promises you that you both will find a way.

Desperation and urgency drip into you until panic overflows into your veins. Just the same, weariness fills your bones after animating for the better half of a day—if such a place as this possesses hours and minutes. The sepia and shadowy colors of Fazbear Studios stain every wall and crevice. You’ve memorized the routes through the sprawling building, each department a massive expansion to work and craft a proper cartoon.

There’s another part of this world you and the robotic jester avoid as much as possible. The Mega Pizzaplex. A living realm for the inky form of cartoon characters to stalk through, beings which you vaguely recall, mostly in keynote frames and final animation sequences.

No place is safe. Only safer. 

A heavy pounding steadily expands behind your eyes as taut muscles in your neck protest the improper angle at which you work. Moon had found an animator’s desk for you to work at, but the inky monsters that sprawl over every inch of this world with gaping, multiple mouths sliding around their glutinous forms, and violet, piercing eyes with vague shadows of bunny ears destroyed it.

This table shoved into a far, forgotten corner of the studio with cobwebs and spilled ink is as precious as each animation paper you’ve collected in runs for supplies. You need it. You need it as much as you and him need your happy ending.

Exhaustion creeps up your back. You close your eyes, rubbing along your temple once to coax away the pain. You cannot stop. There is no luxury for a break. You aren’t certain when more dark, tacky creatures will spill into your hiding hole and sweep away all your hard work in one breath. Worse yet, you must be vigilant for Vanny and Inktrap. 

The former is a dark disciple of the rabbit demon, and she works tirelessly to hunt you and the robotic jester down with the intent to offer sacrifices to Inktrap. The dreaded being also prowls the halls in search of you and your companion. 

Nothing terrifies you more than hiding, caught tight in Sun’s arms as he presses you deeper against the shadows of a wall, shielding your body with his as you both hold your breath. The trembling presence of Inktrap stalking near. You fear if he can’t hear your breath, he will sense the drum-like beat of your heart. 

But he has yet to catch you and the jester. Both of you will get out of here. The cycle will end.

There will be a happy ending for you both.

Don’t stop, you tell yourself. Keep going. Staring down at the current page, there are three figures scribbled in pencil. Two men and what you think—hope is you. The two men are vague recollections from your dreams, possibly memories. One wears a flat cap hat and the other has wild, unruly hair. You press your tongue to the inside of your teeth, overwhelmed by the many more frames you must capture of their figures. It has to be right. You straddle the line between quality and speed, and you just might fail both.

You want to remember more. Vague visions touch you as if you walked through strings of spider webs, invisible, but there, ghosting over your skin. You can feel it, but you can’t find it.

Tears threatening to push past your eyelashes. No. You swallow down the tightening in your throat and slide your pencil out of your pocket.

The first few lines are smooth, practiced, and settled into your muscle memory, but then the cramp returns with a vengeance. You bite your bottom lip and keep drawing. Another line. Pain spasming through muscle, turning to wobbling waves. Your hand closes in the ache. The pencil almost falls from your fingers.

A creak of hinges announces the door opening to your hideyhole. Your head snaps to the entrance. A tall shadow falls inside. Your hands immediately fly to the stack of animating paper, prepared to stuff them into your jumper and then free the gent pipe from where it hooks onto your waist, but the shadow becomes a sharp-tooth grin. Half dripping in black and stained in sepia, Sun strides into the room. He swiftly swings the door shut without taking his glowing yellow eyes off of you.

“There you are, calico," he says as if he didn’t leave you with strict instructions to remain here until he returns. The sound of his voice calms your nerves. His cords are familiar and strong. He possesses such life and heart to his tenor, and you’ve found he can only manage a stage whisper when he desires to be quiet while speaking. You like that. You like a lot about him.

Sun. One half of the robotic jester who stays by your side, surviving with you.

“Hi, Sunny.” You slowly sink back onto the stool which is a touch too high to sit properly with the table you’re bent over. Setting the stack of animating paper back down, you regard him with a smile that takes far too much energy to summon than you like. “Did you find anything?”

He strides inside, moving one crook of his arm and shifting whatever was stuck underneath his armpit into his two clawed hands. The ink of his mouth is dark and lined with sharp incisors curved into a constant grin. Half of his face drips dark ink. His long, lithe body reaches you in moments.

“Yes, and you won’t believe what I have for you,” he grins, bolstered, even in the depths of this sepia-colored purgatory. “I present dinner!”

Your mouth gapes open at the box, realizing the markings upon it are designated for such an entree. When he lifts the lid, you never thought the constant yellow-ting and black colors would ever look appetizing on food, but the full diameter of the pizza, uncrushed and toppings spared of smearing, triggers salivation to flood your mouth.

“Oh my goodness.” You want to touch it, to hold a slice in your hand, but a cramp returns, and your fingers cringe. Sun’s eyes dart sharply to the motion. Quickly, you lower your hand, “Can you feed me while I work? I don’t want to get grease on the papers.”

Sun’s eyes shift, narrowing before he closes the pizza box and carefully sets it on the table, away from your supplies.

“I have a better idea,” he says cheerfully. He takes your wrist and slips his other arm around you, sliding you gently off of the stool and onto your feet.

“Sun, I can eat and work,” you protest. Vague recollections float in the back of your mind through a fog of memories of late hours and coffee cups. Crunch time. “What are you doing?”

“Come here, sweetheart.” He eases you further away from the table. The room is long and narrow, but there’s enough light from overhead to cast your shadow alongside Sun’s. “You’ve been working really hard and we admire your dedication to the perfect sequence, but you need a break.”

“No, there’s no time.” You try to tug on your wrist but he doesn’t budge. 

You watch as Sun takes you by the hand. Gently, he spreads open your fingers as you try to hide the slight ache in the movement. He sets his yellow digit into your palm and begins massaging the pinched muscle. Your eyelids flutter underneath the sweet, almost painful relief from the cramp.

“We will make time,” he declares robustly. His gaze falls over you, softly glowing. “You’re going to save us. The least I’m going to do is take care of you before you run yourself into the ground.”

His fingers begin working over the rest of your drawing hand. His metallic fingertips knead gently into your inky skin, caressing softly over your joints and along the bones of your wrist. The ache calms under the gentle workings of the jester.

Though you long to stay very still and soak it in, you can’t.

“Sunny,” you protest softly. “Please. Let me do this.”

“After some rest,” he says gently but firmly. He boops your nose and then twirls his finger. “Turn around for me, calico. There, that’s it.”

He guides you by the shoulders, softly turning you in place. You do so reluctantly, and with your back to the jester, your eyes fall upon the pages and pages of animation you must fulfill. You must make it perfect. You must make it soon. Your breath picks up in the slightest, anxious, before Sun’s large hands fall upon your shoulders. 

The tension in your neck compounds until the pads of his thumbs, careful with his claws, begin digging into the taut cords of muscle bunching along the top of your spine. A soft groan leaves your lips against your will. 

“Sounds like I found a tender spot,” Sun chuckles softly, but there’s an edge of concern cutting underneath his tone. “We should have made you stop a few hours ago.”

“I’m fine,” you swear but it comes out tired. You would have lost so much time and there’s no telling when another wave of monsters will slip under the door and attack with yellow fangs and inky claws. Even now, you worry about precious seconds. You can lose all your progress in the blink of an eye. Sun and Moon would have to wait even longer for their happy ending. 

But Sun continues unraveling your soreness with rhythmic presses and releases, up and down your neck and over your shoulders. Gently, he turns you back to face him. Your heart beats heavy within you as he takes your hand.

“Sweetheart, if you burn yourself out, you won’t be able to animate, and you won’t be able to make our happy ending.” He lifts one hand to cup your chin. Lifting your head slightly to study you, his glowing eyes miss nothing. He brushes a thumb along the bottom of your lip. You want to sink deeper into his palm until you no longer hold yourself up, but you have to resist. You have to keep going.

“Now, how about some pizza?” He asks in a way that’s not asking as he guides you to the floor. “Come sit on my lap.”

There’s little arguing when he’s made up his mind. You want to fight but the thought of working up all your energy to take on an uphill battle when you’re hungry and exhausted and even the pounding behind your eyes is begging for relief is too much. It’s as if the entire world is against you.

No, not Sun. Never him and Moon. They are always with you.

“You can feed me while I work,” you give but it comes out weakly as Sun’s long arm slides the box off of the table. Settling you into the comfortable fabric of his striped pants, he balances you on his legs and the pizza in the other hand.

“How about I feed you and let you rest?” His voice calmly darkness into something rumbling and sinister. The yellow glow within his gaze vanishes for a brief moment. 

“Sun,” you say softly, but watch him go.

Your heart used to clench at such a sight. A constant fear of being left here alone in the never-ending cycle has never quite fled from the depths of your core, but you’ve learned to wait as Sun’s face begins to bubble with thick inky blots. His entire face darkens like a new lunar cycle until out of the melting dark ink manifests a crescent moon face. His pants shift from stripes to stars, and his claws slip lower, wrapping around your hip to hook you in place. A nightcap sits on his head. The end of it drips with ink.

“Hi, Moon,” you say softly.

A low rasp, sinister and dramatically enchanted as if to be upon a stage, drops from the new jester. “Eat. Before the pizza gets cold.”

His voice might scare children, or maybe just enhance how villainous he could be, but to you, his voice is comforting. You feel safe.

“It’s already cold,” you point out. There is hardly any temperature in the food here. Everything edible has sat and turned stale long before either you or the jester can scoop them up for a meager meal later. You’d rather not think about the number of lukewarm Fizzy Fazs you’ve drunk.

Even the prize of a full, un-squished pizza is still little. All the more reason to escape the cycle.

You wonder if Sun and Moon like hot pizza.

Moon uses his thumb to flip open the box and reveal the greasy sliced food. Even at room temperature, the pizza makes your mouth water.

“It’s good for you,” he grumbles gently like you’re a naughty child. His grip on your hip holds tight as he sets the pizza down and tears off a slice. The cheese thickly tears and you spy glistening, wet sauce underneath. A treasure, truly, no matter how old.

Your heart, however, squeezes tight. Emotion cakes your throat and you try to find the right words.

“Moon,” you say, “Let me up. I need to keep animating.”

“No.” He holds up the slice. His head, sharp teeth grinning, dripping ink down faces you. “You will only work yourself to the bone, doll. Eat.”

You push his arm away but you feel the tension underneath his metallic limb, how he only falls back because he lets you push him, not because you truly have the strength to stop him. His eyes narrow further. You hold his gaze, bottom lip trembling.

“You and Sun protect me while I work. You get hurt. You risk your own lives. This is too important,” you whisper. You clench him tighter in your grasp. “I can’t stop until it’s done.”

Moon slowly lowers the pizza back into the box. His hand, slick with ink, cups your chin. You find your hands falling onto him, holding on as if you might fall. The pressure behind your eyes becomes explosive. The few wet drops upon your eyelashes turn everything blurry save for the piercing glow of his yellow eyes.

“Listen to me.” His voice lowers, intimate and sharp, all at once. “It is not more important than you. You are ours. You are what gets us through this. We won’t let you burn yourself out because you want to keep us safe.”

There’s something there, on the tip of Moon’s tongue. You wait for more but instead, he leans back slightly, as if he already said too much.

“We will take care of you,” he says instead.

“But,” your voice cracks, “but it’s not fair.”

“None of this is,” Moon’s voice softens. His thumb softly slips along your cheek and swipes away an inky tear. Even your weeping is stained by this world. “Please. Eat then rest, doll.”

Another protest is on your lips, but the sob filling your throat cuts it off. Moon caresses your cheek. Weakness overtakes you, the threat of becoming extinguished before you can finish all the pages. Before you can animate yours and his happy ending. 

You’re so scared and exhausted. It spills out of you in dark streaks that stain your sepia-colored cheeks until Moon wipes them away. He starts humming, softly, sweetly, and you lay your head on his shoulder. He pulls you closer until he cradles you in his arms. A hundred things long to fly from your lips. A promise that you’ll do it. You won’t let yourself fail, and the desire for reassurance. That it is okay to rest, just for a moment.

“It’s okay, doll.” Moon murmurs as you weep into his ruffled collar. “I’m not letting you go.”

“Oh, Moon,” you wail, and it sounds so pathetic. You are wasting time. Yet, you have no strength to pry yourself from his embrace—as if he would let you.

“Shush,” he murmurs and kisses your jet-dark, shiny hair. “Calm down. Breathe. When you’re ready, the pizza will be here.”

You hiccup once. You nod, still hiding against him like a child. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Will you sing me to sleep?” you ask, soft and breathy.

He pauses once. The tapered yet careful points of his claw stroke down your hair, and he breathes a heavy breath. You think he finds it hard to tell you no, at least when it concerns matters such as these.

“I’ll sing,” he decides, “After you eat.”

You nearly wince, but it’s only fair. Slowly, you straighten, still sitting in his lap. Pushing your hair away from your eyes, you nod. Moon gently catches the remaining tears staining your cheeks. A murmur falls from his constant smile that he doesn’t like to see you sad. You tell him the same. 

With a gentle hum, he picks up the pizza slice he left and holds it up to your mouth. You let him feed you, taking a bite and chewing slowly. Moon turns the slice to his sharp-tooth mouth and bites off a chunk. In his harmonic quiet, the two of you slowly eat through the pizza, your energy returning and your mind softening with the comfort of a full belly. 

It’s the best pizza you’ve had in the cycle.

His fingertips slowly work against your hip, rubbing the bone softly through your jumper. Before you can consider asking him to let you return to work, your eyelids grow heavy. Moon’s voice lifts to a gentle bass.

He sings you to sleep.

[annestie]

Hot Chocolate

Neteyam having Ao'nung try hot chocolate for the first time

“What does your father call this again?” Ao’nung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. He takes a cautious sniff from the steaming cup. Looking at it skeptically, he swirls it in his hand, stirring the contents inside.

Neteyam looks on amused at Ao’nung’s actions. “Hot chocolate,” he says again with an encouraging smile. “You like chocolate, you should like this too.”

“Not all chocolate. One of the ones you gave me tasted like dirt,” Ao’nung complains, giving Neteyam a scowl.

“That was dark chocolate and it doesn’t taste like dirt. It’s just bitter,” Neteyam retorts, tired of hearing Ao’nung's complaints. “Besides, this is made with the one you like, so taste it,” he urges Ao’nung.

Hesitantly Ao’nung brings the cupsto his lips. Neteyam’s smile only widens when he sees the pleasant look on Ao’nung’s face. “I’m not admitting you were right,” Ao’nung stubbornly says after another sip.

“I was right though,” Neteyam tells the other smugly.

With a sigh, Ao’nung tentatively admits, “It is good.”

[baronessblixen]

Prompt: 23. "No, you won't understand, ever."

A different kind of post-episode fic for "The Unnatural": After his and Scully's baseball date, Mulder runs into Diana. (spoiler alert: this is an MSR fic) wc: 1,226

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 21: No Longer Stuck In The Past

He sees her waiting in front of his apartment, leaning against the door, and he stops for a moment, feeling like he’s stepped into the past. Back then, something odd years ago, this exact moment has happened. Except back then, his heart had soared, his lips had twisted into a smile, and her sight was welcome. Today, none of it applies.

“Diana,” he says as a way of greeting. “What are you doing here? It’s late.” He unlocks the door to his apartment and she just walks past him. Her perfume isn’t the same as it was back then, so it doesn’t carry any memories for him. All it makes him think about is Scully. Her softness and her subtlety. The exact opposite of everything Diana is.

“I came to see you, Fox.” She’s smiling and he looks at her, trying to find that part of him that was in love with her. “Were you out playing baseball with some friends?” Her smile is wavering. He knows why she’s asking. And what she really wants to know.

“In a way,” he replies, not wanting to give her what she wants. “What do you want? Is it a case? Did anything happen?”

“No, nothing of the sort. I wanted to see you. I called but… I miss you, Fox.” She’s walking closer to him and he’s rooted to the spot. “You’ve always loved baseball.” She reaches out and touches his jersey. The one that has Scully all over it. Diana blurs in front of him and turns into Scully. Into the moment when they said goodbye. She touched his arm as if unsure if she should let him go. He felt the same. But tonight wasn’t about jumping on trains or breaking into government facilities. Tonight was a new beginning. The start of a new iteration of them. Without saying a single word, they both decided to go home alone. Now he wishes they hadn’t.

“You couldn’t tell me that at work?”

“That’s hardly a conversation for the basement, is it?” She tilts her head, giving him all her best moves.

“You could have called.”

“I told you that I tried. You weren’t picking up.”

“Because I was busy,” he says.

“That’s why I came here.” She’s always been like this. Took whatever she wanted. Even if it meant being pushy. The one time he pushed back, she disappeared into the night without a single word of goodbye. Now she’s standing here, claiming she misses him. She’s the same Diana she was when he was in love with her. But he’s not the same Mulder.

“I’m tired, Diana. I had a long day and I’d like to go to bed.”

“Oh right, you have a bed now. When did that happen?”

“How did you even know I’d come home tonight?” His words hit her unexpectedly, that much is clear. She recoils as if he just hit her.

“Where else would you have gone?”

He laughs. There’s no humor in it whatsoever. “That’s so you. You really think that I- Diana, please leave, okay? Before either of us does something we might regret. We can talk tomorrow. We can meet for a coffee or-”

“Coffee?” She spits the word. “I don’t want to drink coffee and reminisce, Fox.” No, he thinks. That’s not what she wants. She wants to push her way back into his life. Into his pants, and into his mind. He’s never seen so clearly. It’s as if someone has removed a blindfold. Scully, he thinks. It must have been Scully. He thought she was just jealous; that may have played a part. But he sees now what she must have seen in Diana in the beginning. His heart breaks all over again, like it did back then. This time, however, it breaks for what could have been. They could have become friends, allies. It’s not what she wants. At all.

“I was playing baseball, Diana. But I wasn’t with some friends. I was with Scully.” Diana snorts.

“I don’t understand what you see in her.”

“No,” he says, a half-laugh slipping from his mouth. “You won’t understand, ever.”

“She doesn’t get you, Fox. I see the way she undermines you.” Diana is pleading with him. She must know that what she’s saying is far from the truth. But she doesn’t give up. They have that in common.

“You don’t know her at all. Or me, for that matter. You did – once. When I was younger. I’m no longer the same man.”

“Clearly,” she says, derision in her voice. “You’d pick her. After everything we’ve been through?” She takes a step toward him and he lets her. “After everything we’ve done?” Her hand is on his chest and she looks up at him, her eyes begging.

He thinks of nights when they sat here together, talking about the X-Files. Nights where they were wrapped up in each other. Nights full of passion. They’re a part of him, but they’re in the past. And for once, he has no desire to revisit it. He touches her hand and sees hope bloom in her eyes. But he removes it from his chest, holding it a moment longer.

“I’m grateful for what we had, Diana. And I’d like to be friends. That’s all we’re going to be, though.”

“Friends.” There’s hurt in her expression and her whole demeanor. She thought she had him. She thought she could convince him. Mulder knows her. He can read her all too well. He doesn’t know why he was so blind before. Maybe he didn’t want to see. He closed his eyes and turned away, refusing to face the truth.

“You’re choosing her?” To him, it’s not a choice, but he knows Diana wants an answer so he nods. “You’re not even together,” she says lamely, making Mulder chuckle in spite of the situation.

“My relationship with Scully is not your business, Diana.”

“You really have changed,” she says, picking up her purse. The pain of rejection is still evident, but he thinks there’s admiration in her voice, too. “Well, I’ll be going then. You know where to find me if you do change your mind. You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

He remains quiet, biting his lip. He does know what he’s letting go. And he’s ready. His arms tingle with the memory of holding Scully. Her soft form pressed against him. The trust she put in him to help her hit each ball that was flung at them. Her laughter. The sweetest sound he’s ever heard. And he wants to hear it again. And again, and again.

“You’re not even listening, are you?” Diana says. “I’ll see you at work then.”

“Goodbye, Diana,” he says and she just throws him a look, not saying another word. He doesn’t wait until her steps recede outside and grabs the phone. He dials her number by heart and she picks up after just a few rings.

"It's me," he says, smiling and wishing he could see her.

“Mulder?” she asks, perplexed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m more than okay, Scully. I was just missing you.”

“You saw me an hour ago.”

“I know.” He grins. The memory of Diana’s visit is fading already. “But it was a long hour. A very long hour.” On the other end of the line, Scully laughs.

[entomolog-t]

Valentine's Day Special- Conversation Hearts

Happy Valentine's Day! As a treat here's a not-currently-canon-but-maybe-future-canon short for INSTAЯ as a part of the G/t Valentine's Prompt List.

Bram find's a new way to get his messages across.

Word count: 759

(Bonus there is some that will accompany this short- I'd just like to get a little farther on GtWAC and my comissions before taking the time to finish)

____

“I know you washed your hands but there is something deeply wrong about that.” 

Bram pulls back his hand from the batter with a glare, chirping incomprehensible words, yet the cadence made it clear he was mocking me by mimicking my chiding. Below us, Honey whines, desperate for her share of Bram’s stolen batter.

I return his glare, though I can't help but chuckle at his disdain as I shoo him away from the bowl. His eyes narrow as he chitters some sort of grievance at me, Honey’s pleas going unanswered as he makes quick work of the batter coating his claws.

The sight sends a chill down my spine. 

Was that a tongue? I shudder, not wanting to think too long about the logistics of how his nightmarish mouth worked. I turn my focus away from what I'd come to recognize as his muttering and back to the task at hand, whisking in the pistachio cream and cardamom extract, the batter taking on an almost cozy scent. One by one, I fill the cupcake papers, a grin tugging at the corners of my lips at the thought of how nice the house would smell as they baked. The soft music playing nearly hid the sounds of his talons as they clicked across the countertop- thankfully, away from the batter.

It felt … good. 

Normal even. Just to be able to ease into something familiar again, if only for a moment. 

For just that singular moment, I could get lost in a fantasy where there wasn’t a tiny abomination trying to sneak a taste at the cupcake batter… A fantasy where Bram was… Bram and we were just a normal pair of people spending time together. 

My relief didn’t last long, as the unmistakable sound of a plastic bag rustling broke through the cozy ambience. 

I frown. 

He’d, quite literally, gotten into the Conversation Hearts Clyde had dropped off that I’d been planning on using as toppers for the cupcakes.

“You overgrown cockroach,” I scold, though the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips dulls any edge the insult carries, “You act like I don’t feed you.” 

The bag chirps with what I can only assume is some snide retort thrown my way. I sigh, smile still tugging at my lips as I move the tray to the oven. Had he always had such a sweet tooth, or was this something to do with - 

A sort of whistling chirp abruptly pulls me away from my thoughts. I turn my attention to Bram- a conversation heart in his main set of arms. As I’m about to make a comment about his digustingly sweet choice of snack, he holds the heart out towards me and I feel my own freeze in my chest. 

Oh.

I stare at him for a moment. What could have only been a second seeming to stretch far longer than reality should permit. 

There was a dreadful feeling of both being caught off guard and knowing exactly where this was going- my brain rattling off various little sayings printed on those hearts. 

Be mine

You’re cute

Love you

I felt heat rise to my face. 

Kiss me

I swallow. I could only hope that my face didn’t show a fraction of the panic running full tilt through my mind. I mean, of course we’d grown to like each other's company- it’s not like there were any other options out here. All that time together… we’d grown closer but- How was I supposed to respond to this? If anything the majority of our time spent together was spent annoying one another- sure it had been teasing… but certainly not that kind of teasing! I chew on my lip, a strange feeling of dread brewing in my chest- would I break his heart?

Though another question seemed to itch the at the back of my mind, 

Did I have to?

My heart thrums loudly in my ears, each beat feeling all too much like gunfire. I reach my hand out towards him, and he hands me the candy heart, his tail swishing behind him in anticipation. 

I grit my teeth, mind reeling over just what I was supposed to say.

He chitters, and my brow knits together as I recognize the noise. Not nerves... The broken half chirps had become a familiar sound- laughter. As I read the tiny red text, the weight vanishes from my shoulders, a feeling of genuine relief accompanying the all too familiar sting of irritation. Irritation for both Bram and Clyde. 

YOU SUCK

[clownboymcchucklefuck]

🥀Wilted Roses🥀

I had a writing assignment in class and long story short, I wanted to write Zachary so here you go 🖤

Pairing: Zachary x MC

Tw: death, feelings of grief, Zachary being Zachary?

Zachary was silent and lost in thought as he walked down the dimly lit sidewalk. It had now been 8 years, 5 months, 27 days and 13 minutes since he had lost you. Just the thought of it made his hand clench tightly around the bouquet in his hands. How could you have just left him? He thought about it every day, every minute, every second. 

He could still hear the tires on the car screeching as he swerved to try and avoid the other car, he could still feel your lifeless body in his arms after he had crawled out of the wreckage and dragged you out. He could still taste the metallic taste of blood in his mouth from his injuries. He didn’t acknowledge the paramedics when they asked him questions and tried to check him for injuries. All he could do was stare down at you lying lifeless and bloody in his arms. He didn’t care if his favorite shirt was covered in your blood as he held your body tightly to his chest. His hand had stayed intertwined with your limp one, his thumb rubbing over the matching ring you wore on your ring finger. That day was supposed to be yours and his honeymoon. He could still feel the screams and sob that came out of his throat when your body was ripped away from him by the paramedics. 

He had made sure to give you the most extravagant funeral money could buy. Anything for you. He has barely left the house ever since that day. Why would he? You were the only one he had ever loved. The light in his darkness. His muse, his life, his universe, his everything. The only people he talked to were his parents but even then he was becoming withdrawn from them like he had with everything else in life. 

How could anybody expect him to get better? He would never be able to see you smile, your tears, how cute you looked when mad. His gallery was the only thing that had held him together for so long. 

He had made sure to kill that drunk bastard long ago. He made sure to make it slow and painful, making them feel every bit of pain Zachary felt when they took you away from him.

Zachary’s thoughts were interrupted when he realized he had finally reached his destination. He knew the place by heart now as he quickly walked and weaved through the different tombstones until he finally got to the one that was covered in roses from where he brought a new bouquet every time he visited. It had to have been one of the most beautiful tombstones in the graveyard with how much money he had spent on it along with making sure the graveyard workers kept it clean and looking new.

Zachary let out a heavy sigh before speaking quietly, even if it was nighttime and nobody was around he didn’t want this moment with his love to be interrupted. “I’m back again love, how are you?” He spoke softly into the night. No response, like always but he didn’t care. Zachary bent down and placed the bouquet of roses that he had been carrying onto the front of the tombstone. Zachary just stared blankly at the tombstone afterwards, the place beside it he had already gotten ready, with his name already on there in beautiful font. He was just waiting for the day he got to join his lover and rest beside them now. And that’s what he had been doing for the past 8 years. Maybe then in the afterlife he’ll be able to hold you again, kiss you, whisper the sweet soft words and keep up with those promises he made the night before your wedding. Maybe you two could have a second wedding, even more extravagant then the ones you both had when alive if that was even possible. Zachary couldn’t help but smile at the thought as a tear dripped down his cheek from his bright blue eyes.

Zachary’s thoughts were interrupted once again by a sudden sound in the nearby woods. Someone else was here. Zachary stayed quiet as his eyes scanned along the edge of the woods when he heard a deep chirring noise. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human. Zachary had the thought of running but he looked down at the tombstone and stayed still. Perhaps this was the moment he would finally join his spouse again and see their smile. He hadn’t expected it to be this early but he would take it. As the chirring sounds got louder, Zachary’s breath got heavier. He was thinking about his parents' reaction to finding out about their son's death right over his beloved souse’s grave. Maybe he should have given them a call before visiting again. Maybe Zachary should have been a bit nicer to the shy gentleman that dropped off a package at his house today. 

The few streetlights at the front of the cemetery flickered as the chirring got even louder and Zachary could barely make something tall moving out of the front of the woods in the dark. “I’ll see you….very soon…my love.” Zachary whispered softly and shakily as he looked down at your tombstone beneath his feet. He heard the thing suddenly starting to move very quickly towards him and closed his eyes, ready to finally see you again.

_________________

Zachary belongs to @clrdgaze.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated! ♡

Word count: 908 words.

[cloudwritesblockblorbos]

i have a big boat boys fic ready to go for later this week, but I’m writing so much that I’ll definitely post more regularly! does anyone else still think about Empires S1 Flower Husbands? cause i do and i wrote a fic about it! I lost every breath in me, since I dived into your ocean (2204 words) by cloudwriting Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Empires SMP Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jimmy | Solidarity/Scott Major | Smajor1995, Joel | SmallishBeans/Lizzie | LDShadowLady (implied), Katherine Elizabeth/Shelby Grace | Shubble (implied) Characters: Jimmy | Solidarity, Scott Major | Smajor1995, Joel | SmallishBeans, Shelby Grace | Shubble, other miscellaneous random people Additional Tags: Modern AU, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Slow Dancing, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Confessions Summary: Jimmy lies and tells Joel he’s bringing his new boyfriend to the costume party. Of course, he doesn’t have one, so Scott agrees to help him out. Cue Jimmy’s realisation: he’s fallen for Scott. Hard.

[ravendruid]

Hi!! I love your writing - how about “Herbal Tea” with Percy & Pike?

Hi anon! Thank you so much :'D Sorry it took me a bit to write this, but I hope you still love it ^_^

A Safe Legacy

(Read on AO3)

The streets were quiet this evening compared to the same night decades ago. The moon shone down on the cobblestone path that Percival de Rolo, now assisted with a cane, walked on. It was nice to leave the stuffy walls of the castle sometimes and breathe in the fresh air of Whitestone, see the shining leaves of the Sun Tree, feel the warmth of the acid-powered lamps on his face, one of his best inventions. The castle wasn’t as rambunctious as it used to be now that his children were grown—mostly all except for Gwen and Dan, but they were, generally, quiet children—so Percival didn’t feel the itch to leave it as often, but tonight the feeling of unease and overwhelm was worse than the nights the kids decided to play hide-and-seek in the various rooms and alcoves of the castle, often pranking scares to whoever passed by their hideouts. 

The calm of the night should feel like a blessing for Percy when, so many years ago, tonight had been filled with screams of death and undead roaming the streets. The anniversary of the beginning of the Whitestone rebellion was often forgotten in the shadow of its end, but not for Percy. Not while he lived and could still remember what it was like to reach the walls of his home and see the dead tree at its center, the bodies hanging from its branches, the undead patrolling like the Pale Guards did now, his castle—his home—ruled by Vampires and Necromancers. Percy would never forget this night.

Which is why he had to leave tonight. He had to see and hear with his own eyes and ears that Whitestone was safe and sound. And it was.

“Percy?” A soft voice called out to him. A voice Percy would recognize anywhere.

As sure as Catha was shining in the sky, when he turned to the sound of the voice that called him, Percy saw a young—although she was technically older than him—gnome with platinum blonde fun buns atop her head, wearing what seemed to be a slightly flour-dusted light blue dress.

“Pike!” He greeted his old friend back, lowering to shake her hand.

“What are you doing out here so late?” The gnome asked. She looked around, searching for guards, for sure, and when she didn’t find anyone of interest, she gestured for Percy to walk with her.

“Just stretching my legs. I’m not getting any younger these days,” Percy joked. If Pike noticed the deception in his tone, she didn’t show.

They walked the short distance from the square to the little house Pike lived in, not far from the bakery. Even though most of the furniture looked much too small for the space, the gnome still had a few pieces large enough for her friends, especially for Grog. It was quite cozy, really, and the lit fire in the fireplace gave a warm feeling to the environment. 

“Sit. I’ll be right back,” Pike instructed. Percy did as she commanded and picked a larger armchair by the fire. He set his cane aside and, with short grunts, stretched his stiff legs towards the fireplace to warm them. 

Pike returned a few minutes later with a teapot, two teacups and a plate of cookies and scones, set them on the short coffee table, and took a seat on a smaller armchair next to Percy’s.

“So, why were you really out tonight?” She asked, not missing a beat as she poured dark tea into the cups. Percy cringed internally at how perceptive his friend was, but should he really be that surprised that Pike, of all people, could read him so well?

“Tonight is the anniversary of when we arrived in Whitestone to deal with the Briarwoods.” Percy decided not to beat around the bush. 

“Ah,” Pike said, understanding. She handed Percy the cup of tea then poured one for herself.

Sometimes Percy forgot Pike hadn’t been there when they first sighted the city. She hadn't been there when they found the dead bodies hanging from the dead branches of the Sun Tree. Pike hadn’t been there when the undead giants and zombies came out. Even though she had joined them for the fight via astral projection, Pike still hadn't been there when it happened, but that didn’t stop her from hurting just as much as her friends did when they stumbled upon the dark scenario.

“Yeah.” Percy said, sipping on his tea. It was warm and inherently sweet, and Percy could taste the fresh herbs Pike must have used to brew this pot, surely provided by Keyleth at some point.

“Well… The city is doing great, Percy,” Pike shrugged, sipping on her cup with a sly smile. “The bakery is booming with clients, the market is always so full that I have to be careful because people don’t often see me, I’ve had to shoo some kids out of the front of the shop because they were painting on the sidewalk and wouldn’t let anyone step on their art, the little rascals, and I’m pretty sure I’ve heard rumors that they are looking for more teachers at the schoolhouse because there aren’t enough for the number of children enrolling this year.”

Leave it to Pike Trickfoot to slap Percy in the face with the truth when he least expected it.

“T–that’s…” Percy couldn’t form any words. He hadn’t been made aware of all this because, honestly, it was mostly Cassandra’s job to know these things. “That’s great to hear, honestly.”

“Mhm,” Pike leaned over to grab a chocolate chip cookie. She dunked it into her tea (which made Percy cringe), then bit the soft side with a pleased smile. “So, you got nothing to worry about, Percy. The city is safe and  growing and happy. And if something was wrong, you would have known by now, right?”

Right, of that he was sure. 

“Besides,” The gnome continued, “It’s not like there aren’t at least three members of Vox Machina living in the city at all times. If anyone was dumb enough to attack the city, would they really do it when all of us are here?”

Pike had a point. The city was well-guarded, of course, between the Pale Guards, the Rifle Corps, the Grey Hunters and the resident Vox Machina members. Not to mention how quickly Keyleth and the Air Ashari would come to their rescue, should the need arise. 

“Whitestone is safe, Percy.”

“Thank you, Pike.” The man leaned over and took the gnome’s small hand in his. It was astounding the difference between them. Pike was older than Percy by at least a decade, yet, due to her gnome heritage, she didn’t look a day older than twenty, meanwhile, Percy, who already was in his sixties, had changed so much. He barely recognized himself behind the bushy, white beard and the wrinkles around his eyes and forehead. 

“Whitestone will be safe even after you’re gone, Percy,” Pike added with a fond smile, placing her hand on top of his.

Percy didn’t know how Pike knew to say that when he himself wasn’t aware he needed to hear it, but her words lifted a weight off Percy’s chest that he didn’t know he had. 

“I suppose that is comforting to know,” The man said, nodding. The worst thing about being the only human, so feeble and young, among his peers was knowing he would surely be the first to go—unless Grog died in a fight before the Matron took Percy—and what that would mean for his legacy.

“Trust us. Believe in us.” Pike’s eyes flickered with tears, a sight Percy wasn’t ready for. “I promise, we will not let any harm come to your home.”

And he did. Percy believed the gnome's words with every fiber of his human being. He knew that Whitestone would be safe and would prosper long after he was buried beneath the earth with his ancestors. Percy knew his friends—his family—would not let any harm come to the home he fought so hard for. Percy knew, deep inside of him, Whitestone was and always would be safe, and so was he.

[cherripieee]

Dangerous Territory

pairing: Mindy Meeks-Martin x fem!reader (slight Mindy x Anika)

summary: You and Mindy were such close friends, that was until a girl came along and things slowly drifted apart between the two of you. But, one day, you hear a certain song playing from her room...

word count: 2.2k

warnings: SMUT, cheating, slight scream 5 and 6 spoilers, oral sex (Mindy receiving), fingering, no aftercare at all, praise, swearing, mentions of sexual tension/chemistry, the ending lowkey kinda abrupt im sorry lol

‘You look so pretty and I love this view’

It’s that damn song again. The one that your roommate can’t stop playing and it’s getting annoying. You’re probably wondering, what’s so annoying about it? ‘we fell in love in october’ is a good song, it's actually one of your favorites. But there’s an issue. 

You moved onto campus last year and you’re a junior in college who is majoring in dance. It’s the best thing in the world to you and it’s definitely what you want to do for the rest of your life. Everything was going great; you had a girlfriend, the routine you had choreographed was gonna be showcased in front of the whole university AND a few famous choreographers…

But then she had to come along. Mindy Meeks Martin. 

Of course, you didn’t mind the fact that she had moved into your apartment! Plus, you needed a roommate after that nasty break up you had with your ex, who shall NOT be named. You found a pair of panties that weren't yours, and one thing led to another. 

Obviously Mindy didn’t cause your break up, she was just an innocent bystander. Hell, you barely knew her. But it all started once your ex moved out of your apartment and Mindy moved in. She was constantly giving you weird looks and stares as if she was suspicious of you. 

At first, there was nothing wrong with it. You knew about what happened in Woodsboro and you felt bad so you thought nothing of her odd behavior. Being almost brutally murdered isn’t something you get over quickly. 

She started to warm up to you. 

It took a while, but she definitely did. 

It was roughly three in the morning when she came back into the apartment, coming back from a late night hangout with Tara and Chad. She honestly thought you were asleep, she knew it was a weekend but you were always busy. In fact, Mindy was impressed by how efficient and clean you were. 

She walked by your room and stopped dead in her tracks when she heard what you were watching. As a big horror movie geek, she knew every movie line by heart and if she didn’t, she’d learn the whole script in the next week. 

You were watching ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’, a classic. 

“I never took you for a horror movie fan, roomie.” She said, leaning against your door frame as she watched you turn around. 

“Well, roomie, you never hang out with me so I doubt you know anything about me.” you retorted quickly. 

Mindy took that as a challenge. Ever since that night, she swore to herself that she would learn anything and everything about you. She would hang out with you more, A LOT MORE. 

She’d always ask about the things you liked and secretly keep mental notes in her head about every single thing. 

Mindy Meeks Martin was falling for you. 

Your personality was magnetic, almost identical to Mindy’s. Both of you called people out on their bullshit, spoke your minds, loved horror movies and were two geeks at heart. 

Things were going great between you two, that was until Mindy met someone. 

That someone was Anika Kayoko. 

They had met in Blackmore’s student library, Mindy making the first move. She noticed her having trouble getting a book off of a high shelf and Mindy rushed over to help out, mind you she almost couldn’t reach the book herself. But she did! Soon after that, they had made plans to go out that night.

The two of you were supposed to hang that night. 

You and Mindy had a disagreement on a movie and decided to put it to the test and watch it together, to see who was right. But once Mindy told you that she had a date, everything was different. 

You were starting to like Mindy. 

But you didn’t want to seem clingy, so you wished her a good time and watched the movie on your own. She stayed out almost all night, laughing and talking with Anika. 

It went on for days. 

Mindy would ditch you for Anika time after time with the same old apology: 

“Hey, I gotta run! Sorry, we can finish it next time I promise!” 

Days…

Weeks…

Months… 

And now, you’re stuck in your room listening to the music blast in her own room. 

‘We fell in love in October’ 

That’s your song. That’s the song that you showed to Mindy and she instantly loved it. 

That’s the song that played when you caught Mindy and Anika making out in the living room. 

You didn’t know why you were shocked, really. All of the signs pointed to Mindy seeing someone; staying out late, making up excuses. You guys weren’t even together, just REALLY close friends. 

‘That’s why, I love fall’ 

In a blurred rage you’re banging your fist on her door after texting her MULTIPLE times to turn the damn music down. 

“Mindy!” You yelled, your voice cracking a bit. You had been yelling at her for the past few minutes and your voice was getting tired. “MINDY!” 

At this point you’re about to barge into her room and cuss her out for ignoring you AND blasting music louder than it needed to be. You would play music in your own room but you knew your limits. 

The music stops. 

You hear loud footsteps approaching the door, it sounds like she’s stomping. …is she angry? 

The door flies open and you’re surprised that it didn’t smack Mindy square in the face. She’s pissed. You know Mindy way too well not to notice the signs. Her brows are furrowed, her eyes are more glassy than usual, her lips are pressed in a firm line and she’s breathing heavily. 

“...what crawled up your ass?” you jokingly asked, trying to lighten the mood. Usually you’d get a dry snicker from Mindy whenever a situation like this occurred, but that same look stayed on her face. 

She’s looking you up and down, her eyes are like fire as she checks out your body. Her jaw ticks as her eyes meet yours once again and she rolls her eyes. 

“Anika blew me off for some other girl.” 

You knew the feeling. 

You’re a good friend so you don’t bother to point that out, instead you pull Mindy into a hug. Her hands are on you in an instant, hugging the curve of your back tightly as she buries her head into your shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry, roomie…” 

Those are the only words you can let leave your mouth. You don’t want to make this worse by putting yourself into Mindy’s mess, so you stay quiet and hold her like a good friend should. You rubbed her back soothingly as her breathing slowly calmed down, becoming normal. 

“Is there anything I can do for you, Mindy?” 

She looks up at you with a new look in her eye. That same fire from before has brightened even more, but not with anger. 

With want.

With desire.

With lust. 

Mindy lets go of you, stepping back into her room and watching you with hooded eyes. The red lights illuminating her glassy eyes, making them look red and hot as they bore into your own eyes. 

“Wanna do something you’ll regret?” 

                                                       ~

“Fuck, you’re so good at this…” 

This was definitely NOT what you expected. 

Her back is pressed up against the mattress and you’re sending feather-like kisses down her stomach, slowly reaching dangerous territory. 

You want to stop, you really do. This isn’t fair to Anika and you’re helping Mindy cheat on her, techincally. Anika cheated first, but you didn’t even know the full story. All you knew is that Mindy wanted you and you couldn’t tell if she was using this to get back at Anika or if she simply wanted to fuck you. 

“This is so wrong…” Your words vibrate against her warm body and all she does is moan in response. 

“Should I stop?” That question slips out just as you reach her thighs, and you can smell her. She smells amazing and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. But, this whole situation was wrong. 

“If you stop, I’ll simply just keep going.” 

You immeadiately retaliated, scooting back as Mindy slowly pulled down her panties. She’s dripping wet just from the thought of you in between her legs, she’s thought of that many MANY times before. 

You look up as she swirls her index finger in her mouth, sucking on it and keeping eye contact with you the entire time. Behind those glassy eyes was pure lust and desire for you. 

Slowly, she trails her finger down her stomach and that leaves a glistening trail of her own spit. It shines red due to the led lights and a moan slips out of your mouth once she starts to circle her clit with her fingertip. 

“I’ve thought about this, y’know.”

Her words catch you off guard as you tear your eyes away from the beautiful sight to look her in the eye. 

“Thought about what?” 

“I touched myself just like this, roomie. Thinkin’ of you and how sexy you are…” 

She puts an empathis on the word ‘this’ and moves her finger down to her dripping cunt. She plunges it inside of her, swirling and curling it inside of her. 

“Fuck, Mindy…” 

You don’t want to stop, but you know deep down in your heart that this is truly wrong. You fucking despised Anika and Mindy’s relationship and you wanted Mindy to yourself, but why were you acting this way? 

“Come on, roomie, help me out…” 

Her eyes are fixated on your blushing face, and you’re suddenly glad that the led lights are red because so are your cheeks. 

After a long sigh, you carefully took out her finger from her entrance. It’s dripping with her arousal and you can’t help but let out a low groan. You suck and lap at her finger greedily, taking every last bit of liquid you can. 

“You taste so good, Mind. Just like I imagined…” 

You’re in between Mindy’s legs as they rest on your shoulders, shaking uncontrollably as you dive into her wet cunt. The slow strokes of your tongue is making her go completely wild as she howls out curse words and tugging at your hair, surprisingly not ripping it out by now. 

You lap at her greedily and grip her thighs, stopping them from shaking so much so you can focus. 

She’s so fucking wet and her juices are dripping down from your chin as you continued to eat her out like it was your last meal. 

“So good…” Mindy whispers as she lolls her head back, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. 

Your nose is pushing up against her clit at the most perfect angle, and she rides against your nose and starts to chase her own pleasure. She lets out little ‘shits’ and groans as her stomach starts to rise and fall even faster. 

She’s close. 

The fact that she’s using you to get off is making you horny as hell, but this was about Mindy. 

Mindy was the one who had pulled you into her room in the first place, covering you in heated kisses and complaining to you about Anika. You can briefly hear her talk about her while you’re in between her thighs. 

“She’s so weird for that– fuck, right there! How're you gonna cheat on me and try to deny it?! Ah, go a little bit faster…” 

You’re not even bothered with her little rants as you bury yourself in her cunt, lapping at her soaked folds. 

She goes on and on about Anika…

..until she stops. 

Letting out the loudest cry, so loud you’re certain that the whole university had heard it, she clenches around your tongue and pushes your head into her.

“Ohmyfucking– Shit, shit, shit!” 

Her whole body stills as she lets out one final moan that’s followed by quieter ones and heavy breathing. 

…you just fucked your roommate and gave her an ear shattering orgasm. 

You sit in between your legs, catching your own breath. That was one of the most hottest and intense things you had done in your life. 

“Wow, Mindy, I-” 

She sits up, her eyes now filled with guilt and regret. 

“You should leave.” She doesn’t even look at you as she says it, instead looking to the side of the room and curling her knees up against her chest. 

“Really?!”  You’re fucking pissed! She was the one who convinced you to do this, this was her idea! It’s not YOUR fault that Anika dumped her for another gi- 

“Yes, really. This was a HUGE mistake, and I shouldn’t have let you in!” 

“But guess what, Mindy? You DID!” 

She doesn’t bother to look at you, even after everything the two of you had done. 

“Just…go.” 

With that, you stand back up on your own two feet and head for the door. Casting one last glance at Mindy…

You swore you could see a tear rolling down her cheek as she buried her face into a pillow. 

You stomp angrily to your room, slamming it loud enough for Mindy to hear. 

There’s only one thing you want to do right now. 

You grab your headphones and press a few buttons on your phone before music blasts in your ears and you’re lying face down on your bed. 

‘You look so pretty and I love this view’ 

[monimolimnion]

riding double [sibling zine; fran & miles]

LEFTOVERS ARE STILL OPEN BTW 💛💙 you can pick them up on the bigcartel (including digital copies!!)

name: riding double fandom: Ace Attorney | Gyakuten Saiban relationship: Karuma Mei | Franziska von Karma & Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth wordcount/chapters: 1/1, 2.5k additional tags: in which franziska has a mild meltdown, and her brother is there and they're both riding horses, we've all been there, im inventing a new genre called psychoanalysis via horsies

summary:

And isn’t that fitting. The frame of Miles Edgeworth’s shoulders, just ahead of her, but out of reach. Once, he would have let her goad him. Once, she knew exactly how to worm her barbed little words into every crevice, and he would let her, because he loved her. No matter if she calls him little or not, no matter how hard she works, no matter her personal insistence that she is the superior sibling in every respect and he should learn from her… she will never catch up to him, because he will always be older than she is. It is an unfairness so cosmic she feels it like a neverending avalanche, timeless agony she shares with every other little sister that has ever been and ever will be. She will never reach him. Not as an equal. When her feet slot into the shapes his leave behind, he will always be one more step ahead of her.

Franziska and Miles go for a trail ride in the mountains.

Read it now on Ao3!

[r3dships]

2 5 n 15 for the gush thingy :3c

HELLO!! :3c

I'm gonna use this one to gush about Noir because AUUGH /pos

2. Gush about your F/O's voice! GLADLY oh my god . .. UGH Pete's voice is just aauaa so sexy,, 😩 He could literally say the stupidest things and I'll just look at him with hearts in my eyes because his voice is just So good and deep and silky,,, when I found out he's around my age I was like ?!??! but like. I'm not complaining!! I'd actually listen to audiobooks if they were read by him.

5. Gush about the little things your F/O does when they're thinking really hard about something! HE FIDGETS. SO MUCH. He taps his fingers, he plays with the lapels of his coat and if his mask is off I notice he kinda purses his lips and zones out,,, makes me wanna kiss him on the spot I'm not gonna lie,,, but I Don't because that would make him lose focus and that's rude!!

15. Gush about your F/O's love language! PHYSICAL TOUCH. Noir loves any kind of touching as long as he knows I'm there with him,, his favourite is wrapping his arm around my shoulders and holding me close to his side. which. tbh usually ends up in me falling asleep since he's always so warm. Probably because of all the leather.

[lyconite]

To Tempt Sin

Pairing: Dean/Crowley Wordcount: 1816 Tags: Unresolved sexual tension, male friendship, pre-slash, alcohol Summary:

There he was at the bar, his long limbs somehow managing to look languid and inviting despite the rickety old stool he sat on, his dark hair its usual tousled perfection, whiskey in hand there one second, gone the next. The one, the only, Dean Winchester. Intimidating, infuriating, unstoppable force of nature Dean Winchester. Crowley's best friend.

READ THE FULL FIC

[daydreamorama]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 盗墓笔记 - 南派三叔 | The Grave Robbers' Chronicles - Xu Lei, 盗墓笔记2之云顶天宫 | The Lost Tomb 2: Heavenly Palace on the Clouds (TV 2021) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wang Pangzi/Zhang Qiling, Wang Pangzi/Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling, Wang Pangzi/Wu Xie Characters: Zhang Qiling, Wang Pangzi, Wu Xie (DMBJ Series) Additional Tags: Wingfic, Complicated Relationships, Wing Grooming, Aromantic Wu Xie (DMBJ Series), Aromantic, Established Wang Pangzi/Wu Xie, (it's complicated), Overuse of italics, Hugging as Bondage, POV Zhang Qiling Summary:

“Hey Xiaoge! Your wings are dirty, let me help with them,” Pangzi said, and Xiaoge turned around to stare at him.

Xiaoge was pretty sure that Pangzi and Wu Xie were together. He had seen them grooming often enough. He always made sure to look away when it happened near him, but they were so shameless about it! They didn’t seem to care that they weren’t in private. Ever. And now this! Pangzi asked to groom Xiaoge. And Wu Xie was RIGHT THERE.

[sinvulkt]

Angspril: 13. RECOVERY - zombie au, post-antidote

@whumpril - 13. "I think I need to sit down."

The taste of human meat lingered on my tongue, its flavor ever present, insistent. The flavor stubbornly stayed in my mouth no matter how many times I washed it. The smell of burned skin smoked down my throat, even though the early morning air was clear. Ranked pieces of meat stayed stuck between my teeth and hooks, crisping everytime I moved them. My fingers twitched, remembering the sensation of tearing flesh apart. The satisfaction of it.

More than once, Pat, Aheka or Rema stopped my hands as I plucked strange feathers from my wings. It was still early enough that they were asleep, and I was free to do as I pleased, I mused as I played with a bright red covert. The skin barely itched where the root had been violently ripped out.

They told me it was fine, that the flashy colors now growing in my fluff were pretty; but all I could see was what the mutation told the world around me. In the wild, flashy colors meant poisonous. To be observed, admired even, but never touched.

(I missed my old twilight colors)

They say recovery is a long, arduous road. I could see my Flock (were they still?) struggling with their own flaws, their own scars. I could smell their panic, their determination to move beyond it. 

(It made my heart race in hunger.)

I didn’t believe in recovery. Old wounds did not fade so easily and disappear. They did not magically let place to smooth skin. No, old wounds festered and rotted. They molded flesh into twisted shapes, until their history was forever carved onto their bearer’s skin.

The virus had left my genes. It had been purified from my midichlorians. Yet I could sense the traces it had left on every cell of my body. It had left an insatiable hunger, that no filled stomach could quell. It had left a predator instinct, that whispered in my ears that every living being should disappear. It had left an overwhelming need to feel the Force, the way a plant needs sunlight to survive. It had left a deep void in my mind, that longed for the cacophony brought by thousands of undead hooked on the same network. It had left me uncaring for my injuries, certain that they would all fade and heal.

(But they didn’t. Not anymore.)

I didn’t know if other ex-undead felt the same. I hadn’t dared to ask.

(Did they remember as much as I did? Had everything only been the virus controlling me, or had I always been a monster?)

I was alive, but I felt dead.

[almondpiglet]

ppl were drawing mikus from all over so heres habesha miku and her lil twin sibs rin and len!!

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

toji is okay with you not making eye-contact with him during sex because he knows that you're just overwhelmed, right? it's because he simply loves to feel your lips against his skin when you hide your face in the crook of his neck because that's how he knows he's taking good care of you, right?

fuck no.

those are not the only reasons.

if you look toji in the eyes while he's fucking you, he will cream his pants like a fucking teenager who's just seen a pair of tits for the first time.

when he has you on your back with your heels digging into his lower back and with your hands clawing at your back, his own arms barely supporting his body as he sinks into you; you look beautiful like this – a layer of sweat covers your body and he thinks about licking it all up, your bitten lips are parted and the sounds that spill from you cloud toji's mind like a drug. you're writhing and you're squirming, squeezing around his cock so tight that he feels like he's about to pass out.

and then... your eyes.

eyebrows scrunched together, you stare up at him and toji thinks he's going to die instead. tears brim in the corners while your pupils are blown wide, a mix of pleasure and adoration swimming in the dark orbs as he brings you closer and closer to another high. oh, he thinks you look like a fucking painting. like you belong in a museum.

the way you're looking at him is making his cock twitch inside you and that in turn makes you blink at him. you flutter your eyelashes while pressing your heels deeper into his back, silently begging for more.

"f-fuck..."

toji's head falls as he squeezes his own eyes shut. he feels like he's on fire. he feels like he's about to fucking explode. he's going to cum just because you're looking at him with nothing else but love in your eyes. he feels stupid for it – a little embarrassed that such a simple thing is getting to him so easily, but when he feels your hand on his jaw, cradling him like he's something that could break – the shame fades.

the combination of meeting your gaze once again, the care in them, and the love you offer him, makes the knot in his belly snap.

you caress his cheek as you hold your eyes on him, eager to watch him unfold in front of you. a fucked out smile makes its way to your lips and toji's heart skips a beat at the sight. he's never felt weaker, he's never felt more loved. oh, you're something alright.

he also can't handle your eyes whenever you're giving him head. he simply cannot do it. he does love watching you, he really fucking loves it – how you screw your eyes shut, your eyebrows furrowing as you concentrate on your breathing. how the drool pools in the corners of your mouth and how it dribbles down your chin. how your whole body twitches when you gag around him. how small your hand looks on him, how you massage his heavy balls. how pretty you look while doing it all – he's obsessed.

but the second you open your eyes and look back up at him... he's throwing his head back and hiding behind his arm. and while the view of his neck does get you to rub your own thighs together in want – it's not enough.

you want more.

taking your lips off his cock and ignoring the line of spit that connects you to it, you patiently wait for him to look at you. you even stop jerking him off, just resting your hand around his base. his dick twitches and another glob of pre-cum trickles from his tip.

"toji?"

your voice is as sweet as ever and he knows it's a trap. he grumbles back at you in hopes of convincing you to continue, but he's wrong. merely giving his base a squeeze, you watch how the older man buck his hips into your fist.

"look at me."

he won't, he won't, he won't. you're evil, you're awful, you wish to torture him until he dies. this is how it all ends for him. he won't.

"please..."

his balls twitch and his his body burns. he needs to cum so fucking bad but he hates looking like an actual old man, who can't keep his shit together.

"look at me, baby."

it's more of a demand now and he can't resist you. he never has and he never will. whatever you say goes – if you tell him to jump off a damn cliff, he will do so. if you want to break him just like you're doing right this moment, then so be it. he's all yours.

his arm falls from in front of his face and his green eyes crack open to the most glorious sight in the world. you look completely fucked out and your hair is a mess, your lips and your chin are all covered in spit and he thinks of you as an angel of some sort.

you give him a smile and his hips buck into your fist again, but you don't tease him for it – you want him to feel good. so you press a kiss to his sticky tip as you hold his lust-filled gaze and it's enough for him to blow his load all over your gorgeous face.

you lap at his tip like a kitten, collecting the few drops that threaten to escape while still pumping him with your one hand and massaging his balls with the other. toji grips the sheets below with both his hands – his fingers tug at the material so hard that they almost rip but neither of you care.

you worshipping his cock, or better yet worshipping him, is baffling to him. but he's not complaining. you take him into your mouth again, eyes still on his, you wrap your lips wrap around his tip and push him into overstimulation.

curses tumble from his scarred lips like they're the only words he knows and you can't help but smile while still having him him in your mouth. you're covered in his cum and now you're fucking grinning up at him – he really does think he's about to pass away. there's no way this is real, that you're not something his mind conjured up to plague him with. your hands feel godly and your mouth feels so fucking warm. no, this is it – he's officially dying.

taking your lips off of him with a pop, your smile widens even more as you give him an 'ahhh!' as if you've just had the best meal of your life and toji doesn't waste a second before pushing off the bed.

"fuck, come here."

his knees hit the floor with a thud as he lunges at you like a starved beast. he grabs your cheeks and pulls you toward him, smashing his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. he needs to feel you, he needs to taste you. he needs to love you.

he needs to give you his all.

[crimeronan]

god i wish i wouldn't have to explain the intricacies of the neopets economy to you guys to give the full context for this but. the new neopets team that took over from jumpstart pledged that they were going to curb the inflation of rare items, which is great because a lot of rare items are worth literally hundreds of millions of neopoints, they are unbuyable unless you've been playing actively for 20 years. they did this earlier with a site festival that included random loot boxes, some of which had Unbelievably Fucking Rare And Precious items worth 200 million neopoints apiece.

well.

today they have gone a step further. by releasing this year's trick-or-treat bags. and having the trick-or-treat bags be stuffed to the brim with unbelievably fucking rare stamps, weapons, paint brushes, defense magic, and other unbuyables. (all prohibitively expensive and in-high-demand types of items.)

jellyneo, the premier neopets website, has recorded prices of some items plummeting from 2,000,000 neopoints to 4,000 neopoints IN THE LAST THREE HOURS. this is when most people haven't even heard about the event or OPENED THEIR BAGS YET.

and of course. cherry on top. 20-year-old account holders are crytyping on the site events neoboard about how mean and cruel it is to make rare stamps part of the prize pool, because their entire identity hinges on being part of the neopian bourgeoisie, and they are having MELTDOWNS over their assets being devalued until they're part of the lowly proletariat.

this is a children's game for children btw.

none of the money is real.

i'm having such a good time.