#i am not too proud of this one but whatever its done i will let it out into the wild like a rehabilitated dove

[sumakha]

sunset :-)

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I am genuinely so proud of my wife for becoming a crafts person over the last few years.

Like, I was always a crafts person. I was an arts and crafts kid. My parents sent me to classes or summer camps or after-school clubs pretty much continuously from when I was about 5 years old, and over the years I did metalsmithing, stained glass, polymer clay sculpting, loom weaving, oil painting, charcoal drawing, clothes-making & tailoring, carpentry, woodcarving, macrame, miniatures, beading, jewelry-making, basket weaving, leatherworking, paper-making, bookbinding, papier mache, decoupage, sand sculpting, and probably more that I'm forgetting. There was never a day in my life while I was growing up when my entire bedroom floor wasn't taken up by 2-5 different ongoing art projects. As an adult, it's given me the firm confidence that I can walk up to pretty much any crafting skill, and get the hang of it, and enjoy doing it.

My wife never had that. She wrote, but that was really her only artistic outlet. Art & craftsmanship were just not any of her business. She always expressed admiration for my gumption when it came to making things with my hands, usually with a "bigger idiots than me have done it" attitude, but she was certain she'd be bad at it if she tried it, and that she wouldn't have fun. As evidence, she would offer every time in her life when she had attempted to learn a craft, and didn't have fun, and all the Arts And Crafts kids picked it up a lot faster than her.

Which like - yeah! Learning how to do a new craft is a skill all on its own! Fine motor control is a skill developed over time! So is spatial reasoning, and materials intuition! She wasn't just 'trying to learn wreath-making,' or whatever, she was trying to learn how to learn how to make something with her hands AND wreath-making, at the same time, so of course it would take her longer than the kids who already had the first part, and of course it would be more frustrating for her. I knew she wasn't uniquely bad at crafts: she just didn't know how to approach picking them up, because she was never encouraged to learn.

And then the pandemic hit.

And while we were all trapped inside and going insane in new and exciting ways to all of us, she tentatively decided to pick up embroidery. She probably wouldn't stick with it, she explained: she'd probably be bad at it. It probably wouldn't be fun. But she thought embroidery was pretty, and literally what else did she have going on?

And then she did stick with it. For over a year. And she got pretty good at it! She embellished a baseball hat for her sister with cactuses and wildflowers from where they grew up which came out adorable. She made an embroidered portrait of one of our friends' cat that they still have displayed in their entryway. And she discovered - and remarked on it often, with mild surprise - that she was having fun. She'd say a lot of stuff like "this stitch was so frustrating at first, but now that I get it I really like doing it," or "I kept getting this tangled but I've figured it out now. I just needed to relax."

Then she took up pottery. We did that as a couple for about a year, too. Now she's a knitter.

And it's just been so great, to see her eyes light up when she sees a sweater she likes, and hear her say, "I could make that!" She's slowly let go of the perfectionism that I think holds a lot of people back from doing crafts: that dismay when you make a mistake which leads to discarding a whole project, or starting something over. More and more she's taking on the veteran crafter attitude of "oops lol, whatever I'll just keep going." She's picking things up faster. She's taking pleasure in learning incremental steps. She's started to see crafting as something that relaxes and engages her, instead of as something inherently frustrating. I've gotten to watch her learn to find joy in making something with her hands. I always knew she was creative and artistic and capable of learning how to do anything. It's been so much fun to watch her start to take that on as part of how she sees herself.

We have this running joke about how she will prematurely declare herself to be in an era. Like, she'll go swimming twice and announce that she's now in her "swimming era," and then never go swimming again. Or she'll make one smoothie, buy a bunch of fruit, and declare that we are now in a "smoothie era," and then a week later we have to throw out a bunch of fruit that's gone bad.

The other day (while she was knitting, and I was sitting on the couch next to her doing crochet), she went, "I feel like I've gotten - like, I'm a bit crafty these days, I think. Like, I've done a couple of different crafts, and gotten pretty good at them. I think this is now, kind of, you know...something that I can say that I do."

I supplied that I would even go so far as to say that she was in her "crafting era."

Her eyes widened. "It's an era?"

I pointed out that it was something she'd been doing pretty much continuously for the last three and a half years. That feels like the start of an era to me.

"Yes," she decided. "It's an era. This is my crafts era. I'm a crafts person now."

She's planning to make me a sweater with a duck on it for fall.

[dinodaweeb]

Living with a gangster

Mafia man x Gn!Reader

Summary: moments in your life when your weirdo of a boyfriend gets you both in the most randomness possible scenarios. You love him though

a/n: ummm ummm writing for now bc my Apple Pencil broke so yeah!!

You’re on the couch, unwinding after a long day. The soft hum of the TV fills the room as you kick your feet up, enjoying a rare moment of peace. That peace shatters the moment your boyfriend walks through the door, looking like he’s been through hell and back.

There’s even stains on his white pants. Gross.

Bruised, bloodied, and entirely too proud of himself, he barges in with a grin plastered on his face. “I brought you something,” he says, and there’s a certain cockiness in his voice that you’ve come to expect from him.

You turn to look, already knowing whatever he’s holding will be ridiculous. “What is it?”

You ask, trying to suppress the exhaustion from your voice.

With a flourish, he reveals a ragged, battered stuffed bear. Its fur is matted, and there’s a stain that could be blood—or maybe it’s just the bear’s battle scars. One of its eyes is hanging by a single thread.

“A battle bear,” he announces proudly.

You stare at it for a beat. “A what?”

“A battle bear. I had to fight a bunch of idiots to get it. It was a whole ordeal, but I thought you’d want it.”

You blink, deadpan. “So you got into a fight for a stuffed animal?”

“Yup,” he says, a little too smug for someone who just looked like they were hit by a bus. “It’s yours now. For protection, obviously. You’ll be safe with this thing. Like a bodyguard, but fluffier.”

You glance from him to the bear. “This thing looks like it’s seen better days. What kind of fight were you in?”

“It’s fine. Just a little blood. Nothing serious,” he assures, his grin widening. “So? Do you love it?”

You pause, still eyeing the mangled bear. “Sure, I guess. I don’t know if it’ll protect me, though. It looks like it’s seen as much action as you.”

He flops onto the couch next to you, snatching up the bear. “It’s a symbol of my dedication. Don’t downplay it.”

“You could do anything with it cry with it, cuddle, feed it, maybe even tell it about how much you love!”

“Nice try.” It’s just a thought but you are thinking he’s going to be the one to do those things.

It’s been a long day, and you were hoping for some peace. You’ve barely sat down on the couch when your boyfriend bursts in, completely out of nowhere, practically vibrating with excitement.

“I missed you!” he exclaims, then immediately starts some unholy combination of spinning, hopping, and awkward flailing. His hips are nowhere near Shakira’s level of shaking.

He’s rattling like a broken supermarket cart.

You stare at him, eyebrows raised. “What in the world are you doing?”

“This is my I missed you dance,” he says, spinning once again like he’s in some bizarre action movie. “It’s a tradition now. Every time I come home, I perform it to show my appreciation for you.”

You blink. “A dance?”

He nods, still twisting around, his limbs making chaotic, out-of-rhythm movements. “Yup! It’s a way of showing how much I care about you.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you say dryly, eyes narrowing as you watch him crash into the coffee table, almost toppling over the lamp. You can’t help but let out a sigh. “Are you done yet?”

He doesn’t answer, too busy still trying to perfect whatever this is. His leg kicks too high and knocks into the side of the bookshelf. He spins again, only to hit his elbow on the doorframe.

“You’re really not helping your case here,” you mutter, leaning back. “How exactly am I supposed to take you seriously when you’re like this?”

With a grunt, he halts his movements, standing tall like he just finished a perfect performance. “I’m a dangerous man, babe. Nobody could top this move.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “You’re a mess.”

He grins like he won the lottery. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You walk through the door after running a simple errand. But as soon as you step inside, you’re met with your boyfriend standing in the living room, hands on his hips, wearing a look of complete panic.

“Where have you been?” he demands, voice high and tight with concern. “I’ve been worried as shit.. Do you know how long it’s been? What if something happened to you? Like if a Mario cosplayer asked for your number? Or if my boss figures out we make passionate love in ghost face costumes?”

You stop dead in your tracks, surprised by the sudden wave of intensity. “I was gone for two hours. I was grocery shopping,” you say, already regretting not texting him sooner.

His expression doesn’t change. “Two hours? That’s two hours I had no idea where you were! You could’ve gotten hurt! Kidnapped! I could have sent the team after you!”

You blink, trying to process his frantic words. “It was just the store. I’m fine. I didn’t even leave the neighborhood.”

“But what if something happened?” He’s pacing now, completely ignoring the fact that you’ve been walking around the block for the last hour. “You could have been in danger, and I wouldn’t have even known! What if the old man that looks like Santa Claus down the steep seduced you?”

“What—“

“And was successful. Who am I to Santa? Nothing but a little elf whore…”

“Um.”

“Actually fuck Santa. He ain’t shit.”

“Okay.”

“Anyways, Do you want me to hire bodyguards?”

“I’m not a delicate flower,” you say, trying to stay calm. “You don’t have to act like I’m going to break if I leave for an hour.”

He stops pacing, suddenly pulling you into a tight hug, his arms firm but careful. “I know, I know. You once broke my back when we were roleplaying WWE. And in be—“

“Oi.”

“Besides! You’re my responsibility. I need you safe.”

You sigh, your annoyance melting away as his possessiveness becomes more endearing than aggravating. “You’re a freak, you know that?”

He smiles into your shoulder, his tone softened. “And you match it~”

You couldn’t deny that.

You’re lounging on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you hear the front door open. Your boyfriend walks in, holding two absurdly oversized leather jackets with a grin that suggests he’s up to no good.

“Guess what I got!” he announces.

You glance at him, already sensing where this is going. “What now?”

“Matching jackets,” he says, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who just spent way too much money on something totally unnecessary.

You look at the jackets, confused. “Those things are huge. They’ll swallow me whole.”

“Nonsense!” He’s practically bouncing with excitement. “It’s part of the look. Look how badass we’ll look together. We’ll be like this power couple!”

You pull the jacket on, and it nearly engulfs you. You feel like you’re drowning in leather, and you can barely move your arms.

You glance at him. “This is a terrible idea. I can’t even lift my arms.”

He looks at you with a deadpan stare. “Exactly. That’s the point. We’re untouchable.”

You sigh, crossing your arms, trying not to let the ridiculousness of the situation break your composure. “You realize we’re going to look like two absolute try-hards?”

“Nope.”

He shrugs, unfazed. “I look hot. You look hot. Who cares about looking normal when you look cool?”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “We look like walking couches.”

It happens when you’re having an absolutely normal movie night. Popcorn, blankets, a chilled drink. Everything’s perfect. And then, in the middle of a dramatic scene, your boyfriend suddenly turns to you with a completely straight face.

“I killed someone today,” he says, his voice holding the same tone if he just did a wet fart. “45 years old. Kids. Pretty tragic, actually. But he had it coming. I mean he did—”

You freeze, popcorn halfway to your mouth. “Wait. What?”

He shrugs, clearly uninterested in your reaction. “Yeah, I mean, he was a threat. Had to be dealt with. He won’t be a problem anymore.”

“Are you… are you serious?” You blink rapidly, your mind struggling to catch up with what you just heard.

“Yeah, well, that’s gang life for you.” He leans back, popping a piece of popcorn in his mouth like he’s just told you about his day at the office. “It’s not all fun and games, y’know.”

You can’t form a coherent response, too shocked by the casual way he talks about murder. “You just… killed someone. And then sat down to watch a movie?”

He glances at you, unphased. “Yeah, and? We were supposed to watch this, right? Can we watch breaking bad next? Bald Walter is spank bank material.”

“Um ew.”

“Just don’t sweat the small stuff, babe.”

You stare at him in silence for a moment, the absurdity of the situation slowly sinking in. “You are the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks. I try.” He says it so casually, then immediately falls asleep like it’s just another day.

What the hell.

[emmyrosee]

oikawa you say?? my favourite character in the whole entire series? you don’t understand how happy I am to hear you say that bc I’ve been sitting on this idea for so long not sure if I should send it in or not BC I WASN’T SURE IF YOU WERE INTO OIKAWA THAT MUCH 😭 …alright I’m gonna call myself out a bit with this one. BUT ITS OKAY ITS FINE.

hype man oikawa. he’s. so. good. at. hyping. you. up!!!!

you don’t ever feed your own ego so HE DOES IT FOR U. like, let’s say you managed to accomplish something (big or small, an accomplishment is an accomplishment) and it becomes a big point of pride for you, like huge, and you don’t want to show it that much cause??? you don’t want to come off as if you’re bragging!!! but oikawa sees through it and totally just feeds into it to see you smile and stand a bit taller. like out of the blue on a random Tuesday he’d just kiss you on the cheek and bring it up and just 😭🫶🏻

I’m so soft for him emmy. he’s so proud and LOVESSSS it when he sees that you’re proud of yourself too. he’s safe he won’t judge you at all for being just slightly prideful in whatever you’ve done/are doing. HE GETS IT!!!!! (cough that one scene in season 2 with ushijima) HE KNOWS YOU’D DO THE SAME FOR HIM!!!!

MWAH ILY💋 HAPPY MILESTONE!!!!

ARE YOU TRYNA KILL ME?

Oikawa is the best hype man you could ask for, because he knows how good praise feels and how bad degradation feels, so he’s always the one to take all your accomplishments- be it taking a shower after a bad day, to getting a promotion at work- and make them the biggest deal he ever could.

“UHHH BABY!!! IM SO PROUD OF YOU, THIS IS A BIG DEAL!” He always says, cradling your face in his big hands and beaming down at you with the most pleased twinkle in his eye. You merely shrug and giggle softly, which he dramatically gasp, “are you NOT completely impressed with yourself? Because I will make you be.”

“No, no, I am!” You assure, nuzzling into his warm palm. “It’s just… it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big-“ he cuts of his repeating with a dramatic sigh and playful scratch of his head, “babe, you do realize this is something you accomplished. This is another checkmark on how great and smart you are- not to mention how hot-“

“I don’t think this has anything to do with being hot,” you snort.

But Tooru doesn’t let it go. Nay nay.

The next morning, the smell of fresh fruit and baked goods filled the air (obviously from the store because he’s banned from cooking without your watchful supervision), and you smile in the warmth of your pillow and slowly sit up with a stretch, swinging your legs over the bed and shuffling to the kitchen.

“BABYYYY!” He beams as he sees you, dropping the muffin he was holding to immediately pull you into a hug, peppering your face with kisses. You giggle at the tickly feeling and smile at him, only to pout as he pulls away to pick up the muffin. “Did you sleep well? I mean, I assumed you did, because you were drooling on me, so…”

“I do not drool!” You snicker, but your further teases die on your tongue when he makes his way to the counter and grabs a thick bouquet of flowers, your cheeks blazing at how serious he finds this and is encouraging you to do the same. “You didn’t have to do all of this,” you mewl, walking back into his arms. He wraps his free one around you and kisses your head repeatedly.

“Yes, I did,” he whispers. “Don’t be humble. You’ve earned this. And I’m so, so proud of you.”

Tears sting at your eyes at his words, and you burrow into him deeper, taking selfish inhales of his clean scent and fresh cologne, the closeness of the flowers adding a sweetness to your man.

“Come on,” he encourages, pulling away once again to get you to enjoy your breakfast. “I got you some pastries, grabbed you a breakfast sandwich, cut up some fruit, and I grabbed you one of those smoothies you like so much.” He says all of this with pride and a broad smile, pulling out a chair for you to sit in, “here. I’ll make you a plate.”

“I can do that,” you giggle.

“I don’t want you to. Today is all about celebrating you- who would I be if I didn’t pamper you today?”

“Well, when you put it like that,” you hum, watching him move around the kitchen and blushing slightly as he winks at you. He puts down the flowers and gets busy making you a plate of breakfast. “Hey, Tooru?”

“Yeah babe?”

“Thank you. For letting me have this. And being yourself.”

He smiles and chuckles to himself, scooping you a big helping of fruit.

“I’ve got you, baby. Gonna always take care of you and your accomplishments.

“You deserve it.”

[lunarw0rks]

i NEED mean!dom!soaps reaction to reader using their safeword for the first time. idc what the reason is, maybe he’s being meaner than usual or reader is overwhelmed, but i’m begging for it please

cw: safeword use, rough sex, mean!dom!soap, aftercare, hurt/comfort

soap gets lost in the moment. it's one of the few sins he's guilty of during sex. you're usually feeling ecstasy, no questions asked. but not always. sometimes he gets lost in the sensations, the power — lost in you.

tonight was one of those nights.

none of the blame landed on him or you. it just didn't feel right. his large hands on your hips as he drills into you. you faced the wall, palms pressed against it as you fought to maintain balance. your knees had long gone weak, trembling and buckling under his touch.

"my dirty girl. fuckin' amazing, aren't you?" instead of hitting all your weak spots, his tip was doing nothing more than causing discomfort. it wasn't anything johnny was doing; your body was simply too exhausted to enjoy it.

the final straw was the hand in your hair, giving it a tug, then whatever degrade he whispered into your ear. as good as it once felt, you needed to breathe. "red, johnny. red." you croaked, repeating yourself in case he wouldn't hear. after all, your throat was raw and dry.

all tension in your arched back released at once, the fist in your hair unclamped and placed on your shoulder instead. through his pants, he muttered an are ye alright? and a few apologies.

"shite, let me— hang on—" slowly, he pulled out of you, alleviating the strain in your core. the muscles relaxed but remained irritated and sore from their abuse. once he withdrew, the hand on your shoulder turned you around. before your weak knees could give up entirely, you found your head in his chest.

his strong arms kept you upright, running over the bite marks on your back and shoulder. you shuttered, unsure of its origin being sensitivity or guilt. never once, did he make it seem like you had to do anything, unless playful. that's the whole reason for the color system, isn't it?

yellow; slow down or go gentle. and red; unused until now— meaning stop. that, he did. instantly. so, why did it feel this way? it had to be nerves. perhaps, your anxieties about disappointing him.

tenderly and firmly, he forced eye contact with you. "don't you dare apologize, bonnie. see? we're done with that. no more, eh?" he staggered to the couch only a few feet away, allowing your full, limp weight atop him.

noticing the state of your shivering thighs, he hooked them around his waist manually, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck. "if 's somethin' you don't want me to do again, i'd rather ye tell me." up and down, his hand sailed across your back, effectively soothing your overwhelm.

but it wasn't. you can and had handled him like that before, and he knew it. tonight just wasn't the night — simple as that.

his voice remained authoritative, but his demeanor was the exact opposite of his dominant role. "listen to me," instead of forcing you to look this time, he let you remain slumped against him.

"you never do somethin' you don't want to, don't bloody care how into it i am. did the right thing, didn't you? 'm proud of you."

[pookietv]

number one fan | george clarke

this was requested! and i couldn't resist the end lmao so !!

george had always been supportive. he liked to consider himself his friends biggest fans, always turning up to whatever may be important to them, from arthur's tours, to his home friends graduations, he always wanted to be there and be able to show his pride in the people in his life.

so when he began dating a singer, it was to no one's surprise that he became the biggest fan out there.

your music a staple of the household, to the point where an intervention was called by arthur and chris.

"geooooorge can we not put on different music now?" chris said with a slight smile on his face as he rolled his eyes jokingly.

"you know we love y/n's music but george, this is a little excessive," arthur agreed, giggling to himself a little.

"just let this song finish! its the best one," he protested whilst cooking at the kitchen island, earning a joking groan from arthur.

"i'm convinced that just by living in this house we may know her lyrics better then she knows them," chris laughed, and george just shrugged with a mockingly innocent look.

when you first got signed by a manager, changing from original songs uploaded to youtube to a real publishing plan.

"george?" you grinned to yourself as you went into his room, having been let in by arthur, seeing him sat at his desk, seeing you and pulling his headphones off his head.

"hey, you! didn't know you were coming around today," he said, standing to press a quick kiss to your hairline, and you could barely stop yourself grinning at him like the cheshire cat.

"what's that look for?" he asked as he pulled away, quirking his head slightly as a small smile approached his face too.

"i got offered to be signed! by a real label! they actually want me to be under their label!" you practically babbled out, watching george's grin grow wider before wrapping you in a hug, practically lifting you from the ground.

"no way! that's amazing, darling," he muffled into your hair, his arms around your torso only wrapping tighter, "i'm so so so proud," he beamed, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

"thank you george," you smiled back, your cheeks glazed with red, "you've been so supportive, and i appreciate it so much,"

"so, now can i convince you to write a whole album about your biggest fan?" he teased, and you playfully pushed his chest.

"well, maybe i could write a song for arthur, i mean he was so lovely letting me open for his tour, he definitely has been a loyal fan..." you teased in return, pretending to ponder, causing george to mock pout.

"hey, hello, i am your biggest fan you muppet!"

when your first album released, and it was all george could yap about for at least a month afterwards.

when he featured on his bach and arthur's podcast? practically the first thing to leave his mouth.

"yeah, so i've not been up to too much, y/n was really busy recently so we decided now she's done and the album's released, we might try and go away somewhere - the album's out now on all streaming platforms! go listen, she's brill," he says with a cheesy grin on his face.

"what was the timer on george mentioning y/n there? under five minutes?" bach laughed, george's face going slightly red as he shrugged.

"it is a good album, in his defence," arthur laughed a little.

when he's in one of chris' videos? practically every goal he scored was backdropped by the beat change of one of your songs.

"if you miss this one, we're not letting you aux the flat for a week," chris chided with a grin, and george rolled his eyes as he placed the ball down, lining it up and kicking it in.

"see? he's the biggest fan around! the second the thought of not playing y/n's new album 24/7 is unthinkable to george," arthur laughed, before continuing, "i don't even live with you guys and i think i've heard y/n's music more times then i have actually met her in person."

going to your first big concert?

you had offered him to be backstage, but he had said no - of course he wanted to be in the front, seeing you perform like he was anyone else, he wanted to see you properly, from the floor.

"you're sure you don't wanna be backstage?" you had asked him on facetime earlier that day, when you were already at the venue for sound checks but he had assured you no.

"we're all coming in the pit, we've gotta see it like a normal concert!" he grinned down the phone, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

"you at least gonna stand at the back so you guys don't get like, mobbed or squashed or something? 'cause people might ask for photos," you said, slightly concerned for him, but he just shook his head.

"we can take photos afterwards with whoever wants one - i'm not standing at the back and barely seeing anything just cause some people may try and be rude and take photos with us whilst you're performing, that's not fair to you," he hummed slightly down the phone, "plus, chris wouldn't be able to see from the back and you know that," he laughed a little at his own joke

you cracked a small smile as you shook your head, "you're so stubborn, george, you know that?"

and when he showed up to the concert, with both of the arthurs and chris, all stood as close to the front as they could be, and before you could even notice anything else, you saw george's shit eating grin at his shirt, which he wore in a teasing sort of pride, that just said 'i fucked the singer', and as he saw your eyes roll, you could hear his laugh from the crowd.

[chocochococoffee]

I saw your post asking for cumplane prompts and I couldn't resist giving one:

Fusion au (ala steven universe) where SQQ and SQH can only fuse with one another because fusing with anyone else would reveal them as transmigrators

yayyy thanks for the ask! i did a fanfic for you. its short tho. iis doneeeee but i cant really link it since android tumblr is shit and aint letting me hyperlink. i hate it

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57639514

here

-----

Sometimes Shen Yuan felt that he was thrown inside a nightmare. Airplane called it a fanfic, but didn't call his bro out for being wrong. Gemstones here, alien attacks there, the world the System had for them wasn't Proud Immortal Demon Way anymore. 

Where to start, though? Oh, from the Very Start.

PIDW was meant to be a stallion xianxia. Cheap, easily sellable, you could add whatever bullshit and people would eat it with gusto because Magic Chinese Bullshit solved all problems, no matter what Cucumber would say against it. Now... whatever this world had instead was a mix of intergalactic/sci-fi with some touches of modified xianxia for whatever meaning cultivating could have in their now very touchable, colourful cores. What was this, Land of the Lustrous? Cang Qiong sect itself felt like a direct ripoff outta it. There was no buddhist father of the sects in their mountain though, just a lot of rowdy humanized stones polishing themselves to perfection. Sometimes they polished each other with dual cultivation. Airplane cackled madly when Shen Qingqiu had furiously mentioned it to him, skin dark green in embarrassment. No matter how edited, the core (haha, geddit?) was still the same.

For being a modified xianxia, now that their cores had become actual gems a lot of their training had become a lot more literal. Tangible, even. Airplane decided that it was easier than all the soul and aura bullshit he had written eons ago.

So yeah. Gems. Literal aliens running the whole mountain, training humans (it wasn't the case for every sect, though) and other gems for polishing into immortality. Of course the head figures of every house would have to be gem people, most of them coming from pure lineages. According to some history books, gems had colonized their plane centuries ago. Something about the quality of the soil and the nice fauna.

Airplane had called bullshit on that, he knew it was because of the specialized porn.

Fusion they had called it, the process of becoming one with another gem, the act of purest feelings that would result in a better, stronger core. 

Fusion could also be done within humans, for some reason. He had guessed that the trace minerals inside the alien gems were very accepting of the chelating qualities of the organic complements in humans.

As a result, everyone wanted to fuse. Forget dual cultivation, it was the actual Goal of the gems. It was part of all sects training, it was a required step for perfection.

And everyone could fuse and de-fuse. They could do multiple fusions too! Fusion threesomes, foursomes, maybe more! 

"Do you really believe in that bullshit?" Shen Qingqiu had asked Airplane, now Shang Qinghua, while drinking, while lazing and acting unmannerly outside of every eye put on him. While relaxing in front of the only one who could see him really relax. "Is fusing really a step to happiness?? Today even my own students are asking me why I don't do fusions with anyone in Cang Qiong. They are asking me if I am broken."

Shang Qinghua knew from where those words came from. He had been the one who warned Shen Qingqiu of what fusing really meant.

He had done it once when younger, and he had broken his partner's mind.

They couldn't take all the information inside Airplane's mind and soul. Two lives were too much for a person, even more if they had the information of the world itself.

And yet...

"Not gonna lie to you bro, I do like the idea of fusing. Even Qingge has benefited of it - I believe that it can work miracles sometimes. Just... not with us. Fucking system doomed us sexless." He took a sip of his own baijiu. Tasty shit. 

"Fusionless."

"Whatever, it feels like sex."

Shen Qingqiu had known of his only experience. It had broken him to see that he was unable to participate on one of the best features that the PIDW fanfic they lived in had to offer.

"Your Only sex experience, you mean." 

"Whuh? You come here to call me out while drinking my wine? Pfwuh, you ungrateful child. At least I Have fused once, you are still a Green Sapling compared to Me"

"Well I AM green! And this is bullshit."

To follow the design, Cucumber was also a gem. It was an implicit requirement to be the head of a sect in Cang Qiong. He, though, was not what Shen Jiu had been. 

Everyone knew of the new Shen Qingqiu proud stone, a malachite that had grown from his chest in needles towards his shoulders and neck, a problem not only made his skin get greener shades whenever his emotions ran too strongly but also that required lots of tailoring attempts thus ending with sluttier clothes, making him shine through the hallways of the sects quite literally. He didn't really know how his core had evolved from an olivine to a malachite, their compositions were different, no? And Shang Qinghua had been the only one who knew of the peridot on Shen Jiu's chest, the knew he had guarded and hid all his life, a secret that not even Yue Qingyuan knew at all.

Bullshit world. Bullshit System restrictions also.

"But no, I didn't come here to 'call you out', you swine. I came here with a proposition"

"Whoa, this is new. Are you feeling too alone without Binghe, now?"

"Binghe has nothing to do with this! It... it is more about my. Our. Uh. Our mental health. I was thinking that maybe we could try fusing? We are two people in the same conditions and I thought that maybe the restrictions that affect others shouldn't affect us... wait, what is with that face??"

Qinghua sweated, the astonishment making him acquire an orange tone. "How many cups of baijiu did you drink?? I am not trying anything unless you are sober -- I am sure sober Cucumber wouldn't even try to touch me unless to hit me with your fa-- ouch!" He was hit with Qingqiu's fan.

"I am Not Drunk, Qinghua, I have just started my second cup. My opinion will not change, also, I am telling you -- agh, you are right, this may have something to do with Binghe after all. Today Mu Qingfan even tried to recommend me some fusing to Take my mind out of my Binghe's 'demise' and... you know, it has been one year since I had to thrown him into Jue Di Gorge... Medicines aren't making any effect right now and you heard me, I may be kind of desperate, though, If I am asking this to you so... can you try to listen to me once without being an ironic piece of shit??" 

And sure thing, all that sentence had been acidic as fuck but the pain clad under that was veridic.

For mental health huh... 

"Cucumber bro, you know how this means much more than just treatment, right?"

"I know"

"This also means you will have to understand me, within the fusing bonds and outside of them. You will have to treat me well if we are agreeing to it, even if its just to Try."

"Yeah I will... I am willing to try."

Airplane cackled. "Try?? God, you really are unromantic, you little shit. Go drink some water, let the alcohol flush away first. If I am going to try fusion sexing with you I will not do it with baijiu on the body."

"Hey, I am taller than you!!" But he obeyed his instruction without retaliation, and Airplane thought that may be a start.

When Airplane fused for the first and last time it had been with his roommate, a promising An Ding prospect which meant he was also a tired and hopeless kid with great abilities in math. He had been funny and ridiculous, and also a human. 

He was now six feet under and Airplane excelled in math as a memento of their last dance.

Now they had written their own goodbye letters to their peers and friends, if anything went wrong.

"The best way to start a fusion is by dancing."

"I know, there are many types of courtship dances and Qing Jing teaches more than twenty of them. In my last life I had two left feet and now look at me, master of dances I will never use."

"Oh, not even on me, bro?"

"If you are like me we wouldn't even sync if it isn't something from the modern world, our world."

True that, plus Airplane still had maintained his two left feet from his other life. An Ding never cared to teach them things as frivolous as that, confident on the innate abilities of their own students to learn on their own. Something that Qinghua had planned to change in a near future, of course all depending on how the Binghe domination trope went.

"Got any plans, Cucumber bro? I may have stayed in this world for too long, my mind is already a bit hazy..."

"Hmm. What about Caramelldansen?"

"HELL, NO"

"Gangnam Style?"

"You want us to fuck or to laugh until a heart attack!?"

"Language!"

"Meanie. Hmm, what about Let it Go?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"You know the choreography? I do."

"... of course you would"

It took them a few tries, and they didn't know the choreography as well as they had memed in their own original lives, but they, in time, learnt that the best way to fuse was when in sync with the other, and if it had meant them to be embraced to each other while laughing, it was enough.

"Shizun, what does this mean??"

If the whole of Cang Qiong had taken their reckless union and odd choice of partner with dismayed eyes and mean suspicion, Binghe had been on top if that mountain. Three years training in the underworld had felt like a millennia, and it may as well have been that amount of years considering that coming back may have meant that An Ding and Qing Jing had fused as their leaders had not only become an extremely stable gem, but also decided to keep fused longer and longer. Chrysocolla may have been an invention born two years ago, and may the citrine sparkles shine oddly on their black and green eyes, but the happiness they radiated may have been depicted in books as the bright blue-green colour that made their own robes and hair.

Even when separated they had changed each other, Shen Qingqiu's core turning into what looked more like Azurite, and Qinghua's secret Citrine core changing into various forms of Agate.

"Shizun, are you really happy this way?" Binghe had asked Shen Qingqiu while suddenly missing his green spikes. His new blue robes may not mix well with Qing Jing altogether but it couldn't that it was a beautiful colour.

"Mm, I may be? Now I know many things that I didn't before." He had smiled, finally satisfied. He now had all the information that even Qinghua had reprived to himself and the rest of the world in his mind, thing that became even more ckearer when together, and Qinghua had now someone who loved him and his inventions near. Qingqiu himself had learnt to love his real life inventions too, he could even pass Mobei-jun and see what Qinhua adored in him, too. That was a funny thought, but he had two years of unlearning and relearning new things, enough to be more accepting of what their future could be.

"You think you can convince Shang Qinghua if I can join you?"

If he had fused with Qinghua for that reunion he would've surely not sputtered his tea. That was a certainty.

[iminlovewelliewilliams]

Ellie Williams x f!reader

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night with Ellie trying to cut her hair on her own.

Warnings: idk, just Ellie being a little flirty? English isn’t my first language!

An: Hii!! Okay…im kinda scared that i just had a explosion of ideas in my mind, i think I wrote that in 30 minutes? Idk…i hope you all like this one, I actually liked more than the my last one! One thing that i want to say is…PLEASE give me ideas to write!!!

It was 3 am when you hear some noises coming from somewhere that you already don’t know since you have your eyes closed. You can’t help but feel a little curious, when you finally open your eyes you see that the bathroom’s light is on, Ellie isn’t on the bed, but you can tell that she’s doing something…well.

You sits on the edge of the bed, you get up and walk to the bathroom’s door, open it a little.

“Babe?” You call her name with sleepy voice, you see her with a scissor on her hand.

She turns her head to you with a mischievous smile.

“What are you doing?!” You ask already knowing the answer, hair on the floor and sink, but you just can’t believe she could do that…it’s literally 3 am!

She put the scissor on the sink and looks at you with a embarrassed grin. “My hair was getting longer…”

“Why didn’t you wait until the morning?? Babe…i could help you, you know?” You ask with a grin taking the scissor and look at her hair that now has so many crooked layers.

“I couldn’t sleep…i needed do that, my hair was bothering me, and when i closed my eyes to sleep, i could feel the hair on my shoulders” she says and see you trying to think how you could fix that.

You can’t help but giggle “ohhh right…that makes so much sense!” You joke with her, and you finally start to fix this messy cut that she had done. “Look at me” you say and put your fingers on her chin, so her head is straight and now you can cut the both sides equal.

She looks at you, a little smile is visible on her lips and her eyes travel from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your eyes.

You can’t control your blush and grin that appear on your face. “Stop looking at me like that!” You say refusing to look at her eyes.

“Im not looking at you “like that”” she giggle playing dumb.

“You know…im trying to help you…and if you don’t control yourself I’ll let you stay like this!” You joke with her, making her chuckle.

“Sorry sorry…i promise that Im going to behave ma’am!”

You roll your eyes and after ten minutes you have her hair short and pretty again. “Okay! All done!” You start to brush her hair with your fingers, you have a proud smile.

“Wowww…okay…this is very good babe!” She stares at herself through the mirror. “I’ve already say that you’re the best and i love you so much?” She ask while she turns to you, wrapping her arms around your waist and pecking your lips.

“Yeah yeah whatever” you giggle and hug her too “and of course its “very good”, i have talent with my hands!” You say suuuper proud of yourself.

“Oh, really? And what else you can do with all this talent?” She says ironically while she brush your hair behind your ear.

You pat her arm and roll your eyes “omg shut up! Such a perv!”

Ellie laugh when you pat her arm “Sorry sorry love…I couldn’t resist”

“Mhm…of course you couldn’t…” you say now looking at her eyes, suddenly you start to pulls her to leave the bathroom, going back to the room. “Cmon…im very tired right now, what about we sleep?” You throw yourself on the bed.

Ellie follows you to the room and lies next to you “i think its a good idea” she yawns and pulls yourself into her, but then turning her back to you, this just means that she wants to be spooned today.

You chuckle and hug her, putting your nose on her neck, feeling her perfume “good night babe…love you” you kiss her back.

“Good night, love you more.” She finally could sleep comfortably now that she has her short hair again. 💗

[grcetxt]

Fuck it we ball fanfic time. Gn reader x lars pinfield WOO

Okay WOO lmk if this is shit or ooc or anything, but im pretty happy with how this went :D its a little rushed, might redo it in the future idk. Also i made Y/N bit too much like me (northern) so watch out for that american readers SORRYYY. anwyays enjoy!

I am smart.

No don't laugh, I am, genuinely I am.

Maybe not in the way that others deem important, maybe not in the traditional sense, but I am bright.

Pinfield doesn't think so, the prick.

Every day I come into work, all smiling and welcoming, and what do I get in return? A roll of the eyes if I'm lucky.

Dickhead.

But I don't let him get to me, I love my job. My boss is chill, I love hanging out with Lucky, and the Spenglers seem nice! It's a good gig, really.

I'm the "PR guy" for Ghost Corps. Every time they fuck up and destroy a building or whatever I'm the one who covers it up. I'm a real smooth talker, 'gift of the gab' my mum used to call it.

The team needs me, I know that, they know that. Im crucial to the whole operation, the sole reason why that whiny mayor dude hasnt shut them down.

I'm the one who goes to press interviews, who goes on the radio or on TV. I'm the social media manager, I make videos, and post tweets, fuck I've even started a Ghostbusters youtube account! I deserve a raise honestly. #justiceforY/NthePRguy

I get on with everyone at work except for Pinfield, and I genuinely dont know why.

I've tried getting him to feature in videos, or explain the science of stuff to me so I can actually seem like I know what I'm talking about- but he just brushes me off.

Gary tries to reassure me about this on a daily basis. "Its nothing to do with you Y/N" he smiled one day, putting a hand on my shoulder and guiding me away from the busy scientist. "He doesnt really talk to anyone, he gets really passionate about his work"

"I get that, but there's no need for him to be a dick to me, he's got me thinking all kinds of shit honestly!" I replied, exhasperated "I've never done nowt to him"

Suddenly, Pinfield raised his head from his work, scrunching his eyebrows together. "thats a double negative" he commented, looking at me as if I was stupid. Great, It's the most he's ever spoken to me and its a fucking insult- atleast I think it is.

"you what?" I ask, making my way over to him despite Garys protests. I fold my arms, looking as menacing as i can (which ive been told isn't very menacing at all)

"I said its a double negative, if you've never done nothing then you must've done something" before I can reply, he adds onto the end "which you haven't, by the way. I dont know why you think that. I treat you the same as anyone else"

I can't explain why his answer bothers me so much, but it does. Why does he view me in the same way he views the others? That's hardly fair. I'm always welcoming to him, I make time out of my day to include him in things. I hate to admit it, but I genuinely admire him aswell. His love for all things paranormal, the way he gets so excited and proud when he gets to explain the science of ghost-catching to someone. It's oddly endearing.

I tell him as much (excpet for the stuff about him being endearing, he doenst need his ego inflated any more than it already is)

He looks confused, I've never seen him look like that- its weird. Arrogant? sure. Annoyed? when is he not bffr. Happy? Once or twice. But confused? Weird. This is the guy with all the answers, the smart one.

He thinks for a moment, before seemingly making a desision. He stands up with a small huff of exhasperation, and walks off.

As he goes past me, he grabs my arm, more gently than I thought he was capable of. Okay, i guess im coming too. Fun, roadtrip time.

He takes me out of the lab and down the corridor, into a relatively well lit small room.

"Well this is-" before i can speak properly, he cuts me off. Told you he was a prick.

"I dont understand you Y/N" he blurts out, looking at me, as if I'm some sort of specimin hes studying in the lab.

"Well good." I joke. I dont like the serious tone he's taking. Dont like how aware I am of his gaze. HATE the fact I can feel my cheeks burning. Gross. Pinfield is a dick, we've established this. Why the fuck am I BLUSHING because he's LOOKING at me? Bit embarassing, pull it together Y/LN.

He doenst like this though. He shakes his head, pacing around.

"No Y/N you dont get it. I understand everyone, sort of anyways. I've observed them, I can predict their reactions to things. I know what they're all like- but you're... I just dont understand! You're so happy and nice all the time, but you also get angry at stupid stuff, but never really properly angry? I cant make sense of it, genuinely. You've not done anything wrong, you can't do anything wrong. Thats frustrating too. It's like you're this perfect, beautiful person, and I've been trying to see flaws but I cant-" He rambles, speaking like hes just letting out one stream of constant thoughts. He seems stressed, poor guy.

I interupt him, grabbing his arm. "Hey, c'mon Pinfi- I- Lars. C'mon Lars. I'm not worth the stress mate" I try and reassure him, but that just agitates him more.

"See! That's just it! I've been horrible to you, I admit it. But you've kept trying with me! When I hurt my hand you were the one who bandaged it and put it in a sling"

(i had found him almost blacked out from the pain on the lab floor, even the memory of it sent a shiver down my spine)

"you were the only one that looked for me after we all nearly died fighting Garraka"

("Pinfield? Pinfield!? Oh my god, there you are! Thank fuck you're alright!" Okay maybe this tiny non-crush had been going on longer than i thought... christ)

"I dont like the thought of you hurt..." i muttered, embarrased. this definitely wasnt how i was expecting this conversation to go, fuck my life I was crushing on a nerdy scientist who defintely didn't like me back.

He stopped his pacing and walked over to me until the gap between us was non existant. He slowly, hesitantly, lifted his hand until he cupped my cheek.

"I don't like the thought of you upset because of me" he muttered, his voice low.

My heart completely stopped, my breath caught in my throat, was this happening? how was this happening? i swear this guy was like my mortal enemy not even 5 minutes ago. so many revelations were bieng made today...

I decided to be bold, why not? fuck it, i've got nothing to loose at this point.

I leaned in so our noses just grazed eachother, looking at him, really genuinely looking at him. his soft blue eyes that seemed to peer into my soul. Not pierce through it, like some weird blue eyed fuckers i knew, but looked. gently, tenderly, as if he was looking at everything i ever had been, or would be. like i was something beautiful, something to be treaured.

It made me want to sob at the thought. god, how disgustingly sweet.

"make up for it then" i whispered, the tension so thick i could cut it with a knife.

I'd planned on being the one to make the forst move, but apparently, that was all that Lars needed.

He kissed me. His soft lips pressed against mine, sotfly, tenderly, tentatively.

I could feel the anxiety radiating off of him, so i quickly reciprocated. More eagerly than i owuldve liked- but oh well.

I could feel his hand resting on my waist, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. It all felt so tender, so raw, not at all how i thought it would be.

I felt like a teenager again, and couldnt resist letting out a small giggle, making Lars pull away. He looked confused again, making me laugh once again.

"What?" he aksed, a sort of amused smile on his face.

"Nothing- sorry. Nothing at all. Just thinking of how fuming mums gonna be when i tell her ive got a posho for a boyfriend"

"I am NOT posh!"

"you are a littleee"

"I AM NO- wait- boyfriend?"

"oh shit didnt mean to say that bi-"

he cut me off with another kiss, this one much more confident.

It felt like a million fireworks were going off in my head, oh I could definetly get used to this feeling. This war, sweet, happy feeling. My senses were flooded with everything Lars. His taste, his smell, his touch.

I felt like I was learning to live again.

[loveiis]

oh you fancy, huh?

chris sturniolo x black!fem!reader

summary: chris pretty much has a thing for seeing you all dolled up for a just a day of spoiling you. he loves spending his money on you all the time and seeing your reaction when he randomly takes you out to get your nails done and go shopping.

warnings: suggestive jokes, cursing, fluffy, NOT PROOFREAD

(A/N: i am somewhat proud of this but also not at the same time. i literally wrote this because apparently it was an idea i recently had. idk.)

“come on ma, you’ve been in that bathroom for an hour already.” chris called from the other side. “sorry bae, im coming i promise. one more thing.” you responded, dragging your lip gloss across your lips.

you forced the applicator back into the container, and walked out the bathroom to see your boyfriend scrolling on his phone. he looked up at you, looking at how beautiful you looked dolled up like this.

“damn, i didn’t know you were doing all that.” placing his phone in his pocket, he kissed up and down your neck softly. “chriiis, let’s go i’m ready.” you cupped your hands around his neck as he kissed up your jawline and finally placed a kiss on your lips.

“mm, i like that cherry.” licking his lips and tasting the bit of lipgloss on his lips now. “ew, chris. dont eat the lipgloss.” you swiped it from his mouth with your thumb. “i’ll eat you if you don’t stop touching my lips like that.” he looked down at you with low eyes.

you removed your thumb from his mouth and instead held his hand. “lets go, please. you’ve been waiting and i feel bad.” you say softly. “its okay, ma. it was worth the wait to see you look like a full course meal.” he smirked.

“chris.” you glared at him. “okay, sorry. let’s go.” he started walking, keeping his hand intertwined with yours.

he opened the car door for you, giving him a small “thank you” before settling in. he got into the drivers seat and started the car.

“we should go get your nails done before we go shopping.” he stares at you. “how’d you know i needed to get them done again?” you quirked an eyebrow.

“cause’ i got you a tech without your permission. you haven’t been able to tell by the amount of times i’ve taken you to get them done again?” he replies.

“no, actually i didn’t notice. that’s so sweet of you, baby you know you don’t have to do all this.” you hold his hand as a thank you.

“actually i do, spoiling you is my middle name.” he kissed the top of your hand. yeah, you’re marrying this guy.

he pulled out of the driveway, starting his destination to the place you usually get your nails done at.

——

“hey girl good to see you again!” the nail tech, rachael, greeted you. “heyy!” you gave her a nice hug. “so what we getting today?” she asked. you didn’t really plan this out, since it was kind of a last minute decision made by your boyfriend.

“ummmm….” you slowly turn to look at your boyfriend, who’s again, scrolling on tiktok. “ma, you know you can get whatever you want. i’m not going anywhere.” he deadpanned.

you rolled your eyes as you thought about what you should get. “uh, lets just do regular coffin french tips.” you turned to smile at her. “feet too? or no?” she asked. “no, not today.” you shook your head. “okay, lets get started.” she walked towards a manicure table and sat in the chair, as you followed behind and sat on the other side.

your boyfriend sat in the chair next to you, at the other manicure table. she started to get to work on your nails, as your boyfriend sat patiently next to you, occasionally checking on the process to make sure they look nice.

——

“baby, they’re done.” you wiggle your fingers in front of him, showing off your new set. he immediately looked up from his phone, smiling. you smile, doing a little shoulder dance, happy with your new nails.

chris loved to see you like this, happy with new things he bought you, looking like the happiest girl in the world.

you both stood up from your chairs, moving to the front desk to pay. “you look so pretty, baby.” chris stood behind you, his hands on your hips and kissing your neck.

rachael smiled and mouthed the words “yall are so cute”. you smiled at her comment. “how much?” you asked. “twenty dollars.” she leaned over the counter. “twenty? thats different from the last time i got these.” you questioned.

“yeah, twenty dollars because i love you guys. we’re like family now.” she shrugged. you chuckled, reaching into your purse to grab a twenty dollar bill, until a hand slapped your wrist.

“ow! what the fuck chris?!” you twisted your head a bit to look at him, who was still kissing your neck. using his left arm to hug your waist, he used his right to pull out his black card and hand it to you. “its just twenty dollars, jesus you don’t need to flex. its only rachael.” you rolled your eyes, handing rachael the card.

she scanned the card, and handed it back to you. “have a great day guys!” she waved at both of you. chris stopped kissing your neck and waved as you did too. you both walked out of the place, chris’ arm wrapped around your waist. “thank you baby.” you kissed his cheek as a reward.

“you say thank you in that tone again and i swear to god im gonna fuck the shit out of you.” he says, pressing the button to unlock the car. “whats going on with you today?” you get in the car as he holds the door for you.

he gets in the car, starting it up. “nothing, you’re irresistible, you know that.” he pulled out the parking lot, his right hand on your thigh.

——

you arrived at the mall, chris holding your hand as you both walked in together. chris had felt pretty scared since you were looking a little too good today and you were out in public.

“lets go to windsor.” you suggested. “wherever you want, just take me there. don’t even ask.” he once again kissed your hand, but kept holding it as you led him to windsor.

you looked around at the dresses, grabbing a formal one, and a sundress. he wasn’t really paying attention to what you were grabbing, so you went into the fitting rooms with him.

he waited outside while you tried on the formal dress, it was a sparkly blue skin tight dress.

“okay, im done.” you came out the tiny fitting room, stopping in front of your boyfriend who was sitting down on the complementary bench. he looked up at you. “what’s this dress for?” he caressed your sides with his hands.

“maybe for like parties or something, when i wanna go out with my girlfriends.” you looked at him, knowing he was going to say something stupid.

“oh you fancy, huh?” he smiled at you. “boy what do you know about fancy?” you chuckled.

“i listen to that song, what do you mean?” he continued rubbing your sides. “mhm, sure baby.” you laughed. “don’t doubt me, ma.” he said. you shook your head, and went back to the room to try on the next dress.

you came out again, this time with the sundress on. you gave him a little twirl and asked him what he thought about it.

he didnt say anything, but he stood up and got closer to you. he placed his hands on your hips and smiled. “you look so fucking beautiful. in everything. even in what you were wearing today.” he started to kiss your neck, again, for like the third time today.

“does this mean i can get both dresses?” you removed his face from the crook of your neck and looked into his eyes. “yes, baby. get whatever you want. just grab it.” he looked back at you.

he seemed entranced by you. like you put him under a spell today, he has never said no to his sweet girl, and he never will.

you kiss him softly on the lips and go back to the fitting room to change back.

you grab both of the dresses and head to the register, chris immediately giving you his black card again.

you started to hit more stores, never forgetting to say thank you to your lovely boyfriend everytime he got you something. even though there were clothes he didn’t like, but you did, he couldn’t say no. you were his weakness, and the way you looked today just made him even weaker.

chris carrying about four clothing bags and you carrying three sephora bags headed back to the car. putting the bags in the backseat you sat in the front as he got in the drivers seat.

“i love you so much chris. thank you for today, you know you didn’t have to.” you smiled at him. god he was gonna lose it if you smiled at him like that again.

“i do have to, i’m never going to not spoil you. i love you too, okay?” he lifted your chin with his index and thumb and placed a light kiss on your lips. “still liking that cherry flavor, ma.” he licked his lips, smirking. you rolled your eyes as he plugged in the aux cord.

“oh lord, what’re you about to play now?” you looked at him. “you’ll see.” he grinned at you.

“Go, go 'head (Go, go, go)”

“oh my god, chris.” you smiled, knowing he was playing Fancy by Drake. he started to head bop to the beat, you joined in after a little while.

“this song was made for you baby.” he says, driving out the parking lot. “that’s what you think.” you looked out the window, listening to the song.

“oh you fancy, huh?” chris sang along with the lyrics.

——

when you arrived back home, you both took the bags inside and placed them upstairs as you started to get unready.

chris was now in grey sweatpants and a white shirt, while you removed your makeup and wore one of chris’ shirts and nothing but underwear underneath.

chris laid back in the bed, waiting for you to finish whatever you were doing. you came out, no makeup or anything like that on. “you still look so pretty. how am i so lucky to have such a beautiful girl?” he opened his arms as you climbed into them.

you laid on his chest, his right arm around your waist and your right leg across his. he used his other arm to pull up the covers, and then placed it back on you.

“thank you baby.” you lifted your head a bit to look at chris, then scooted up a bit to cup his cheeks in your palms, and placed a bunch of kisses all over his face. you wanted to show him how thankful you are for a man like him.

“stop kissing me im seriously about to lose it.” he halted your actions. you went back down to your position, chris rubbing your back in up and down motions.

you get more comfortable as your eyelids started to feel heavier, falling asleep in your boyfriends arms.

[johnwickb1tsch]

A Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline that's turning into a fic Part 5 ~

Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle

You grow up at Las Nubes vineyard, and have to go home to your dying father. You take your fake new husband, Sgt Paul Sutton, with you... Warnings: His Hotness don John being a bully 🙃 <----Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 chapter map

-Life moves at its own pace at Las Nubes. True, it is a vineyard, but it is also a working farm, a self-reliant symbiosis of the land, the beasts, and the men and women who tend them. There are sheep and chickens and pigs and of course, the pride of the land owning Californio: horses. There is always something to be done, when you are not tending your father, so when the chance comes at the siesta break you pounce on it to write a little in your diary. Everyone else is asleep, or at least resting during the hottest part of the day, and its almost as though you have the place to yourself by the duck pond in the shade of the courtyard. You throw them little morsels of stale bread, smiling at the happy way they wag their tails and mutter as they nibble. 

The hens enjoy themselves, at least, until the drake decides yet again that it’s time to bestow his special attentions. There is one hen in particular he favors, and you wince as it looks more like he’s trying to drown her than make love. The poor thing has a little bald patch on the back of her head from him biting her to hold on as he rides her. 

“Leave her alone,” you say, poking at him with a stick to dislodge him from the poor girl. She shakes it off and goes back to her bread. He makes his complaints to you, but retreats to the far side of the fountain. 

“Poor bastard. You didn’t even let him finish.” 

You jump a little at the sound of don Juan’s voice, not having expected to see anyone around. Warily you watch him as he takes the seat next to yours, his long legs sprawled out before him. He wipes his face with a handkerchief; he’s been doing something in the fields, perhaps, or out with his prized stallion. He seems tired, but content; whatever chore he labored at must have gone well. 

“He’s too much of a pest,” you say. “He needs to be sent to the cook pot.” 

Juan smirks over at you. “But then where will my ducklings come from?”

You make a sound between your teeth at that, and he goes on, “I like him. He is exactly what God made him. He does not have to apologize for it.”

It’s true, that he’s a handsome fellow, with his iridescent emerald green head and the proud curl of his drake feathers on his behind. “He looks like pato asado to me.”  

“You would take his life?” poses Juan, clearly enjoying playing the foil. He was always like this, even when you were children. Always taking the opposing side, for the sake of being contrary. “For being a man of passions?”

“For hurting his females for the sake of indulging his passions. He’s supposed to protect them.”

“Ah, well. Everything comes with a price.” 

You look over at don Juan, devastatingly handsome, even in a dusty work shirt open at the collar, his long legs encased to the knee in well-worn leather boots. Once you might have sold your soul, to possess this man for yourself. 

Now you realize, some prices are too high. 

“What do you want, Juan?” you ask cautiously. You can tell that strangely he’s in one of his more playful moods. That doesn’t mean you’re safe by half.

“Just to talk.”

“About?”

He leans in across the table, his dark eyes raking over you. You hate it, how that still gives you such a guilty thrill. “I have a proposition that may interest you.”

“Is this a proposition you would not like my husband to overhear?”

Now it is he who makes the frustrated hiss between his sharp teeth, sneering. “Come off it. You are no more married to that man than I am the Pope.” 

“Señor, how you offend me.” 

He narrows his eyes to slits, but a smirk pulls at the corner of his proud lips. He is enjoying himself–and that worries you. “I understand you, y/n, better than you think.”

You’re afraid that might be true.

“Oh?”

“I have always known you have a heart not easily tamed. Perhaps it is why I have always loved you.”

“Juan…”

“Marry me, y/n. Be the mistress of this place. Of your own destiny. I will give you your room with your typewriter in the tower, overlooking this.” He holds his arms wide, encompassing the entirety of Las Nubes. “There is no better view, no better place to be on this Earth. Your only master shall be me.”

Many things can be said of don Juan. If there is something you know he does truly love, it is Las Nubes. He is a man of this land, and you understand he truly cannot fathom wanting to be anywhere else. 

Then, you realize that he must have been spying on you and Paul in the pool that night, and that maybe he really does know everything. 

Once, being crowned reina of this estate might have been your fondest dream, something so far out of your grasp there was never any sense in even thinking of it in the light of day. Now��you know that binding yourself to Juan would be like offering your ankle up for a gilded ball and chain. 

He would destroy you, little by little. Maybe not even maliciously, but in spite of himself. He is what he is, and you are what you are. 

It would be war. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you say, tracing a finger over the edge of your little diary, unable to meet his burning eyes while your heart beats too fast in your throat. “I’m already married, and you are engaged.”

“To some girl I’ve never met, two-thousand miles away? What is she to me, but a dowry? We don’t need it. The harvest was generous; the land blesses us as always. We take care of Las Nubes, and she takes care of us.”

You can feel his eyes boring into you, and it sends an uneasy thrill down your spine.   

“I’m sorry, señor. You’re too late. Don’t marry her if it displeases you. But you must find yourself a different bride–I am taken.”

You physically feel the change in the air, as his jovial bonhomie shifts to blackness, like a thunderhead looming. Yet somehow it surprises you when he moves like lightning, snatching you up in his unforgiving arms, his grip on your wrists bruising. “WIllful girl. I offer you this highest honor, and you throw it back in my face? I will prove that you are lying to me,” he tells you, his voice low in your ear. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your fear. “And then, I will claim what is mine.” 

“Let go of me.”

“What if I don’t?” he demands, delighted by the thought of a fight. You can see the spark in his eyes. Despite his anger; this is fun for him, and you know a marriage to this man would never know peace. He would terrorize you for nothing if not his own amusement. Maybe he would give you a room in the tower–but its more likely he would lock you in it. 

“Y/n?” Again, Paul rides to your rescue, approaching from somewhere beyond the wall. 

Before you can answer this time, don Juan presses his mouth to yours in a punishing kiss, your teeth clashing in his furious bid to claim you. This time, he remembers to retreat before you can bite him too, releasing you so abruptly you fall back into your chair. With a dramatic sweep of his arm he knocks your diary into the fountain before stalking away on those long legs. “How clumsy of me!”

You shriek, diving for the little book. 

That is how Paul finds you, on your knees by the water, crying over your inked words now obliterated. 

“Y/n?” He falls to his knees beside you, at first not understanding, searching you for injury. “Are you alright?”

You hold up the little book, half the pages now more resembling a watercolor painting. “It’s ruined.” 

“Oh.” He frowns, not wanting to belittle this thing that clearly distresses you, but not understanding nonetheless. “Can’t you…write it again?”

You know you’ll never be able to recreate exactly what you’d put down there. You won’t be able to remember what you wrote, in the throes of feverish inspiration, the manic fugue of the cosmic muse whispering through your writing hand. 

Amidst your own daily musings, you’ve been writing a story about a spirited young lady who meets a handsome veteran on a bus. 

You shake your head, crestfallen, and Paul’s frown darkens for you. 

“What happened?”

You don’t know if he saw the tailend of don Juan turning the corner before he made the scene, but a part of you fears that if you tell on the master there will be a fight. “I dropped it,” you say meekly. 

For a moment, you can tell he wants to argue, but because he’s a better man than anyone here, he lets it go. “Ok, sweetheart. Let’s go see if we can get it dried out.”

You are beginning to see this miraculous thing about Paul. When you are dead set that a thing is doomed, he still finds hope. Although you’re mostly certain the diary is ruined, you still feel better returning to your room with his arm around your shoulders. 

Maybe you can rewrite it after all.  

[nonconstories]

My little writing prompt: anonymous halloween party encounter, perhaps a few masks and a skimpy costume? Thematic for October! -@cupidftm

You are EXPLOITING my costume fetish!! EXPLOITING IT!!

Click under the cut for PART ONE of something that got VERY LONG because I am a COSTUME SLUT. AKA public sex, groping, slutty costumes, and impending parking lot foursome with strangers. Under negotiated sexy stuff and pussy spanking. Part two is very nearly done and the full piece is going up this weekend

Word Count 2k

They called it the Barn Dance. What else were they supposed to call it; the nightclub it was thrown in was inside an actual, converted barn, because the proud people of South East Michigan were not going to go all the way to Detroit (or worse, Ann Arbor) just to party on Halloween. So, every year, Hayloft filled all three dance floors with decorations and booze and candy and charged 30 bucks for tickets. Costumes were mandatory, drugs tolerated, and drunk sex in the bathrooms, parking lot, and less visible corners virtually guaranteed. Hence, why Hazel was here, dressed in the sluttiest costume he could get his hands on, three drinks deep, and determined to fuck the memory of his ex-boyfriend anyway.

Bentley was around here somewhere; the asshole never missed the Barn Dance. Had, in fact, met Hazel at the one held three years prior. Now, he was likely prowling around for new hole to stick his dick inside, since fucking Hazel had gotten old, or whatever he'd said ten days ago, while dumping him on the patio.

Hazel ordered a fourth drink.

Now thoroughly buzzed, he jumped off the barstool he'd claimed nearly two hours prior, and stalked out of the bar area and towards the main dance floor. He felt eyes on him the whole way. Some were doubtlessly judging the skin tight shorts and bikini-like top, but most felt appreciative, maybe even greedy, and he tried to smooth his expression into something welcoming. He hadn't shown his belly in a long time; not since the t-shots had thickened up his treasure trail and chest hair, as well as putting the extra squish onto his hips and stomach and legs.

His blood boiled as he thought of Bentley's grim looks and back-handed reassurances that Hazel could "lose it", of his oh so innocents remarks about shaving and waxing and fucking electrolysis. Boiled as hot as it had when he was buying the itsy-bitsy ensemble he was now filling out so nicely. Both the bikini top and the shorts were fuzzy and brown, textured like a fancy teddy bear's fur to go with the tiny ears nestled into his hair, and the Ugg-like boots on his feet. The top, two triangles pointing inward to meet between his soft pecs, showed glimpses of his surgery scars, and was closed with a delicate red bow. A matching one was around his neck, and from it dangles a small, gold tag. It was that tag that had sold him in the costume shop: up close, you could see that it was stamped with Pet Me, I'm Soft.

Music pounded and thrummed and all around him, the bodies surged and swirled until he was swallowed into the chaos of the dance floor. More eyes were on him, so he showed off. He let the music worm its way into his bones and make him writhe and shimmy and roll his body in a way he'd normally never do outside of a gay club. Hell, normally he never danced in "straight" clubs at all, had been too worried about dancing like a girl.

Well, guess what? The ways girls dance is hot, and Hazel looked hot doing it, knew that for a fact, and that's what he needed. Hell, bagging a bi-curious straight dude might be the exact thrill he needed to make Bentley seem as irrelevant as possible.

Most of the faces around him were covered by masks, and that seemed to be making people bolder than usual. Some of the gazes on his body turned to hands. Hands grabbing or petting his ass, or his stomach; hands trailing down his back, sending shivers up and down his spine; hands reaching around from behind to fondle his chest through his fuzzy top. Face flushing, he let them, welcomed every caress like a compliment, and even rewarded some of the gropers with warm gasps of pleasure.

Someone stepped in close. Very close: his back was brushing against the leather of the stranger's jacket and the sensation had his painted toes curling in his boots. Hands, also wrapped in leather, caught his hips in a possessive, commanding grip, and Hazel let out another exaggerated gasp. Instead of turning around, he continued to flirt with his body, rolling and rocking in place until he felt the stranger's cock start to plump up behind his fly.

Not looking back, he grabbed his admirer by the wrists, and started to guide them up and down. Getting the message, the stranger caressed his waist and his ribs and his stomach, and Hazel ground his ass back against him. Pressed in this close, he could feel the strength in that body, and it made him ache with want. "Cute costume," the stranger shouted into his ear; where their faces touched, Hazel could feel a mask covering the top half of his face.

"I know," Hazel shouted back, and blushed when he laughed.

His lips pressed a few teasing kisses against one bare shoulder, and then his fingertips danced up to the edge of Hazel's top. "Not sure you need this part." His eyes rolled back into his head as two fingers on each hand slide under his top and rubbed his scars appreciatively. Over the last couples of years, dark hair had bloomed around both of them, contrasting with the soft, red lines. "Yeah, you don't need it! Lemme take it off."

"Right here?" Hazel shouted back, as his pussy ached and his dick whimpered for attention. "Oh! You do mean right here!" He laughed, delighted and stunned, as those eager hands undid the bow between his pecs and peeled the top open. "You are bold," he said, trying to purr seductively. Unfortunately, he choked on the words a little when the stranger began pinching and rubbing his nipples. Frantic, energizing pleasure rolled through his chest and his pussy, and he pressed harder back into the stranger's chest. When he looked down, the flashing, multi-colored lights of the dance floor reflected off the glossy black of the gloved fingers toying with his chest.

"Like that?" One hand dropped from his chest to his crotch, and Hazel moaned as the stranger started to rub him off through the front of his shorts. "Hump my hand. Hump my fucking hand, cutie." A hard cock rubbed against the swell of his ass, making Hazel's mouth water and his pussy ache even more. Too turned on to even think of resisting, his hips started bucking on their own, and the stranger growled "Oh, fuck yeah," as Hazel desperately humped the hand between his legs.

Hazel let his eyes fall closed as the stranger played with him with both hands, and could both feel and hear the small audience they'd attracted. A couple of the bolder (or drunker) party-goers had shouted "Fuck him" or "Rip him up" and more and more heat was rising to his face and building up in his pussy. But then the air in front of him shifted, and his eyes flew open as a second body pressed into his space. A guy in a Devil costume, horned mask and cape and tight black body suit, stared down at Hazel with obvious hunger, and Hazel opened his mouth to say something.

Sculpted rubber pressed against his lips and face as the devil kissed him through the full face mask, effectively gagging him with the stretchy black material that covered the grinning mouth. The first stranger, the one all in leather, laughed, and both of his hands went to Hazel's hips. While Hazel panted against the devil mask, the man in leather started bouncing his ass against the bulge in his jeans. "What took you so long?" He shouted, and the devil mask pulled back to answer him.

"I'm here now! And look what you caught!" Now it was his turn to fondle Hazel's scars and nipples, sniggering about the shiny gold tag the entire time. "Got him all turned on, too" he taunted, and Hazel gave him a highly exaggerated bat of his eyelashes. Biting his lip as the cock against his ass continued to grind away, he did his best to hold his thighs open. "Whore." With one final pinch, he turned his attention from Hazel's chest to his pussy. He rubbed one hand down his belly and over his pubic bone, until he was cupping him through his shorts. Instead of stroking and petting, however, he started to spank.

"HEY!" Hazel jumped in the first man's leathery grip, and both strangers laughed at his reaction. "Stop!" He said, mostly on reflex, as devil mask continued slapping his dick and pussy through the thin fabric.

"Oh, shut up," devil mask cooed, and his free hand gently grabbed Hazel's throat. "Yeah, keep flinching for me, whore. I'll kiss it better when I'm done."

Hazel was no longer yelping: the firm, rhythmic smacks were making his pussy even hotter, and he squeezed down on nothing with every blow. His breath was coming in loud pants as he tried to both hump the hand between his thighs and grind his ass against the other stranger's cock. "Fuck me!" He moaned, and devil mask stopped spanking his pussy to fumble at the front of his own costume. Behind him, the first stranger growled, and grabbed the back of his shorts. Buttons snapped open on devil mask's fly, and the stranger in leather started to pull down his shorts to expose the curve of his ass. "Do it, fucking do it," Hazel pleaded, as their small audience tittering with excitement.

Devil mask let his dick fall out of his fly as he yanked down the front of Hazel's shorts, leaving him exposing to the hot, sexually charged air of the party. Two hard dicks slid into the tiny gap that his fuzzy shorts allowed between his thighs, and Hazel nearly fainted from the teasing pleasure of cock rubbing against his sensitive labia. Squishing him in between their bodies, the strangers frotted against Hazel and each other, cockheads already leaking. Their hands groped up and down his body: squeezing his ass, twisting his nipples, pulling his hair, fingering his mouth.

"I wanna be in you," the stranger in leather groaned, and devil mask fucked his thighs faster. "I wanna fuck your tight little boy cunt and then stuff your mouth with my dick."

"I wanna cover you in my fucking cum," devil mask said, and Hazel suggested that they take this to the parking lot. "Knew you were a whore. Think you're up for a foursome? Or are two cocks gonna be enough for your cute pussy?"

The thought of a third stranger plowing him outside the packed club had him feeling light-headed again, so he nodded eagerly, and the stranger in leather reached around to fondle his dick as a reward. "He's gonna love you," he assured Hazel, as the two of them put their cocks away and pulled his shorts back into place. They left his top open as they each grabbed one of his arms and escorted him out of the throng and towards the nearest exit.

Outside, the air was cold and the wind was biting, and only a few starkly white lights were scattered among the rows of cars and trucks. "Why wasn't he in there with you?" Hazel asked, and purred as the one in leather squeezed his ass.

"He likes when we do the shopping for him."

Devil mask led them through the park lot, towards a panel van parked in the back corner of the lot, and normally Hazel would run screaming in the other direction, but, honestly? He was too turned on to be scared, and happily followed the two strangers into the back of the van.

[thenighthekate]

Am I the one you want [pt.2] ( t.k. )

This little thing, once proud in love and lust, now hides its face and soon it will be dust.

Part one

It felt like the hotel room was filled with steam, their bodies stuck together like glue, grinding, molding with each other. Her breath was stuck in her throat, head thrown back, arms around his neck. His rough hands slid all over her skin, the soft plush beneath his finger shifting with his desires.

The rocking of their bodies slowed down, their minds clouded with the passing clouds of pleasure, euphoria exploding between the two of them.

Tom fell to the left of her, the bed dipping, his arms folded underneath his head. He could see the girl turning away from him, her frame rotating to sleep on her side. " You're quiet. What's wrong?" His hand reached out to glide over her back, shivers left on her flesh wherever his touch was.

" I'm just thinking." Her voice was tired, hoarse.

" If it's about that, don't even try." His tone changed in seconds, annoyance lacing it yet again.

" And why not." She suddenly sat up, the covers sliding down to her lap, her chest bare and naked to the cool air. Her eyes had fire in them, it felt like if he got too close he'd get burned. " Are you scared? You're not happy, everyone can see it."

As childish as it sounded, he rolled his eyes, his body shifting to sit up too. " Why are you difficult again? I told you it's not gonna happen and that's the final."

" Unbelievable." She muttered under her breath, her feet hitting the carpeted floor. Her naked frame walked over to the other side of the room, her hands grabbing her clothes as fast as she could. " And what if I told her exactly what is going on, that her husband is fucking some chick way younger than him."

He laughed, he fucking laughed. He looked her in the eye and with a smile on his face opened his arms as if inviting her to come in between them. " We both know you're not going to. " Her eyebrows scrunched together, her expression confused asking him why. " 'Cus in doing so you're going to lose me and you're going to sound like a whore. Whatever you say to her is not going to do anything. Now, we should watch a movie so come here." His gaze shifted away from her, looking for the remote.

Her hand tightened around her clothes, her anger boiling inside her, his words felt like daggers to her back.

" Fuck you." Her tone was laced with spite, anger, frustration. Honestly it surprised Tom, his eyes immediately going back to her, only to see her fully dressed ready to walk out the door.

" What are you doing?" It was a dumb question really, it was clear what her intentions were. " Hey, baby, I didn't mean it. You know that." As fast as he could he jumped out of the bed to be by her side, his hands grabbing her arms and waist, anywhere she let him touch her. " Come on. It was a stupid thing to say, I know."

" You're an asshole." She turned to him at full speed, her own hands pushing him away from her. She looked wild, the rage inside her building up by every passing second. " Don't fucking touch me. This is it, we're done. And don't even think that I won't tell your wife."

" Let's talk it out." His words fell to deaf ears, the door opening and slamming shut, leaving him alone with his own silence.

His chest fell up and down, heavy sighs leaving his lips. He was fucked.

Part three

[makoredeyes]

Hello, I hope you're doing well! This is probably an odd question, feel free to ignore it. I wanted to ask you as a fellow writer I admire, who is mostly focused on unpopular/dead/deep lore characters. Do you also sometimes feel like what you're writing is irrelevant and unexciting for everyone, except yourself? If so, how do you deal with this? For me sometimes this sudden realization is so crushing, that I cannot bring myself to finish a single work.

Hello! That’s not an odd question at all in fact it feels pretty relevant tbh. (Omg sorry long reply you got me going 💙)

I think I have several kind of interrelated answers for you so let me lay them out.

1- I am powered by autism and a MIGHTY hyperfixation. I have no choice I am compelled. I am blinded to all other things and so while the little bit of feedback that I do get is AMAZING and so extra sparkly motivating it is not entirely what compels me (but BOY does it help)

2- I joked with a friend just last night that, “this season is, as usual, does not have NEARLY enough Felwinter content and so I must therefore create my own.” - as she pointed out, there have been exactly TWO seasons with ANY Felwinter content at all and I wasn’t playing destiny yet for one of them. My point being, sometimes you gotta create what you want to see yourself. I’ve always found myself in some really niche corner of whatever fandom I’m in and have to do this a lot. Probably how I got to writing and drawing etc. fun thing is tho you find a really special group of people who think and love like you that way, and if it’s a smaller crowd, it’s all the more intimate for it Imo. I’ve made some super special friends in the last 9 months or so in my weird little corner here and it’s magical and I think that quality over quantity filter is awesome. (But yeah i know the validation machine is SO good too)

3- the BEST magic of borrowing from obscure content, generally unknown or undeveloped characters or lore is the creative freedom. The headcannon swapping the worldbuilding the background gathering… the RESEARCH! Gleaning what little bit I can from what we DO have. Who the fuck is timur?! We don’t know. I borrowed the beautiful designs for his face and general personality that Sylenth has developed because she’s done such an amazing job and was kind enough to allow me to play with him as she made him, and took that as jump off point for my writing etc but I have all the wiggle room in the world with but a few widely dispersed canon signposts to lead my direction and that is just so fucking fun for me.

(And that doesn’t mean more mainstream characters like Osiris don’t have their creative appeal to me either. I will deep dive on lore and character analysis for YEARS but living in the peripherals is comfy for me)

Those are all the positives to my work, but yeah, sometimes I do feel a little dejected. I have definitely felt a drop off in reader response weirdly in converse to the effort I put into my writing. Housefire has evolved into much more of a cohesive Plot(tm) that is going somewhere very specific from its origin of a few interlinked fluffy anecdotes and funnily enough about the time I started really digging my heels in and plotting and planning and putting in twists I was REALLY excited about, people started responding less. Some of my favorite fics are the least popular. Some of my art I am most proud of gets the least attention but that damn doodle of poor Felwinter getting splattered by a warsat has 200+ more notes than my next most popular art. (The shitposts always win Damnit! 😩🤣😅)

I get frustrated and yeah sometimes a bit discouraged sometimes and I spend Way Too Much time sitting here refreshing my notes because I am a sad lonely person chronically online just way too thirsty for a little validation or a conversation with someone but like. Every piece gets better. Every piece SOMEONE appreciates. Every piece **I** enjoy and is also a chance for all of that when I share it with the world and that’s exciting and good, and like I said the people in this community as niche and little as it is, are really something special, and some of the people that have come into my circle because of it make it SO worth it.

**I was done but then I read your ask one more time and I’ll add this since it popped into my head last-second:

If we are creating works for dead characters we love, we are keeping them alive.

How magical is that??

[rpreaperperson]

6: Grumpy Claw

For more : Masterlist

Warning: Mean Ghost...dont he always

Cheeks puffed, eyebrows furrowing, mouth upside down, eyes glaring at certain someone

And that someone ... is the one who push her down the river when they tried to escape from the mercenaries to the river

Her fluffy tail tapping, each time its tapping the person who makes her anger flinch 

“Kitty...c’mon you know he didn’t mean it, he just doesn't want you to get hurt..” Soap coax her to forgive whatever the culprit had done to her

 “psst, what's wrong with her?” Grave whisper at Soap

“uhh well...”.

.

They’re moving on the white building that kept Hassan....well supposed to anyway, all they got a cartel members and no signs of Hassan

But Claw can still smell Hassan around the room as she sniff around the room.

“They must’ve moved him” her ears twitching at the rough voice

“When?”Soap ask

“not long Master, not to mention theres his flag, must I say your intel’s perfect Master Ale” her finger tracing the flag as she glance at Alejandro, nodded in gratidute Alejandro smiled at her

But then a sound of rumbling alert her,and the tense of her body making Ghost alert too

He glancing out the window

“What is it?”

“The army”

“We got reinforments”

“Negative” Claw snapped her head at Alejandro

“They’re enemies?! But..why?! I thought the army –“ Claw shriek ears flatting against her head in fear

“Calm down gatita, These are troops are paid by the cartel. They’re helping the cartel protect Hassan” hearing this making her ease a little bit

“Mutiple vehicles...troop transports. Light armor”

“Hold fire, let them get close” Claw mounting her gun rushing into Soap side, her belly full of adrenaline glancing at each of her Masters

‘So...this is war..although I already feeled one..but why is this one feels different?’

“Weapons free!!”

“Nya?!” She immediately duck when a bullet came through her, annoyed Claw throwing her grenade

“Eat this! KABOOM!”

“Good girl!” Alejandro praise, Clam beamed at the praise

Then the enemy threw a tear gas, yellow gas spread the room hands covering noses and mouths as they started coughing

Especially Claw who was deeply sensitive with her nose, ear flatting she wobbled as Soap grab her back collar, without word he held her close and jumped out the window along with the others 

“Ya okay Lass?” 

“Y-yes Master..” she smile assure him, Soap as usual rubbing her soft hair 

Alejandro who saw Soap’s affection to Claw became a little bit envy of Soap

“Down the hill! We'll lose them in the mountains! Fan out and stay close” following the Colonel order they retreat down to the hill

.

Claw slit eyes scanning around the mountain as she pointed her gun, ear’s twitching wildly 

“Save your ammo Cl-- “her eyes caught something and she lauches her bullet pass one of the soldier head Rodriguez, she shot a sniper who had been aimed them from the ledge

“YEAH! Did you see it? Ma-” Ghost stare stabbed through her skull, a silent scold treatment 

Her ear flopped into her head

“Good shot Claw!” then she beamed at the praises from Alejandro

.

“Ahh so I’ve heard she’s really a good shooter” Grave glance at Claw who still glaring at the person

“And I so proud of her...Anyway” 

.

“You’ve lead us to dead end mate!” nowhere else to go but to jump to the river

“W-we jump from here?” Claw squeked holding her gun close

“Don’t lose your weapon!” Alejandro jumped followed with Rodriguez

“Jump Claw!”

“I-I think -- “

“Bloody Hell .Just.GO!!” Ghost shoved her back, Soap widen his eyes as Claw falling into the river

“NYAAAAAA!!! I HATE YOUUUU MAS--”

Splashh!

.

“Ghost pushed her into the river and she mad at him?”

“more or less, but can’t say he doesn’t deserve it”

“Why?”

“eh..He’s been kinda mean to her today” rubbing under her neck Soap able to making Claw purring in delight

“Master..” the hybrid tugging his shirt

“mm?”

“Am I a bad girl?” eyes went teary as she looked upon his

“Nahhh why you think of that?? LT just havin another grouchy mood, ain’t that right  L.T?!”

“if she could be more obedient then maybe, I will not be this grouchy” Ghost snap at Soap

“W-woah woah hold it there Ghost..calm down” Soap putting his hand up, Grave raising his eyebrow surprised to saw the calm lieutenant be this snappy

“M-master...why did you so meann, I’ll do everything you told me...”

“No!, no you dont..” He pointed his finger at her 

Body trembling irrated , her eyes became teary

“FINE! I HATE YOU MASTER!! I WILL ASK MISS LASWEL TO BE MOVED ANOTHER TEAM!!”

Soap and Ghost stood there in shock 

“.....join me instead?” ask Graves patting her shoulder

“Can I?!

“Yep, ‘sides most of the boys is a cat person sooo..yeah they would be delighted” he smirk as Graves rubbing between her ears

“NO! join me instead Claw! I will give you many snacks as many as you wants!” suddenly Alejandro pop up out of nowhere with Rudy beside him deadpan 

“SNACKS?!” Graves ‘tsk’ing 

“Claw...please you dont have to..” Soaps plead became muted on Claw ears

Her attention completely focused on Alejandro

 then he glared at Ghost 

“....Shit” for the first time Ghost got scolded by Soap

Taglist:  @lilpothoscuttings  @kaoyamamegami

[asouefanworkevent]

hello everyone 🌸🌸 I have a moderator announcement!

first of all, for reasons I will soon also disclose, I must no longer be your humble mysterious moderator. I will now be your humble, known moderator! although if you could still pretend I was mysterious, oh, that would be very nice. I do in fact REALLY like an air of mystery, as one does.

it is i! @whoslaurapalmer !! (did you know? did you guess? some of you knew, but I know not all of you ⭐️⭐️)

if you follow me on my main, as I know many of you do, you know I live with my mom, and she's not doing very well at all. I really can't say one way or the other today, and it's very scary here right now. the day theme posts for woevember starting tomorrow have been queued, but I don't know if I will be able to reblog anyone's work this week, and I wanted to let you all know in advance so no one thinks I'm not seeing your posts or thinks I'm ignoring you. I am not!! I would never!! ✨️

woevember initially started because I wanted a fan work event for asoue, my favorite book series in the whole world. and it always falls on whatever week has november 15th, because a long time ago, november 15th was a really bad day for me. so going forward, I wanted to associate it with something else!! and running woevember has made me very, very happy. and it was something I loved telling my mom about too, and something she was also so excited for, because she knew it made me happy. the reason I always say I'm proud of everyone for woevember is because, I think it's important to always know there people who ARE proud of you, who DO see you and the work that you do, and the things you create, that you made something special and it didnt just exist in a vacuum. that's how I feel with my mom, and I always want other people to feel that way too. you should never, ever feel like there is no one else in the world who will notice you, even a sometimes wicked world, going on its wicked way. there is always somebody for you.

I am so, so proud of what we've all done for woevember, every year, and this year too!! pre-emptively!! thank you so much for being a part of it. thank you for, even if you didn't know it, being a big, fun part of my life, and an exciting part of someone else's life, too.

I do intend to continue woevember next year in the fall, and hopefully the wicked way exchange early next year. I just don't know if I'll be able to reblog things this week. I might! and I might not! and I wanted to let you all know. thank you for listening.

thank you so much. 💖💖💖💖💖