#i am on a roll

[jhonskii]

GET YO MANGY ASS ON

IT IS DONE

[ssparksflyy]

just thinking about first kiss w/leo and your hands are in his hair except he gets nervy and the tips of his curls accidentally catch fire and burn your hands !!

so then he carries you bridal style to the infirmary, literally crying and begging for forgiveness

and yk the talk with will as of how you acquired these odd shaped burns is awkward as hell

anon ur so right

whats funny about it is that the tips of his hair catching fire is actually one of your favorite things about him, you think its super cute and tease him about it sometimes- calling him names like 'hot head' and telling how adorable you think it is only makes them burn brighter and has him shoving his tomato red face into his hands. you werent lying when you called it adorable, it truly always made your heart flutter and brought a smile to your face.

so when it happens during your first kiss together, you obviously pull away and remove your hands from his hair cause.. well.. they just got burnt ?? but you still cant help but smile a bit.

the burns themselves werent extremely bad, they just stung a bit, and the kiss was great but that didnt stop leo from freaking out and immediately apologizing repeatedly, asking you if you were okay and grabbing your hands to get a better look at them.

you explain to him that youre okay, but this man is literally on the verge of tears, thinking you hate him and never ever want to see him again. you assure him youre ok, and just need to run over the infirmary for a quick treatment.

you try to turn away to the infirmary, but leo is so quick to literally sweep you off your feet and carry you in his arms, bridal style. he says something about making it up to you and calls himself 'your certified knight in shining armor' which only makes you smile more.

he begins scurrying over to the infirmary, pushing past campers so determined to get you there as quickly as possible, making you giggle. he puts you down at the door of the infirmary, quickly grabbing the door and holding it open for you.

you let out a light laugh and a 'thank you', then brush past him and into the infirmary. he follows right behind you, closing the door behind him. you walk up to the counter, asking one of the apollo kids for some assistance with your burns and she leads you over to sit and wait on one of the hospital beds until will can help you.

leo sits in the chair right next to you and even though youve told him a million times that youre ok, his leg cant help from bouncing and he can't stop fidgeting with his fingers. you notice his behaviors and put a hand on top of his busy ones, giving him a soft smile. he looks up and returns the smile, but is snapped out of his la-la-land trance when will walks over with his clipboard, ready to help you.

he asks you whats wrong and takes a look at your hands, but seems to have a puzzled look on his face.

"how'd you get these burns? theyre really weirdly shaped." he asks.

your face gets hot and your body tenses up, leo having the same reaction.

"uhmmm..uh- i-"

"wel-well you see what had happened was-"

"we ummm.."

"out with it already." will said, giving you a deadpan look.

you and leo glanced at each other in panic, but knew you shouldnt lie. not to will.

"we..wellwekissedandiwastouchinghishairbutthenitcaughtonfireandburntmyhadns" you mumbled quickly, looking down.

"what?" will asked, moving closer in hopes of hearing you better.

"wee.. kissed and i had my hands in his hair but then it caught on fire and burnt my hands" you said, elongating the syllables and feeling your face get hotter with each word.

will tired so hard not to laugh or smile, after all he was in a 'professional environment' ( as chrion called it ) but he really couldn't help it, he smirked and put your hands down, walking away from you and over to the cabinet where all the camp's ointments were kept.

he smothered a glob of the ointment onto your hands then bandaged them up so they could heal properly, and let you go on with your day- but not without a few teases and jokes while leo helped you fill out your paperwork.

after you finished up in the infirmary, you and leo walked out together and immediately plopped onto the bench outside.

"well that was embarrassing" leo said, stating the obvious.

"yep... well, now i know to learn from my mistake the next time i kiss you" you said, a small smirk forming onto your face.

your comment had caught leo by surprise, "what? wait... again? you-you'd wanna do that again?"

you turned to face him with a smile, "i mean why not? youre a good kisser and it's not like ive havent a crush on you for years"

leo had to be on the verge of a heart attack with each surprise he'd faced today, this one only pushing him further off the edge, "you've had a crush on me for years????"

you simply nodded your head and smiled, trying to play it cool when in reality your heart was ready to run out of your chest.

leo ran his fingers through his hair in disbelief, "wait so were you like really good at hiding it or something?? cause ive had a crush on you for years and i feel like its always been painfully obvious."

it was your turn to get nervous, suddenly at a loss for words.

"w-well, maybe you should do something about it then." you said, sounding more confident than you felt.

"well maybe i will."

he cupped your face with his hand and brought you in close for your second kiss that day, holding your hands down with his free one, and moving his lips slowly against yours. this time, the kiss was long and soft, the way your first one should've been. when the two of you finally pulled away for air, you had stupid smiles on your faces that only grew after leo asked you,

"would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?"

to which you gladly said yes to.

[ayresseraph]

HUMAN SEB!

(I hope nothing bad happens to this cheerful lad :3)

[wh0rezs]

“TELL ME WHY YOUR HANDS ARE COLD”-MILES QUARITCH

PAIRING: RECOM! MILES QUARITCH X HUMAN! READER

WARNINGS: non really, Miles being a softie, in sm love that is sickening Miles (i am so lonely), AFAB reader, Lyle being slapped at the end

Colonel Miles Quaritch held a very neat appearance, human or recom. No hair out of place in his braid, shoes shined until you could see your own reflection in them, and his clothes always crisp and clean.

He even kept his workspace clean, not a single thing out of place. Though he was drawn to you, someone who contradict everything he held close to his heart.

[name] was also know around the Bridgehead but for the opposite reason of Miles. Your hair was also sticking out of your bun, clothes being wrinkled and papers scattered across your desk. Though you did take pride in your neat makeup especially your lipstick.

No one, even Eywa herself, knows why Miles choose you as his lover but he did. You two seemed to be plain opposites but also being puzzle pieces that fitted together perfectly.

At first he seem to hate you, and your clutter. He made it his job to clean up your desk (without your knowledge) only to come back later for it to be even messier (if that was possible). As paid back, you would scatter papers around his office to piss him off (you always found them neatly stacked in your desk).

But soon Miles opened his heart to you and you did too. Soon the two of you spent every possible moment with each other, and every night (like the true gentleman Miles’s grandma raised him to be) he would walk you to your dorm and depart.

Tonight would have been no different but you told him you had a gift for him. Instead of Miles walking you home, you walked him to the recoms’ personal gym with Miles’s tail swishing side to side with pure delight.

After biding the Colonel “a good night”, you waited to hear the surprise gasps of the soldiers. You even faintly heard a voice, Lyle’s, say a cheeky remark like “Damn Colonel, were you surprised attacked ?” and following that was resounding slapping sound.

It quickly spread around the Bridgehead that Colonel Miles Quaritch had returned to his dorm with a few dozen of your signature red colored lipstick lips imbedded into his blue skin. You had also returned to your dorm with smudged lipstick, completely your messy appearance.

At breakfast, you heard Lyle, sporting a red hand shaped bruise on the back of his head, explain how he lived to tell the tale.

A/N: did i write this is in one sitting… yes i did. thank you for all the love i am getting for my other fanfics. i promise i have more than j this series i am working on. my stories r never proofread so if u find mistakes pls tell me

[outsideyourhousewithaknife]

I'm glad that my muse has elected to hit me over the head with the creativity stick once again-because of the art, yes, and the ability to express myself, yes, and to create things, and to look at things other people have made without feeling guilty for not having made them myself, and to feel good about myself for creating things and looking at creations, and all of that grand and wonderful and fabulous nonsense, but! The sheer joy and gender euphoria I get from doing anything at all and seeing my chubby little raccoon paws in front of me with the black nails and the cello bruises and the knitting calluses and the reminders scrawled in ballpoint pen and dyed in purple watercolor and splattered with acrylic is one HELL of a bonus.

[sagaduwyrm]

See No Evil (Wipe Clean My Sins)

It was Nocturne who explained it to him first, the God of Dreams and Nightmares shocked that no one else had tried. Maybe they had. Danny hadn’t been the most aware in the early days, every shape he took too-big-too-small and the Infinite Expanse of the Infinite Realms resting heavy on his shoulders. When you are a god, the Sleeping Ancient said, every act against you is a transgression. When you are a god, every transgression becomes a sin.

It was Nocturne who explained it to him first, the God of Dreams and Nightmares shocked that no one else had tried.

Maybe they had. Danny hadn’t been the most aware in the early days, every shape he took too-big-too-small and the Infinite Expanse of the Infinite Realms resting heavy on his shoulders.

When you are a god, the Sleeping Ancient said, every act against you is a transgression. When you are a god, every transgression becomes a sin.

Danny hadn’t understood what he meant at the time. He couldn’t comprehend how it could matter so much, how a sin against a god could twist the fabric of reality into knots and bend the flow of time away from its path.

He understood now.

Ellie, his clone, his mirror-child, his daughter , looked the same as the day she was born but for the y-shape carved in her chest as she lay behind him. Before him stood his parents.

“Danny, sweetie, I need you to step away from the ghost.” Madeline Fenton's hands shook with fear. She thought it was fear for her son, standing too close to that dangerous spook as he was. It wasn’t. Madeline Fenton was afraid of her son, the young man that came back from college and stood tall in between his parents and the ghost, blocking their way.

Human instincts were not the most powerful of things. They had sacrificed that capability in exchange for a different kind of thinking, one that let them build grand workings and conquer their planet. Still, something in the depths of the human brain remembered what it was to fear something too big and bright for human eyes to perceive.

Danny’s eyes glinted strangely. His shadow thrashed on the floor, gentling where it circled the young girl.

“How. Dare. You.” Danny’s voice was steady and quiet, but something at the furthest reaches of human hearing howled .

The Fenton parents exchanged a glance. Jack Fenton spoke carefully. “Danny-boy, it’s a ghost. It isn’t a real person.” His voice picked up in excitement. “And just look at all the data we’ve already captured!”

Around them, the fabric of reality twisted, rippled, and fractured like a mirror dropped from a great height. The Fenton’s kept their eyes on their son, something in them quailing at the idea of looking at the cracks in the corners of their eyes.

Danny snarled. “That ghost is my daughter. Your granddaughter.”

Now they were alarmed. “Danny, if it has you believing it’s your daughter, we need to get you away from it right away. The GIW has a good program for detoxification from ghost control, they’ll help,” Maddie said. She wanted to turn and walk up the stairs, lead the way so her son would follow, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe that if she went outside of the basement the rest of the world would still exist. Somehow, it felt like the only thing that was still real was the space between them and their son.

Danny closed his eyes and let out a tired breath. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay son!” Jack smiled. “Just come over here and let us make this right.”

Danny kept talking like he hadn’t heard him. “I hoped you could change, that you would change. That you loved me enough to be better.” He met their eyes and his gaze was pained and filled with sorrow. Their hearts started picking up in their chests.

“I love you.”

"But I won't make the same mistake with Ellie that you did with me."

The world screamed . The weight of the Infinite descended all at once, tearing through fragile three-dimensional reality to reach the sinners standing before the King. The Fenton parents had time for one cut-off scream before the world settled and stilled and they were gone.

The High King of the Infinite Realms collapsed into a grief-stricken pile on the ground, pulling his daughter gently into his lap as he sobbed.

[h-didanart]

11416

11416

Over 10 thousand words

In a singular chapter

Written over the span of three days

I am a god

[lets-try-some-writing]

Goretober Day 3: Oral

I accidentally made a Soundwave origin story with this so if yall like that, here you go. Origin through angst.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

“Hold him down!” Powerful sets of servos held his limbs against the frigid ground of the alley and several mecha prowled around him. The skies were dark overhelm, so much so that only a few stars broke through a clearing the smog that polluted the air. Amidst the panic that made his spark flare in terror, Soundwave found a degree of cold comfort in their presence. It was something to keep him grounded as those holding him in place kept him from squirming.

 A clasp firmly wrapped around his neck stopped him from producing any serious noise and dug into his cabling as the mecha around him murmured amongst themselves. There seemed to be some debate as to what they intended to do to him, however the grip they had on him never once let up. Finally, his attackers seemed to come to some sort of dark conclusion that left Soundwave frantically trying to call for his symbiotes. Deep down in his spark he knew that even if he could contact them, whatever these mecha did to him would have long come to a close by the time any of his symbiotes arrived.

“You sparkeater lookalike-” One of the mechs hissed, his optics glinting the dark but still far away enough that Soundwave had to strain to locate him. He wished more than anything that he could free his cables and send his attackers flying, but the position he was held in, with his back flat against the ground all but totally prevented that. He was more likely to hurt himself than his enemies, and that made him shake a degree, especially as the mech who spoke pushed a few of his fellows aside and strode forward.

“A monster like you trying to be a Senator? No, we can’t have that can we.” The mech snarled, and Soundwave froze as the definitive sound of metal dragging across harsh ground reached his audials. He tried to trash, but his helm was held steady.

“Remove the monster’s mask! Can’t have that getting in the way.” Soundwave tried to squirm, to scream, to do anything and digits hooked under his mask and tore it away with a snap of broken wires and a flare of flying sparks. It hurt, but it was not nearly as bad as the chill air running across his exposed face and the now very clear vision of a raised hammer hovering mere feet above him in the servos of the mech who had been speaking.

“Let’s see if they let you run for the office of Senator once I finish with you!” The hammer seemed to swing in slow motion as it was brought down. It glinted in the starlight, and amidst the sheer, undiluted terror, Soundwave found himself momentarily stunned into silence. There was a strange beauty in the horror-

And then the hammer came crashing down on his intake and jaw. 

A horrific gurgling scream came from his vocalizer as facial protoform split and energon burst free enough that Soundwave could see it flying. He choked on his energon as his jaw caved in, the protomatter making up the skeletal structure warping and cracking. His denta shattered in a spray of terrifying white shards which fell further into his intake where he could taste them as others still splattered across his devastated face. His glossa was torn as sharp edges cut into it, but that only served to have him cry out with more vigor. 

He was hardly able to think before the hammer raised, stained an eerie glowing blue, and was promptly brought back down again with extreme prejudice. His screams grew more frantic even while muffled as his jaw caved entirely, the metal shattering so that it split into two rugged parts. What remained of his denta shattered further, breaking and falling into his intake so that he could feel every small piece against his glossa and intake walls. The shards dug into open angry wounds and his facial protoform throbbed in agony as it was forced to split further from the blunt force trauma. 

Soundwave was unable to do anything aside from weep as the hammer came down again. Sparks clouded his vision, but every time that hammer raised he could see it shining with his spilled essence just as he could clearly capture the gleeful face of his attacker. Rage pooled deep in his spark alongside the fear and agony, so much so that his frantic attempts to free himself started to yield results. Those holding him in place struggled even more to keep him still as that cursed hammer came down-

Again. And again. And Again. 

Blinding pain blurred and faded into one long wave of stinging nerves, swollen protoform, spark shaking agony from shattered skeletal structures, and tank churning nausea from pain and the feeling of his shattered denta combined. At some point the hammer stopped falling and was dropped to the ground beside him with hurried murmurs along the lines of ‘further damage will kill him’. Despite his agony, Soundwave wished he could scoff.

Fools, all of them. 

“Frag you Soundwave! Try to keep aiming for a senatorial seat and we'll finish the job!” One of the mechs shouted before scurrying away with the others. Soundwave was left alone as their pedesteps faded, bleeding out in a dark alley with the assault weapon abandoned beside him. What stupid attackers. They left evidence. 

He could only lay limply on the ground as he waited for his symbiotes to arrive, spitting out globs of energon, his own glossa, and pieces of denta as his venting sputtered erratically. All the while as he laid in torment, the stars twinkled overhead as both a comfort and a taunt. They watched and none intervened on his behalf. Not Primus, not Unicron, no one. Soundwave endured-

Alone.

[aieevee16]

Genderbend Challenge with Void

[arwenkenobi48]

Made an edit with my favourite demons 🥰

(TW: flashes, blood, violence)

[I don’t own anything]

[piratesoftheseaandsky]

I got a full ending for Slay the Princess. My last two routes were The Razor and The Damsel (reverse order again). Woo boy, I have a lot to say about that. We are the Long Quiet, and once we leave the cabin, one way or another, we overtake the construct, and it's only us, and the Shifting Mound. We are as much a self-made god as we are forming our other half. Are we even half? maybe we're less. I don't know. The narrator is as much of a bastard as I first assumed. An arrogant bastard whose selfish desires didn't even reflect that of the world he was trying to "save". What a monster, to force two parts of an infinite whole to torture each other for eternity, until we finally succeed in killing our better. What a coward, to wish to kill the very incarnation of change simply because he fears death. What a lair, to swear she would end the world, when all she could do was allow it to change. I think there's something poetic, that the last path I followed was The Razor, a perfect encapsulation of what we are. Each death is a new voice and they keep coming faster and faster, and when you face her the last time, those voices can't help but still see her beauty, in that collection of blades surrounding her beating heart. We shut them out. We become formless. We are nothing and everything and forever shifting because, like our other part, we are change itself. Those voices are us, but now we don't hear them, they've formed who we are and we are better for it. The Shifting Mound asks us if we are ready. Not yet, we fight, wish for her to see us as we have seen her. Through Conflict We Carve Meaning, the achievement says. We are one and the same and yet two separate entities, and together we shatter the construct and change is returned. What a fantastic way to end a game. I still don't see the psychological horror part, sure the razor was freaky, but she was such a a bad liar and those knives were so kickass and her final form was just goddamn beautiful in all the ways a glittering blade and a beating heart can be. I couldn't find the fear there. Maybe in The Damsel. In the way that, if we keep asking her what she wants, she unravels. I pulled back early there. That was fear for what I had turned her to. But aside from that, I rarely found myself afraid. Awed, angry, amused, but rarely scared. Maybe it's worse for other people. I really loved the Our Song list at the end, and I will be making that playlist for myself. Maybe I'll post it here.

[luciferfemme]

imagine instead of eating him Alastor turns Val into the equivalent of a bear skin rug that he can take Angel across in front of a roaring fire the ultimate fuck you to that moth.

[lazari-returns]

We want lazari not ivil bro

Ivil: It's about TIME you people started finding me annoying.

[that-angry-noldo]

Finrod sees nothing in the darkness.

He had a dim light of his own, a while ago. A faint glow that could, if he stayed still for long enough, shimmer through darkness, bring him warmth and awareness; but it was gone now, and he was trembling.

The darkness stuck to him as a living, foul thing; it took away his sight and sense of time, leaving nothing but the reek of the cell, nothing but the low growl of wolves, and ragged, unsteady breaths of his companions.

Seven. Seven of them are left. The screams of those who were gone still echo in his ears.

His arms burn, chained to the wall above his head, one wrist bent and twisted. Silent tears roll down his cheeks; he does not sob, does not cry, for his companions sleep, exhausted, and he does not want to wake them up. He tries to breathe evenly. He cries.

He sees nothing but darkness.

He trembles in his chains and tries to remember the stars. The sky surely must be so, so beautiful outside. Elbereth's creations must shine brightly, spread through the deep dark of the skies; and Tilion's vessel must light the world with pale dim light, carrying through the skies, restless and unchanging through the years-

Someone breaks into a coughing fit. Finrod flinches, breath suddenly stuck inside his throat. Blood pumps in his ears.

For a horrible, neverending second his body rushes with adrenaline, eyes wide, trying to pick something, anything out of the sheer darkness of the cell. For an endless, neverending second he anticipates doors opening, flame burning his vision; but nothing comes.

His breath is torn and quick. It hurts his chest and throat.

A minute passes; an hour, maybe. Finrod picks out the breaths of his companions, again. He hears the closest to him; tries to breathe in rhythm with it.

Maybe he could sleep, surrender himself to the unconsciousness. Maybe he could escape, even for mere minutes; maybe he could close his eyes and never wake up.

He scrambles the remains of his will. His lips are cracked, dry and broken; he has a duty.

He cannot sing, and even if he could, he would not, for Sauron is terrible in anger, and what could anger him more then-

And so, his Song is barely a whisper; words more mouthed than voiced, no melody to them at all. Of stars, Finrod begs, and of deep caverns, and of safe arms. Of warmth, of-

His Song falls, broken, and the failure burns within him, and his hand hurts, swollen, and tears trickle down his face; but the spell sets onto his companions, and they sleep some more. Finrod tries to breathe; there is a tight knot in his throat that holds him in a chokehold.

Forgive me, he begs without words. Oh, please, forgive me.

[talleryn]

Lockwood: do I look nice?

Lucy: you look like you’re about to set something on fire

Lockwood: perfect

[usedtobethelegendcreator]

Finally, a character that doesn’t look insanely skinny.