#i juist love them!

[rivilu]

Ooo...

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Baker!Johnny x gn!reader Part 2 I love these two with my entire existence. They make me want to take them and smush their lips together. But they've got some ways to go. Reader is just horribly oblivious and Johnny flirts with everything that has two legs. Great mix. Enjoy flustering Johnny. Once again english is not my first language and I used a translator for Johnny's accent. Part 1 | COD Masterlist | Part 3

It’s been raining the whole day when his door gets opened. Johnny looks up, seeing you hold open the door for a group of girls that rush into his shop, fleeing from the pouring rain. Some of them eye you and the way you tower over them for a moment too long. You give them a bright smile in return.

He can’t help but want to throw all the customers out so he might have a moment alone with you.  Close up his bakery for the general public just for the opportunity to be alone with you.

Instead he leans onto the counter grinning flirtingly at the group of girls. “Good day, lassies. How can ah sweeten yer day?”

He really tries to fight it but he can’t help but watch you out of the corner of his eyes while he serves the group. You’re hanging back and looking at the many choices of coffee he has on display. Your hands are casually tucked into your pockets and he’s so damn grateful for your height because it means he can see you over the girl’s heads.

“Guid choice. Something sweet for someone sweet.”, he winks at one as he hands her the bag with the pastry and the entire horde begins giggling. He grins and catches your fond expression over their heads.

You’re smiling at the exchange, shaking your head in fake irritation when you catch him looking at you. Johnny tries to bite back the big grin that threatens to overtake his flirty expression when he sees your reaction.

Finally the big group leaves the shop and you take their place at the counter, your sudden closeness nearly making Johnny breathless. You’re still slightly damp from the heavy rain outside and your eyes are twinkling with mischief.

“Oh Mr. big burly baker, may I get a hot chocolate and some cake to eat here so I can ogle at your muscular arms and Scottish charms?”, you say, fake swooning and pretending to go weak at the knees.

Johnny laughs at that his heart swelling with fondness at your silly display. “Alright are ye done poking fun at me?”

You straighten up again leaning in closer against the counter, bracing your own arms on it and looking down at him. “Me? Poking fun at you MacTavish? Never. I will be enjoying the view the entire time. Maybe even more than the cake.”, you murmur, all traces of sarcasm suddenly gone and Johnny swears his heart stops.

Your eyes are fixed on his and he’s not sure he could break the intense contact if he wanted to. “The sweetest treat in this entire bakery is you, MacTavish.”

He clears his throat, his heartbeat so quick and hard he’s sure you can see it pulse on the side of his neck. “That was only th' truth 'til ye came in, bonny.”, he says and hates how thin his voice sounds.

You smile slightly and then take your hands off the counter switching back to non-flirty you as if you didn’t just shake him to his core.

“Are you very busy today? I can take it to go if you’ve got your hands full.”, you suddenly ask and the consideration nearly sends him to his knees.

“No!”, he says so quickly that it’s almost embarrassing. He tries to safe face by adding a smoldering smirk. “A'm never too busy for ye. Juist pick a table, ah will bring yer order over in a moment.”

Mesmerized he watches you turn and pick out a table tucked into a cozy corner. He can’t help but watch until you’re seated. The way your body moves utterly entrancing to him. Johnny desperately wants his hands on you so he can feel those movements for himself. How can a human being be so utterly bewitching?

He has to physically shake his head to rip his gaze away from you and go get started on making your drink. His neck prickles as if he’s being watched but when he takes a look over his shoulder he sees you looking out the window. The people at the table next to yours are ogling him though.

The sinking feeling of disappointment at the lack of attention from you makes him feel immensely stupid. Silently he hopes that no new customers come in so he might get the chance to chat with you for a bit.

He takes your order over to your table and you appreciatively close your hands around the big mug of hot chocolate a content sigh leaving you. “Thank you, MacTavish.”

“Johnny.”, he corrects and watches you cock your head. “Ye can call me Johnny.”

When you murmur his name, repeating it back at him, he grins down at your seated form, taller than you for once. “It sounds the best when ye say it. Any other way tae say it should be forbidden, bonnie.”

Your eyes snap to his and you incline your head at him, considering him. “Johnny…”, you murmur again and he can feel his knees grow weak.  Oh yeah, he definitely likes the sound of that. Maybe a bit too much. The way you say it is-

“Johnny”, you almost sigh out and he can feel his cheeks heat up. He’s not prepared for this. He’s not prepared to hear you say his name more than once in a row. Why is that so hot? Who even allowed you to call him by his first name? What idiot thought he’d survive hearing his name in your voice?

“Johnny”, you say slow and deliberately taking your time to caress every part of his name with your tongue. He feels the blush spread down to his chest until he’s hot all over. The tips of his ears feel like they caught fire.

You nod towards the counter. “There are new customers, Johnny.” His gaze is fixed on the way your lips form his name he’s sure his expression is beyond dazed when you chuckle a bit and the meaning of your words sink in.

His head whips around effectively breaking the spell he had fallen under and he curses under his breath making you laugh beautifully.

“Interesting reaction, MacTavish. I’ll keep that in mind.”, your voice rings out behind him while he hurries back behind the counter.

[gottalovetumbler]

Supernatural Stains

Hello all, just wanted to start this off by saying I haven't written any sort of fan fiction since I was 12 and on Amino so please excuse all the bad writing! Hopefully I get better....

Anyways, here's sone info on the story: -1,064 words -Supernatural/Monster hunter AU -tf141xFem!Reader (it might have some y/n in the beginning but eventually you'll get a nickname and just be called that)

You could smell the man before he even thought of crossing the threshold of the laundry mat you worked in. Sour and unhappy with a hint of menthol, not too sure if it's from gum or some sort of vape. 

The door security beeps as you slowly slip further back into the office, becoming unseeable to whoever is walking up to the counter, no doubt dropping off a load of laundry that they were too lazy to complete themselves. Sitting there a second, you stare at the short, bald, frowning man as he sets his bag on the counter and angrily looks around, somehow already inconvenienced even though he hasn't been here for more than two seconds. 

“How can I help you?” 

Your back cracks as you stand, easily towering over the barely 5-foot frowning man with your 5’8 stature. He begins to grumpily describe all the bells and whistles he wants done and added to his laundry, like bleach and fabric softener and maybe some pet dryer sheets, you're met with two new and much stronger scents.

One is a mix of dirt and morning mildew with a hint of Cedarwood and the other mirrors the beginning notes but instead of a matching musky smell instead there's a smidge of….. Strawberry? An unexpected but not unwelcome smell, must be some sort of alcohol they bought at the liquor store next door. 

Mr. Grumpy or sorry, Dave, seemed to have finished talking as now you were just staring at his back as he walked out. Dammit, definitely did not catch a word of what he said save for his name. Turning to your left, you're able to remote start one of the machines and go to grab some gloves and detergent, hopefully, the right stuff because you do not want to get scolded by Dave if you fuck up his laundry. 

He seems to be the kind of man to leave 20 different negative reviews if you fold so much as his socks the wrong way. So even though he couldn't physically hurt you, vampire and all, he definitely could hurt your feelings which you did not feel like dealing with tonight.

“Aren't ye a sight fur sor’ eyes.” A deep Scottish voice slices through your Dave-centered thoughts, damn at this rate you might be in love with the man with how much you're thinking of him. What a romantic story, doing his laundry first and then maybe a date, and before you know if you're married with loads of kids and a too-small house. You'd probably be an essentially forced stay-at-home mom with-

“Ye a'richt thare Bonnie? Dae ah hae something onh mah face?”

Your vision zeros back into focus, realizing you've been staring at 2 very tall and very hunky men, who seem to be the sources of those alluring smells from earlier. Having to crane your neck to look the Scottish man in the eyes it becomes obvious they are over six feet. And damn are they not a sight for sore eyes, the Scott in front seems to be the one carrying the strawberry scent. It has a slight twinge of soap so it's clearly not liquor making him smell slightly sweet contrary to earlier thoughts. 

The man behind him seems to straighten up slightly as you flash them a bright smile. You can't see his face due to the sunglasses and black surgical mask blocking it. It seems to be a bit too dark out for sunglasses but you don't judge, Lord knows you have days when you need to wear sunglasses even into the night if you go too long without feeding. 

“I’m so sorry,” you say, a bright smile still on your face as you walk up to the counter across from both men, “how can I help you?”

“Na worrie’ at a' bonnie, juist 'ere tae pick up some laundry. Shuid be under th' name Johnny MacTavish.”

Finding the bag was easy and Johnny paid, handing you a few bills with a parting wink and a “Keep th' chaynge.” He and his companion turned heel and walked out, taking their alluring smells with them. Though they were barely near you for more than 10 minutes, you catch yourself mourning the loss of their earthy scents.

The rest of your shift goes by quickly and uneventfully, Dave ends up coming in around 8:30 to grab his stuff and leaves without complaint much to your delight. Soon enough it was 10 pm and after locking the doors you began cleaning. As you swept your thoughts kept shifting to the two men from earlier, thoughts of their scents, heights, and looks kept you occupied.

What men like that were doing out here, you had no idea. Sure you had the odd oil field worker come in to drop off and while they were bulky in their own right, they had nothing on the two seemingly mountains called men. They must be police officers or maybe even a part of the military due to not only their statures but also the way they carry and present themselves. Though it seems a bit odd for military guys to be this far from any bases it's not impossible, especially considering they could have family nearby that they’re visiting. 

The thoughts clouded your mind and judgment as you set the security system and walked into the cold nipping air. The men cloud your thoughts so much that they effectively distract you from the fact that parked right next to your car is a truck that's been sitting there for the better half of 4 hours. Which normally wouldn't be super odd but considering it's a Monday night and the pub on the other end of the parking lot seems to have closed early, it probably should have raised some red flags. 

That obviously didn't happen though as you opened the driver-side door and climbed in, luckily this bad boy has a remote start so it's already been idling for about 5 minutes and is nicely warmed up. Shifting into drive and pulling onto the road you were none the wiser of a certain someone lurking in the truck writing down your plates. Not that it would have mattered to you anyway seeing as the thoughts of the twin peaks have finally slipped your mind leaving just one thing behind, Hunger.

Thanks for reading!! Lmk if anyone has an tips on how to write better!

[leathfaic]

Soap and Ghost have been a thing for a while, spending their leaves together whenever possible, holed up at Soap's place for the most part, only ever in Manchester when Ghost wants to visit his families graves and they don't want to drive back up that day.

When the call comes that there's been damage to his flat Soap has to leave alone, Simon is out on one of the solo missions they love to send him on. So all Johnny can really do is leave a scribbled note on his bed that he's home sorting trouble with the flat.

A few days later Ghost returns, a bit miffed when he doesn't find Johnny waiting for him on the tarmac or in his barracks. Price brings him up to speed though and the letter explains the rest.

Soap is surprised when he opens the door to Simon in his civilian clothes, hadn't even gotten a text saying he's back, "What are ye doing here ye bampot? Dinnae get ma note that the whole flat is a mouldy mess?"

"Though' you'd appreciate some help." Simon just shrugs looking a little forlorn on the doorstep, suddenly not sure if showing up uninvited was the right move.

Soap grabs his man and pulls him into the flat before the huge fucker can decide to bugger off with his feelings all hurt.

"Ah'd love yer help, juist didnae expect ye to want to spend yer time in ma mouldy paradise after juist returning from a mission. Dinnae exactly haeve amenities exactly, yeah?"

He really doesn't. The flat is a fucking disaster, the one above had a pipe burst while the inhabitants were on vacation, water leaking unchecked for days, it's a bloody miracle that the building is still statically sound. But all the moisture seeped in to the flat below. And when anyone thought of informing him for possible damages it was too late. There's barely a room left untouched. Soap's been sleeping in a nearby hotel, going through his belongings saving what can be saved before calling in professionals to clean out the mold.

There's no way he'll give up the flat, they both know that, it was his grandmother's before, getting passed on to him when she moved to a retirement home. It's where Johnny grew up, his nan taking him in when his parents gave up on him.

So Ghost helps Soap sort out the mess, save what they can save, which luckily includes a lot of priced memories, but they know that pretty much all furniture is a loss. Floors, walls and ceilings will have to be redone too. Be that as it may they spend the rest of the day to also takeling care of the other reasons Soap can't just let a crew of cleaners walk in too. All traces of him being anything but a normal soldier carefully erased, packed up, hidden.

When they crash at the hotel late at night Johnny is still restless, the way he gets when some bug mission is about to start.

"Didn't know furniture shopping for your fla' would get you tha' riled up, sweetheart."

It's meant as harmless teasing, of making Johnny focus his energy on him and getting it out.

Instead the other man seems to dial it up, is not just squirming but also biting his lips now.

Fuck, he hasn't seen him like that unless whatever is about to go off is deadly serious.

So when Soap turns to him Simon stills, waits for the catastrophe that clearly is about to happen. For everything to come crumbling down around them, because that's how his life tends to go.

Instead, with the smallest voice he's ever heard on the man, Johnny makes his world fall into place like it never has before.

"What if we were nae getting stuff for ma place but rather, ye ken our place?

Our place.

It's rare that anything manages to make Ghost freeze anymore. But this? This does it.

He only shakes himself out of it when he sees panic and regret well up in Soap's eyes, can't have that after all. Mouth still not willing to obey his command he drags the other man into a crushing embrace, burying his face in the shower-damn mohawk.

"I think I'd like tha'." he mumbles eventually, his voice all weird and off, gruff from fighting the all the emotion but soft from the love that punches itself clean through all his defenses.

In his arms Soap drains of all tension. Mission accomplished no reason to be nervous now.

He falls asleep in Simons arms like that, deep breaths softly caressing his chest.

Ghost lies awake, his heart pounding a steady rhythm of excitement now.

He's going to go shopping with Soap tomorrow.

For their place. For their home.

Wild joy mixes with perfidious apprehension, parts of his brain refusing that this will really happen, convinced that Soap will wake up, having thought better of it.

That home is a concept lost to him. He is the Ghost for a reason after all.

He doesn't get a wink of sleep. His mocking of Soaps nerves ringing hollow in his ears.

Instead he braces himself, ready to meet the rejection head on, not let it show on his face, makes himself cold as ice.

"Ye look like we're heading to war not to keek at stuff for our home, love."

The armor of ice built meticulously over sleepless hours melts all at once.

"You really sure you want to share a 'ome with me Johnny?"

"Yeah Simon Riley, ye big daftie, think Ah'd nearly piss ma pants and ask ye, just to pull a fast one?"

For the second time in as many days Ghost shrugs helplessly, no defense of his a match for the things Soap makes him feel.

The man knows him too bloody well too, drags him out of the hotel room and gets them going. Let's actions speak over words. A language that works far better for Simon.

Who finds himself in store after store full of furniture, wallpapers and stuff where he comes to find that maybe he is not equipped to handle this.

Part 2

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 19 - Admire

Douglas Couldn't Help It!

Douglas smiled softly as he watched the station. It had been only a couple of years since his dramatic escape from British Rail and arrival on Sodor, but Oliver was already fitting in like a natural. The Great Western engine was an absolute social butterfly, able to charm the big engines with ease even as he made Duck laugh with all his in-jokes that only the two truly understood. He was admittedly still a little wary of the diesels - especially Bear and Daisy whose classes had worked around where Oliver had lived and replaced him and his siblings - but even then he was growing more confident around them with each passing day. 

“It’s nice being on Sodor,” Oliver had confided in Douglas. “Diesel and steam engines can live in harmony here without fear of one replacing the other.” Douglas couldn’t agree more, he himself feeling more at peace with the diesels on Sodor with each passing year. But the way Oliver seemed so relaxed and confident in himself, it made Douglas feel all sorts of things. Douglas couldn't help it! Oliver was so suave and witty and brave - how could he not admire him? 

As if on cue, a cheerful whistle blasted in the distance, and Oliver steamed in. Douglas puffed over, a broad smile already growing on his lips. “Hullo Oliver, how was yer run?” “Oh, hi Douglas,” grinned Oliver. Douglas felt like his fire was about to melt right through his firebars and fall all over the line. “The run was good - I don’t think I’ll ever get over how beautiful this line is!” “Aye, it is a fabulous little line, though I’m sure yer old line was also nice.” “Oh it was!” Oliver began, “but… then the diesels began to arrive, and we didn’t get to use the line as much. And that was after they replaced most of the Autocoaches with their Mark 1s… nasty, heavy things!” Douglas just hummed, a little dopily. Oliver chuckled, shooting Douglas a megawatt smile that went straight to the poor Scot’s boiler.

“I’ve got to go, and I think you do too,” grinned Oliver, already beginning back down the line with his train. Douglas blinked, and looked back. His guard was tapping his foot impatiently, and when he spotted Douglas finally paying him some attention, gestured to the trucks. Douglas went red with embarrassment and hurried to get back to work.

As he back down onto his trucks, Douglas looked over and spotted Mike sitting on the Arlesdale Railway’s tracks next to him. Mike was shooting Douglas the most disgusted look an engine could, his face scrunched up comically. “What?” “You’re besotted,” sneered Mike. “It’s pathetic to watch – just talk to him like a normal engine, ask him out if you have to! But stop gazing after him like he’s some damsel in a Hollywood film!” Douglas just sighed. “Ye'll understand ane day.” “No I won’t! Who would I even look at like that? Frank?! You’ve lost it, Douglas!” Douglas ignored the little pillarbox of an engine and steamed away.

Douglas worked hard all day, trying his best to find another time when his schedule matched up with Oliver’s so they could chat – only much to his dismay, it just didn’t happen. Poor Douglas was never in the right spot, and all he could do was watch as the cute Autotank vanished out of view with his passengers.

“Ah canae tak it anymore! Hou is it thon A keep missin Oliver by mere seconds?!” burst out Douglas to his twin that night. Donald snorted. “Ye're juist unlucky. Iver considerit playin cards - ye'd have more luck thare than i love!” Douglas rolled his eyes at his twin and went unhappily to sleep.

An entire week went by in this manner, with Douglas managing one or two short conversations each day where Oliver would leave him absolutely flustered and whining to his twin about the Western engine he had rescued. Donald indulged his twin with a wry grin, remembering similar conversations he’d had to listen to back in Scotland and back at Tidmouth.

Finally, Douglas managed to strike good fortune. On Saturday, he finished up his duties near Tidmouth, and convinced his driver to let him sleep there the night, so he could try strike up a conversation with Oliver again. But as he neared the shed, he heard voices – it was Oliver! And… Gordon?

“I mean, he’s just so strong,” sighed Oliver wistfully. “I suppose, though I don’t see the appeal personally,” came the reply. Douglas felt his boiler pressure drop. Who was Oliver talking about?

“I mean, have you seen him?” went on Oliver. “Especially at night! Watching him go by is a true sight.” Gordon snorted. “You talk like he’s me! Please, just because we—” Douglas reversed back down the line as fast as his wheels could carry him. Oliver liked another engine. Oh.

Oh no.

And Douglas knew who it was too – a strong engine who ran at night and Gordon could relate to? It had to be Henry! Gordon and Henry had shared a shape, and Henry hauled the Flying Kipper. It made so much sense, didn’t it? Of course Oliver would want someone like Henry, who was strong and caring and determined! And the two shared a shed too, so of course they had gotten to know each other well; and to think Douglas thought he had a chance.

Douglas managed to get James to agree to trade his late evening coal train – which was not that difficult, all things considered – and got as far away from Tidmouth as quickly as possible. He delivered the coal, then slept unhappily at Vicarstown.

Douglas didn’t say much for the next few days. He did his work, sighing quietly but still treasuring every smile Oliver sent his way. The Fat Controller had listened to his rather sudden request to help out on Edward’s branchline and agreed – for a few days at least, but all too soon Douglas was back on the Little Western.

Donald had noticed Douglas’ change of mood almost instantly, but waited a few days before confronting his twin.

“Richt, ye've been mopin aw week. Whit's wrong wi ye?” snapped Donald at the sheds. Douglas jumped, and looked at Donald for all of three seconds before gazing down at his buffers, a defeated look gracing the Caledonian’s features. “Oliver likes a different engine. A dinnae want tae get i the way thouch - A'm no some insane jealous idiot wha refuses tae see him happy without me thouch – e'en gin it's wi Henry. A'll juist admire him from afar an wait for these feelings tae gae away.”

Donald stared at his twin for a long, silent minute. He didn’t know what to say – Douglas believed, of all things, that Oliver liked a different engine. “Are ye sure?” he asked delicately. Douglas sniffled a little. “Ay, A overheard him at the sheds. He wis talkin tae Gordon aboot his crush. A'll be ok, juist... give me some time, aw richt?”

Donald agreed, and watched as his twin fell asleep. Then, he groaned aloud. “These twa idiots,” he grumbled. “A'm gaun'ae have tae talk tae Duck aboot this.”

Duck agreed with Donald. “Oliver’s been moping about Tidmouth too,” he huffed. “These two are as dumb as each other, I swear. We need to do something about it.” “Douggie wonae dae anythin - he's committit tae "just admirin him from afar" like some sort o chivalrous knicht.” “So it’ll have to be Oliver,” Duck realised. Donald agreed grimly.

These two would definitely need a push in the right direction – and thankfully, Duck knew exactly what to say…

“You’re an idiot and now Douglas thinks you like Henry.”

…Or maybe not.

“He thinks what? How?!” “He overheard you talking to Gordon about him and somehow misunderstood everything. The only reason I know is cause he told Donald, and I put ten and eleven together and figured out how dim-witted the pair of you are. Go ask that dumb Scot out already or I will dump you with Thomas.” “I get along fine with Thomas,” huffed Oliver. “He’s having another spat with Percy,” Duck replied with a groan. Oliver shuddered. The two still remembered the screaming match the pair had had in the middle of the Big Harbour a month back – it had been so bad that Gordon had to drag Thomas away while Henry held Percy back from chasing after the blue tank engine.

“Those two fight like cats and dogs,” sighed Oliver. “inconsistently and whenever it suits their fancy.” Duck couldn’t help but laugh, before pausing. “Don’t try and distract me – go ask Douglas out!” Oliver groaned, and puffed away to go do just that.

He found the Caledonian dozing in his shed up at Arlesburgh. Thinking quickly, Oliver convinced the signalman to let him roll onto the same line as Douglas, puffing right up to the Caledonian’s bufferbeam. Douglas opened a sleepy eye – and then bolted right awake.

“Oliver?!” “Hi Douglas. You know, I heard a very interesting thing today.” Douglas gulped, feeling his fire go cold. “O-oh?” Oliver grinned at the nervous engine, and smiled cheekily. “Oh yes – a birdie told me that you liked someone. And imagine my delight when I found out who.” Douglas listened intently – and then it sunk in. “Delichted? Are ye…”

Oliver smiled at the Caledonian, and rolled forwards until he buffered up to him.

“You’re an idiot, you know that? I like you, not some other engine. Strong, runs at night, saved me, blue like Gordon? It’s you.” Douglas just blinked dumbly, then groaned. “O course Gordon wad compare our paint juist sae he coud talk aboot himself!” “Of course,” agreed Oliver. “But I’d rather not hear you talk about other engines when we’re talking about us.”

Needless to say, Douglas was flushed bright red for the rest of the day and Oliver scored himself a Caledonian boyfriend.

Back to the Master Post

[blood-grove]

The Hunt

Masterlist

part 1 -> next hunt

x tws; violence , blood , injuries , gore , slight suggestiveness , sickness. <- more will be added possible depending on the part.

x pairings; soap x male!reader (😲)

x characters; soap , ghost , price , gaz + (others will maybe be added? idk ive never written a whole lot of characters cuz i get confused in my own head)

a/n; i may make art for this series! and i will also possibly making art for my merfolk au.

Alarm bells rung threw out the small town the yells and panicked cries of the townsfolk as the huddle and ran into houses under carts under anything.

You let out a amused chuckle that came out as a growl to everyone else.

You were admittedly showing off a bit more than usual today pushing your self up with another flap of your wings as arrows shot past your head.

Christ John had to get better aim.

You dove letting out a bone shivering roar it was getting boring doing the same exaggerated display but it paid well.

John or Soap as the guild nicknamed him all those years back was your very lovable boyfriend.

To say what you both did was wrong would be true.

If it didnt bring so much coin.

Slaying dragons was a respected craft and admired by many and all, The demand for dragon slayers was high since such a feat was beyond dangerous and mostly ended in death.

Dragons were usually hunted by groups who set up traps of sling shot nets , big crossbow contraptions meant to pierce threw thick hide and scales.

But Soap didn't need of that,

Not when he had you.

Speaking on which you felt something dig into your side as you let out a fake cry of pain as your turned away from the village you couldn't hear anything they were saying from up here but you could imagine Soap's heroic rant as he chased after you away from the village a few more arrows stuck too you as you decided to close your act for today.

A final dramatic cry as you dived down intentionally losing control as you crashed into the ground.

"Hey?"

A few taps to your face.

"Heyy wake up bonny boy"

You grumbled huffing.

"C'monn- You need to get up so I can pull the arrows off ya daft-"

You peered a eye open to him shifting as you got up shaking off a few branches and leaves from your head.

"Ye wanna know what name they gave ye today?"

You grunted as you got up shaking off any remaining stray debris before laying back down as Soap went to work with tugging off the arrows from you they never pierced your flesh magical properly imbued inside of them made them stick painlessly to the target more like tracking tag than real damage arrow.

"White Death, Ah think that's cooler than yer lest name na? whit wis it again.." Soap pulled off another arrow storing it back into his quiver.

White Death certain was a better name than your pervious infamous nicknames.

"Ah I remember was it Snow Scales or Ice Lizard-" Soap grinned as your growled looking away embarrassed.

Soap chuckled.

"I got 300 coin from you today- We could head somewhere nice grab some pastries from that Village a bit west I know ye loved there cinnamon rolls."

The suggestion had you perked up at the mention of the sweet which Soap grinned at.

"We should get all washit up na? Ye juist haed tae land in the mud—"

You flicked your tail at him sending him off balance and falling back into the ground as well as yo letting a raspy soundalike laugh.

Pushing your claw against the amulet that sat tight around your neck it glowed for a moment before you started to shift and change shrinking as Johnny complained about getting his satchel and clothes dirty.

Once it stopped glowing you were human size albeit a bit taller than Soap, You still had some draconic features your eyes still dilated into slits under the sun, Scales around you arms and back that were easily hid with clothes and gloves, and horns that were luckily short enough to be hid with hair or hoods.

You walked over to him holding out a helping hand only to be yanked down onto the ground by him.

"Payback-" Soap flicked your forehead as you huffed.

"Whatever you're not the one that takes the daring crashes and falls in out little acts-"

Soap just rolled his eyes. "I never said 'Oh and at the very end make sure to get covered in mud!'."

You huffed flicking his shoulder as he grinned as he retold his fake little heroic story he told to each village rambling on about these couple of cats he saw as you just listened fondly.

You visited villages with him sure when you were in your human form but it just always made you feel antsy the odd stares you'd get were enough to make you visits to cities, towns, and villages very sparse.

Soap had noticed of course the observant caring bastard that he is and wouldn't stand for it of course not forcing you but you both went out for little walks, for supplies, and for getting you and him clothes and gear.

That's what you loved about him, He brought you out of your shell his voice and mannerism really just made a part of you melt.

To think when you both met when he was going to kill you.

a/n; not very confidence in this but i wanna commit to it </3 my nerves r all over the place makes it hard to write.

[fel0ny-01]

Veterinarian! Ghost and Animal Rescuer! Soap (I am projecting)

At Soap’s rescue, he gets a shit tonne of animals with lots of chronic and undiagnosed health issues, so naturally he takes them to the vet to get them checked out, diagnostics, the lot.

He’s in the waiting room with one of the cats, Anubis, who is struggling to pee, and they need to find out why. Could it be Cystitis? Could it be bladder stones? Either way, this cat needs bloods and scans doing before John can even think about putting him up for adoption.

A few minutes goes by and he’s putting his finger through the bars so Anubis can rub his head against it, and suddenly a deep, gruff mancunian voice startles him out of his thoughts.

“Anubis?”

John looks up. This is the most attractive man he’s ever seen. The vet gives him a soft smile as John stands up with the carrier, before taking him through to the first clinical room.

“My name is Dr Simon Riley, and you are?”

“A’hm John.”

“Pleasure to meet you John, and of course this must be Anubis.”

“Damn richt, he’s bin causing me sae many issues lately, it's a guid job ah love him.”

This caused Simon to laugh, as John caught another look and studied the man’s face. Not too many scars, but enough that it looks sexy.

“So what’s the problem with him?”

“He’s bin struggling tae urinate. I’ve managed tae hulp him dae it manually bit a'm wanting' tae make sure we kin treat it properly so he kin git adopted.”

“Ah I see, so because he’s been able to urinate manually we can rule out Bladder stones, but we would probably need to do some scans and maybe an a ultrasound to study the shape of the bladder.”

John nods dumbly whilst looking into the eyes of this hot vet. He’s definitely taking it all in for Anubis’ sake, but God he needs to get this vet assigned to his case immediately.

After the consultation where they booked an ultrasound in for next week, John shifts to the front desk.

“Cuid ah have Dr Riley assigned tae mah cat’s case? A'm feelin' like it wid be easier if we hud th' identical vet juist so that Anubis gets familiar 'n' so that information doesn’t git muddled.”

“Of course, sir.”

[esperfruit]

Preview of the adaptation for Escape in my AU

Another day of autumn has arrived on Sodor and a pair of enthusiastic twins prepared themselves for another successful day of work. Donald, the older twin, was eating a slice of bread for breakfast when he looked at the calendar. It had been over a year since the twins were employed to work for Sir Topham Hatt after a month of hardship and confusion to make sure his younger brother Douglas was hired alongside him so they could stay together. 

Donald’s roommate Montague Collett, or better known as Duck, entered the kitchen to put his lunch for work into his bag. Duck put his green jacket on he had carried over his shoulder. Looking at Donald he noticed, “Hey, Donald your tie is sloppy.” and went to him to fix his red tie for him,

“Ah, ta, Ducky.” Donald replied in his signature thick Scottish accent after swallowing the rest of his bread. “If ye hadn’t clocked, a’m sure Dougie wid hae.”

“And he would’ve teased you about your occasional sloppiness with your clothes.” Duck chuckled, “Now hurry up, or Douglas will tease you for being late.”

“Ah ken, ah ken. it isnae mah fault th’alarm failed. Juist wake me up neist time whin ye git up, Forordinar a’m th’earlie yin, dinnae forgoat.” Donald quickly got his own lunch and rushed into the bathroom to brush his teeth and short black hair and came out not even five minutes later, looking completely flawless. 

“A’m finished ‘n’ duin tae gang!” Donald saluted with a wide grin.

In the time he knew the 21-year old Scotsman, Duck learnt to love his weird combination of being chaotic but reliable and professional at the same time. Duck felt weirdly nostalgic because of it despite only being one year older.

After saying their goodbyes to their pet duck, Dilly, the duo left their shared apartment and when walking across the hallway, they noticed a very familiar figure.

“Dougie!” Donald called out for his younger twin, who left his neighboring apartment shortly before them. Douglas looked identical to Donald, the exact same face and same black and red suit. The only way to tear them apart is their slightly different styled hair.

“Guid mornin’, dear brother.” Douglas greeted him calmly in his own thick accent, “‘N’ ye tae, Duck.”

Unlike Donald, Douglas was not chaotic at all, he was calm, avoided confrontations and was a bit clumsy but just as reliable and professional as his older twin. Douglas usually did not talk very much so the trio's walk to their workplace was mostly accompanied by the chatting of Donald and Duck with Douglas only joining in when directly addressed. 

It was a day like any other and everything went just perfect as planned, much to the joy of the three, who each took their work very seriously and accepted nothing but perfection. Duck was talking about the Great Western he was so proud of again and Donald teased him about how he should make that his certified trademark with how much he would not shut up about it with Douglas just laughing about it in the background.

It was past 8 PM when it was finally quitting time. Donald, Douglas and Duck wanted to meet with some other colleagues at the pub in Arlesburgh until Donald received a call. He picked up and when he finished, he looked disappointed. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Duck, who already headed to the car.

“‘Twas Sur Topham Hatt.” Donald sighed, “He wants me tae bring important documents that juist arrived ‘ere tae Haultraugh. Whit a pity, ‘n’ ah juist brought mah Caledonian intae th’shed…”

“Let me dae it.” Douglas suggested on the spot.

“Really?” Donald asked.

“No problem fur me. Ye ‘n’ th’ others make yersel’ a guid evenin. Ah wasn’t really feeling lik’ goin tae th’pub tae begin wi’.” He then turned to the man in green, “Aye, Duck kin ye len’ me yer car fur th’ hurl?”

“Sure thing, lucky I just refueled yesterday. If it gets too late, you can stay at a hotel, just call us when you do so Donnie doesn’t get a heart attack.” Duck approved.

“Ta, ye’r an angel.” Donald thanked his accommodating twin.

Douglas soon picked up the aforementioned documents and hopped into the car to head to Haultaugh so his brother and friends could have a good time.

It was already dark when he drove along a road that ran right next to an infamous forest. Douglas hated that forest despite never being in it. That forest had some suspicious rumors about it, on how time freezes in it, people going missing and never returning and a ghost woman in gold. And Douglas hated everything related to superstitions and the supernatural after his highly superstitious grandparents tried to kill him for being the younger twin as twins supposedly were a bad omen. If it weren't for Donald saving him, he would’ve been drowned in the bathtub by their heartless grandfather.

He couldn't help but scowl at such foolishness. Killing a child over such nonsense…you have to be a malicious person from the very start to even consider that. And right at this moment he scowled at this wretched forest and wanted to drive past it as soon as possible. 

As if he had jinxed it, not long there were troubles with the car and it broke down. “Damn it, Duck! Should’ve made a full check up as weel” Douglas silently cursed when he exited the car and pulled out his cell phone to call his brother. But before he could do the latter, he saw something inside the forest.

It was a light, golden, mysterious and captivating. 

Douglas thought he was tired and imagining things so he closed his eyes and rapidly shook his head to make it go away. But when he looked again the light was still there and brighter than before. it somehow felt like it was calling for him. to come into the forest to reach it.

Was that the myth of the golden ghost woman that kidnapped people? Nonsense. That was just a myth and myths aren’t real, they were just made up from human imagination. It was not real. It was not real! It was not real? But if it was not real, then why did he see it? Why was it calling for him? Why did it make him feel he was needed there? He did not understand and he denied, he denied and denied and denied even more. He did not see anything. He just wanted to call his brother and do his job. This light. It needs to stop calling for him! It needs to leave him alone! It does not exist! This light. This light. This light. This light. This cured golden light! 

Douglas felt like he was losing his mind until something snapped in him and he returned back to reality but something was wrong, the moment his head was clear again, he found himself in the midst of the forest.

“Sin whin did ah gang ben ‘ere ‘n’ why?” he quietly asked himself as he looked around and realized just how deep inside the forest and completely and utterly lost he was. 

He had no idea how he ended up there and was genuinely questioning his sanity when he urgently grabbed his chest as the feeling of lacking oxygen came over him. Douglas leaned on a tree for support when he was bathed in cold sweat and gasping for air, realizing he was having a panic attack.

He did not want to become one of the many people that went lost and never returned, he wanted to go home. He did not care if his brother might tease him a bit for getting in a situation this ridiculous, he just wanted his brother.

He felt his sight fading black and gravity dragging his body to the ground, his consciousness fading away, until he felt someone catching him. Douglas was positioned to sit down and felt someone’s hand on his forehead. The hand’s gentleness helped him calm down and soon he could breathe steadily again.

“He’s calming down, Mr Oliver.” Douglas heard a man’s voice saying.

“Thank God.” The other man, the one holding him replied with relief.

Douglas finally managed to open his eyes and was able to see two men standing in front of him. The one in the background was a slim and small man with dark gray unkempt hair. The man right in front of him was taller than Douglas with a broad build, and also unkempt hair that was dark brown and reached over his shoulders. His eyes were green, a few shades darker than Duck’s, more emerald green-like. Both’s clothes were very shaggy and they had many stubbles as if they hadn’t had any chance to shave in a while.

“Are you alright?” The taller man asked in a smooth deep voice. “Yes…I think so..thank ye so much.” Douglas tried to be as polite as possible in his situation.

“You’re welcome,” he answered gently, “I was actually considering leaving you behind due to our circumstances but seeing how genuine your distress was, I just could not look away.”

This answer confused Douglas a bit as he did not know about said circumstances but he appreciated the help regardless.

“You are from here?” he was asked.

“Nae completely. Ah moved ‘ere ainlie a year ago. Ah wirk fur Sur Topham Hatt ‘n am proud o’it.” he forced a smile when he explained.

“I see, I see…you’re originally from Scotland, aren’t you?” the large man concluded with Douglas confirming it.

“Figured. That was the thickest Scottish accent I’ve ever heard in my life.” The man chucked, which made Douglas chuckle himself. 

For a moment the Scotsman completely forgot about his dire situation and thought it would be better to learn more about the two individuals that found him before acting any further, “Douglas McIntosh is th’name. Wha urr ye twa?”

“I am Tyler Swindon! But you can call my Toad, Mr Douglas!” The smaller man introduced himself politely.

“And I am Oliver.” the taller man replied, Douglas noticing a slight grimace at the moment Oliver mentioned his name.

“Ne lest name?” Douglas raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t really want to talk about it.” Oliver sighed and Douglas changed the subject, “Ah git lost ‘ere oot o’ a moment o’ unexplained lack o’ common sense. How come urr ye ‘ere?”

Oliver hesitated for a moment, thinking of a proper response.

“I think we can trust him, Mr Oliver.” Toad said sincerely, “He’s from here and he seems to be a very nice and trustworthy person.”

Oliver agreed with Toad and took a deep breath before responding with a serious glare:

“Escaping.”

“Fae whit?”

“Assassination.” 

[writerfae]

Books read in June <3

Sturmküsse auf Juist by Tina Winter

Pride Began At Christopher Street by Christian Handel and Andreas Suchanek

Gefangen in Purpur und Schatten (Spiegelstadt 2) by Christian Handel and Andreas Suchanek

Die Magie goldgewebter Herzen by Eleanor Bardilac

Sonnenkönig, Pechrabe by Kai Spellmeier

This was by far my most productive reading month (mostly thanks to my Norderney vacation)! I loved every single of these books so much (they’re all queer by the way, in honor of pride month I say as if most books I read aren’t queer anyway)

They were fun and cute and interesting and I’m so happy I got my hands on them. Also special shout out for Sonnenkönig, Pechrabe because I read it for the third time now and it has yet again proven to be my favorite book (or one of them) (finally can cross rereading my favorite book off of my book bingo card now ^^)

[the-quackeroos]

made myself a second chapter for the Donald x Duck I made a while back. it's under the cut, y'all. ^^

cw: some scenes may be of a suggestive nature. reader discretion is advised.

Duck Lamphier and Donald Finlay soon collapsed onto the bed in a sweaty mess. It was so much for them, especially Donald since he was the one squeezed by Duck tightly during their simultaneous tingles. Donald panted and coughed to catch his breath as Duck softly groaned in an afterglow bliss.

“Ooohhh, that sparkled onto me, Donald,” cooed Duck. “Would y’ say so?”

“Och, aye,” Donald wheezed, “Juist… Gimme five minutes.”

Now, Duck knew that Donald would get tired easily after making love to him. Duck nodded and sat back up and got out of bed. Since he was naked, Duck wrapped himself with the bathrobe that was hanging on the bedroom door. He waddled downstairs to the back door which was in the kitchen. The doorway led Duck to the backyard of the house. It was small, but it was big enough to have a swimming pool and a small garden. Beside the garden was an outdoor privy. The sky was dark, and yet Duck knew a lot of time went by as they made love in bed. The full moon shone across the backyard and the fields, almost making it look like a dim day. Duck looked at the sky for a bit and went into the outhouse.

***

Duck soon returned to the bedroom. He took off his bathrobe and climbed back to bed where Donald was still lying on it. Duck wrapped his muscular arms around the Scottish twink. Lucky for Donald, he was facing towards his joyfriend. Duck pulled Donald closer, softly groaning like a large sleepy tiger lying down on a tree branch.

“...Hi,” trilled Duck.

“H-hullo,” giggled Donald.

Duck gently stroked Donald’s back. Donald felt a tired, pleasured smile creep onto his face. He placed his hand on Duck’s hairy pec, and slowly petted it as well.

“Oh, I just love these gentle strokes on me,” Duck murmured. “Lemme hold ‘ee some more.”

Duck, despite the body and height difference, wrapped his legs around Donald. Duck kissed Donald’s forehead lazily several times before he sunk his head, his forehead touching Donald’s. There was a long silence as Donald thought more about the moment before they collapsed in exhaustion.

“Mon? Ah think a'm duin tae speak noo.”

“Yeah, love?”

“That was amazing.” said Donald, “Ah pure enjoy it anyways.”

“Heheheh. Thank ‘ee, Donald,” replied Duck with a lovely smile, “I love ‘ee. I really do.”

“A loue ye mair, mah Duck,” Donald soon yawned, since his eyes were growing heavy. He shut his eyes.

Duck turned off the lamp on the nightstand. He held Donald tight as he closed his eyes. The room was silent except for the couple’s relaxed breathing and the natural music of the night outside. Crickets chirped and gentle breezes flew across every bush and tree branch. Needle, the fat black and white cat Duck once adopted him on his old farm, quietly entered the room. He jumped onto the bed, making a soft meowing noise. This didn’t bother Duck and Donald at all, so Needle was able to curl up against Duck and fall asleep.

[smoqueen]

u can combine layers with bangs or anything else u want peace & love on planet earth <3 also cutting bangs urself is really easy there's lots of diy youtube tutorials if u want them without waiting for an appointment

no its juist like what kind of bangs do i want how long do i want it in the back do i want something wolf cutty do i want to allow the curls to curl out at ths huolers (i do ) like what am i talking about with this imaginary lady because the last hairdresser i went to shes been good but uhhhg shes started to act more crazy

[bonetrousledbones]

for the Undertale fandom opinions this might've been said before but I really hate all the sans aus tbh no offense to the people who made them or enjoyed them it's totally cool if you like those things but I really hated how everyone tore sans from undertale to put him on a pedestal to the point where characters that would fit better in the aus are replaced with Sans even though sans is ALREADY THERE??? (For example dream tale. Why are there two sans. Papyrus is RIGHT THERE.) They turned sans into more of an oc/ oc insert and it always upset me I think someone else made a post about it but I cannot find it they were specifically talking about dream tale but this happens in most aus

I FEEL YOU ON DRE/AMTALE SO HARD IT MAKES ME FEEL VIOLENT. actually thinking on it im so curious if that post you were talking about is somebody else i should probably follow or literally my own post lmao but!! GHAGH

im really glad that people could find enjoyment in those kinds of aus and i definitely relate with my 400 papyruses! hell making so many aus of the same damn character is definitely what helped me lean into my love for character design and the intricacies of it, BUT man sometimes the WORLDBUILDING is juist sooo.......sans does not have to be undertale's specialist boy all the time please have like one (1) other character im begging you

[targetonthebullseye]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

a GhostSoap one shot

based off of "Ghost Story" by The Narcissist Cookbook

"....To answer yer question...Ay love you." Grasped hands tightened a hold around a scorned knuckle, as a desperate blue gaze caught the attention of a murderer. Heart heavy, breath weighted, the military man contributed to his tangent-- all he wanted, all he needed, was for Ghost to just. Listen. "...Because ay have to."

"No, Johnny. You...can't--" "Nae, Ghost-- Simon. Juist...Listen. To me." Painful. It was painful. It was hard for the persist to look his partner in crime in the eye. Both pushed away their icks and nudges of tension, and saw each other-- truly spoke, and saw each other. It made Soap sweat from the pressure he had been silently casted to-- callously akin to being tossed to hungry dogs....But this dog wasn't hungry-- no. Not a lick. This man-- this dog across from him was tortured, burned, and bent, yes. But soft, attentive, quiet and friendly beneath his mask and keen, painted brown eye. He was serene, and he was perfect. And he was listening to him.

"...There es no 'why' aboot et.

Anymore than there es a reason why water vapor-- gathers in teh sky,

or-- or why the nettles in the garden dinnae go awa',

no matter how much the guy doonstairs tries teh keep them at bay.

No.

There is no 'why' aboot et."

No more listening. For a moment, there was quiet. But cold. This room, this sofa, window, table-- was the eye of a hurricane. It is quiet in the middle of the eye..It is quiet. It worried Ghost- for the first time in eons, it felt....He felt feeling- emotions on the tip of his tongue, swallowed to weight his pitted stomach.....It was fear, and worry, and it was hell. It was hell, and torture, to see Soap on the brink of distress, keeping his truest and rawest feelings to himself. He felt that-- Ghost...No. Behind the mask....Simon Riley felt that. Every bit of it...And it was hell. And then Soap croaked.

"There...Es a 'how,' ay suppose." His eyes were angle down amidst the isolating stillness, trailing up to Lieutenant as he did before-- iron lock, and baby blue, shining in the moon that peeked through the window, and the lamp that watched from beside. "Don't realle' understand et, tho--

maybe if ay dug aroond a bit in teh soil

ay'd find oot where all his love comes from

an' what it's for,

But then.....Then...The question would be answered..."

Pity. Oh, pity....And they both knew it- felt it searing into their veins like water invading drowning lungs, burning all means of breath. The air ran cold, yet hearts beat warm....They were still colleagues. They were still teammates-- nothing more....Nothing more. But he smiled- Soap, the short-tempered destruction....Smiled. And every second, Simon leaned over. He was listening.

"The ghost story would be over.

There'd be....Very little point in tellin' it aneh'more..

Right noo, ay'm just happy tae...Let it be."

He drove here. This all started with deployment, a coffee shop meet up, a week of passed time-- and a phone call. Soap had to talk, and he let it slip- Simons name, and three, simple, gentle words.....They had to talk. Not just he, they. Soap was in the car when he called, and it scared Ghost to know this man was on the road, crying- screaming into his phone like a depressed man on his dying legs. Immature, thought Soap....How he was acting...Was immature. But it was needed- Simon was still listening to his story. Shaky breaths and all.

"Let....You be you, and....Me be me.

Sleep til' noon, an' watch TV..

...Make schemes together...."

"heheh, oh Johnny, ya bugger--"

"Try not tae keep secrets from each other....

..Ay just-.....Hope to God we're right--....Ay'm right...When I say...

..I love you.

.....I just.....Enjoy being aroond you...."

No more listening. For a moment....It was quiet....But warm. A skulled mask lifted, and a rough, but plush lip finally gave in to its deepest urges. Simons stomach was freed of its pit, and he was released of his doubts, his worries....His Ghosts that haunted him so. Soap closed his eyes, hands leaving Simon's and rubbing up his strong, sturdy arms, to his shoulders-- and almost tickling Ghost as they delicately locked around his neck. Their connection only deepened, the lieutenants head turning and breaking the kiss- only to take a breath and to be pulled back in. They were listening, still listening...Hearing their hearts leap into their throats, catching onto their palpable and gentle hums, and their soft breaths as they broke apart....Closer than ever.

A cheeky smile painted Soaps lips, his tongue licking his canine with win. He did it...He did it. And Ghost loved him-- he listened to him....And he still was. Attentively, oh so attentively, Simon was gaping into a sea of calming water....It was his eyes....Oh, so beautiful eyes....What was this feeling- this arising swallow of security and embrace....He was....safe. He was actually safe....

"...And I don't think ay'm goin' anywhere."

"...What haunts tongues and lacks proof."

"Oh mah god, Simon....

Ah ghost story?"

"Me, ya cheeky devil...

....But tha' is funny."

"Hhahah!! Mm, figured."

"Mmmhm....

....I love you, Johnny."

"Even more, LT....Even more..."

[taiigaatea]

ok i said things were bad in the last post but they somehow got even worse today?? so here is that sketch i mentioned

oh fuck yeah i love pink. i did have plans to color/shade this but i gave up immediately and just used the gradient map,,, i LOVE art/fanfic about 2 characters sleeping together (Not sex) its my favorite i wish i had someone to do that with

(jumpscare warning for the scarlet letter by nathaioen;l hawthorn)

i dontg even/. Know what i am supposed to say for this. um we were reading the scarlet letter in class and i hated it... story was ok but it was So Long and it fucked up my attention span badly and deprived me of sleep and ruined my life and

yes that is supposed lucia. i didnt know who should be pearl 😭😭 the anatomy anf shit is fucked up badly ESPECIALLY on edega and ians tiny baby hands but this wasnt ever supposed toi be serious and ive already spent way too much time on this so Too Bad

um last thing,. i juist saw the new steam sale post for rhythm doctor HOLY SHIT paian and minecraft in the Same Image................ doing horribkle things right now i hgate them so much i ahte (iu amm lying btw)

[imeverywoman420]

Wait can i tell you somethin..dont get mad at me for this long ask ok so i am a girl i am like you i cant do that play hard to get shit like I AM HORNY AND IMPATIENT. love is not a transaction turn based combat shit like i wanna kiss and fuck already.. anyway what i do is just blatantly tell guys that i am into them and that i want them, it literally works every time for me.. like i am the pursuer it always ends well.. i have never been "pursued" or "chased" by a guy like ew. obviously u gotta do a little social cue reading to make sure he's like. physicallt attracted to you lmao. but when i was younger there was this hot colombian boy at m,y school who i had just met abd i literally just told him out of the blue "i like you, i want you" and he was like " okay im down" and the same with my boyfriend now who is my love, i just told him i wanted him out of the blue. he was like damn ok i can get down with that ;) and weve been together ever since 4 years . THIS ALWAYS WORKED FOR ME THOSE ARE JUIST 2 EXAMPLES BUT this is just my personal experience BUT DONT LISTEN TO THE BITCHES TELLING YOU TO PLAY HARD TO GET PLEASE DONT DO THAT UNLESS YOU WANT YOUR PUSSY CAVE TO BE CLOSED FOR VISITORS FOR A LONG TIME! ALRIGHT THATS SUCH BAD PISCEAN ASEXUAL ADVICE! AND ITS SUCH A CRUEL WAY TO VIEW SEX AND INTIMACY LIKE IT IS NOT A FUCKING SHAKESPEARE PLAY IT SHOULD BE SOMETHING YOU PASSIONATELY WANT THERES NO SHAME IN WANTING HIM AND HIS DICK ALRIFHT...... SEX AND LOVE GO HAND AND HAND ITS HOT

I LOVE YOU GIRL THANK YOU

I wil be implementing this strategy on my next target… like hey. U find as he’ll. I wont you.

[poetinprose]

heyy Jay, happy STS!! what is something that you haven't yet explored but plan to/really want to? be it a type of character, a trope, a setting, etc.?

Heyyy, thank you!!! 🩵

I'm sure there's more than what I can think of spontanously rn but here's what I can think of:

▪︎ I kind of wanna write sth about the four horsemen of the apocalypse. I thought about integrating them in Tenebris (or the second book, Claritas) but I haven't really found a good way to do so yet. (I could technically also put it into Aeternum but hmmmmm)

▪︎ I would love to write something that conveys my love for the ocean, maybe even sth that's set on an island. Something which, when you read it, makes you forget your actual surroundings and puts you right at the sea, maybe at the beach or at a cliff. Possibly sth with mermaids or so....

The first time I thought of this was one time when I was at the beach of one of the East Frisian islands, Juist. This island in particular is also called Töwerland, aka Zauberland, aka magical land. And I thought: why tf are there only crime thrillers set on this island when the magic is right there in the name??

But now I'm not sure anymore if I want to write sth that's takes place there or on a made up island. 😅