#i was doing 5 of these at once lmao

[dominusfero]

Camp Camp Not-So Secret Santa part 4.

Merry Chrysanthemum and Happy New Year, @dimitrippy !!

My gift to you: a little story based on your own AU!

Winter itself is cruel and fickle. Without heavenly sunshine to warm the earth and melt away the crystal sheets and thick blankets, the world grew cold, bleak, and colorless. White painted the landscapes in shades of grey and hues of black. No color peeked through as all remnants of life lay dormant under the swath of pure brilliance. Winter let no color shine other than bleached perfection, where ice shone radiantly like diamonds over barren, frostbitten trees. But with the rising of the new spring sun came the undoing of the icy world.

The briskness of the sharp, cold air nipped at his exposed cheeks. The prickles of fresh blood rushing to his face burned beneath the surface. Daniel dropped his chin against his neck, trying to subtly rebury his snout underneath his scarf. To him, winter was bothersome, bleak, and miserable. The sun rarely shined as it was almost always shrouded in the greyness of looming clouds. Whenever the sun failed to peek through the stratosphere, it felt as though daytime never came. Still, he would press on. The temperature was hovering over the single digits, barely gracing 10°. The slight wind chill was doing him no favors, making the world feel like the stark opposite of Hell. Instead of brimstone and fire, it was starch whiteness and freezing ice. God, being a reptile sucked sometimes.

Almost there. Almost there. These stupid turnips better be worth scouring the entire damn island for that tiny boar-girl. Why was it she could never stay in one place? And why did she charge so damn much? Fucking 120 bells per bunch, what a goddamn scam. This new recipe Kevin was given by the Island Representative better be worth the trouble. Daniel trudged on through the frigid weather, grumbling under his breath. He hate, hate, hated winter with a burning passion. Unfortunately, his blistering hatred was never enough to warm him. When the wind began to pick up, Daniel practically sprinted the final ten feet to his front door. Finally, sanctuary.

Once he was safely inside his home, the gecko shed his own winter coat, scarf, and hat. He shuddered, trembling from the cold. He could feel the ice on his scales quite literally melt away. Glancing over his shoulder, he can see Kevin laying on the couch and eating cheesy corn puffs while completely entranced by his videogame. Ooh, he was wearing his favorite red hoodie. The one with the special soft fabric on the inside. Maybe…maybe he could have it?

“Kevin, cou-could I borrow your hoodie? Pl-please?” Daniel stutters, his teeth chattering. He could wear a thousand layers yet still never be warm. Maybe he should write the Island Rep or Tom Nook to ask about building a sauna. Or he should try and convince Kevin to invest in a space heater. “Ke-Kevin?” Looking up from his game, the raccoon can see that his boyfriend is visibly shaking from his toes to his tail.

“Amor seguro. Dame un segundo.” Kevin paused his game and wiped his cheesy paws off on his thighs. Sitting up, Kevin quickly slips his paws through the sleeves of his hoodie and yanks it over his head. He offers up his sweatshirt to the trembling gecko. Still quivering, Daniel snatches the hoodie from Kevin’s outstretched paw. He hurriedly slips it on over his head, rubbing his sleeved hands together furiously. He feels quite a bit warmer but the chills of winter still plague him. It is times like these that make Daniel truly hate himself. Goddamn, these godforsaken cold-blooded genes.

“Kevin?” Daniel asks, rubbing his hands roughly against his forearms. “C-Can you grab my b-blanket, pl-please?”

“Still cold?” The reptile fervently nods. While the raccoon’s hoodie had done wonders to warm him, Daniel was still quaking terribly. “Aight, doll. Hold on—” Kevin drops his bag of snacks onto the floor and pushes himself into a sitting position. He yawns and then scratches himself before popping onto his feet. Scanning the room in a haste, Kevin bumbles about as he tries to remember where he last stowed Daniel’s blanket.  Aight, where the fuck did I pu—ah, there it is!! Heading around to the right side of their couch, Kevin pulls out a wicker basket stuffed with various blankets. On top sits a tightly rolled tan one with a white cord wrapped around it. Daniel’s blanket.

Kevin unties the cord from around the blanket, letting it fall to the floor. Clutching the blanket in his paws, he gives it a good shake. It unfurls with a plush thwap! The plastic remote clatters against the hardwood flooring, dancing on edge as it twirls around suspended by its cord. Not bothering to pick it up, Kevin drags the cord around behind him as he walks back around to the front of the couch. Plugging the blanket into the outlet above the lamp, he turns the dial up to the second highest level. Arms beneath the blanket, Kevin raises his paws to invite Daniel into his company. Almost immediately, the tension melts from Daniel’s bones. The trembling chills ceased as Daniel’s body relaxed.

“Mm…you’re so nice and warm~” Daniel sighs, nuzzling Kevin’s chest with his snout. He closes his eyes in pure bliss, swathed in the comforting embrace of his love. Beneath the blanket, Kevin could feel Daniel’s tail swaying lazily to and fro across his legs. It made him smile.

“Comfy, babe?” Daniel nods, drawing his fingers in and sinking his claws into Kevin’s fur. Kevin smiles, his own fluffy tail flicking up and down on the couch. He slipped his paws over Daniel’s claws to warm them.

“Thank you.” The little gecko whispers, his voice so soft that it can barely be heard.

“Of course, amor.” Kevin chuckles, reaching up from under the blanket to run his fingers across the scales on Daniel’s head. Anything for his little corazón, the love of his life.

Smiling, Daniel lifted his head up from off of Kevin’s chest. He brings his hands up to tenderly cup either side of Kevin’s face. The whole of his yearning was encapsulated in this very moment. Though his hands were icy, his heart was not. It burned so fiercely for Kevin, ablaze with the intensity of his love. Kevin’s own heart was afire with a desire for Daniel and Daniel only. And right now, he wanted to bury him in the heat of his affections.

Bathed in the fair glow of the still television, Kevin began to assert his passion with a plentiful number of kisses along Daniel’s jawline. Tactfully he moved to the side of the gecko’s head, adding a carnal nip for pleasure. Daniel mumbled incoherently under his breath, back arching in euphoria. He sinks his claws deeper into Kevin’s fur. Kevin then places a quick peck on Daniel’s cheek, which he then followed with a trail of gentle kisses down the neck. The tip of his little black nose brushes the collar of the hoodie. Then he slowly begins to pull back. Breaking the strain of kisses, Kevin lovingly nuzzles Daniel and then brushes his smooth nose against Daniel’s scaly snout.

“I love layin’ like this.”

“Mm…I do, too.” Daniel mumbles in agreement, his lips ghosting Kevin’s. He grinned cunningly, reaching up to tenderly caress both sides of Kevin’s face. He found himself gazingly longingly into his vivid chartreuse eyes. Then, he pushed himself upwards to steal Kevin away with a tentative kiss.

Melting into the sweet embrace, Kevin slipped his paw over Daniel’s claw before easing it away from his face. Tasting that sparkling citric zap of zest, Daniel moaned in pleasure. The two then separated only a lips’ distance apart with Kevin on his back with Daniel atop him, happy to bask in the warmth and to revel in the splendor that was Daniel. He sighed in pure bliss, his tail thumping lightly against the couch.

What a wonderful way to end a frosty evening.

[khytal]

and there was only one bed (oh my god there was only one bed)

extra:

[laurrelise]

the devil works hard but an extremely hyperfixated fangirl who happens to like drawing works harder

anyways more umbrella academy art!!!

[personishfive]

in which family is complicated

[chimerahyperfix]

You are a scientist. You like testing theories, making hypothesis. Working with dangerous materials that get you scolded. You are a scientist, and you are also a writer! You’ve swung at a few things before: sappy poems, work papers, crab, you’ve even attempted a horror short at Mirabelle’s inquiry. You’re favorite thing to write, though, are just basic letters.

You like to write letters. It's easier, to you, to write your thoughts on a piece of paper and hide it somewhere the recipient can find than to tell them what you think face-first. You’ve done it for years, long before you even came to the House to learn about the Change religion. A childhood habit that’s rolled over through your life like a wave on the sea.

So, of course, when time begins to loop, you write. Many, many letters. They all get lost to time when it twists back, and now, many loops in, that leaves a hole in your heart and a spot in your brain you can’t itch, for the words of each letter are mostly forgotten before you fight the King. It’s… fine, you guess? You can word things as many ways as you need to. Anything described can be described some more, after all.

For the first handful of loops, you wrote the same letters. Rather sappy, lovey things, your specialty. The furthest depths of your heart smeared onto a page for eternity, for you love and love and love, and you want those around you to know it.

Though as time trudges on, the same twenty four hours over and over in a nice single circuit built for it to run through, built by wishes and stars and twisted leaf-baring branches, so do your thoughts; therefore your letters move so, too, to adapt. More theoretical things. Questions. Ifs, ands ors buts and whys. Sadder ones after the bad loops, wailing and endlessly upset and mourning those who froze and those who were killed for standing in the King's way.

They get angrier as time goes on. More enraged. Wrath melts into the corners, edges fold and tear and warp under the weight. You stop delivering them, because you're here in this time loop hell to protect the ones you love, and you'd just make it worse if you gave them a letter like that.

You write a scathing letter, once. You write it after an absolutely abysmal loop, ending with blood and tears and probably the loudest you've ever screamed. It flows onto the page easily, and you leave it out on your desk, because you were hungry and hadn't eaten that loop with how beside yourself stressed you were.

Mirabelle finds it. Asks you, quite worried, if you're okay. You must've said something, and it had to be bad, because she flinched away from you like you'd tried to light her ablaze.

You panicked. Time looped.

Never again.

You hide them, after that. Shoved in your pillowcases or in piles of books, stacks of other papers. In the barrels. When you write only one or two you shove them in a bottle and push them to the back of your potions.

You're a shedding snake, a leopard changing its spots. Time is your prisoner and you are it's, and that melts into you as a human being until you are flesh and blood and twenty four hours that shouldn't continue.

Words spill from you, your mind, onto the page. You don't read them anymore. Just write and write and write, and tuck them away and pray no one finds them. You long for the days you could sit and write sappy love letters-- and sometimes, you still do them, but they're tinged with something, regret or rage or the absolute despair you feel, they're wrong, so they're tucked away as well. Letters just wrong, noticeably so. You’d be asked what’s wrong. Cornered. You can hear it now, “What’s wrong? What does this mean?” And all you can think of is the horrors you’ve seen.

One of these loops, whenever you get out, you expect to have a pile of ramblings with time-burnt letters and tear-stained edges. Whenever you get out, if there are any, you'll burn them. As a rite of passage, or something. A Change. Because time changed you, and the less people have to know about it the better. You can't get rid of your rotten voice or the tiredness in your bones or the way your brain has twisted to think, but you CAN get rid of letters.

You like to write. The horrors you write, of twisted time and dying and what being frozen in time is like— it can go. No one needs to know. No one WILL know. It’ll all fall on you, like every other crabbing thing in the time loops. And that’s okay, it’s enough.

[faunandfloraas]

Sometimes I remember lee know saying he wants to do a song with Seungmin and I.N bc he'd like to be a part of vocalracha and then I remember that was well over a year ago and there's still nothing.... </3

[queerofthedagger]

delight of the day: survived the first week in the new job without burning anything down

[kirisclangen]

Zelda

She/her, 65 moons, cis molly

[herleaf]

I finally finished sewing my Kirk outfit! The arm embellishments took forever to sew on but I’m proud of it.

[cotgar-reblogs]

Just heard that the last post was ai, it has promptly deleted as a result. Goes without saying that ai art is stupid, so please please please lmk if I ever accidentally reblog ai art !!

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

the high prices of fucking Everything is so exhausting i stg

[mo-ok]

top 10 sentai blacks yes its important that Junichi Haruta is here twice

[ccbatman]

woe. bruce and dinah friendship be upon ye:

"Someone has to have our backs. Keep us honest. That's why I'm here." / "Batman needs a conscience? Okay, I'll bite."

{ The Brave and the Bold (1980) #166 • JLI (1987) #13 • Batgirl Year One (2003) #7 • JLI (1987) #6 • JLI (1987) #7 • JLA: Incarnations (2001) #4 • Green Arrow/Black Canary (2007) #1 • Injustice 2 (2017) #4 • JLI (1987) #13 • JLI (1987) #11 • Justice League of America (1960) #84 • Justice League of America: Rebirth (2017) }

[papersirens]

relating to my last post i think its normal to want and enjoy attention on fics and things you create like otherwise you wouldnt post them but i think a huge difference is not letting yourself fall into the trap of 'everything i post must be a top notch banger and i have this goal for myself that if i dont hit i will cry' and ive been there dont get me wrong but if all you care about are 'flop' posts and a post getting enough attention then you're only going to destroy yourself

again ive been doing this for 2+ years i have been right there in the trenches i tied my self worth to what notes i got and how much attention i got and it ALMOST tore the creativity out of me like i still fall into the trap every so often but i think you have every right to want validity and for people to enjoy and appreciate your works but also accept that if YOU enjoyed the fic and the process thats more valuable

[torchickentacos]

No more ‘family asking me about my jobs or my social life or if I have a boyfriend’. Ask me about pokemon. Ask me about snakes. Ask me about local plant life. I promise it’s going to be a much more interesting conversation for everyone involved.

[underwaterdemise2]

No words