#idk how to title things
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Managed to scribble out some more drawings. Finals are almost over, and then I can draw more!
#sonadow#shadow the hedgehog#sonic the hedgehog#sonic and shadow raising tails#miles tails prower#I still don't have a name for this au#idk how to title things
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ok @carrythispictureforluck tagged me in this soooooo
rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
this is really not fair because titles is something i deeply struggle with so all my wips are just terribly named, especially in my wip folder where i barely ever give the correct title. half of these do have an actual title, i just didnt name the working document after the fic because i dont know how to title, so titles are usually the last thing i write. im gonna section this into fandoms tho cause otherwise i feel weird
hp:
- Jegulus
- jegulus bits and pieces (idk if this can be counted as a wip)
-17. 10tihay
-13.Tagebuch Scorpius Malfoy
-13. Scorp diary
-3. Lily Potter
-6. Drabbels
les mis:
-He turns my cheeks the colour of his hair
-marius soulmate au
-kiss me with words
not a fic but my actual book:
-Emma Lilly Luise neu
im only gonna tag @iceprinceofbelair and @messrsage cause idk who else writes things...
#idk how to title things#i usually just read 30 poems and then pick a line i like#also i was very tempted to write the actual name of the fic behind the file name#because at least for the scorp one i am really proud of it haha#but also that feels like cheating the rules#thank you so much for the tag i feel loved even if this is a desaster#disaster?#i hate this word i never know how to spell it#tagged#mine#im never gonna continue half of these honestly#like the les mis ones i dont think ill continue#hp#les mis
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dare to be stupid
summary: a drunken game of truth or dare overtakes your study session
tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs, alcohol, drunk sex, oral (r receiving)
a/n: listen idk how this turned into 7.5k. idk what happened. also this is my first time writing smut. idk if the sex is good but it was already so long. if y'all like this one i'll write a sequel or something idk
part 2
“Truth or dare?”
It had become a tradition for the two of you shortly after moving in together. It was common for the air in your tiny apartment to grow heavy, the stress and anxiety tangible in the air - often around midterms or finals, or if your roommate had a particularly infuriating project. During these times when the bags under your eyes grew too heavy to carry or the lines around your roommate's mouth deepened into canyons, one of you would barge into the other's bedroom - frequently in disarray with notes and textbooks strewn across every surface - slam a bottle of vodka down on the desk, and utter those stupid, little three words, and the game would begin.
And so you didn't even jump when you heard your bedroom door slam against the wall, heavy boots against the carpet. You had been bent over your desk for so long that your neck ached, your eyes swimming with letters that didn't quite make sense and didn't fit into any of the medical terms laid out on your flashcards. When Ellie slammed the bottle of vodka on your desk, you blinked your eyes clear and looked up to meet her eyes.
She smirked when she said, “Truth or dare?”
You didn't waste time in clearing off your desk, shoving your books and cards aside into a toppling pile. Ellie, without waiting for permission, set a shot glass down in front of you, kicked off her boots, and plopped back onto your bed.
Scooting your chair closer, you propped your feet up against the mattress, pursed your lips, and said, “Truth.”
Ellie groaned, flopping over onto her side and propping her chin in her hand. She had stripped off her jacket, leaving her in a dark t-shirt that almost made her skin look pale in the low light from your desk lamp. “You're such a fucking pussy.”
You rolled your eyes even as a grin pulled at your lips. “I've known you for too long, Els, and I know that I need a few shots before I'm willing to shove anything anywhere for your amusement. So, respectfully, eat my ass.”
“You'll have to dare me to,” she quipped back immediately. She wrinkled her nose as you choked back a laugh, tapping a finger against her lips. You tried to ignore how endlessly cute it was as she said, “Where's the weirdest place you've pissed?”
Another sound burst from your lips, some mixture of a laugh and a shout. You gaped at her, watching as a laugh crept up, a smile tugging at her lips.
Shaking your head, you said, “Weird, but that's a pretty tame one. Not gonna ask me about my favorite sex position or if I ever snuck drugs into our dorm room last year?”
Ellie only shrugged. “Gotta warm you up a bit first, babe.” You ignored the way your heart jumped at such an innocent word. After a moment's pause, she added, “But have you?”
“You'll just have to ask me. One truth per round, bitch.” You pretended to think about it for a moment, though you already had your answer. “Okay, so you remember when we first signed the lease here and we were a bit short on rent?”
Ellie nodded, her brows furrowed in confusion.
“Like, a week before it was due, some girl on Tinder hit me up. She was passing through town and only staying for the night, and she was bored. So, she paid me.”
Ellie's frown deepened. “To, what, have sex with her?”
Laughter bubbled up your chest as you said, “No, she paid me to piss in her mouth.”
There was silence for several long moments. Ellie’s jaw hung loose, her eyes wide as she simply stared at you. Several emotions flashed across her face like a movie reel - confusion, shock, disbelief - before finally landing on pure, unfiltered amusement. The corners of her lips quirked up, her open mouth turning up at the corners until a loud, sharp laugh burst from her throat. When Ellie laughed - really, truly laughed - she did it with her chest, a sound so fathomless and full it filled up whatever room she was in.
In your small bedroom, her laughter bounced off the walls, echoing in the alley outside of your open window. You couldn’t contain your own giggles, muffling your laughter with a hand over your mouth, snorting as Ellie buried her face in your mattress.
When she finally looked up, her eyes filled with tears, she only said, around her subdued giggles, “How much?”
You grinned. “$200.”
Ellie’s mouth fell open again - you’d have to pick it up from the floor at this rate. “Dude, you’re fucking with me.”
“I swear,” you said, holding up your hand like a scout. “I’ll show you the Venmo if you don’t believe me.”
Ellie fell back against the bed, throwing her head back. “You have to go find this chick on Missed Connections, she can help with the rent.”
You threw one of your pens at her. Catching it in midair, she stuck the end in her mouth to chew on it. You wrinkled your nose at her, but she only grinned, the pen hanging from the corner of her lips.
“You're so gross,” you said, though you were still giggling.
“Bold words from you, Piss Girl. That's, like, the worst superhero name in existence.”
You threw your hands up, trying your hardest to glare at her and failing miserably. “Hey, $200 is $200. I'm not one to kinkshame.” Ellie threw the pen back at you. You grimaced when it hit your arm, leaving a small spot of spit on your sleeve before clattering to the floor. “God, it's your turn. Truth or dare, bitch?”
Propping herself up on her elbows, Ellie said, ��Dare.” A grin pulled at her lips, her voice low as she added, “Because I'm not a fucking pussy.” You stuck your tongue out at her, ignoring her when she mockingly said, “Mature.”
Your desk was pressed up next to the only window in the room, cracked open to let the cool autumn air in. Your curtains fluttered in the breeze, the dying sunlight creeping in, casting light like liquid gold over Ellie’s skin. As you thought, scrambling to think of a suitable dare, you could not control how your eyes grazed over her exposed skin, the sunlight dipping in her collarbones like pools of ichor.
Blinking, you met her eyes once more, your throat tight. Your words came out almost choked when you said, “Okay, I dare you to make a spicy two-sentence story about something in this room.”
Ellie scoffed, sitting up and kicking her legs over the side of your bed. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that your drawer of sex toys is off limits?”
You sputtered, stammering over your own tongue as you felt heat rush to your ears. “Yes, that’s off limits. You don’t even know what’s in there!”
Ellie hummed, standing up from the bed and taking a few steps around the room. She didn’t look at you, but you could hear that fucking smirk when she said, “That’s what you think, babe.”
You watched her, tracking her movements as she slowly stepped around your room, scanning for inspiration. Your bedroom was about what you’d expect from a broke, overworked college student - aside from the furniture that came with the place, it was pretty barren. Ellie scanned the little touches you did have - her finger traced over the Funko Pop of Zuko on your bedside table, her eyes lingering on the pile of fantasy books you kept atop your dresser. She smiled at the posters hung crookedly on your walls, depictions of your favorite video games. She hummed again, looking back at you over her shoulder.
“So many options to choose from,” she murmured, running her finger along your jewelry box. She had her face turned away, so you could only see the corner of her smirk as she lifted the lid, pulling one of your necklaces from its home. You watched her warily as she approached you, the chain dangling from her slim fingers. She stepped behind you, out of your line of sight, and slipped the necklace over your head, the cold metal resting against your collarbone.
“She looped the chain around her lover’s neck like a collar,” Ellie said. You felt her cool fingers against the back of your neck, hooking around the chain and pulling it gently against your throat. You coughed against the awkward silence; your roommate had always been a little handsy, but this was something else entirely. What the fuck is she doing? you thought. “She pulled it taut against her throat and leaned in to whisper,” you felt Ellie’s lips against your ear, her rough voice sending a chill up your spine when she murmured, “good girl.”
Reaching back, you shoved Ellie’s head away; her laughter echoed through the room as she rounded in front of you, sitting back against your bed and grinning.
“Oh, you’re so fucking proud of yourself aren’t you?” you teased, trying - and failing - to keep your cheeks from turning red. Your skin felt aflame, a tingle lingering right where Ellie’s lips had pressed to your ear. You rubbed at the spot under the pretense of scratching your head, willing the feeling to go away.
Your heart was pounding so hard you could hardly hear her when she said, “Hell yeah, I am. I should’ve been an English major. I could write a whole fucking slutty novel and get famous. I'm an expert - I've done enough research.”
You rolled your eyes at her cocky smile, but Ellie only winked at you.
This is how your truth or dare games went - with Ellie being far too cocky, prancing around doing whatever dares you could think of and asking any outrageous questions that popped into her pretty little head; and you, simply trying your damnedest to keep up with her. You flailed, flustered, when she asked you about your toy collection, and begrudgingly relented when she dared you to bring out your favorite. Ellie took a shot before you had even finished daring her to text her last hookup (“I’m not reopening that bag of crazy,” she said, scrunching her nose at the taste.) You took a shot when she dared you to go mix all of the liquids in the fridge (which included pickle juice, old broths, and orange juice) into one amalgamation and chug it (“I’d rather chug the rest of the vodka, Els.”)
“Truth,” you said before Ellie could even ask the question. You were three shots in and could feel that lightness pressing against your temples, just at the threshold of tipsy. You had moved to join Ellie on your bed, where you sat with your back against the headboard and Ellie’s head on your thigh. The vodka bottle was balanced precariously between you.
Ellie rolled her eyes, but looked up at you and asked, “Out of our friend group, who have you fantasized about the most?”
She had not even finished her sentence before you served yourself a shot, a few drops splattering on your shirt. Wincing at the taste, you looked back down at Ellie; her eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree, her jaw slack.
“Don’t-”
“You have to,” she interrupted you, pinching your thigh and grinning when you squirmed away. “You have to tell me. You can’t leave me hanging here - you didn’t even let me finish the question!”
“Why did you even assume I’ve fantasized about any of our friends-”
“Because I know you.” She was scrambling up now, unsteady in her movements as she came to her knees in front of you, leaning back against her heels. She planted a firm hand on your thigh - your skin was still warm where her head had been - leaning into it, her eyes drawing so close you could almost see every speck within the hazel. “And I know that bitches like us always have somebody in the group they fantasize about. So, who is it?”
“Bitches like us?” you repeated, raising your brow. You were sure each line of her palm was going to be branded into your thigh. “So, there’s somebody you think about too?”
Ellie’s smile was on the very edge of teasing, a small quirk at the corner of her lips that screamed at you just how wrapped around her finger you were - and, somehow, she didn’t even know it. Her voice was low, nothing more than a murmur that you could practically feel in your own chest when she said, “You really wanna know?” You didn’t answer - couldn’t, really, not when her fingers dug into your thigh and you could count each freckle across her nose. You couldn’t answer when she leaned in closer, her warm breath brushing against your cheeks, smelling of the weed you knew she had smoked that afternoon. You could hardly hear her over the rush of your own heart when she whispered, “You’ll just have to ask me.”
Maybe it was the vodka warming your chest, tingling in your fingers - or maybe it was the way the light from your lamp cast sharp shadows across Ellie’s face, turning her skin into liquid gold - but you did not push her away. Your grip tightened around the neck of the bottle, but you held her gaze when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?”
Her voice was soft, her half-lidded eyes holding yours as she said, “Truth.”
“Who have you fantasized about?” The words rushed out of you before you could hesitate.
And for a moment, you believed she would answer. You let yourself believe that she would give you the answer you craved. It prickled at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arm, spreading warmth through your stomach. But your roommate had never been so straight-foward - had never given you an easy answer. She wet her lips, drawing your eyes to her mouth involuntarily, but she only pried the vodka bottle from your fingers. She held your gaze as she raised it to her lips, drinking straight from the bottle without even wincing.
“I can play that game too, baby.” She backed away, finally giving you a moment to breathe. She settled back against the wall, laying her arms over her knees, the bottle dangling from her fingers. The skin of your thigh still burned, branded with her fingerprints.
You looked away, huffing out a laugh that you prayed sounded sincere. You could feel her eyes on you when you leaned your head back against the wall, counting the cracks in your ceiling like they were the most interesting thing in the whole world. “It’s getting late, Els,” you said, even as your phone flashed that it wasn’t even nine yet and here you were, too many shots in, your roommate’s presence like a fire blazing in your room. “I should get back to studying.”
“Do you want to, though?” There was an edge to Ellie’s voice, as though that question was a dare itself. You lifted your head to look at her and found that she was already watching you, her eyes soft in the dim light.
You took a deep breath - and the vodka must have reached your brain, because before she could ask, you said, “Dare.”
You could see the vodka in the lazy tilt of her smile, in the way her head lolled against the wall. Her eyes were half-lidded, and yet there was something hidden behind her slow, sleepy gaze, something you were too afraid to name - something you were sure was only the imagination of your tipsy fantasies.
“Close your eyes,” Ellie said, words lazily falling from her lips, as deep and rich as the strings of a guitar.
It took you several moments longer than usual to process what she had said. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, as if the two of you were underwater. You shouldn't have felt like this after a few shots - you'd usually only be tipsy at this point. But something about the way the shadows dipped into Ellie's collarbones and the way her shirt rode up, exposing her boxers and the sharp cut of her hips, was intoxicating on its own.
So it took you several long, heavy moments to say, “What?”
She chuckled, but there was no malice behind it. There was something soft in the tilt of her head, the way she tilted her chin down to look at you through her lashes. Her hair fell in her face, brushing against her nose; you fought the urge to brush it away, knowing that if you did you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from running your fingers through her hair. You wouldn't be able to stop yourself from grabbing a fistful of the auburn strands-
“Close your eyes,” she repeated in that same honey-thick voice, breaking you from your thoughts. “For thirty seconds. And don't open them no matter what.” When you only stared at her for several silent moments, she added, “How long have we been friends? Don't you trust me?”
And the thing was, you did. You trusted her with your entire heart, and so you closed your eyes, and you waited.
You felt the bed shift next to you but you did not open your eyes. You did not open them when you felt her long fingers grip your shoulder as she struggled to steady herself. You felt her hair first, fine strands brushing against your cheek, smelling of sweat and her shampoo. You did not open your eyes, even when you felt the gentle press of a warm mouth against the side of your neck. You hardly dared to even breathe, your hands tangling in your sheets, afraid that you would not be able to control yourself otherwise. You counted the long, torturous seconds, biting down on your lip when you felt Ellie’s mouth part, the warmth of her tongue pressing against your pulse.
You had counted to twenty-six when she pulled away, a chill settling over your skin where that warmth had been only seconds ago. When you got to thirty, you opened your eyes to find that Ellie had settled back into her spot, leaning back against the wall. The only sign that she had even moved was the thin sheen over her lips, wet with her own saliva, and a small, pleased smirk.
You did not allow yourself to think about it, ignoring the way your skin burned where she had touched you as though she were a wildfire. You sounded breathless even to your own ears when you said, in barely more than a whisper, “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
“What are we doing here, Ellie?” The words were out before you could stop them, slipping from between your teeth and hanging in the air like helium. The words felt almost tangible, and yet you couldn't grasp them, couldn't draw them back into your throat.
For a moment, you thought Ellie would grace you with an answer. She opened her mouth, and you thought maybe she would finally stop playing this game and let you breathe. Instead, just like before, she brought the bottle to her lips and held your gaze. You tried not to watch the way her throat moved as she swallowed.
She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and recapped the bottle, settling it between you. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.” You felt you could no longer trust yourself with any dare she gave you. Your hands were already shaking from clenching the sheets.
“How would you rate your last kiss?”
You squinted at her, confused by the innocence of the question after everything that had happened in the past hour (had it only been an hour?). “My last kiss was with that one girl I met at the bar a few weeks ago. She was drunk and way too sloppy, but she was hot. I guess I'd give it,” you paused, trying to remember the moment past the haze; you couldn't even remember the girl's name, “a six.”
Ellie raised her eyebrows, her eyes widening. “A six?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. A girl like you deserves more than a six.”
“A girl like me?” Your voice sounded deafening in the quiet. You thought it had started to rain; you could hear the pitter patter on your window, could see the way it broke up the streetlamps outside like a mosaic.
Ellie was nodding almost absently, watching the rain. Her lips parted, and you didn’t expect her to hesitate before she said, “Yeah. A girl like you… deserves to be kissed like it’s the last gasp of air to someone drowning.” You watched her mouth as she spoke, even as your mind screamed at you to look away. You scolded yourself, screaming to end this now, but your body refused; it ached to draw her near, a tangible pain in your chest. “A girl like you should get one of those movie kisses - you know, like when the hero saves the day and shit and he kisses his girl and it’s like the world didn’t matter as long as he saved her. The kind that has the whole fucking theater holding their breath. A girl like you…. Fuck….” She trailed off her rambling. Ellie ran a rough hand through her hair, making the strands stick up at odd angles, and finally looked at you. There was a fire in her eyes, blazing in the dim light. “You deserve to be kissed like they’ll die if they can’t have you.”
Something had stopped in your chest - maybe it was your breath, maybe it was your heart. Your blood rushed in your ears, and you feared the thrum of your heartbeat was so loud it filled your entire bedroom. Your traitorous heart pressed at your bedroom walls, filling up the space and leaving room for little else.
Your voice was only a whisper, and you wanted to kick yourself when you said, “We should really go to bed. I have an exam tomorrow.”
Your roommate pressed her lips together, and she did not break eye contact as she said, “Dare.”
You shook your head, looking away from her to try, desperately, to break whatever spell had taken hold of you; but your eyes were drawn back to her as if she were the only fucking light in the dark. You had to get a hold of yourself before you did something you’d regret, but you felt intoxicated with something far stronger than the cheap vodka you had bought from Walmart.
“You’re drunk, Els,” you said, and you sounded so breathless you may as well have given up then and there.
Ellie leaned closer, holding your gaze, and you could see the exact shade of desire in her eyes. She was so fucking warm - your head spun from it, heat radiating from her skin when she planted a hand on the bed right next to your hip. Her wrist brushed against the bare skin under your shorts, and you felt her voice vibrating in your chest when she said, “Dare.”
And it was like she had finally pulled the last fucking thread that made you unravel, because you couldn’t stop yourself - didn’t even think to - before you said, “Kiss me.”
You only had a second to register the smile pulling at the edges of Ellie’s lips before she grabbed your face and pulled you in to smother it. You had never imagined what kissing Ellie would be like - had never allowed your imagination to wander so far over the edge - but she did not kiss like she was drowning. She kissed with the same slow gentleness as when she played the guitar, her long fingers plucking at the strings with the careful deliberation of a lover.
And she felt so fucking warm. You were high with it; high with the heat radiating from her fingers pressed to your cheeks; high from the way her breath snaked past your parted lips, gentle huffs of warmth against your skin. Your head swam as you pressed into her, your hands tangling into the fabric of her shirt, fingers unsure even as you ached to pull her closer.
Ellie pulled back for a moment - for only a moment, but each second her lips weren't on yours caused an ache in your chest. Her eyes hovered inches from yours, so fucking green it was dizzying - though you couldn't see much of the color passed the eclipse of her pupils. Her cheeks were flushed - from the vodka, from something else entirely - her freckles popping against the color. You could only imagine how you looked, could feel the desire written across every inch of your face.
Your fists tightened in her shirt, and you used the leverage to pull her back into you; and suddenly, it felt like you were the one drowning. You couldn’t breathe as Ellie devoured you, the gentleness replaced with a hunger you hadn’t known lived inside her. She pressed her tongue against the seam of your mouth until you relented, opening up to her, a soft sound escaping your throat when her tongue ran along the roof of your mouth.
That sound - nothing more than a breathy sigh - ignited something in Ellie. Suddenly, she was all teeth and tongue and hot, hot breath in your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between her teeth. She bit down when a shaky sigh forced its way from your throat, soothing it with her tongue and swallowing the moan it elicited. Her hands were in your hair, the strands twisted between her fingers, and when you bit down on her lip, she pulled - you gasped at the sharp pain on your scalp.
“Fuck,” she cursed against your lips, and you could feel that single syllable, hot breath in your mouth that you wanted to swallow. She didn’t continue for a long time, couldn’t form any other words past the way her lips made you unravel. Her hands trailed down your shoulders, fingers grazing lightly over the bare skin of your arms, before finding your hips, gripping them in a vice and tugging you closer. “Fuck, come here,” she said, her voice nothing more than a low growl that you felt in your chest.
And you were drunk - from the cheap vodka and sleep deprivation and Ellie. You were drunk on the way her eyes were eclipsed, her lips red and bitten and swollen, parted so you could feel each exhale against your cheeks. Her eyes were dark, hooded. Her fingers dug into your hips, and you were drunk, but shit, how the hell could you say no to her? How could you possibly say no when she was looking at you like she was starving?
Her hands guided you closer so you swung a leg over her hips and settled in her lap, your hands braced on her shoulders. She leaned her head back against the wall and just looked at you for several long moments, biting down on her lip. You couldn’t stop watching her mouth, mesmerized as she said, “Fuck, look at you.”
And then she was kissing you again, her hands gripping your hips like it was a lifeline. Your hands found their way to her hair, curling your fingers in the short locks, using it as leverage to pull her closer. You could feel how each point of your body fit into hers; your thighs against her legs, her hands curling perfectly over the swell of your hips. You could feel the swell of her breasts against your chest, and you so badly wanted to feel her skin against yours. You felt like you’d go crazy from the raw want radiating from your body.
Ellie’s lips traced a map across your cheek, down your jawline. You tilted your head so she could kiss the hinge of your jaw, the spot right below your ear. She paused there, planting hot, open-mouth kisses across your neck, before her teeth bit down on that sensitive spot, pulling the skin into her mouth, and you practically melted into her. You couldn’t control the sounds falling from your lips like honey, gripping at her hair as she soothed the bruise with her tongue.
“Ellie….” Your voice was nothing more than a whimper; you swallowed hard and tried again, pressing a hand firmly at her shoulder. “Ellie.”
She only hummed against your skin, and you could feel the vibration against your pulse. The sound went straight to your stomach and dipped even lower when she bit at your collarbone.
The next time you said her name, it came out as a moan; you cleared your throat. “We can’t do this - you’re drunk, Els.”
Your roommate hummed again, but she relented, leaning her head back against the wall to look up at you. And - fuck. Her lips were red and swollen, still wet from the kiss. Her cheeks were flushed, and - God, her eyes. You had never understood the term bedroom eyes, but Ellie looked at you as though she wanted to devour you. Like any second her hands weren’t on you was torture. Like she wanted to bite and kiss and taste every inch of your skin.
“Truth or dare,” she said, her voice so hoarse you had to clench your thighs around her hips.
“What?”
“Truth or dare,” she repeated, her eyes never leaving yours. And this wasn’t part of the game, but you played along anyway, unable and unwilling to tell her no.
“Truth,” you sighed.
One of Ellie’s hands traced up your side. She ran her fingers across your collarbone, up your throat, before stopping to cup your jaw, her skin rough against yours. “Do you want this?”
You nodded, the vodka making it impossible to feel shy.
“How long have you wanted this?” Ellie’s thumb pressed at the seam of your lips, and you let your mouth fall open. She watched, hypnotized, dipping just the tip of her thumb between your lips before withdrawing.
It was against the rules - two questions for one truth - but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “A long fucking time.” Your voice was weak and breathy, and you couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about that either. Your attention had narrowed in on Ellie, and the way her fingers skirted across your chest, the way her other hand gripped your hip - how you could feel the warmth of her thighs between your legs.
Taking your chin in her hand, she drew you closer, and you could feel her lips moving against yours: “So what the hell is stopping us?”
This time, when she kissed you, you did melt into her. You gripped her hair in your fists and swallowed the moan it drew from her, shivering when her teeth caught on your lip. She had both hands on your hips again, and she gripped them so hard you were sure you’d find bruises there in the morning in the shape of her fingers. She pulled you closer, pulling your hips down into her; the friction through your pajama shorts made you moan against her lips.
And you decided to play her game.
“Truth or dare?” you said, drawing away just enough to see the eclipse of her eyes.
Ellie, always stubborn, murmured, “Dare.”
You tugged at the hem of her shirt, your fingers brushing the warm skin beneath; you marveled at the shiver that ran through her body. You ducked your head to kiss along her jaw, pressing the words into her skin. “Take this off.”
She didn’t waste any time tugging the shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor before skidding her fingers over the bare skin above your shorts. You lifted your arms and let her pull your shirt over your head before realizing you weren’t wearing anything beneath. Who wears a bra to study in their own apartment?
But you didn’t have a moment to cover your body in embarrassment before Ellie’s lips were on you again, as if it pained her to not taste you for even a moment. Her hands spread across your back, pulling you into her as she peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses across your collar; you hissed when her teeth bit down over your collarbone, soothing the pain with her tongue.
“Tell me to stop and I'll stop,” Ellie said, her voice muffled as she kissed down over your chest; you shivered when her teeth sank into the skin of your boob, sucking another bruise there. She certainly loved leaving her signature on any inch of your skin that her mouth could reach.
You groaned low in your chest, your fingers tugging at her hair, pulling a gasp from her lips. You almost didn’t recognize your own voice - breathy and thick with desire - when you said, “Please don’t stop.”
The next thing you knew, Ellie was shoving you off of her lap; your back hit the mattress, your head just barely missing the headboard, but you couldn’t even think about that. Your roommate was crawling over you, and you were hypnotized by the way her muscles tensed, her arms caging you against the bed. Her skin was fucking obscene, smooth plains stretching for miles, cast in liquid gold in the lamplight.
“God, look at you,” she said again, pressing a kiss to your clavicle. Her hand was like worn clay when it traced a teasing line over your hip. Her voice was muffled against your skin, but you caught the end of her sentence: “- so fucking pretty.”
Your only response was a choked gasp when Ellie pressed the flat of her tongue to your nipple. You gripped her shoulder, feeling her lips close around you as she sucked your skin into her mouth; you winced when she released it, feeling her teeth graze maddeningly over your nipple.
“Truth or dare?” she said into your skin, her voice vibrating in your bones.
You groaned, gripping her shoulder when she licked a line over your other nipple. If you had thought about this (which, if anybody asked, you didn’t), you never would have imagined your roommate being such a fucking tease.
She hummed, and you could feel the vibration in every nerve. For a moment, you couldn’t find your tongue, your voice caught in your chest until she released your skin with a pop of her lips. She looked up at you, batting her eyes, and dammit if your body didn’t arch, searching for her mouth again.
Propping herself up on her elbows, she watched you through her lashes, an intoxicating smirk across her lips; they were still shining wetly. She broke you from your thoughts when she murmured, “Use your words, angel.”
Your thighs clenched around her words, automatically and unconsciously. You were sure you could get drunk on the way her voice filled the room, rough and rich as the chords she played. It was through clenched teeth that you said, setting your pride aside, “Dare.” Your cheeks burned when it came out as a moan.
You could feel her smile against your skin as she kissed down your stomach, silent for several long, torturous moments. You felt her teeth sink into your hip bone briefly, your hips jerking at the sensation. It earned you a chuckle before you felt Ellie’s hands pressing your hips into the mattress, holding you still. You groaned low in your throat when you felt her tongue against the skin over the band of your shorts, licking a stripe right above the fabric before taking the elastic between her teeth and tugging. You jumped when she released it, the band snapping back against your skin. You didn’t have to look at her to see the sparkle in her eye.
You swore your heart stopped completely when she murmured, “I wanna go down on you.”
Despite this game she was insistent on playing, it wasn’t said like a dare; it was said like a question, or a request. There was no expectation behind it. Ellie was asking, you realized with dizzying satisfation, for permission.
“Fuck.” It came out as only a breath, a whisper against your tongue. Your fingers ached from gripping the sheets and she hadn’t even touched you yet. “Fuck,” you tried again, and it was a groan this time but at least it was louder. “Yeah. Yeah, please, fuck.” Words were just falling from your lips because when you looked down, Ellie - your roommate, your friend - was watching you, propped between your legs with that fucking smirk, and how could you possibly string together a complete sentence?
And Ellie… didn’t. She didn’t follow up on her dare. Not immediately, at least. No, she took her sweet fucking time - always so damn precise, taking her time in hooking her fingers over the band of your shorts. She pulled them down so slowly you could feel every inch down your legs. And then you were lying beneath your roommate in nothing but your underwear - and dammit, if you had known this would be happening, you would have opted for something a little sexier than a cotton pair with constellations on them.
Ellie smiled. “Cute,” she said, before sinking her teeth into the flesh of your thigh. You were thankful it was cold out - you’d have to wear layers to hide all the places her mouth had been.
Your roommate ducked her head, and you gasped when you felt her press a featherlight kiss against the fabric of your underwear, right where warmth pooled between your legs.
You huffed, twisting the sheets between your fingers. “God, you’re such an asshole - fuck-” You were cut off when Ellie licked a stripe up your panties, warm tongue pressing against your throbbing clit. You moaned at the relief, feeling the wetness of her mouth through the fabric. It wasn’t enough - you needed to feel her against you, needed her tongue to unravel you piece by piece. You pressed your hips down against her lips but her hands held you in place.
You huffed out a breath, her name slipping from your lips when you moaned. “Ellie….”
And then she was yanking your underwear down your hips; you gasped, lifting your ass to help her shove them down. She had only gotten them just below your knees before she was pressing back in, too impatient to finish the job.
And - fuck, her mouth. Ellie’s mouth was fucking magic. You moaned into the quiet room when she pressed the flat of her tongue against your pussy, licking a stripe between your lips. You couldn’t control the curses slipping between your teeth when her tongue made teasing circles around your clit until you were whimpering, aching for her. She had released your hips to dig her fingers into your thighs, nails digging in, and you’d surely have crescent-shaped bruises there tomorrow - even more to cover up. You pressed your hips down against her, groaning, her name only a whisper: “Fuck, Els-”
And then she finally, finally, gave you what you wanted.
Ellie ate pussy like it was her fucking job, like she was clocking into a shift and working her ass off for those tips. She lapped at your clit like she was starving, pressing her lips against you until you were dizzy, your entire body tuned in to the warmth of her tongue and the gentle graze of her teeth. You shuddered when you felt that tongue press into your core, a brief pressure that pulled curses from your lips, words tripping over each other: “Ah - fuck - fuck, Ellie - oh my God, fuck-”
It didn’t take long for tension to build in your stomach. You were intoxicated; you were tipsy, yes, but something about the way Ellie moved her tongue - long, slow circles around your clit, using the flat of her tongue to draw you closer to the edge - was like a damn drug. You got what you wanted: She unraveled you with her tongue, tugging curses from your lips. You could hear your own moans echoing against your quiet bedroom and you couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it.
Ellie took your clit between her lips and sucked, pulling you into her mouth and-
A long, low moan pulled at your throat when you came. Your hand came up to grip at her hair, fingers twisting in the soft strands. She moaned when you pulled, and the vibration against every nerve pushed you further; you could feel your orgasm in your chest, could feel it trembling in your thighs.
Ellie worked you through it, her tongue dancing against you as you rode out your high. She didn’t stop, pressing her lips against you, dipping her tongue into your core again, until you were shoving against her head, your hips bucking at the sensitivity.
When she raised her head, she was grinning, that wicked, infuriating grin she always had when she was pleased with herself. She rested her head against your thigh for a moment, watching you as you blinked the stars from your eyes. You relaxed your fingers in her hair, smoothing your thumb across her temple.
The only thing you could say, breathless and dizzy, was, “Fuck, Els. What the fuck?”
Ellie laughed, the sound unarming the silence around you, the anxiety of what this meant. She pressed a kiss to your thigh, right over the little indentations where her nails had dug into the flesh, and just said, “Yeah?”
You giggled, tugging at her hair gently. You looked down at your roommate - and you didn’t know what this meant for the two of you, but that could be a problem for tomorrow, when you weren’t drunk and sleep-deprived and naked beneath your friend. For now, you only said, “Truth or dare?”
Ellie blinked, raising an eyebrow, and said, “Truth.”
You considered not asking for a moment, unsure if you wanted to know, but curiosity pressed at you until you asked, “What do I taste like?”
The grin spread wider, Ellie’s eyes sparkling as she pushed herself up. She crawled up your body, taking a moment to press a kiss to your stomach, to the bruises she had left littered across your chest - you moaned when she took a nipple briefly into her mouth. She kissed her way up your neck, across your jaw, sucking at the skin beneath your ear - another fucking bruise to worry about. God, it was like she wanted her signature on you, branded in every inch of your skin.
Her face hovered an inch above yours, propping herself up on her elbows, smirking. She leaned in close, leaving room for you to turn away if you wanted. Instead, you tilted your chin up and kissed her again.
You wrinkled your nose at the metallic taste of yourself against her lips. You didn’t like it, the way your own scent wafted over you. But fuck if you didn’t open your mouth when you felt Ellie’s tongue pressing at the seam of your lips. She moaned when your tongue ran along the roof of her mouth, pressing into the taste of you.
When she pulled back, her eyes were soft, her cheeks flushed. “Like that.”
You rolled your eyes, turning your face away; you had to admit, even if you hated how you tasted - tasting yourself against her tongue sent a wave of heat between your legs all over again. You only said, “Gross.”
Ellie leaned in again, and you felt her lips ghosting against your jaw. You felt her breath against your skin when she whispered, “Truth or dare?”
You lifted your chin to give her access to your neck, sighing when she pressed a kiss against your pulse. “Truth.”
Her breath huffed against you when she chuckled before raising her head to meet your eyes again, that same cocky smile spread across her lips. “Was that better than a six?”
“Oh, fuck off.” You shoved against her until she rolled off of you.
She flopped back against the mattress, still laughing, but she was holding her arm out for you. You only hesitated for a moment - but even if she was your roommate, she just made you see stars, so it’s not like cuddling would push against the boundary you had already broken. You curled into her, laying your head on her chest, the sports bra she was still wearing soft against your cheek.
You sighed, skimming your fingertips against the warm skin of her stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. “Definitely better than a six.”
You were starting to fall asleep, your eyes growing heavy, your study notes effectively forgotten. You burrowed into her further, wrapping your arm around her and pressing your fingers against her hip. You briefly wondered where the vodka bottle had ended up in the mess, but Ellie didn’t seem in any particular hurry to untangle herself from you, so you figured it could wait - surely it would be okay if she slept in your room for one night.
Just before you dozed off, you heard Ellie murmur, “You left the window open.”
#listen i'm writing a novel rn so i forgot how to write short things#ellie tlou#ellie williams#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x reader#ellie x reader#ellie x fem reader#lesbian smut#ellie x you#ellie the last of us#ellie williams tlou#tlou smut#idk man#tlou 2 x reader#i might change the title idk i couldn't think of anything#i haven't written fanfiction in. like 8 or 9 years i think lol
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one of my favourite things about AO3 tags is their dedication to canon accuracy, even when that means it devolves into complete mayhem like
Percy was not named with a fan following in mind, this was clearly a running gag but it's his name so they have to use all of it
#adding the 'percy' in there is just adding insult to injury tho#i'm sorry this is so funny to look at#and yes i do think the joke is hilarious actually. aristocracy names are the funniest thing in the world#ao3#(on that note tho dear anglophones please stop capitalising the 'von' in titles)#(taliesin gets a pass because he couldn't have known how much this would blow up it was a home game but. psa i guess)#(today seems to be my 'be pissy about ways to get (pseudo-) german names wrong' day idk)#vox machina#critical role#percival de rolo#(the joke is funny but i will not bother i'm sorry)
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Decimation
Some members of one of the GIW’s top-secret research facilities have made an earth-shattering discovery.
They’ve found a way to make half-ghosts.
The failure rate is high. For every subject they successfully convert, many more are left burnt-out corpses—or worse, as rabid undead that must be put down with force.
It didn’t matter. The test subjects were cheap, worthless. Their countless deaths were an acceptable sacrifice in the name of progress.
Their operative’ deaths when they begin the full plan… those will matter more. Their warped agents may be more dangerous than normal humans in combat, but legions of foot soldiers still have their place. It would be foolish to leave themself solely in the hands of ectoplasmic entities, even if they’re allies and still partially human. Recruiting and training enough replacements to recover the losses would take time.
But it will all be worth it.
Finally, they will have control of a strong enough army to bring their goals to fruition. Those inhuman wraiths will be eradicated, ensuring the safety of the real, living humans and opening up a whole new dimension of untapped resources.
#danny phantom#dp#not specifically dp x dc but i feel like the “heroes vs GIW” plot type would fit really well#so i’m gonna include a few of those tags:#dp x dc#dpxdc#dcxdp#dc x dp#danny phantom au#dp au#danny phantom prompt#idk how to convey this but they still hate *all* ghosts#using half ghosts doesn’t change that#it’s seen as like. disgusting but necessary#i tried to use words with more negative connotations like “warped” or “more *dangerous*” to communicate that mood but idk if it comes across#dp prompt#guys in white#ghost investigation ward#giw (danny phantom)#i’m pretty proud of the title of this#like it’s not too deep but it feels sorta connected to two differen things through the two meanings of the word#romans had a practice called “decimation” which involved killing 1/10 the soldiers of a group as a punishment#and here the GIW are knowingly killing a portion of their own agents to strengthen their forces#(though it’s a larger fraction so if the “deci-” part were to be kept it’d be like “1 in 10 *survived*” instead of “1 in 10 died”)#and then they also intend to decimate the Ghost Zone (as in the modern meaning of “destroying much if not all of something”
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You're still standing off to the side. Somehow, center stage has shifted from under your feet without you realizing, and you're standing in the wings, performing to no one.
Starring Role (Patreon)
#My art#ISaT#ISaT Spoilers#Siffrin#Loop#Technically - you know how it goes#Me when I relate to Siffrin: Oh no haha that's probably not great whoops haha#Me when I relate to Loop: Oh. Oh No.#Lenti has such a deathgrip on my ISaT opinions wtf how is she so powerful I thought my fave was Sif?? But I mean well-#Lol#Does this count as vent idk lol#It was fun to write tho :) Very easy! Done all at once!#As was drawing this! Also done all at once! And black and white is still really fun to work with hehe#I got to use some pretty cool outline/lineart tricks for this one yay :D#The original draft of the fic had a different title but ''Starring Role'' is kinda?? too perfect???#To the point where I looked around and I was like#Kinda shocked that there doesn't Seem? to be another fic with the same title?#Which is.........oddly relevantly thematic to this fic actually hahaha#Not to get too exacting about it but the whole thing of Loop feeling replaceable well#It would imply that other someones could do what they do better than them#What an odd refutation. Huh. Weird#Anyway - behind the scenes fun fact!#I actually really love the song Starring Role but I didn't think of it until after writing this#And now that I sing it to myself it's actually kinda perfect what the heck#So that's something to think about as well#Anyway if you're going to listen to it pls listen to the Axiom remix it is The version in my heart <3#The glitches and stutters are perfect.....#And the clock ticking?? Why is this song so ISaT I'm gonna think about this for a while now heck#Animatic in my head shower thought -core lol
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Kremy Lecroux and Gideon Coal had forgotten they were a simple flinch, a passing breeze, a slippery hand, or a drop of rain, away from ruin, and that ignorance was the beginning of their downfall. Hubris and rage, greed and wrath…no matter its origin, sin leads to sin, and sinners attract other sinners. Whether due to chance or fate, two paths cross and intertwine, never to split again.
my take on how gideon and kremy first met & what led up to it! beta read by my beloved mutual @szaryherbatnik
its 6.2k words so a pretty short (but hopefully enjoyable) read, id really appreciate it if you checked it out! <3
#writing summaries and giving chapters/works titles is so hard for no reason#i was struggling yall#one day ill find my footing in terms of writing#but anyway#im really proud of this little thing#might add more chapters later?#id like to explore how their relationship grew over time i think#idk#they melt my brain/pos#coalecroux#once upon a witchlight#legends of avantris#kremy lecroux#gideon coal#ouaw#ouaw fanfic#ao3#kremy nation#mandatory kremy appreciation tag <3
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In Time and Stars
#in stars and time#isat#siffrin#josh art tag#been wanting to practice less “literal” drawings....#like people doing a certain thing or being in a certain place or even just standing there#and instead do more like conceptual stuff?? idk how to word it#but i love doing stuff like this#and i feel like i havent done it in a while#i think last time i did was early in the year when i was still really into the Magnus Protocol#and was illustrating lines from each episode#some of which are my best performing art ever lol#i still remember my sibling telling me they had come across my art on their dash and later on their insta explore page#they had apologized since me and my sibs have an agreement to not search for or interact with each other online just for privacys sake#but i found it both funny and kinda insane#was not expecting my art to get big enough to find its way to that sib lol#uuuhhhhh anyway back on topic#ive had this idea of a siffrin illustration where either have their face or the back part of their head being a clock#and i tried a couple drafts in my sketchbook#and ended up liking this one! it had the addition of the shooting star and from then i toyed with the idea of adding the title text#i have another less literal piece for zelda that i wanna do#but i also wanna work on my isat animatic#....and i also wanna play stardew....#i need more hours in the day 😔
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BARTYLUS BASEBALL THING
(inspired by this which haunts my thoughts 24/7)
Word Count: 5.2k
Part: 1/?
Summary: every summer begets the baseball tournament of the year. barty drags regulus to the opening game, kickstarting a series of unintended events.
Barty’s whole body hums, the way it always does when he’s around Regulus. Like the old TV his father has that crackles to life in static whirs, or the green boxes in the neighborhood that Barty would sit on until the sun went down. Constant electricity.
“I mean, they’ve been doing this for years now and I have been explicitly forbidden from going,” Regulus returns. Still, he doesn’t seem affected one way or the other. “Mother wouldn’t like it.”
“Oh, mother wouldn’t like it?” Barty snorts, mockingly. “So what? It’ll give us something to do. And it’ll give us an opportunity to see each other since your parents plan on keeping you locked up in the house all summer,” he counters, and Regulus knocks a sharp shoulder into his arm. “It’s good to stick together. Mother doesn’t have to know.”
They’re walking side by side on the pavement. Slow, shuffling feet. Hands in their pockets. It’s the last day of class for the school year. Without school, there’s no way for Barty to see Regulus. Barty went all of last summer without seeing Regulus and it was boring and brutal.
Regulus takes a hand out of his pocket and pushes the hair out of his face. The sun is bright, and it causes him to squint. “Sirius still playing?”
Barty nods. “Yeah. He’s still on the James Potter all-star team. I heard Potter even talked Frank Longbottom out of retirement for one last summer.”
“He’s only two years older than us,” Regulus scoffs.
“Still, he didn’t play last summer.”
Regulus nods slowly.
They walk down the pavement silently, dragging footsteps, trying to delay the inevitable.
“It is good to stick together.” Regulus looks at Barty and traces the bruise on his cheek with his finger lightly. Barty is proud of the way he doesn’t flinch, even if the bruise is still tender and aching. He’s not so proud of the way he leans into the touch, even if it hurts.
This entire time, Barty was worried about leaving Regulus alone for a summer with no one but his parents for company. Now he thinks Regulus was equally worried for him, for the same reasons.
“But, I don’t like baseball,” Regulus muses, pulling his finger away.
“No, but you like me,” Barty grins wickedly. “Besides, we’ll just make fun of the whole thing, and I’ll steal my dad’s liquor and we’ll make it fun.”
Regulus pretends to think about it, but it doesn’t matter. Barty knows him. He knows Regulus is going to give in.
The summer baseball tournament is a local legend among the neighborhood kids, and the kids from surrounding neighborhoods too. The first baseball game began five years ago after they knocked down an old rickety building and reduced it to rubble. It didn’t take long for the land to reclaim the area and grow into tall stalks of grassy growth. That’s when, at age 12, Frank Longbottom got the bright idea to turn it into a makeshift baseball field.
The first year, Frank could barely get enough people together to make two teams, and it was so hot in the daylight that they never finished a full game before the kids scattered back into their air-conditioned homes. By year two, Frank had taken the entire school year to recruit people from surrounding neighborhoods and moved the games to the evening to beat the blazing heat.
This would be the fifth consecutive year that the tournament would run. Some kids still used the lot to play baseball in the winter or the spring, but this? This was official. After five years, the summer games became a thing of wonder for all of the young people in town. Anyone aged 12-17 could be on a team, you had to have nine to a team to enter, and each team wishing to compete in the tournament would have to have an official group name, a poster, and a roster. You had to submit and finalize your team two months before the school year ended.
That’s when the fun began. Students would make fliers and posters advertising their teams. Slips of copy paper folded up into tiny squares and passed down the aisles of desks to avoid the sharp eyes of teachers and administrators. The official list is always posted on the first Saturday of May. One expertly crayola, stickered, and markered sheet listing the teams, players, and field positions was nailed to the hollow oak tree stump in the woods by the creek. All the children knew where it was, and all of the adults would never stumble across it. Once the list was posted, the betting could begin.
Mundungus Fletcher and his group of friends ran the baseball betting ring. They would sit out by the old tree stump every Saturday with their journals taking meticulous notes of everyone placing bets and what they brought in. Nothing was off limits, Mundungus Fletcher accepted everything from stickers to lighters. Packs of bubble gum, nail polish, the two or three cigarettes you could manage to steal from your father, anything. Of course, not everything was of equal value. A lighter was worth two full-size candy bars (and it couldn’t be one of the bad ones like Almond Joy or 3 Musketeers they had to Reece's or Twix) and two small stickers. A nail polish was worth a rubber band ball and a blow pop. Mundungus Fletcher and his team took their jobs seriously, monitoring the conversion rates and doling out prizes. Every Saturday the children of the neighborhood would scramble, bringing in whatever they thought would be best for the pot. A few stray dollar bills, their coins, candy, lip gloss, sunglasses, bouncy balls, yo-yos, marbles, stamps, pokemon cards, queued-up mp3 players, necklaces, baseball caps, and even beloved childhood stuffed animals weren’t safe when it was time for baseball bets.
Mundungus kept all of the bets in one of his mother’s large kitchen mixing bowls, then two of his mother’s large mixing bowls, then in empty shoe boxes as things began to overfill. He said he hid all the betting goods in a secret, secure location, but Barty was pretty sure he was just keeping it all under his bed. Regardless, Mundungus would bring out the spoils every Saturday so that all of the kids in the neighborhood could see their potential spoils, provided they picked the right team. It was a great incentive to get people to partake.
As for the baseball teams, there were eight this year, the most they’d ever had. They would be competing to be number one. The winning team of the summer baseball tournament became town celebrities for the year. They always got first dibs at the carnival that came to town (they could skip the ride lines and take two turns in a row on the Ferris wheel), they got to use the tire swing into the creek whenever they wanted (they never had to wait to use it or take turns), and, because some of the older kids had jobs already, if you were on the winning baseball team you would often get free movie tickets and popcorn, or free ice cream if one of the other kids was working. There was an unspoken rule, a reverence, that the winning team had with the other kids in town, they were Gods among mortals, they would want for nothing, ask for anything, and receive it. The winning team also gets crowned with Coca-Cola canned bottle crowns that Barty thinks look stupid, but everyone else seems way too into them.
This all happens without the supervision of any adults. It was the most sacred vow that everyone tried not to break. No adults allowed. Adults always had the propensity to ruin things. They would think too hard about things, create problems that didn’t exist, and they would shut the baseball tournament down. This year, like last year, the games don’t start until one in the morning, while almost every adult is asleep soundly in their beds, getting ready for work the next morning. Of course, more than a few adults know about this tournament, and most don’t care. Regulus’ mother, like Barty’s father, is allergic to fun, so they’re both banned from going. Some kids have meltdowns over being banned from the games. Two years ago, a game couldn’t be played because two players were grounded and the team had to forfeit.
The stakes and the pressure were always high.
The stakes were high for Barty this year too, even if he wasn’t playing. He looks at Regulus as they come to the end of the street, shuffling feet. Regulus' house looms behind him, and Barty can see Walburga watching from the window on the second floor, peering purse-lipped through the curtains.
Barty’s hands stay in his pockets. “I guess I’ll see you then.”
Regulus nods. His face doesn’t waver but his eyes sparkle with secrecy. “Yeah, later.”
—
Throwing rocks at people’s windows is the worst.
Barty isn’t enthused.
First, he had to collect a bunch of rocks to stuff his pockets with on the way over, second, it was dark and there weren’t any street lights on Regulus’ street so everything looked exactly the same, and third, he was rapidly running out of rocks.
He skims them lightly at first. Tap. Tap. Tap.
They bounce off the glass of Regulus’ window in soft thuds.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Jesus Christ, how long did it take for Regulus to sneak out and come down?
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Barty’s annoyed now. Maybe he wasn’t throwing them hard enough?
He throws the next few with more force.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
He keeps throwing them until he’s out of rocks.
Now what?
He stands on the side of Regulus’ house, trying to squint up into the dark window. He’s not sure if Regulus would turn a light on in the house and risk it, but it looks like nothing is going on in there. Regulus had promised him that he wasn’t a deep sleeper.
Outside the crickets chirp in song and the blades of grass tickle Barty’s ankles as the night breeze causes them to sway.
Fuck it.
Barty picks up a much larger rock that’s at his feet, and forgetting himself for a moment, he throws it with all the strength of the last throw and then some. The glass breaks and shatters with a delicious noise, but Barty can't admire it, because he’s already turning on his heel and running.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Past the first house and then the second and then–
Oh.
Oh.
His feet all but screech to a halt on the pavement as he looks up at Regulus’ house. Regulus’ real house. This time he’s sure of it.
It’s not his fault everything looks the same in the dark.
Barty shrugs, trying to calm his racing heart and catch his breath as he leans down to pick up some smaller rocks from the ground.
As quietly as he can, he stalks over to the side of the house Regulus’ bedroom window is on, and starts the process over.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He uses a much lighter touch.
Thankfully, Regulus comes out after nine stones, no lights ever turned on inside the Black family residence.
“I’m surprised you don’t play,” Barty says as they walk side-by-side to the baseball field.
“Why’s that?” Regulus looks at him like he’s sprouted another head.
Barty shrugs, looking up at the waxing moon. “Your whole family does. Sirius and Andromeda are on a team. And Narcissa’s a pitcher. Bellatrix is on Tom’s team. Also a pitcher. You mean to tell me you haven’t thought about it?”
“Narcissa plays?” Regulus furrows his brows. “I didn’t know that.”
There was a lot about summer baseball that Regulus didn’t know. Barty takes it upon himself to explain on the walk over.
“There are really only three teams to beat in this tournament. Tom’s team, they’re the Death Eaters, that’s their team name. Nobody likes them and everyone is afraid of them because they play dirty. Last year, Bellatrix beamed Remus in the nose so hard that she broke it. Tom ordered it. Then you’ve got the Serpents, they’re my favorites. That’s the one Narcissa plays on. They haven’t won a tournament ever, but this is their year. Trust me. And then there’s,” Barty rolls his eyes for dramatic effect. “The Lions or whatever the fuck.”
“Horrible team name,” Regulus’ mouth twists up into a smile.
“Truly,” Barty nods. “James Potter is the captain, right-hand man is your brother, and they of course have recruited the legendary Frank Longbottom to come back and steal the baseball title from Tom’s Death Eaters. It was a huge upset when Tom’s team won two years ago, so much so that Frank quit the following year, and Tom won again, and now,” Barty shrugs. “I guess he’s back.”
“So the Lions are like the founding team?” Regulus asks, and Barty nods. He’s surprised Regulus doesn’t know this from his brother.
“Yeah, the original team. Doesn’t mean they’re gonna win though, even with Frank. Tom might actually kill somebody before he lets that happen.”
“But the Lions, they’re the favorites?”
Barty fake gags. “Depends on who you ask. Not my favorites.”
“Mine neither,” Regulus says decisively.
Barty wonders if he’s thinking about all of the lion posters and memorabilia that Sirius used to keep in his bedroom. Regulus would always complain about the bright red and gold team colors and the obnoxious designs, but he doesn’t complain about anything anymore now that Sirius’ room is empty.
Barty looked out for him then. When Sirius packed up everything and ran away to James’ house. It was odd, Regulus seemed to be the only one who knew what it was then. Walburga and Orion seemed to be in denial. Sirius would come home, it was an extended sleepover– which they were never allowed to have, Sirius would realize how good he had it and he’d come back. Only Regulus seemed to understand that they’d never live under the same roof again.
Barty was there. He was there while Regulus ranted and raved and paced and shook his fists at the sky. He was there when Regulus crumpled up like a sheet of paper and collapsed in on himself, shoulders shaking in silent cries. He was there when Sirius spent every second trying to convince Regulus to come to James’ house with him, begged Regulus to talk to him, tried to pass him letters in the street that Regulus would let fall to the pavement. And he was there when Regulus picked himself up and pretended as if the entire affair was beneath him.
They were there for each other. Alway had been. Barty would never leave like Sirius did. He wouldn’t dream of it. He’d stick around as long as Regulus would let him, as pathetic as that sounded. He’d like to think that Regulus would stick around too. Regulus with his dark eyes and all-too-serious look of someone always deep in thought. Sharp, gray eyes that narrowed in displeasure at everything. It took a lot of effort to get Regulus to smile, even more effort to make him laugh. Barty had never done something so rewarding. The surge he felt in his chest whenever Regulus would grin or laugh at something Barty had said was addicting. It made him lightheaded and delirious.
“Look what I brought,” Barty grins, pulling out the flask from his back pocket. The silver can glints in the moonlight.
Regulus’ hand reaches to grab at the flask as they walk in time. Barty likes the way their feet sound on the pavement when they’re in step. He hates that he’s been having thoughts like these more and more frequently. He can’t fucking help himself.
Regulus takes a swig and does his best not to shudder as the warm liquor lights a fire down his throat. Barty finds it slightly endearing as he raises his eyebrows at Regulus, waiting for him to cough and sputter. It never comes.
Barty watches as Regulus licks his lips and hands the flask back to Barty, cheeks pink. Barty is overcome with the desire to kiss him, to taste the honeyed bourbon still on his lips and feel the lightning bolts race through his veins, but he contains himself. Another annoying and incessant thought.
In an attempt to recover, he swings hard at Regulus’ shoulder, harder than he should, as he tuts, “Don’t drink it all, save some for the game.”
Regulus turns to him once more, face indignant as he rubs his arm where Barty has just punched. “Fuck you, I barely even drank any.”
“It looked like a big swallow to me.”
Now it was Regulus’ turn to punch Barty, but there was no heat behind it. “Fucking hell, I told you to stop swinging on me like that. I’ll break your nose next time, I swear to God.”
Barty grins. “Is that a promise?”
“Freak,” Regulus shakes his head, but he’s back to being amused.
“You love it.”
They make it to the field early, but there are already people streaming in with bright battery-operated lights for the game, talking excitedly to themselves. A team is warming up the field, practicing their swings and stretching, Barty listens to the clatter of the bleachers that someone had brought to the lot two years ago. He’s not sure how they did it.
He watches Regulus watch the scene in wonder.
“They have concession stands?” He asks, looking at the girl and boy selling things on the pavement in front of the lot. They both sit at a little plastic table with plastic chairs, their sign advertises what they're selling, crackerjack, peanuts, sodas, trail mix, lemonade.
“Uh, I guess,” Barty shrugs. “That’s new. Seems a bit much.”
Still, he buys two bags of boiled peanuts and two cokes for them anyway.
Mundungus Fletcher and his friends are there, calling out to everyone to join in the bets. Tonight is the last night to enter.
Regulus stops by and drops off a few things, about ten dollars, 4 packs of gum, sunglasses with flames up the side that used to belong to Sirius, and 5 spinning tops.
“Regulus Black,” Mundungus fills out his name in the notebook in inky black pen, carefully recording the list of everything he’s brought. “Let me guess, you’re betting it all on the Lions?”
His voice is loud and booming, with the confidence of a sports announcer but the underlying hint of deception like a used car salesman.
“No,” Regulus scowls at him.
“Oh, I just assumed because of your brother that–”
“I want to bet it all on the Serpents. I hear their pitcher is really good.”
Barty smiles as Mundungus nods. “And you Crouch? Any last-minute bets?”
Barty shakes his head. “I’ve already got over $50 in the game. I have to draw the line somewhere.”
Regulus signs on the dotted line confirming his entry and they make their way to the bleachers. Even though it’s dark out, it’s still uncomfortably warm outside. Some kids have brought battery-operated handheld fans with styrofoam propellers to keep them cool. Others have ice packs.
Barty figures that he can just sit behind someone with a fan and benefit from the airflow. The bleachers begin to fill up as the game draws closer. Kids bring signs elaborately decorated with all of their best art supplies. Glitter glue, puff paint, rhinestones, and neon markers. Some have even painted their faces.
Barty and Regulus spot Remus Lupin at the same time. He’s walking towards a group of kids scrambling to set up a radio and microphone at the announcer's table.
“One. Two. One. Two,” Remus says into the microphone and it resounds throughout the lot, as a hush falls in the bleachers.
“He’s not playing?” Regulus leans in to ask Barty, his shoulder brushing against him.
Barty shakes his head. “Not since the Bellatrix incident, no. He’s no good anymore. Flinches when the ball comes towards him, forgets to swing the bat.”
“Remus Lupin?” Regulus’ eyebrows shoot up like he doesn’t believe it. But he doesn’t have to believe it, he can see Remus take his place at the announcer's table.
Remus runs the scoreboard, calls the players up, and explains the plays for the kids who don’t really know what’s going on. Mary MacDonald helps him with the music and the score when she’s not playing, otherwise, Rita Skeeter helps out, much to the annoyance of everyone.
“Oh, what the fuck,” Regulus snorts. “What’s next, they bring out someone to sing the national anthem?”
“Don’t give them any ideas.”
The mood shifts in the stadium as they get ready to begin. Remus clears his throat in the microphone and it emits an ear-splitting feedback. Still, some kids were trickling in, sitting in the grass now that the bleachers were full.
On the other side of the field, sat the other teams that weren’t playing that night, just behind the makeshift dugouts.
“They like to sit and scope out the competition. They keep to themselves,” Barty explains when Regulus asks. “Can’t mingle with the common folk.”
Regulus scoffs, but Barty doesn’t miss the way his eyes search for Sirius across the field. When Regulus finds him, Sirius sits up straighter, already looking back. He goes to raise a hand to wave at him but Regulus turns his head away sharply, making a show of it.
Barty watches as Sirius moves to stand up like he’s going to run over to them and talk to Regulus, but a blonde girl, Marlene McKinnon, grabs his arm and pulls him down as the first players run out onto the field.
Remus introduces the two teams, the Death Eaters versus the Badgers. All around them, kids shake their yellow signs exuberantly, while some sport all black signs with skulls on them.
The Badgers are going to get destroyed. Anyone with half a brain would know it the minute they heard the match-up. While you had to be 12-17 to play, most of the kids on the Badgers’ team were closer to 12, whereas the Death Eaters were all 17. Barty was actually certain that a few of the kids were 18 or 19 and only getting by because they’d been held back a year or two in school.
He starts listening in to what Remus is saying as he passes Regulus his bag of boiled peanuts.
“With starting pitcher Bellatrix Black, and your team captain, Tom Riddle.”
The stands go wild, everyone stomping their feet on the metal bleachers causing a thunderous metal rumble and Regulus’ eyes widen at the commotion.
“Let’s play ball,” Remus called, rather monotone and complacent about the ordeal.
Regulus snorts. “This is beneath him.”
Barty nods in agreement.
Since there were eight teams in the tournament, there would be seven rounds total. Each round was a best-of-three battle to move on, for a maximum of 21 games, 21 nights, of baseball madness. They were guaranteed at least 14. Two full weeks of baseball. The event of the summer.
They watch as Bellatrix takes the pitcher's mound, licking up little clouds of dirt with her feet. He knocks his knee against Regulus’ at his cousin taking in both the crowd’s cheers and boos. Barty pours some of the bourbon into his Coke can and does the same for Regulus.
Bellatrix’s wild hair was long and curly, falling down her back. It was only kept out of her face by a black baseball cap, and she smiles sharply at the stands.
A soft tune plays as a short kid with spiky brown hair walks up to home plate, giving his bat a few test swings in preparation.
“I heard she puts some kind of resin or wax on her baseball cap to make the ball sticky,” Barty whispers like it’s some kind of secret.
“I believe it,” Regulus says, also leaning in. Barty tries to ignore the lightning bolts. The static frequency once again turned up a notch. “She used to cheat in every game we played growing up.”
They share a look as Bellatrix puts her fingers to the brim of her baseball hat and nods, baseball glove at the ready. The atmosphere has gone quiet like everyone is holding their breaths. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
The kid at home plate assumes position and Bellatrix winds up. The ball moves so fast that Barty doesn’t have time to register it, and neither does the kid at home plate, as the ball hits the catcher’s mitt with a hard thud.
“Strike one,” Remus’ voice echoes, and the spell is broken.
The crowd roars to life once more.
Barty and Regulus get lost in the atmosphere, the crack of the bat, the whizz of the ball, the cheers of people telling their friends to steal third. They crunch through their boiled peanuts and slowly work their way through their cokes, which get stronger as time passes, due to Barty constantly topping them up with flask bourbon.
At the top of the third, a Badger player manages a triple on Bellatrix, running in two of her teammates, so Bellatrix beams her at the top of the fourth, and lets her walk. It doesn’t matter though, the score is already 6-2. At the bottom of the sixth, Tom scores the first home run of the night, and more than a few of the silly girls from high school chirp and cheer loudly, making heart eyes in his direction.
“I mean,” Regulus leans in to whisper. “I kinda get it.”
Barty screws up his face in disgust. “Fuck no.”
He makes more than a few sarcastic remarks and snarky comments, all of which make Regulus laugh or smile. Barty is humming with delight, but he desperately tries to curtail it. Regulus is also getting into the game. It’s a gradual interest, but Barty finds that he’s watching Regulus more than the game. He watches as Regulus’ eyes furrow when someone gets an out, watches the slight smile grace his face as Bellatrix throws a particularly nasty screwball, watches Regulus’ vague curiosity at Tom’s simpering smirk. At some point, their knees touch, and they stay that way for the remainder of the night. Regulus, who shies away from any sort of contact, hasn't moved his knee away.
Barty fucking loves baseball.
The game ends at a brutal 11-2 at the top of the ninth inning. Though, to the Badger’s credit, they do not look defeated or deterred. They seem more than pleased with their two runs, all jostling and shaking the girl who made it possible with wide smiles and congratulations.
The bourbon has satiated Barty and left his head perfectly hazy. He offers a lazy smile to Regulus. “Walk you home?”
It’s late, and he’s feeling tired, he’s sure Regulus feels the same.
Regulus nods, finishing off the last of the coke, and subsequently the last of the bourbon.
“Can’t let you sleep through morning violin lessons, or French tutoring, or whatever the fuck your weird-ass family has you do.”
“Piano.” Regulus rolls his eyes as he corrects Barty. His cheeks are tinged slightly pink and his eyes are a little glassy.
Barty bites his lip to keep from smiling. What a lightweight.
They’re almost out of the field, about to slip down the quiet streets, when Regulus is pulled back by a hand on his shoulder.
Barty spins around to see Sirius with a group of his teammates.
“You came?” Is the first thing out of Sirius’ mouth.
“Not for you, for Barty,” Regulus shoots off just as quickly.
Sirius’ teammates stare at the ground nervously. He makes note of them. The blonde girl from before, Marlene, and he’d know James Potter anywhere. He’s never seen James without Sirius. And the redhead, Lily.
“Well, we play in four nights if you want to watch,” James offers a slight smile. “I’m James, by the way.”
Regulus regards him coldly. “I know who you are.”
“I just wanted to, uh, say hi.” Sirius’ voice is stilted, odd. Almost pained. Barty makes it his duty to glare daggers at him.
“Well, don’t do it again,” Regulus says smoothly, and Barty can tell he doesn’t mean it.
So can Sirius, as he smiles.
“You know we could always use an extra player on our team.”
“In your fucking dreams, Sirius.”
“Come on, we want to get uniforms made,” Sirius offers again, as if this fact would entice Regulus.
He doesn’t know Regulus like Barty knows him. Regulus would hate wearing matching baseball uniforms. He would detest it. He’d rather die.
Marlene rolls her eyes. “James just wants to prance about in those tight little pants.”
“Yeah,” James shoots back quickly. “And all the girls want to see me prance about in those tight little pants, and who am I to deny the people what they desperately want?”
Lily scoffs as Regulus turns to leave, dragging Barty with him.
“Wait,” Sirius calls. “Are you coming back tomorrow?”
“Maybe. It’s none of your business,” Regulus snaps as they walk out of earshot.
They’re striding down the pavement, no shuffling feet and no delay of time, as Regulus huffs.
“Wait,” Barty can’t help himself from asking. “We are going back tomorrow, right?”
Apart from the Sirius interlude, he had a good time with Regulus. And he figures if Sirius hadn’t ambushed them, then he and Regulus would be taking their sweet time walking home. Time that Barty craved more than anything.
“Yeah,” Regulus nods shortly. “I shouldn’t have talked to him. I should’ve just ignored him.”
“Well, he did make it kind of difficult to do that,” Barty reasons as Regulus fumes.
“Fuck, and then stupid fucking James Potter trying to be so–”
“Annoying,” Barty says at the time Regulus says charming.
He tries to ignore the funny thing his heart does in his chest as they both fall into stunned silence.
“Well,” Barty breathes out. “Not what I was going to say.”
“No, I just mean– you heard him,” Regulus says quickly, taking on a crude imitation of James’ voice. “I’m James. I wear tight pants and steal people’s brothers from them for fun.”
Barty snorts. “Yeah, what a dick.”
Regulus nods and repeats after him. “A dick.”
But it doesn’t sound like Regulus really means it. No one can be both charming and a dick. It doesn’t work like that.
Barty walks Regulus all the way to his house, doing his best to skirt the home with the broken window.
Regulus smiles at him softly. “It was fun.”
He admits it like a secret, like it reluctantly has to be true.
Barty nods in agreement, fighting off the urge to punch Regulus again. “Same time tomorrow, baseball boy?”
Regulus nods, his hand brushing against Barty’s slightly before he turns to head inside through the propped-open window on the bottom floor.
Barty stands on the street corner, just him and chirping crickets as he waits for Regulus to flick his bedroom lights on and off to show he’s made it. Once he does, Barty heads towards his house, trying to ignore the parts of his hand that Regulus has touched crackling to life.
#wrote this all on my phone womp womp#so if it formats weird i’m so sorry#the voices !#this is on tumblr so it’s so chill and low stakes and silly#but i am gonna continue writing this#casually#yk no proofreading formatting checks#anyway this is the sandlot-esque baseball thing i crave#idk abt baseball tho yall i wont lie#it’s not abt the baseball .. it is .. but it isn’t#nat writes#it doesn’t even have a title that’s how free form it is 🙂↕️#kay gotta go back 2 work now bye#<333#james potter#regulus black#barty crouch junior#bartylus#jegulus#<- obligatory tags idk
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God sees you. Here more than anywhere.
#if i knew how to edit videos. i would make a video essay. there arent enough terror video essays#title it. the cruel apathy of god in the terror. or the uncaring eye of god. or something better haha#what would we learn? probably nothing#anyway. this looked better before i tried the shadows but idk i gotta practice shadows#the terror#amc the terror#james fitzjames#in my head i call him jammy fitzjammies#also i can't draw that dumbass hat lol. it makes me sad bc i like those hats#the thing is. sometimes i try to make the colors look realistic but choosing pretty colors is the better choice
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obsessed with the idea of surge and kit realizing that they were created to replace the world’s biggest losers. they had such a larger than life view of the brothers, the dynamic duo, the heroes of the world, only to join the restoration and go “damn, these guys are annoying as hell”
#graveyardtxt#you saw how sonic was in issue 67#annoying the restoration members#now imagine if both brothers were there#tails having to drag sonic out of the room by his quills#them bullying each other#there’s also the whole thing that sonic doesn’t really care about his title as “hero’’ or the public’s view of him#so surge is fighting for a title that sonic probably would have no problem parting with#bro just does what he thinks is right#this might be getting into headcanon territory idk#i just think about that a lot too#surge the tenrec#kit the fennec#sonic the hedgehog#miles tails prower#the brothers ever#unbreakable bond
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tease tidbit tuesday
tagged by @thewolvesof1998 @elvensorceress @diazsdimples @tizniz @bidisasterevankinard @spotsandsocks @jesuisici33 @dangerpronebuddie 💖💖
started another bucktommy wip 🙈 they consumed me, and im not even mad haha
I was just thinking at work and thought about buck telling tommy about the will (this is gonna get there i promise lol and I think the sperm donor thing too bc this is bucktommy endgame fic and buck wants it all out there haha)
ngl im lowkey annoyed bc I had a whole convo in my head and it was so good, but couldn't write it down and forgot half of it, but I think it came back to me more or less haha
___
In Buck's defense, he doesn’t mean to ask this question right then. It just slips out. He's lying in the big, strong arms of his very hot, amazing boyfriend, both sweaty and still breathless. He’s blissed out and fucked out, and so content and still dizzy after a mindblowing orgasm. He doesn’t have a lot of control over his thoughts and words right now. So he surprises even himself when the question flies out of him.
“Do you want to have children?” he asks casually, absentmindedly playing with their intertwined fingers where they're splayed on his chest.
“What?” Tommy asks, surprise and even shock evident in his voice, and only then Buck realizes what he said, and he feels his eyes widen and face starts to burn, and he stares at the ceiling, but feels Tommy’s gaze on the side of his head.
“I- I- I mean, like ever, some day, down the line- not like- I mean, you know, I- I just thought we should talk about it if- if- if it’s going where I hope it’s going- because I- we’ve been together for a while and I hope that- I think I-” he starts rambling and stumbling over his words, panicking just a little bit. Fuck, they’ve been doing so good the past few months, it’s honestly his best relationship he’s been in, probably the longest, too, and now he goes and screws it up by being too much, too soon, too serious-
“Evan.” Tommy’s hand lands on his cheek, and he gently turns Buck’s head towards himself. He meets Tommy’s soft gaze, and relaxes a little instantly. Tommy doesn’t look freaked out, just surprised, but there’s a hint of a smile dancing on his lips.
___
no pressure tags: @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon
@loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher
@lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz
@rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg
@rogerzsteven @giddyupbuck @tommykinards @underwaterninja13 @exhuastedpigeon
@911-on-abc @steadfastsaturnsrings @theotherbuckley @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie
@hoodie-buck @your-catfish-friend @hippolotamus @daffi-990 @honestlydarkprincess
@aroeddiediaz
#tease tidbit tuesday#wikiangela writes#i just love flustered panicking buck idk he's so adorable haha#also the first thing that came to me started with 'eddie put me in his will' but i haven't written that part yet haha#fic snippet#my writing#my wips#911 fic#911 abc#bucktommy#tommy kinard#evan buckley#buck x tommy#bucktommy fic#911 spoilers#bucktommy the will talk fic#<- that's how my doc is titled idk lol#i know bucktommy isn't everyone's cup of tea so if y'all don't wanna be tagged in those snippets just lmk lol#bc I can't stop (i'm slowly writing buddie too tho but rn this is where inspiration goes haha)
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the realization that the eggs have been gone since before etoiles started showing corruption from the code. what do you mean pomme was worried because of the code cracks over his eye?what do you mean it hasn’t been there this whole time? what do you mean time had passed without them, and they cannot just pretend like there weren’t changes to both parent and child in their absence?
#something about the evidence of their various hardships and traumas and the visibility that it’s not just a time that can be brushed under#the rug now that they’re all back. pomme has memory loss and PTSD. etoiles has the code infection and the title of rebel#we all got so used to bad turning blue but he wasn’t always. it’s visible change the kids aren’t used to#idk. smth about how the island is how they left it but they’re changed things happened since the kids were gone and it has to be addressed#to be properly healed#and a bit of how this again ties back into purgatory and how it’s not something to just forget#but with all their struggles. idk idk idk many thoughts head full#what do you mean etoiles didn’t always have a blurry eye and code creeping up his face#mcyt#qsmp#q!etoiles#z speaks
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hahahahahaha remember when everyone was like “episode 5 is going to be the byler episode!!” and now they’re casting a young will, mike, and jonathan for episode 4….. hahahahahaha we’re all being normal about this right???? RIGHT?????
and not it being titled “the sorcerer” omfg i’m going to pass out die throw up scream cry die again
#once again idk how ppl came across this info#bc if i remember correctly i think there was a leak about title episodes and ep 4 was not called the sorcerer#but this is the only current content we’re getting it so if it’s fake real somewhere in between let’s just have fun#because i am eating up the idea of mike getting vecna’d and we get a flashback of him and will 🙏#mike getting vecna’d ep 4#byler love confession episode 5 i am seeing THE VISION#byler#stranger things#stranger things season 5#stranger things s5#stranger things 5#st5#st5 production
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compiled whatever this is (and I run out of tag space)
meh HoT gifs (3/?)
#alek gifs#ninjago#ninjago krux#ninjago acronix#hands of time#time twins#alternate title to this series is : stuff i noticed after watching this season 10 whole times#okay actually thats a lie. i realized this the 3rd time around#i think of acronix and how he barely makes any decisions for himself and i go crazy#ppl equate that with him feeling forced to do stuff.. uh hes always been a follower guys!!#cue him calling wu “master wu” even after the twins betrayal. him liking machia bc shes “mean” and bossy#he has no issue with following orders lol. prepare for a long acronix rant one day#contexts -> gif 1 barely counts i just wanted to include him looking at krux. he does this a lot during that fight#gif 2 is before they kill blunck and raggmunk (idk how to spell their names still ... sorry)#gif 3 is before they were going to kill wu in the golden hour legacy short. which is canon !!#gif 4 is before they sent themselves into the temporal vortex#that one post that was like “are we still doing revenge? yeah? cool” bc thats basically acronix#there is something fundamentally wrong with these two's brains but idk how to describe it#krux who literally lost his mind after losing his brother to the point he adopted an entire identity#“he just needed to go undercover!!” counter point as soon as acronix came back he was unable to pretend to be saunders. he acted super weird#like when kai was in the museum he couldnt pretend to be this person he wasnt. acronix was back !!! so was he. krux was 100% going to kill#the smith sibs if maya and ray didnt comply. also.. canonly they knew him when they worked as teachers back in s3. he watched them grow up#and pretended all was well meanwhile their parents were being forced to work and slave away to build the iron doom. he is not normal#then you have acronix who thrives off of violence and is described as throwing himself into battle like a blunt object. has no regard#for himself as a person and just takes (almost) everything his brother says as gospel. s7 couldve done smthn really cool with how#the only thing the twins ever really disagreed on was technology. also ive went on a semirant about how krux's hatred for tech was misplaced#hatred for losing acronix. wanted to travel to the pre modern era? okay well whyd he pick 40 years ago specifically. also NOTE that they#went back after their past selves had lost. they wouldve faired better if they went and helped their past selves. also the reversal blade#had already fallen so when the twins went back in time there was two kruxes. he literally went back to when he had been all alone for the#for the first time. he went back to when his life was ruined and his brother was gone!! but he had nix with him this time . ughdhf
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The Rosho Special☆ Cream of the Crop Curry: Hypmic Curry Drama Track TL
Sasara: Oh, you’ve really been cookin’!
Rei: That curry smell is really making me hungry!
Rosho: It’s a miracle I was able to even decipher what you meant in that text! Why am I the only one working on this??
Sasara: Don’t sweat the small stuff! Have you finished making our super interesting curry yet?
Rosho: I did my best to follow your recipe but…
Rei: Hm? You didn’t make a normal curry?
Sasara: Tut tut tut! You see, this curry was made with some special ingredients!
Rei: It looks brown like any other curry, so I can’t tell the difference.
Sasara: I’ll give you a hint! I was thinking of calling it, "This Curry's Got You Gigged!!" Setting off any bells??
Rei: You can’t be thing about… Actually, no, that hint was so stupid, I got nothing for you.
Sasara: Hey now!!
Rosho: I used flounder in the curry, but if you can’t tell that at a glance, that’s gotta mean your joke’s fallen flat, right?
Rei: The curry’s meant sell, so it should have a little more impact.
Sasara: I guess you’re right… It’s gotta be appealing televised too…
Rosho: Let’s take a moment to brainstorm.
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Sasara: *pops a cold one open* Man, nothing’s coming to mind at all…!
Rei: The theme you had settled on was, “A Bizarre Brown Curry,” right?
Rosho: We shouldn’t even try to be teeming with themes! It’s all about the flavours!!
Sasara: “Okra-zy Curry” doesn’t sound too bad!
Rosho: Okra me a river!!
Rei: How about “Kelp!! Addicted to Seaweed Curry”?
Rosho: Oh, now you’re just sailing on his coattails!
Sasasa: “Ya Kraken Me Up Squid Curry”!!
Rosho: Quit it with the seafood puns!! Geez, you’re not even trying to solve the root of the problem.
Sasara: Nyahaha…! No, yeah, you’re right.
Rei: But curry’s just curry, isn’t it? How can you even get someone to give a laugh at it at just a glance?
Rosho: How many times do I gotta say, that’s why we’re sittin’ around thinkin’ about it!!
Sasara: I think the alcohol’s getting to us~ Let’s get some food down, so we can sober up.
Rei: I agree. I’d like one order of flounder curry with rice!
Rosho: You takin’ my home as an izakaya?? Serve your own curry!!
Sasara: Phew whee, Mista Rosho here sure is stingy!
Rei: Well, sounds like I got no other choice.
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Rei: Hey, so this is getting annoying to handle, you mind if I use this whole pot?
Sasara: Rosho, whatcha want me to do with this bag?
Rosho: Shut up, the both of you!! For now, just bring everything to me.
Rei: And there. Rice is served~
Sasara: And here’s a bit of the curry to top it off!
Rosho: Oh yeah, we’re using this too!
Sasara: “A White Stew for Rice”? You brought out some boil in bag goods you had bagged up?
Rosho: A student of mine gave it to me as a souvenir from a Hokkaido trip. It apparently has some Hokkaido specialties in it.
Rei: Their milk is incredibly tasty. And so… *pours it in*
Rosho: Hey!!!! What the heck are you doing??
Rei: This is my specialty, “Stew On This Rice”!
Rosho: The bag wasn’t even boiled yet… I guess I’ll stick it in the microwave.
Sasara: Wait a sec!
Rosho: What are you making that serious face for?
Sasara: If it’s cream… How does “Cream Of The Crop Curry” sound??
Rei: Ohhh, we are aiming for something eye-catching but… Wait, actually, this might work.
Rosho: It’s more of a stew though…
Sasara: Let’s have a taste test first!
*microwave dings*
DH: *eats*
Sasara: Woah??? This creamy stew and rice pair together so well!!
Rei: And this white colour gives it quite the impact.
Sasara: This is it! This is the curry that’s going to carry Dotsuitare Hompo to victory!
Rosho: But this isn’t curry?? What do you mean we’re going to use a stew??
Rei: Why’re you fussing? All we have to do is say we made a white curry.
Rosho: Then how do you explain how we made it??
Rei: White curry does exist, you know. There are spices for it and everything. Curry connoisseurs would be familiar with it.
Sasara: Is that so?? Well, there you have it, Rosho! I’ll let you figure out what those spices are!
Rosho: No, you won’t!! Shouldn’t we all be trying to figure this out??
Rei: Ahaha! I believe you’ll figure it out somehow.
Sasara: Alright! “The Rosho Special☆ Cream of The Crop Curry” is definitely going to take us to the top!!
#sasara nurude#rosho tsutsujimori#rei amayado#dotsuitare hompo#hypmic#hypnosis mic#HOW DO DH TRANSLATORS DO IT I WAS MISERABLE TRYING TO MAKE THEIR STUPID PUNS WORK#a lot got lost in the sauce i'm sorry i'm not better at this lol 🙇♀️🙇♀️🙇♀️#first and foremost is that the title in romaji reads 'omoshiroi karee'#and that the word for 'white' is 'shiroi'#'omoshiroi' and 'shiroi' you see the pun right lmao#i decided to tl it as cream of the crop bc cream is a shade of white and it has milk lol win win i think#this whole thing was made of little puns like that i'll type them out if you ask but i won't in the tags lol#also if you've had a rice and chicken casserole add some curry spice to it and that is exactly this curry LMAO#i understand why rosho was concerned lmao but it was incredibly tasty lol#a very familiar tasting curry bc it tasted like a casserole but idk i kinda wanna dock points off for it lol#we'll see how it falls in the end lol#curry tl
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