#it's wasn't meant to be a proper oneshot or anything

[jester089]

FUN IDEIA ALERT!!!

FUN IDEIA ALERT!!!

Spoopy season requires spoopy things

sooo i was kinda of thinking Ghost!child reader with the gang (platonic, always!)

Lemme explain it to ya, So i wanted to see some hc of an spirit child reader whos soul got stuck into the digital circus, how, you say? Lets say that in the moment that reader putted the headset something fell in their head, killing them instantly, since reader was wearing the Headset, instead of their body and conscience go to the digital circus, their soul got there! Their appearance being something peaceful and pleasing to the eye, like Reader's appearance are a child covered in white robes with some gold details and a flower crown. But reader's eyes represent constant sadness, like there are always rivers of tears falling off their eyes who (strangely) doesnt make a mess on the floor, kinda like Gangle's tears but more sad

If you go close enough to Reader you can hear multiple whispers, inaudible ones cuz its multiple whispers at one time but only Reader can understand them. If they question what the whispers says, Reader will say: "its the voices lamenting." In a full echoish-whisperish voice.

BUUT theres more!

Since reader is a spirit they can lift things with their mind, dim the lights and go invisible (ghost things)

Reader rarely express any other emotion than sadness, but when they snap... OH BOI

Reader will go full hostile mode, their appearance distorts into something really creepy, like their eyes will go full pitch black and the tears turns into some glitchy goo, their robes getting slightly black in the edges, Reader will start throwing things around with their mind and scream loud as hell, basically like a ghost tantrum.

Im very excited with this ideia AAAA

- 🦇

Crying child

Ik that isn't what you meant. But the first thing my mind went to is the crying children from fnaf. Also this sounds honestly really hard to write for. I ain't gonna just not write it though. I wasn't really sure if you wanted headcannons or a oneshot. But this felt like a more oneshot-ish request so I did that. TADC Crew x Child Ghost Reader

You were one of the first people to arrive at the digital circus. You were around 6 when you first arrived and are now much older. But being trapped here as well as being dead had taken it's toll on your young mind so you still act around the same as when you first arrived. Still easily excitable, still gullible, still sad. You really were like a ghost. Not only because you were literally a ghost but you rarely spoke unless spoken to and would just quietly float around an endless stream of tears falling from your eyes. You also had the tendency to just stare at people. You had an aura of sadness around you. The occasional quiet sob and endless depressed whispers that always followed you around made it hard to be around you for long periods of time. Their's a lot of mental problems in the circus already, and you sure as hell ain't gonna help. When you are happy, which is rare you're quite nice to be around. The tears and whispers stop and you really do feel like just a normal kid to the others. Now anger is a different story. When you're angry Caine has to actually lock you up cause you've killed a few people. Your usual appearance resembles a fallen angel. Snapped halo, dirtied once pristine white robes lined with gold. But when you're angry it flips. Your robes singe at the edges leaving behind a brownish blood red color your halo sinks into your head and is replaced by a single broken pure red horn. The fact that your soul is in the circus makes you have some kind of power. You don't really use it cause you don't know how. But when you're mad at someone it is proper time to freak out because you've deleted a few people. You always feel horrible afterwards but their isn't anything you can do for them. The ones who have been abstracted at least have a chance of being helped. The ones you deleted not so much. So in the rare occurrence that you're around everyone they do their best to keep you calm, and to keep Jax away from you (He doesn't believe you're a threat.)

(Another kind of strange request. Sorry if this isn't good. I just didn't really know what to write. I did my best though. Hope you enjoyed it.)

xoxo, Jester

[theonetruegnome]

Guppie art trade Oneshot

Bearitone shook slightly in her seat backstage. The eyes of nearly two hundred people would soon be on her, waiting to see if her music really was as good as they said. She was nervous...

She and Abracadoodle had gotten into another argument again over whose talent was better; Music or Magic? They ended up somehow literally face to face arguing, when Funday suggested they have a public head-to-head competition to see who's really the better performer. At first they thought he was joking, but then Comic and Bouncebun offered to make and post fliers, Dizzy said he'd make the stage, Piggy started practicing warm-up jokes...

At that point neither wanted to back down, either to not disappoint their friends or out of fear the other might claim victory by default. And they'd all worked so hard to set this up for them...

But now, Bearitone was having second thoughts. She'd performed in front of people before, sure, but this was at least a hundred! In fact, if it wasn't for her friends all eagerly watching on, she'd have already given up and gone home for dinner. She also couldn't shake the feeling she was forgetting something... She glanced over at Doodle. His leg was bobbing up and down rapidly, and his brow was already slick with sweat. His face was one of clear and obvious worry, and he was shuffling his cards over and over again, occasionally checking his watch. Bearitone's stomach dropped. Her scales! She hadn't practiced at all that day! Or the day before... or... Nevermind, point was, she'd been so preoccupied with what she'd sing, and getting over her nerves when she heard how many people'd be coming, she forgot to practice!

She blushed Vermillion. 'Oh Great Kreeping Koalas...' She keeled forward and muttered into her lap, gripping the fluff at her temples. She wasn't even warmed up yet...

'No. No, I mustn't give up! I'll just have to warm up now, yeah... *AHEM!* A proper copper coffee pot, proper copper coffee pot, proper copper coffee pot... Red yellow lolly lorry, yellow red lolly lorry, Red yellow lolly lorry, yellow red lolly lorry...'

There was a loud 'WOAH!' and a thump from onstage, and the crowd erupted in laughter. 'Thank you Ladies and Gentlemen, you've been a great audience! Be sure to tip your salmon and try the waiters! I'll be here forever! You've been warned! Goodnight!' To the sounds of cheers, Piggypuns walked backstage, still covered in whipped cream pie and with her propeller hat whirling from the slapstick overload. That means her opening comedy variety act is over...

She flinched as Piggy touched her arm on her way past.

'Break a leg Bearitone. I'm sure you'll be un-bear-ably good! Ha ha ha! Get it? Bear-ably? Eh? Eh?'

Bearitone laughed weakly, as anything more and she might have started dry heaving. She'd have to go on now, there's no more delaying it... Looking back, she sees 'Doodle now feverishly pulling items from his hat, nodding when he produced something important to his act and visibly freaking out when he pulled out something that wasn't a long scarf or specific cards. Feeling more confident she'd win, Bearitone gritted her teeth and walked out onstage.

The laughing crowd soon shushed each other into silence and waited with bated breath for the first of the two performers to begin. Bearitone gulped and tried to steady her breathing, mouthing a song request to the musicians off to the side. The band began to play and...

'Oh I big farewell to the ports and the land, And I paddled away from brave England's white sands, To search for my long ago forgotten friends. To search for the place I hear all sailors end.'

It wouldn't be her first choice (This one was meant to come around the midpoint) But her voice needed some warming up, and it would also get the crowd in the mood; A touching sailor's song about the guilt of losing your crew.

'I remember the fallen and they think of me.... For our souls in the ocean, Together will be...'

She held the last note for just a second or two, quavering slightly. There was a silence...

Then the crowd applauded with unflappable enthusiasm! Bearitone smiled and sighed in relief. She moved onto her next song, a more fast-paced one. And again, when she finished, everyone went wild. Her singing was clearly a greater talent than 'Doodle's silly tricks! The more she sang, the confident she felt, and she began making changes to her song schedule. She began singing faster, louder, more impressive songs. Arias, touching dirges, even an opera ballad, 'Cara Mia addio'

She poured out her heart into the song, chills creeping up her spine as the band struck up the melody alongside her. She closed her eyes and went into the zone, imagining she really was saying goodbye to her daughter for her own good. However, as she reached the climax of the song...

'La mia bambina cara, peEerchéÉÉe non passi lontana-'

Underlying stress, not properly warming up or practicing her scales and the sudden high note made her voice... Crack. She spluttered and coughed, missing the next line altogether. All eyes were on her, some looking confused, others amused. She tried to continue despite the red flushing in her face, until they came to an instrumental section. Looking down into the front row, she saw her friends all looking back up at her. Most of them looked concerned, especially Funday and Dizzy, but Bounce was laughing out loud and comic giggling into her hooves. Soon, a fair few had followed their lead and started laughing along with them. Bearitone blushed red enough to be seen from right at the back off the crowd. She hoped things would calm down again after that, but her voice squeaked once again on the final note, causing the crowd to burst back into peals of laughter.

As she continued, it was like she had jinxed herself. On almost every high note, fast section, or sometimes randomly, her voice squeaked and broke. Half of the audience was In tears or on the floor clutching their sides. Bearitone took one last look at the crowd before running offstage, still with half her songs to go, her hat pulled low to obscure the tears falling from her eyes.

Piggy stepped back onto stage with microphone in hand, awkwardly chuckling. She glanced back, concerned for Bearitone, before reaching centre stage.

'Well... That was Bearitone! Voice like a biblically accurate angel. Heh heh... Anyway, onto our second and final act of the evening! Please put your wings together and your beaks shut for the fantabulous, miraculous, Abracadoodle!!'

Piggy retreated offstage as the crowd clapped for 'Doodle... But he didn't run on. People started muttering, wasn't he going to-

*BANG!!*

In a puff of pineapple-yellow smoke A cabinet appeared. In a similar fashion, Doodle appeared, on top of the wardrobe. He gracefully jumped down and graciously bowed at the crowd's amazed cheers.

'Thank you ladies and gentlemen! For Tonight only, I bring to you wondrous feats that will be sure to astound, amaze and delight!'

'Doodle stabbed his wand upwards to punctuate his words, the last one sending up a tongue of flame that curled into a snake, before shattering into a cluster of feathers. 'Doodle caught these in his tophat, shaking it upside down briefly to show they had disappeared. He then squinted pensively into the crowd while pointing at various people.

'For my first trick, I need a volunteer. I choose...' He grasped the cabinet doors, and a bewildered-looking goose fell out. 'You!' He helped her up and shook her wing while the audience gazed at the now empty seat she'd been sitting in.

Doodle starts a bit of banter with the goose, easing her nerves at being put on the spot. As he reached into his tophat however, he spies Bearitone in the wings. She's staring at him and clearly in silent tears. He makes eye contact and can see the sadness in her whole body. Like she already knows she's going to lose...

Doodle internally sighs as buries his arm up to the elbow into his tophat; 'Just a second... We need a deck of cards for this first trick...' He rummages for another second- 'Ahh! Here we go, deck of-' Instead, when he pulls out his arm, he's holding an old floppy teddy bear wearing a purple sequinned vest and with a wand in his hand. 'OH LORD- Uh, Whoops! How on earth did you get there Mr Sparkles? Heh ehh heh heh...' 'Doodle giggled nervously as the crowd chuckled at the mix-up, before pulling out an actual deck of cards.

The rest of the act goes on with similar 'Accidents'; Doodle takes 5 tries to guess the card right. Doodle accidentally drops one of the plates he's floating in midair on his head and spins around comically at the impact. Doddle's wand accidentally goes all floppy and soggy while doing a trick and has to wait like 5 minutes waiting for it to dry up enough to use, so he just sits down and pulls out a newspaper.

In this time, Bearitone stops crying. Then she starts to smile a little. By the time he's getting pecked at by the doves he just conjured, she's laughing her head off. Ordinarily, she wouldn't; Partly because the tricks are mediocre at best, but mostly because Doodle is her friend. But, maybe due to her deep sadness, stress and/or exhaustion, for some reason his little impromptu slapstick routine has just gotten her laughing much more than it normally would.

During the finale, Doodle brought out a Chinese water torture cell, silencing the remaining laughter. Pouring a seemingly endless stream of water from his tophat, 'Doodle once again called an audience member up to blindfold him and to restrain his feet, hands, arms and even individual talons. He was then suspended by the stocks around his ankles, somehow with his hat not falling off, and lowered into the box. For nearly a minute he only gently moves slightly, Before with a small *pop!* noise only audible to Bearitone, he disappears. One second he's there, the next he simply isn't, leaving his tophat floating in the tank. Nearly two hundred people audibly gasp, before breaking into tenebrous applause, that was amazing!

...'Doodle then runs back onstage without his hat on, sheepishly trying to cover the rest of his 'Naked' body with his arms. He fumbles with the locks, grabs his tophat from the tank, sighs in relief and nervously runs offstage again. The audience start laughing anew, applauding his comedic withdrawal.

As he's exiting stage left, Bearitone runs after him. She eventually catches up and grabs his shoulder to stop him. He turns, and she grabs his hand, looking him right in the eye.

'Thank you. That was really kind of you. To throw your magic act like that, for me...' He shrugged. 'Well, it wouldn't have been a fair win anyway, so I thought I might as well not try.' Bearitone glares at him and his shoulders drop. 'Okay, fine. It wasn't fair how your voice broke like that, and I couldn't bear the thought of you having to watch me do the whole act without any serious slip-ups. I was worried about you. Happy now?' 'Very!'

She suddenly pulls him in for a hug, the strong, squeezy, slightly-painful-but-in-a-good-way kind that only a bear could give. Doodle gladly returns it with all his energy, though has to tap out once he runs out of oxygen.

'*GAAASP* *Cough cough* Ughhh... Oh, thanks for that- *cough!* Ugh, sorry... Anyway, uhh, you wanna... stay for the results?' '...Ok, sure. Come on.'

Bearitone grabbed his hand and led the two of them back onstage before she could change her mind. They entered to the thunderous clapping of the crowd. Bearitone thought they'd start laughing again when she stepped on, but no, they all look genuinely happy to see them, both of them! Then Piggy appeared and her insides squirmed with anxiety. 'Well ladies and gents, we counted the votes, and we've got a clear winner!' Bearitone took a deep breath and closed her eyes... '...ABRACADOODLE!!'

Her eyes opened and she watched, disappointed, as Piggy handed him a small gold medallion and he bowed to the crowd, though somewhat reluctantly. She let go of his hand and turned to leave. 'Ah ah ah Bearitone! my associates-' Funday happily waved up to her '-And I conferred and we've decided to confer you a special award...' She turned, hardly daring to believe. 'For the most soulful and dedicated performance, I am pleased to present this prize to... BEARITONE!!!'

She walked up to her and handed her a small cardboard medal with 'I.O.U 1 Medal' scribbled on the front with sharpie. 'uhh, yeah, you have until Monday to cache that, sooo....'

But she couldn't care less. Most soulful and dedicated... Her! She looked up at Doodle, smiling like a maniac. He grinned back. They both bowed and congratulated each other, then walked offstage to go home to hang up their prizes, hand still in hand.

My half of an art trade for @funny-critter-blog!

[ewesless]

I have the flu. I Crave Death (Thirteen) So it is time to post my fav Thirteen cards!

Double Hide and Seek

The outfit I would sell a kidney to see again 😫 She may be a punk rocker, but she wears Goth so beautifully! The thigh high lace ups fuel my fire and nourish my soul. This artist without compare draws the most beautiful Thirteen 🤌

Diavolo's Diner Dash

THE BOOB WINDOW!! I did not have optimism about fanservice even though Thirteen was specifically included to appeal to the audience who want to date women! She is the most flirtatious and only newbie who actually like likes MC and wants to spend time with us. NB fed us well and you can view any of her interactions as platonic, but in my opinion they are unambiguously her asking us out on dates and even though she's a harsh woman, a bit of a drama queen with a short fuse she is kind, protective and cares about supporting us. Characters who are mean or "mean" to everyone except one special person are my thing. She also equipped us with an item that could oneshot Lucifer. Why else would the guys get huffy and jealous if they didn't feel like she was a threat? 😂 I'm disappointed we couldn't return to the scene at a proper time and promise her our soul the way that MC can make promises with other characters. :/

Matching Costumes

MY FAVE OF FAVS!! The cutest of all! I pretend the men don't exist and that she is holding her skirt up and flashing her thighs like a showgirl. You literally cannot stop me.

Western Showdown (Not my pic, I don't have the access to my side account anymore 😭😭😭)

THE CORSET. THE CORSET. The worst plotline with Thirteen. MC behaves jealously and Thirteen serves as an "antagonist/rival." WHY. WE SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO HAVE FUN WITH HER NOT BE PETTY AND JEALOUS. I can't think of any other card where MC could be 💩y to a character and behave possessively over their preferred partner. I like him, but I would have thrown Diavolo under the bus so fast if it meant I could choose Thirteen. The cute artwork and Yeehaw!Thirteen save it for me though hehehe.

Thirteen Thoughts

I think they messed up the opportunity to give Thirteen a navel ring. She has her midriff exposed and with her style, piercings and tattoos it makes NO SENSE for her not to have a belly button ring. I headcanon she does and has other body piercings.

I hope we get Candy next season. I have so many unanswered questions about Thirteen and her sister. It feels like they just scratched Lilith off the list, but I thank them with all my heart for fleshing her out more and giving her a non-passive personality. That she wasn't just attached to a brother the whole time or her human lover and that she had a bold, outspoken personality which is what I treasure about Thirteen too. Thirteen is allowed to be dumb, make mistakes, be rowdy and rude just like the male characters are which I ALSO treasure! I believe that too often women are othered as "too good to do any of that so let's leave them out of the fun". Thirteen and Mammon and Thirteen and Barbatos have some of my favorite interactions, she is far from boring and that she includes us and thinks highly of us despite being such a standoffish loner who prefers solitude...man she is TSUNDERE.

Her history and the Reaper Realm are overdue especially since she's not just an active member of the cast, but one who seeks MC out. She crosses paths with us way too often and "coincidentally" to be anything but intentional since Reaper Realm is described as far from the Devildom. A rant about Michael and Raphael is for another day though. 😒

[tendril-perversion]

Tongue

Fandom: Stormlight Archive Pairing: Tyn/Shallan Davar Rating: Explicit Details: No warnings, ~2,900 words, oneshot, technically maybe canon compliant. if you have a huge brain Summary: butch tyn make shallan go brrrr; or, what if i rewrote the wor chapter 'tyn' to be about oral instead A/N: I just reread this chapter then a few hours later wrote this so I probably completely made up what her tent looks like/how some of the canon dialogue went but who cares theres lesbianism afoot

--

"If I can say, you've got quite the tongue on you, Brightness," the man laughed across the campfire at Shallan.

Shallan curled her legs in under her tighter and looked at him blankly. "I've never had anyone's tongue on me", she said, the words coming out of her mouth before she could review them. Curse this tongue indeed! But she would not react, delivering the quip as dryly as she meant to. The merchants howled at it, including Gaz, who slapped his knees. "It ain't half bad, miss," he said in mock lechery, "It's quite nice, actually." He was a man with rather base interests, but they both knew any serious attempt at seduction would embarrass and offend both parties. She leveled a look at him and he raised his hands in surrender. The caravan went back to their activities, Gaz brushing the leather of his boots with a cloth and Shallan to her note taking. She turned to a blank page of the notebook and wrote the names of the men she was with, as well as Tyn and the slaves. She tapped her charcoal pencil against the edge of the book, thinking. She didn't know what to make of the bunch yet, having only been with them a few days. Certainly, it was a busy few days, filled with travel and violence, but it was just under 60 hours by her calculations. Not nearly enough time to get a proper sense of anyone. And besides, if she was pretending to be a smooth and domineering woman like Jasnah, who's to say they were who they said they were?

She went down the list and found Tyn's name. She wanted to get her alone and talk with her. Maybe there was something Tyn would admit in private when she wasn't being the leader of her Caravan. Shallan drew a column beside the list of names and labeled it "Initial Impressions". Maybe this could be an incriminating document if anyone here got their hands on it, but Shallan doubted any of them could read women's script. She also decided to write in Veden, lessening the chances of it being read. Down the line it was easy to reflect on her initial impressions of the men. They were largely deserters, gruff and not very bright. There were some hidden gems among them, but it was more like finding a skychip among your clearchips. Worth more, sure, but hardly brighter.

She found herself back at Tyn's name. Beside it, immediately she wrote "masculine". That was easily the first thing of note. Masculine, but in a way that didn't feel like a piece of circumstance. Shallan had met women before who wore trousers, or gloves. Usually dark eyed work women. And those women seemed to only do so because their job demanded it of them. It's hard to milk a sow with a sleeved hand, Shallan imagined. Or cut someone's hair. Or drive a caravan. The women who wore trousers always knew they had a dress waiting for them at home, for occasions they could shed the trappings of their dull, lower caste life and be women, fully as they desire to be. Shallan could see that in how even when scraping excess crem off her father's steps after a storm, the housekeepers still wore rouge on their cheeks. They still kept their hair up in ornate combs that could very well have been a precious gift to them. They still carried themselves with a feminine gait, much like the one that was trained into Shallan by her tutors. There was a grace and beauty to making anything you do feel feminine. Some women oozed the sweetness of their gender out of their ears it seemed. Those women could make shoveling chull dung out of a pen feel as feminine as painting a bowl of fruit while someone played the flute and another combed your hair.

Other women, ones like Tyn, had the opposite effect on things. She wasn't brutish or clumsy or dirty, of course, it wasn't an antithesis in that respect. It was more like everything she did held the masculine beauty that Princes, or particularly handsome men did. Using her safe hand didn't feel awkward for her, it didn't draw attention. Watching her with her sword gave the impression it was merely an extension of her arm, stretched out to defend her and her crew. The way she reached up to pull her hair back was masculine too, like she's never had anyone do it for her and has perfected doing it with both hands and grace. She sat with her knees open, none of the practiced positioning of a woman in skirts but all of the confidence and ease of someone very comfortable with their body and clothes. The thought of that made Shallan fidget. Were dresses uncomfortable for her? No, she liked them, liked how pretty they were. Liked how secure and modest she felt as they drape and shift over her knees. Looking at Tyn in her trousers with her legs spread like that was nearly profane, nearly erotic.

Shallan flushed, suppressing a squeak and shutting her book. Maybe she'd reflect on the members of her caravan later. She probably just needed to go for a walk. Though it was already growing dark, the fires of the caravan would offer enough of a lit perimeter for her to clear her head in. But before she could banish any thoughts about the suave woman she had only just met, one of her slaves approached her to inform her Tyn wished to see her.

Tyn's tent stretched out on the leeward side of her wagon, held up on thin but sturdy reeds and staked into the dirt so it wouldn't blow away Obviously it wasn't designed to weather a high storm, but rather to be quick to fold up should one come up unexpected. Right inside the door-flaps was her bedroll, which Shallan stepped carefully over. The rest of the area was occupied by a stack of crates with a board on top, and two more crates to either side, each with a small grass-stuffed pillow on top. Tyn sat on one of the makeshift seats at the makeshift table. Before her were two bowls, hers a dark red and heavily spiced, with a lighter dish on the other side, Shallan's. The intimacy of having both a man's meal and woman's meal at the same table wasn't lost on Shallan. But this was the frost lands, a long way from propriety anyways. Besides, Tyn was a woman. Shallan sat primly, carefully tearing off some bread to dip into her bowl. Now was her chance to get to know Tyn better.

After both bowls were scraped clean, and a glass of yellow-green wine to be had each (Shallan downing hers after sampling a bite of Tyn's curry, unaware of just how HOT food can get), their conversation had drifted. They had already talked about each other's motives, and had decided to go into the business of being confidence women together. For now, at least, until either got what they were looking for at the shattered plains.

"So," Tyn said in her raspy voice, reclining. "You've really never had a tongue on you?" This elicited a cough from Shallan, who was caught unawares by the shift in tone. She flushed, easily thanks to the mild drink within her. Tyn laughed. "Relax! No, really though, never?" Her tone was more than a little incredulous. "Never," Shallan admitted, not meeting the warm pale brown haze of her dining partner. "Not even any of the tradesmen-?" "Tyn! Of course not! I am betrothed after all." Shallan bristled at the idea of doing anything, ANYTHING, with the likes of Tvlakv and company. They were close to thrice her age to begin with! Tyn was one of the younger ones, and she still probably had more than five years on Shallan's 19. It was hard to tell with her. "It's a causal," Tyn reminded her. "Besides, everyone fools around a bit sometimes. Never even as a kid?" Shallan bit down on an admission that she was kept sheltered at home, only really ever seeing her family. She settled for shaking her head. "Storms, girl."

Tyn shifted in her seat, moving to face Shallan more directly. She brought her bare safe hand (the glove tucked into her belt, as she need not cover it in her private quarters) up to cup Shallan's jaw. Shallan inhaled sharply, praying Tyn didn't notice the slight flicker to the gemstone lamp in the corner of the too-dark tent. Of course Tyn didn't, for she held Shallan's gaze in her own eyes, whispering so quietly that even if anyone was listening they wouldn't hear. Shallan felt Tyn's hot, spicy breath on her lips before her words registered. "Have you done this with anyone yet?" Tyn waited only a beat, giving Shallan a chance to rebuke her, before leaning in to kiss her. Shallan froze momentarily, ten thousand thoughts filling her head at once, each and every one of them getting stuck in the sap-like ichor of wine and good company that resists such busy thinking. She opened her mouth against the kiss, taking Tyn's upper lip in between hers. She covered Tyn's hand with her own, which made the older woman hum appreciatively. As suddenly as it had happened, it was done, however. Tyn pulled away, standing. She held her hands down and out for Shallan to take.

"Come here, girl." Dazed a bit, but thoroughly entranced, Shallan took her hands and let Tyn lead her to the bedroll. They stood there, nearly brushing the roof of the cramped tent with their heads. Tyn had to lean down, even, something she didn't seem to mind as it let her put her face closer to Shallan's. Her fingers went up to the clasps of the front of Shallan's dress, near her neckline. "May I, Shallan?" Shallan nodded, swallowing thickly, and gasping as Tyn's lips, then tongue, found her neck. Tyn made quick, careful work of the frog ties that held the two halves of the dress together across her bodice. Storms! Shallan's heart pounded in her ears. What was she doing? Anticipationspren wiggled silently around her feet. Should she stop this? Tyn knew she was promised to someone else, but that was to a man. This was different, right? It wasn't like this counted as violating the marriage bed, right? Never had Shallan felt such a gentle focus on her like this before. It was certainly lust that had her entranced. Infatuation or love had no part in this. Her heart continued to thud relentlessly under Tyn's lips. Storms, the men were right, it does feel quite nice to have someone's tongue on you.

Tyn's hands slipped into the top of Shallan's dress, cupping her breasts through her slip. Shallan wasn't stupid, she knew this was part of… well part of… sex. But she had never indulged herself like this, with fingers circling her nipples, ever before. She usually had nursemaids to bathe her, and tutors declaring it wrong and unladylike to even think about. She'd seen a diagram, once, and got the briefest of explainers from a tutor in the general mechanics there upon, but that was what it was like with a man. This was Tyn, who while masculine and leading the way, was no man at all. Shallan didn't know where to put her hands. They fidgeted at her sides and up to touch Tyn's back and back down between each shaking breath she took. Oh, Almighty this was…. something so new. There were senses being activated she didn't know she had and-

Tyn kissed her again, skipping her tongue into Shallan's mouth. Tyn spun the pair of them and lowered them to the bedroll, Shallan on her back and Tyn, still kissing her, above. She pulled away, kneeling back and looking at Shallan. "Whew," she whistled. "You're something else, girl." Shallan blushed at her state, disheveled and half dressed. She moved to cover her chest, but Tyn swooped in, capturing a dark brown nipple in her mouth. Shallan keened, tipping her head back against Tyn's pillow. Oh! That is what they meant with the comments about tongues. Tyn's tongue flicked around the stiff peak, suckling at it greedily, her hand massaging the neglected breast in turn. She pulled away, switching sides and returning to her efforts to rip every breath from Shallan the second she inhaled them. Shallan curled her fingers into the bedroll, shuddering. Tyn was being so gentle with her, yet so focused on giving Shallan everything. This reminded Shallan nothing of what crass talk she'd heard her brothers or the sailors make. That had always made it sound so violent, so transactional. But nothing about Tyn's mouth and hands lavishing her breasts made Shallan feel like a whore. It made her feel good. Really, really good.

Tyn slid back off Shallan, but not before stealing another kiss, the taste of Shallan's salty caravan-trodden skin mingling with the lingering spice of the curry on her tongue. "Don't stop? Well, if you insist," Tyn laughed, and Shallan only then realized that she had breathed the command at the conwoman. "I've got something else in mind though, I promise you'll like it." She scooted back, carefully running her hands up Shallan's legs under her skirts. Shallan blushed, realizing she hadn't been wearing bloomers, just the blue dress and slip. The one pair she had were borderline unseemly to wear, and she hadn't had a chance to wash them yet. Tyn lit up at this discovery, flicking Shallan's skirts up to her waist, exposing her thighs and crotch. "A girl after my own heart," Tyn chirped, before petting Shallan's thighs and coaxing them apart. Tyn was still fully dressed, so what could she possibly want with Shallan's- Shallan inhaled sharply as Tyn's warm brown fingers traced through the thatch of red curls at the apex of her thighs and in between. Shallan didn't realize she could be so sensitive there, so sensitive in such a wonderful, delicious way. Tyn rested her forehead against Shallan's, practically panting like someone who had ran a marathon. "I didn't expect you'd be this slick for me, Shallan," Tyn gasped, pleased. "Just you wait." She pressed on with her fingers, teasing at the top of Shallan's slit, massaging circles into something that felt so so so so so good. "I know it feels good," Tyn whispered. "Let it."

She leaned back, moving to lay on her stomach, propped up on her elbows, her mouth puffing hot breaths onto Shallan's lower body. She wouldn't… would she? That can't taste- it can't be clean! How filthy! Shallan thought, shaking with pleasure at the thought. What would anyone think, to see the only heir of house Davar, a proper lighteyeed woman, betrothed to a prince, be taken apart like this on a dirty bedroll in a slaver's caravan, by a woman in trousers. Shallan bucked her hips up against Tyn's face as soon as her lips brushed her skin. Tyn reached around her thighs, holding Shallan in place so she wouldn't float away into the skies as Tyn's tongue parted her folds. Her tongue flicked its way through the warm, slick, and terribly sensitive slit, before circling that spot again. Tyn sucked it in between her lips, brushing it again and again with her tongue. She lapped at Shallan, who had abandoned all pretense of trying too keep her head on straight, a long breathy whine falling from her mouth around a bit knuckle. Unconsciously, her other hand found one of her nipples and pulled at it, desperate for something, something just out of reach, that maybe if she just overwhelmed herself, if she just kept feeling everything she'd find it-

Shallan came apart beneath Tyn's ministrations with a choked cry. Her thighs shook in Tyn's arms, the other woman drinking in Shallan's pleasure. She carefully pulled herself from Shallan and pushed herself up to her knees. Shallan looked positively ravished, her bodice undone and bearing her small pale breasts, nipples red and pebbles against the cool air and a faint bruise starting to blossom on the side of one of them. A little momento Tyn left for her. Shallan heaved another breath deep from her chest again and again, trying to will her soul to cram back in her body for a single thundering minute. Sweat stuck hair to her face, and she released her knuckle from her jaws to brush it from her face, teeth marks denting the flesh on either side. She felt the cool wind whisper through the flaps of the tent and against her wet thighs and groin, which she pulled her skirts against the chill of. She looked up at Tyn, who looked as pleased as a mink who had found a fish. Tyn pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her face and her hands with it. The room, however drafty, hung with a scent Shallan had never encountered in such pungency. "That, Shallan, is what it feels like to have a tongue on you." Shallan sighed, drained of any energy to reply with more than, "I think you mean it's what it feels like to have a tongue in me, Tyn."

a/n: this is the first fanfic ive written in literally half a decade. also if theres typoes: no there isn't. you're imagining things. i refuse to have my shit betaed

[bunny-hoodlum]

I almost forgot about this! 👀📌🖊️❓please!

Hiii~~ 💕 Thank you for the ask~ 😌

👀 Do I have any words/phrases I use habitually?

Probably, but I can't remember. 😓 I think I use 'Well,' quite a bit, along with other short phrases to add a sort of casual/musing flavor to the inner dialogue. I know there's some sort of phrase that I'll cap a sentence off with, but I really don't know which fic to skim through to confirm that. 😅 Sorry, my laziness has yet to budge. 🥴

📌 If all your fics/WIPs fell off a ship and were drowning (go with it), and you could only save one, which would it be?

I think it'd have to be Powerless. I could probably rewrite all the others to some extent. They wouldn't be perfect 1-to-1 replicas or anything, but they'd still retain the same spirit. Powerless, however, was written during pure creative possession. Plus, that mofo is like 39k overall or more? I forget. But that in of itself would be hard to replicate and the only reason why I took it down was due to uninformed advice. That I was worried about shipbaiting my readers because I didn't know when Hinata was going to show up, so I just took it down like that was going to be okay. 🤦‍♀️ As if I could repost it in a matter of weeks and nothing would be lost. Lesigh. I'm still totally fond of it. There are some changes I want to make when I work on the rest of the re-upload, but Naruto's childhood in the first chapter was my favorite thing to write and I could never replicate the same feelings, I don't think. Even if I listen to the playlist I made for it. It'd help but never be the same.

��� What is the most recent line you've written?

I haven't written anything new yet since my Witchcraft AU. 😅 I wish. Yoga AU is top of my list. I think it's gonna be really long, but I'm looking forward to it. I feel like I have a better understanding of oneshots now. Hmmm, y'know what? I had this pre-written in my head, so let's just go with this (and I'll most likely edit in the final draft anyways):

"He was exactly like a sunflower. Tall and lanky, his hair sticking out in every direction like radial petals. She's never seen a shade as cheerful as his. It contrasted so sharply against the consternation darkening his face. As she drew closer, she noticed two things: The erratic bouncing of his right leg. His right hand cupped over his mouth, with forefinger and middle finger parted as if something was meant to be there. A pantomime of a bad habit."

Or maybe I don't have to edit this. This turned out pretty good. 🤔

❓ Write an alternate summary for a published fic without using names. (Points if your followers can guess the fic.)

Oh, you sadist. 🤣 Making me write a whole new summary. 💀 I'll just totally go ahead and use this line that's been sitting my outline files for ages. Not much of a proper summary, but excerpts count. 😤

"Pressing himself against her backside, slouchy black pants rustling against her fitted pair, he breathed hot venom in her ear, his hands like vices clamped around her wrists. She could twist, whimper and wrench away all she wants, but she wasn't going anywhere. "Do you know how boys do it, huh? They take it in the ass.""

I feel like I made that one pretty obvious. 🤭

[peachymilkandcream]

Hi, I really liked the trapped au can you do a part 2 please :)

Levi x Evelyn AU -> Trapped Part 2

(A/N: I'm so glad you guys liked the little AU oneshot I came up with! Watching Christmas movies while writing this might be a bit too cheerful but here we are XD This will probably be a tad short but here's part 2!)

WARNINGS: implied noncon/dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm sysndrome, violence, mind breaking, heavy on the misogyny, etc.

===========================================

Marriage to this man was hell and that was putting it mildly, Levi was a cruel man who only cared about his own whims and desires. Anything and everything that crossed his path were little more than possessions, to bend to his will or break. This was all that she was, an object of his obsession, love and affection were words outside of his vocabulary, replaced by lust and aggression.

Evelyn quickly learned that Levi really meant it when he said women were meant to be seen and not heard. The first time she had done so by asking him if he minded if she went to bed was met with a belt beating. Her back still had the stinging welts from the many blows he covered her pale skin with. He had told her that she wouldn't dare disturb him again if he taught her a proper lesson.

She also came to learn that intimacy was not to be denied for any reason. Even though the one time she had a high fever he had dominated her, saying it was her own fault for getting sick. Denials of his affection were met with missing her next meal and a beating. Levi was not meant to be questioned or denied anything, what he wanted he got. Even periods were vile and disgusting, a personal insult since he hadn't gotten her pregnant. Each one caused cruelty and anger, he became irritable and even more entitled.

Evelyn confessed all this and more to her mother, taking silent notice of her brand new dress and jewelry, Levi had kept his promise of taking good care of her, she had more money than she knew what to do with.

"You shut your whining mouth Evelyn." She replied to her daughters worries. "If Levi found out you were complaining about your marriage he could find some reason to divorce you and then we would be disgraced and destitute!"

"But what about the beatings- the-"

"All part of marriage." She interjected. "Your place is to satisfy him and give him children, that's all you're good for. If he beats you then you're not being a good enough wife for him, that's your fault."

Talking to someone else was useless, her mother had all but threatened her blatantly to tell Levi. That was a death sentence, he might get so upset she ended up dead and buried in the basement. She had to bury things down, always bury things down.

Everyone commented how lucky she was, a fine match, a fine man. Girls her age eyed with her envy as they saw her on his arm, wishing it was them. She wished it was them instead, those girls being the one wearing layers of makeup to hide unseemly bruises, those girls being the ones who walked around dripping of him. What a perfect life she had.

==========================================

It wasn't so bad, her whole life reduced to watching his children and seeing to his needs. Evelyn watched as her two sons played in the yard, barely five years old and they looked so much like their father. Beautiful boys with jet black hair and the same grey eyes, aggressive and demanding, wanting their mother's attention but knowing father came first. They were just like him.

She rubbed her pregnant stomach lovingly, she had a feeling this one would be a girl. The thought made a small smile come to her face, Levi wouldn't be like most other fathers, this she knew, their daughter wouldn't be a bargaining chip for more, he would mold her into everything Evelyn was not, strong. All of them would be in awe of their father and be an extra set of eyes against their mother, seeing if she ever betrayed his trust.

Her mind came out of it's daydream when the two children ran towards their approaching father, he was home already from work, patting both of their heads affectionately as he stepped on the porch. There was a hidden lust in his eyes as he looked over her pregnant form again, she knew he loved seeing her with child, when she was so round she could barely move. This, fetish, made him treat her with more affection, like now when he kissed her head.

"Hello my dear."

She kissed his cheek obediently. "Welcome home husband."

What a perfect life she had.

[jennay]

000 and 001

The request:

i love oneshots with protective jamie or peter 😫 so can i request one with peter where reader (his girlfriend) has an argument with one of the orderlys (maybe he accuses her of something) and, unfortunately to that guy, peter hears everything and he stands up for his lovely girl 😌 AND i can imagine how furious he would be if that guy would try to hit her🤭

A/n: I hope you enjoy this. It’s not exact. I tried lol. This is what I did come up with. I change a few things and i can always write a different on if this isn’t what you wanted. I tried to make it protective. 🤦🏻‍♀️ I kinda got carried away with my thought process.

Dark, dreary clouds caved over your home that morning. You remember looking out the window and praying to the universe to swallow you. You knew you were different, which is why your parents feared you. You never meant to hurt your sister, she just made you mad, and nobody taught you how to control this extra rage inside you.

They didn't treat you like they did your siblings. Instead, they treated you as if you were the devil's spawn. Your parents hardly gave you a chance to prove you could be what they claimed was normal.

Late one night, you heard your parents discussing what they would do with you the following day. A doctor would be here to take you into custody; he would teach you how to be a proper child and live in an ordinary society.

A part of you was excited. After you were cured, your parents would take you back, and your siblings would no longer be afraid of you.

"It's better off this way. You'll get better." Your mother handed Dr. Brenner your suitcase. She kissed your forehead, giving you a weak smile; she pushed you to him. "Please bring her back when she's fixed."

You didn't kick and scream like they thought you would. Instead, you remained silent and did as you were told. You hoped your parents would see that you could be tamed with the proper training.

Papa put you through hell. He'd connect you to machines for all hours of the day and lock you in a cell to keep you quiet at night. Which only made you angry and more violent.

A year later, on your 14th birthday, he allowed you to enter the rainbow room. You met HIM, and you felt you had a friend. Papa called him 01 because he was the first of your kind he found. You never understood why they called you 00 when you were the second one to arrive. 01 told you it was a tactic to make you feel like you were nothing, and you believed him.

Papa wasn't anything like he was in front of your parents. He promised you safety and protection, but you needed protection from him.

01 remembered his birth name and asked that you call him Henry when nobody else was in sight because he never wanted to forget who he truly was. He asked for your real name, but you could no longer remember after a year of isolation and brainwashing.

Henry was two years older than you; you wondered how long he had been alone, but Henry didn't seem to remember that detail. He only knew that you were unique to him, and he felt something inside him that screamed to protect you, and he did.

Often leading to electric shock therapy or being isolated and kept away from you. Papa knew that being kept away from you was more painful than any other form of punishment. He only had his imagination to explain what they could do to you.

When Henry was released from his cell, the first thing he did was find you, and when he did, he wasn't pleased to see that another teenage boy entertained you; 02 had arrived while he was gone, and 01 wasn't happy about it.

Your eyes lit up when he walked into the rainbow room. You raced over with open arms and wrapped them tightly around him. His body tightened, and he shoved you to the ground.

Water filled your eyes when he looked down at you like you were nothing to him.

02 helped you off the ground and assured you that one was a bully. He'd play with you instead, and that's precisely what you did.

Months later, others started filling the rainbow room; they were getting younger as you got older. You no longer had anything in common with these children, you wanted Henry, but he still wasn't talking to you.

You grew bored of the rainbow room, often sat in the corner, and stared into nothing. One day you were pleasantly surprised by Henry sitting next to you. "Looks like you've learned your lesson." He softly says.

Your eyes raise to him, "I didn't do anything wrong."

"Yes, you did. Your only mine, not 02's, not Papa's, only mine." He sharply says, "You don't get to talk to anyone except me." He lays his hand over yours and tightens the grip. "Do you understand?" He asks.

You nod, and he loosens his grip around your hand. "I understand." That was the first time Henry frightened you, but as time progressed, you saw it as protecting you from everyone else. You two grew close together, and even though you tried to hide it, you fell in love with him.

The first boy you ever kissed was him, the first time you looked at a naked person of the opposite sex, and the first person you ever made love to was him.

On 01's 17th birthday, you asked him to be your boyfriend, and although he didn't understand what that meant, he knew that nothing would change, so he allowed it. He liked all the attention you gave him. He hadn't been treated the way you treated him and had never had the emotional connection that the two of you had. 01 had never cared about anyone but himself until he met you.

One morning before anybody was awake, you and Henry snuck into the back room where nothing but gaskets and stairs were. You lock the door and giggle. You wrap your arms around 01's neck, kissing him until you run out of breath. He'd pin you against the wall and push up your dress to feel your breast. You must admit the two of you were getting good at sneaking around. At least, that's what you thought, but Dr. Brenner unlocked the door that morning. The two of you had no idea he placed a camera in that room to catch you in your act. You'll never forget that look on his face—a mix of shock and disgust. The last thing he needed was for the two of you to create an even stronger mutant.

He had several guards take 01 away, and Dr. Brenner locked you in your cell for months. You cried yourself to sleep every night that he was away from you.

Two years would pass before you ever saw him again, and when you did. You didn't recognize him, and he certainly didn't interact with you. He was just another guard waiting for you to fuck up and punish you.

You weren't the same girl anymore. You sat in the corner, waiting for life to end. You slept most days and were often punished for not cooperating in activities. Shocking you no longer did anything. It was like your body became accustomed to it. You almost expected it now.

Sitting in your cell, you waited for the day to fade to night. You could hear loud commotions outside your door but didn't bother to get involved. You just laid there and pretended you were somewhere else. Until your door flung open and a guard came flying in. He fell against your door as he closed it. He put a finger to his mouth, signaling to be quiet, and you did just that. You hear people run by your door screaming for a lockdown.

The guard named Peter makes his way over to you and sits next to you. He rests his hand on your leg. "You're safe; I promise." He slowly lifts his wrist cuff to show you his tattoo.

"Henry..." You quietly say, "But they said you died, and you look so different." You bring your hand to his cheek and run your thumb against his skin. "I missed you." You press your lips to him, and instantly you feel safe. His arm wraps around you, and his other hand cups your neck. "We're getting out of here." He tells you. "It's time. I've got a few things to take care of before doing so." He kisses your forehead. "Stay here, please. I'll come back." He leaves out the door before you can answer him. Peter knows that you will listen to him. You always did.

The thing is, Peter didn't lock the door behind him. He left you vulnerable to having one of the other guards take you in captivity. Henry didn't know you wouldn't be able to protect yourself since you, along with him, had been chipped to not retaliate against the orderly when they took 01 from you.

Lights went out through the building as the guard pulled you through the hallways. Loud bangs were heard from the other room, along with shrieks and screams. You were thrown into an experimental room where Brenner was sitting, patiently waiting for you.

The blood drains from your face. You didn't know what Brenner would do to you to keep Peter from hurting him. Brenner knew one thing, you were both chipped and unable to use your powers.

Brenner wraps his arm around your chest, your back against his chest, as he holds a gun to your head. If Peter hurt him, then he would kill you.

You hear a gentle knock on the door and a quiet voice says to unlock the door. Now Brenner laughs at this; that door couldn't be opened without scanning his eyes. He puts his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

"I just want to talk." Peter tries. "Let me have her, and I'll spare you." The metal door begins to rattle and shake when he doesn't receive an answer. The entry is ripped off its hinges in the blink of an eye.

"That's not possible." Papa states, "You don't..."

Peter is covered in blood, and you no longer recognize his bloodshot blue eyes. This wasn't him at all, at least not that you remembered. "Let her go." He walks toward you, his eyes darkening as he watches through his brows. He grabs the chip from his pocket and holds it between his fingers, showing Brenner that he can no longer be controlled.

You try to pull away from his grip, but he's too strong. Peter's eyes close as his hand comes up to the two of you. His nose bleeds, and Brenner screams in excruciating pain, dropping his arms around you and scurrying off to the corner.

You quickly catch your breath and run to Henry and pull his arm down. His blue eyes land on you, and for a second, he is back. The Henry you love. "It's over...He's dead." You tell him. You wrap your arms around him and hold him tight. "Let's leave...please. It will be just you and I. I promise."

That was all the convincing he needed. He reaches down to your face and gently kisses you smearing blood on your cheeks as he holds your face. “I don’t know what love is, but I imagine it’s you.”

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Matthias Helvar x fem! Healer! Reader - Mine

A/n: I don't think I've finished a request fast... Looks longingly at all the other drafts that are requests. Fuck.

Warnings: Kind of sexual at some points, injuries, mentions of death, I think that's it? You have been warned!

Request: Can I please request an soft, romantic oneshot of female!healer!reader and Matthias Helvar falling in love with each other, please? thank you so much!!

I do not own six of crows or shadow and bone or its characters! I also do not own this gif!

Matthias had first meant her lying in bed.

He had been hurt and everyone was internally freaking out because the Fjerdan never showed any pain yet here he was lying on his death bed the screams of pain coming from his lips every now and then.

Blackness was looming over him, there was no light he couldn't feel Djel like he should have. Maybe his sins had lined up too high, or maybe Djel had abandoned him like Nina had. He didn't know what was going to happen, all he knew was that death was almost certain at this point, he could hear the wolves howling in the distance. They were coming for him - he was sure of it.

Something he didn't understand happened though. He was in the dark taking his last few breaths then a blinding light that must have been sent from Djel himself came barreling through the door kneeling right in front of him.

"Not today." The woman muttered as she hovers her hands over the top of his injury.

"I still need to get paid, so if you could you know - stay alive for me here that would be great." She grits her teeth together and suddenly the world is just light.

The only thing he can see through the blinding of the whiteness is her and her eyes telling - begging him to hold on for a little longer.

So he does.

Gasping for breath Matthias realizes there's no pain in his chest anymore, there's no blackness yet there's no overwhelming white either. There's only a soft glow at the end of his bed belonging to the woman he recognizes as the person who saved him.

"What happened?" He mumbles and his voice comes out groggy and part of him is ashamed that that's what he says when there's a beautiful woman sitting on the edge of his bed tending to his wounds. The other part of him wonders how he can be so bashful over a girl he's barely meant.

"You broke all your ribs so your chest was starting to disconnect when you were breathing. You're lucky I got there on time or else you would have been dead. You passed out after I healed you."

The healer doesn't move off his bed but closer actually and she moves so close she's levelheaded with him as Matthias sits up.

She brush's a piece of his blond hair away from his face and cups his cheek for a second and for a felting moment he's sure she was going to kiss him. But she pulls away before they can get any close and he's half glad because he was sure she could've probably heard how his breathing had how it speed up.

"Matthias." Finally he breaths out looking at the temptress with wide eyes.

The girl smiles and he stupidly puts up his head to be shaken but instead of taking it or laughing at him, she kisses him on the lips.

It's not for very long, it's very brief actually, and this is all crazy because he had just meant her (he doesn't even know her name!) Yet he can't get her eyes out of his head or the feeling of her lips against his and how he eagerly kissed her back.

She pulls away really fast but he still has time to commit everything to memory before she stands up leaving the doorway but stopping midway.

"Y/n, my name is Y/n."

He knew her name.

___________________

Nothing happened entirely after that, Matthias and Y/n grew close and became quick friends.

Friends who sometimes kiss. The former Druskelle was pretty sure that friends didn't kiss, even in Kerch.

"Matthias I swear to your tree god if you don't put me down I'm going to rip you to shreds!" Y/n screams at him as he carries her trying to get the Slat on time before she dies.

"You are hurt." He says simply in retaliation, as the girl fumes and struggles to get out of his arms.

"I'm a healer!"

Matthias just rolls his eyes and bursts through the Slat doors with an injured and a very frustrated Y/n.

"You can't heal yourself completely Y/n I'm not stupid." He whispers down into her ear as he takes them up the stairs going in (unintentionally) his room.

She hurriedly gets out of his arms face red from embarrassment and starts working on her wound. They both stay there in silence for a bit before he starts to get bandages and ointments to help her heal the rest.

He hands them over to her and she staches them out of his arms not even looking at him. She doesn't say anything either as she winces when she places the ointment on what's left of the wound. She warps it up and the silence is still on like a broken switch that can't go back down. Wolves that are hurt but can't howl in fear of their abuser.

"How did you figure it out?" She whispers quietly as she finishes warping up her wound. It's barely audible but he hears it because he always notices when she says something. Matthias doesn't know if he's ever been so aware of someone before.

Because she is so much more than just a friend to him.

"In Fjerda we were trained to see the signs when a Grisha hadn't been trained at the little palace." He pauses for a second, wincing internally because it was easier to kill Grisha who weren't as well trained.

"Oh." She says looking down trying to hide her eyes from him.

"That doesn't mean I think any less of you though, you... Your power is strong most Grisha wouldn't be able to heal people entirely in seconds if they hadn't trained at the little palace."

She finally lifts her head up to meet his eyes and he swears she's a heartrender because he can't breathe.

But before he can even look for a second longer she's at the doorway opening the door to leave him. Again.

"Is that it? Is that all that you think of me?" She demands him to answer her with the tone that she's using, yet it doesn't remind him of Brum or any of that. It only reminds him of her.

*Flashback*

She shifted her body to face his and he shamefully looks away from the woman before him. Who was of course only wearing her undergarments?

"Kaz needs this for a job."

His head snaps back to look at her with fire in his eyes as her hands trail up and down his arms. He holds back a shiver and looks down at the serpent. He was her prey and she's ready to strike because he so memorized with her. Se must have bitten him with her poison because he wasn't backing down.

Fury fuels his veins at the thought of anyone touching her in that way. Probably he wouldn't get through the mission if he had to see it.

She places her hand around his neck and he's trying hard not to look at it because it wasn't proper but she was beautiful.

"Don't you have a job to get to?" He murmurs as he tries and to hold back his stare.

Her laughs rings out around them and her soft glow is back for a split second before it's gone in a snap.

Her other goes around to his back and she leans into his ear.

"Hold my waist." Her voice is commanding and he was addicted to her poison that made him do whatever she desired. And who could deny a strong woman that used that tone?

So he does and then she kisses him.

This isn't like their first time but it isn't their second time either. He has become accustomed to the way her lips felt against his own, yet he didn't ever want her to stop because every time it just got better.

She bites down on his lips before trailing her own down to his neck.

His breath comes out in pants as she trails further and further down till she's found his sweet spot.

"Vixen." He gasps as she bites down hard on his sweet spot before she gives him one gentle kiss before pulling away.

"I have a job to get to Helvar."

Then she's gone.

*Flashback over*

"No." He calls out to her.

"That's definitely not what I think of you."

This time he wraps his arms around her waist before leaning down to kiss her.

And this time it's him who kisses her and their lips shift together and move in sync before he pulls away. Both of them were breathless.

"I think of you as mine."

And she doesn't object to that.

Words 1467

thedelusionreaderbitch

Shadow and bone taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover @brekker-zenik @alohastitch0626

(If you want to be tagged just comment shadow and bone taglist!)

[allovertheplace-writing]

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"A rush, a glance, a touch, a dance"

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Fire Emblem Three Houses

Character(s): Ferdinand

Genre: Fluff

Type: Drabble(Was Meant to Be a Oneshot :C)

Description: A Dance with Ferdinand

Warning(s): Soft Enemies to Lovers, Reader is Heavily Implied to Not Like Ferdinand, Pre-Timeskip, Title is from The Song "City of Stars", Bitter Reader, Sylvain is Mentioned, Dorothea is Mentioned, Slight Sylvain Slander(I Love Him I Swear it), 493 Words (It was Supposed to Be More SOBS-)

I've had this sitting in my drafts for AGES(since may 21st, 2022) and I think it's time I release it into the wild sldnks sad thing is... I never finished it TuT

Despite it's incompleteness, I hope you enjoy it all the same!! (Feedback would be great, too, if you can! \^°^/)

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Twas simply simple. Ferdinand, a man of charm and equal grace, was to teach you the art of dancing. He insisted despite any sayings of being able to dance, others, and himself, held him in high regards to it after all. No one could be better than him apparently. You scowled to yourself, "How imprudent."

Forced to do an activity with someone who doesn't listen and is far too arrogant for his own good, not to mention the dislike you held for him, is anything but exciting. Couldn't he leave you alone for once? It had always been proper etiquette this, wrong technique that- he'd always find something wrong. He'd always find a way to breath down your back and it was infuriating.

"My, I thought you'd be late, but here you are." The way he stood tall and spoke with poise only further irritated you. He was no where near perfect yet he'd act so. "I'm no prune, unlike you." He shook his head before you even finished your sentence, knowing you would jab at him one way or another out of spite. He frowned, as if he hadn't done the same moments before, "How many times must I tell you to be polite?" If you hadn't been glaring before, you were now. "You've said it so much that I have your damned voice ingrained in my mind, it's a pain." Luckily he wasn't Sylvain, or else he might've slipped a "so you think of me when I'm gone?" into the conversation. "Maybe if you listened you wouldn't find me scolding you." Another sigh fell from his lips as he brought a hand to his face. "..can we just get this over with?" You huffed, shuffling your feet against the smooth tile beneath them.

The way he grasped your hands, leading them to their proper places, was strange, tingly in a way. Though the proximity you had to maintain was nothing less of unbearable. Feeling his breath dance across your skin just about made you grimace, it was hard to tell if it was because you could smell the citrus he ate earlier or the fact that it tickled. You were tempted to step on his shoes, and you almost did when you messed up a step, but you decided against it. There was zero doubt in your mind that he'd know it was no accident. Dorothea was the one to find out how oblivious he truly was.. and he wasn't really. Both of you disliked him, for varying reasons, and would often rant about the dumb thing he chided you both on that day.

"Careful." He steadied you after a sudden tip, your feet had slightly stumbled over one another. You would've been fine without his help, you knew, yet you found yourself mumbling a thank you. The way your heart raced, the rush that crashed into you stole your breath for just a second - it was familiar but equally foreign.

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[sunseteyes]

FLUFFVEMBER DAY 02: SHOUTO TODOROKI

—prompt: rain (prompts are by @jojosmilktea)

word count: 1,155 words | theme/s: junior high shouto and reader. contrary to the basis of the title, this is just sum fluff for yall

taglist: @kacchanori @chickynn @todominica @sparkleswritings @bitchtrynafck @patricia-ceballos (if you want to be added, feel free to send an ask/dm!)

rv: this is so cute. honestly the softest i’ve wrote for todoroki hehe. also, for those who’ve noticed the title of this oneshot and a specific song, i love you so much

✒︎ a little fall of rain

his hand rises onto the air, eyes boring over the palm that awaited the cold, slightly refreshing feeling of the falling drop of water from the dark skies from above.

"it's raining, huh?" shouto retracts his hand back and averts his gaze over your form, your head tilted up as the umbrella shaded a part of your face. you look at him and gave a warm smile, a temperature much different from the one around the both of you. it radiates from your form no matter how much shouto didn't know how.

"do you need an umbrella? mine's big enough for the two of us to fit, if you want to share."

the question didn't really threw him aback, not that it was obvious. still, it took awhile for him to answer since you and shouto never really had a proper conversation before. sure, you and him shared information or opinion at least once or twice whenever you get on the same group in schoolwork but never anything other than academic stuff. he was pretty sure you two never had a bond to begin with.

"thank you." he says when he stood next to you, "do you want me to hold it instead?" he refers to the shared umbrella and you easily accepted the offer, laughing it off that it would be easier that way since usually, it would be you who does it to others and it's a good change every once in awhile.

shouto enjoyed the silence, even more so with you as you two walked side by side, hands slightly brushing due to being at the close proximity from you both. he didn't mind. actually, he was more worried that you'd be uncomfortable since—

"do you want to exchange places?" he inquires, breaking the peace. yet for some reason, you were able to bring it back, almost in an instant.

"no it's fine." you say with a reassuring and genuine tone. he felt like he should believe you, but his mind was still filled with anxiety that the years of his childhood had brought him until this very day.

you and shouto had been classmates for so long already. surely, you know of the story about his right side—the side that he despises the most. but shouto wouldn't really blame you if you don't since he never even told it to anyone. the clues the others have would be from his coldness towards the topic and becoming distant overall.

"why did you agreed to walk with me, by the way?" you look up by then, meeting his eyes with your observing ones, curious but more than enough for him to feel safe and comfortable with the conversation.

"i didn't have an umbrella." was that all?

"is that all?" your question echoed the one in his mind, being an unexpected one yet he didn't feel surprised nonetheless.

"i often see you walk the same way as i do. you and i live in the same village." he answers honestly this time, his thoughts going back to the times he'd glance over at your form, may it be on the other side of the road, or you being ahead of him, or him seeing you through the corner of his eyes, steps behind him. actually, he knew you and him would eventually be in this kind of situation soon—what he didn't know is that it would be today.

there was a slight curve of your lips, eyes narrowing just a tinge, showing an amusement in his words. shouto had been adapt into these kinds of facial expressions, but what he had a problem on was deciding if it was for a positive or negative note.

"wow, i don't know why i feel so honored. for years i thought you don't even know my first name." you chuckled, low and soft.

"why is that?"

"well of course, it's our first time talking to each other, right?" you raised a brow, making a brief eyes contact before directing them back on the road.

he knew it was probably a hint for him to try and converse with you a lot more, or maybe an invitation to always walk home together as their class ends. either way, shouto feels like it was not unpleasant at all.

after that, there was a silence once again, boring onto them like a halo over an angel's head. for shouto, he enjoys this better than talking. yet for the first time ever, there was a knot on his chest that he thinks he should let out, a statement of confirmation in his thoughts; that he wouldn't really mind if this would ever happen again, even without the presence of the rain nor the umbrella.

for a moment, he questioned this feeling, but it all vanished when he glanced sideways at your form, the thoughts suddenly drowning away by the sense of peace that you radiate—even if he didn't want to trust his intuitions. for some unknown reason, he wanted to believe that you like his company too.

"thank you." shouto deems himself to say again when you two reached his house, and he somehow dreaded how much you know about him and how he didn't even had to courtesy to know about you.

"everybody knows this is the pro hero, endeavor's house, if you're questioning my innocence." you laughed, probably seeing the look on his face.

"i'm not." he replies, speaking the actual truth. still, he didn't feel relief with your statement since it makes him remember just how well-known his father was.

"i'll repay you for your kindness soon." he follows up before you could say goodbye, a determined tone on his voice that was laced with no tony bit of hesitancy in them. he thinks the look of amusement in your face was because of that.

"well then, how about treating me to coffee sometime? let's say, this weekend. are you busy around that time?"

"i don't have anything scheduled in particular." shouto's brows curl in confusion. "are you a fan of coffee, perhaps?"

if he could count how many times you let out a giggle or a laugh, he'd say he couldn't since he wasn't able to keep up. yet even if you were letting out those lighthearted sounds, he didn't seem to mind.

"yeah, i like coffee." you say, still retaining your smile before turning on your heel by then. "see you around, shouto-kun!"

he nods and watches as you walked through the lightening rain, the sun and its setting finally visible after being covered by the dark clouds from earlier, the chirping of the birds returning from wherever they've taken shelter. even if shouto didn't know what it meant for you to invite him to coffee, he could certainly feel the radiance of your kindness, illuminating the place just like a rainbow would.

and maybe sometimes, a little fall of rain doesn't matter.

[snailsnfriends]

The Symphony

Tommy made music important on the server. Tommy made sure that each note, each pause, each moment was special. Without him here, the disks refused to play, and the world went silent.

Oneshot- 1,163 words

on ao3 here.

Tommy didn't get the death he deserved. None of us really do I suppose, but his death was quiet. It wasn't beautiful. It wasn't poetic. It wasn't satisfying. It was clumsy. It was abrupt, yet slow. It was unfair. Most deaths are that way, but that wasn’t written in the stars for Tommy. He wasn't supposed to die, or, at least, not the way he did. But it didn't matter. Tommy was dead. Tommy was gone. And that was the end of it.

Tubbo wasn't sure what to make of it all. Of course, this wasn't the first time he was told that Tommy had lost his final life, and he was sure once again that this was a misunderstanding or a lack of proper communication. Despite that, he knew that some part of him was missing, as if one of his ribs was ripped out messily, the hole in his center left open. Slowly, Tubbo made his way to the bench that he and Tommy shared, hoping that his friend would return to him. He opened the chest next to him with a slight push and picked up the music disk Cat. He held the disk right in front of him, blocking the sun from view. He stared at the disk, knowing that his and Tommy's lives went into them. The little pieces of vinyl directed Tommy and his decisions for ages. They've been traded off for so much and cared for immensely. They were silly things to get attached to, maybe, but to Tommy, they were important. So, to Tubbo, they meant just as much.

Tubbo shuffled over to the jukebox sitting silently next to him. With a deep breath, Tubbo placed the disk in the jukebox, holding his breath in anticipation for the first note to ring out. He allowed himself to hope, for only a moment, that Tommy would be right behind him when he breathed out, laughing at his hunched posture and scrunched up face. However, only silence occupied the space around him, and the air went empty in his lungs. Tubbo released the tension from his body and stared at the jukebox with confusion. He hit the jukebox once, twice, three times, hoping that anything would play, to no avail. He took the disk out to check for any damage, but couldn’t find any. Tubbo hurriedly placed Cat back in the chest and grabbed Mellohi. He put the disk in the jukebox and crossed his fingers tightly, hoping for something, anything, to happen, but nothing did.

Tubbo ran hastily to Tommy's little dirt house to find another disk to test for sound. No matter what disk he played, which jukebox he used, it didn't matter. The disks simply wouldn't play anymore. Tommy made music important on the server. Tommy made sure that each note, each pause, each moment was special. Without him here, the disks refused to play.

As the server began to fill up with memorials, flowers, and gravestones, Tubbo made sure to avoid them all. It had been weeks since Tommy's death, yet he still didn't believe that Tommy was truly gone. Or, at least, he didn't want to believe that Tommy was gone. But, much to Tubbo’s dismay, that was hard to do. All of the memorials were easy to avoid once Tubbo was able to map out where they were, but it didn't matter. Tommy was everywhere. No matter where Tubbo looked, Tommy's absence was there.

Walking through the SMP was painful. It seemed as if no one talked anymore. Everything was said in a hushed tone, all under the table; everything was done in secret. No one wanted to disturb anyone else in their grief, but it was making Tubbo feel worse. Once Tubbo spread the news about the music disks, no one else made an attempt to play any of them, except for Captain Puffy, the protector who failed. She always made sure that the jukebox next to Tommy's grave was playing a music disk. Even if it didn't make a sound, she wouldn't give up. Whenever they locked eyes, Puffy's looked full, like a jar that was about to overflow. Her efforts only made Tubbo more upset. Almost everyone else gave him the same, sad look, as if Tubbo was orphaned and left for dead. For those around him, looking at Tubbo was like looking into an empty, abandoned theatre, with only the dim ghost light to occupy the space, forever left alone and cold. It was too painful to look at Tubbo in the state he was in, walking aimlessly through the server. It was unnatural. It was uncomfortable. It was depressing to watch the boy with the red bandanna tied around his neck sit on the bench and pick at the rotting wood all by himself. Many tried not to look, and most still don’t. Tubbo let his hair grow over his eyes to avoid looking at anyone directly. Well, at least, that's what he told people, as he tried not to blurt out that Tommy used to cut his hair, and he couldn't bring himself to touch it.

He missed Tommy's bright noise. He missed the banter. He missed the stupid chatter and the screaming and all of the noise Tommy made. Every animal was cooed at, every person that passed by was greeted, every music disk was played, every light was brighter, every battle was rowdy, every tune was hummed, every laugh was full. It seemed that once Tommy died, the world went silent. Tommy's death was the shot that was heard around the world, yet it only rang in Tubbo's ears.

Wilbur had called L'manberg his unfinished symphony, but L’manberg’s death was beautiful. It was loud. It was colorful. It was the culmination of her being, or, at least, that's how Tubbo viewed it. Tommy's death wasn't beautiful. It wasn't loud or colorful or everything it should've been. L'manberg wasn't left unfinished. She had fulfilled her purpose in this world. Tommy had not. Tommy never got to listen to another disk. Tommy never got to patch up another hole in Ranboo's suit. Tommy never got to start another farm. Tommy never got to have another training session with Technoblade. Tommy never got to hug Tubbo again, quickly and suddenly, to avoid any conversation about it. Tommy never got to love another animal. Tommy never got to crack another joke at Tubbo’s expense. Tommy never got to see anyone before he entered the prison. Tommy never got to say "goodbye" or "I love you" to anyone who needed to hear it. Tommy never got to hug Tubbo again for a little longer because he needed it, or because he knew Tubbo needed it. Tommy never got to fulfill his final wish. His wish of peace, his wish of love, his wish of just one more moment with his friends, his wish of life. Tommy was the symphony left unfinished, and Tubbo was left with the silence.

[queenrhenpendragon]

A Hairy Problem (In Pieces 3)

A collection of oneshots wherein Rhen Pendragon and Dameon Maurva fall in love. Also posted on fanfiction.net and Aveyond.com.:)

This short happens after Te'ijal has been retrieved, and after Rhen and co. have made their way to the Western Isle to retrieve the next druid, Armaiti of Agriculture.

Lars had been complaining persistently about the quality of ground on the Western Isle, and, upon seeing the sign pointing towards Brumwich, had demanded that they stay at the inn there at least for one night. Elini had eagerly agreed, wishing to take a real, proper bath and to have a mirror in order to arrange her hair. Rhen wanted to hike to Clearwater, but she had to admit to herself that the demon summoner did have such lovely, flowing hair, and she couldn't help wanting to see it done up nicely.

But on the way to Brumwich, they had been attacked by cursed stones—stones, of all things!—and one of them had managed to smash Rhen's arm. Dameon had immediately begun healing it, leaving the other three to finish the battle, but the curse left her arm weak and he had insisted she keep it in a sling for at least a few days.

She didn't want to wear a stupid sling. She couldn't carry her shield while she wore it. She had to eat one-handed. She had to let someone else count out the money at the inn. And in the morning, she couldn't even brush her blasted hair, or put it up into anything even resembling a braid. She tried to pull the sling off, but a jolt of pain prevented her.

"Dameon!" she yelled, not meaning to call him but just to express her frustration. She knew it wasn't his fault the stone had targeted her, wasn't his fault she couldn't move her arm out of the way quickly enough. He had done everything he could, but why, why, why must she wear that confounded sling—

The door was opening, and a pair of guarded brown eyes peeked in. "What is the matter, sword singer?"

He still called her that, though it had been nearly two weeks now. She scowled, and answered, "My hair!"

He came into the room and cautiously regarded said object. After a moment, a small smile changed his expression from one of confusion to something like kindness. "It is beautiful."

"I can't braid it!" she huffed, not willing to be charmed into a good mood just yet. Then she said, shoving the brush at his chest, "You do it!"

He caught the brush but only stared at it, his mouth slightly open. "A week ago you wouldn't let me tear off my own bread!" he protested.

"Well, you have been promoted, Dameon!" She purposely used his name, his actual name, not his title, because she was feeling spiteful and rebellious and blast it, she hated that stupid sling!

"Sword singer—"

She glared up at him and imagined she could see his protests falling to pieces around him.

"Rhen—" he amended, more quietly, almost timidly (and she found she liked the funny twist he gave it, as though the h was not entirely silent, as though it was meant to make a half-whisper sound, and not only to take up space). "I— I have no idea how to braid."

She looked at him standing uncertainly in the doorway, and she felt a surge of irritation at herself. He was just trying to help. Why couldn't she be nice?

"I— I am sorry, Dameon," this time she said the name because she needed to feel comfortable, for once not stiff or formal. "This isn't your fault. I am just— so frustrated, because—"

To her horror, angry tears had started flowing down her face. "Because my hair," she continued stubbornly, wiping her eyes with her free hand. "I can't do anything— I wanted to go home—"

She hadn't intended to tell him this, and was mortified to find herself doing so. "I wanted to see Pa again—" the tears flowed faster. "And Ma—" she sniffed. "And— Jenna— Danny— Peter—"

She felt his hand gently brush her shoulder and she looked up at him, startled.

He seemed startled himself, but he only said quietly, his brown eyes focused on her nose (why did he always look at her nose?) "I can try to braid your hair, if you will teach me."

She sniffed and managed to wipe most of the tears away, soothed not so much by his words as by his presence. Anyone else would have abandoned her to her tantrum long before now; she was thankful for his patience. It was like having a friend again. She smiled at the idea and pulled him into a grateful one-armed hug, was surprised at the softness and warmth of his robes, found that he had stiffened at the sudden contact, quickly released him, looked shyly at her feet.

And perhaps she only imagined it, but as he brushed through her hair she thought his ears seemed just a shade pinker.

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You thought the hair problem was going to be Dameon's, didn't you? Fools! ;P

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