#just some self indulgent fluff

[fir3flytv]

JASON TODD didn't want a dog. He lived in an apartment with you, with one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and a living room that looked like the furniture decorated in it would fall apart at any moment.

But one day, he comes home to you, sleeping in your bed with a little bull mastiff puppy on his side of the bed. He stares at the dog for a few moments, before going to take off his Red Hood outfit, as though that would make the situation disappear. When he comes back, the dog was still there. Of course.

Gently, Jason shakes you awake, giving you a pointed look. "Got anything you want to share with me, babe?" He asks, eyes trailing down to the dog, still asleep on the bed. A sheepish smile crosses your face. "I can explain?" You say, though it comes out more like a question. "I was volunteering at the animal shelter and found him. He didn't like being with the other dogs in cage but they didn't have enough space to isolate him." "So you thought the best plan was to bring home a dog that can grow to be 150 pounds?" I scoffs lightly. "No, no! I'm fostering him. Just for a little bit," You say quickly. "I thought since he's still a puppy he would be adopted quickly, right? So we won't have to make space for when he gets that big." Jason lets out a soft sigh and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before speaking again. "You're too good," He murmurs softly. You smile up at him and return the kiss onto his cheek. After a few moments, Jason clears his throat and looks down at the puppy, still sprawled out onto his side of the bed. "So where am I going to sleep?" ... JASON TODD sucks at being a foster. He's terrible, horrible, even. If you were to look up 'How to not foster a dog', they would just show his face. It wasn't that he neglected the dog. He could never. He took him out on runs, fed him good food, washed him, played with him. Everything a dog owner could do. No, the reason Jason was so bad was because his first ever foster dog turned out to be a foster failure. Every time someone came by interested in adopting the puppy, Jason would be in your ear, whispering to you that it didn't seem like they knew what they were doing, or that the puppy wouldn't like living with them. Every. Single. Time.

It wasn't till the three month mark of fostering the pup, having moved to a more spacious apartment, that Jason popped the question.

"You know," He starts suddenly while the two of you were on the couch, eating Chinese take out with the dog resting on the floor nearby. "No one here seems to be right for Buster." Buster, his name for the dog. He's used it so much he actually started responding to it. "There's someone, I'm sure," You counter, taking a bite of your food. "I know there is," Jason counters. Just as you open your mouth to tell him that makes no sense, he cuts you off. "Us. We're right for Buster." "Think," He says, reaching out to grip your hand. "For three months, we've had him, we've moved with him. He has his spot in the bed, we've worked him into our schedule. He's happy. Why ruin that?" "So you want to adopt him?" You ask, making sure you understood just exactly what he was saying. It felt too good to be true. "Yeah, I do," He says with a small smile. As soon as he finishes speaking you practically lung at him, tackling him into a hug while whispering small 'thank you's. The action makes Buster jump up and want to join in on whatever is going on, leaping onto the couch and sniffing at the two of you, his massive head bumping you both. In that moment, Jason knew he made the right choice. This felt right. It felt good. It felt like home. You, him, and your giant dog.

[ministarfruit]

day 2: please be gentle ♡

(femslashfeb prompt list)

[mazzurin]

It was supposed to be a regular day in Devildom. MC was just on their way to their potions class but something felt different today. Was it because Lucifer scolded them for getting up late? Or maybe because Asmo refused to let them go out with the same shoes they've been wearing for a week now?

All these thoughts ran through their head but nothing really matched this indescribable feeling. They hadn't even noticed that they were already in front of the door of their class.

With a heavy sigh, they entered the room. The other two exchange students were already there. Solomon and Simeon were talking when one had noticed the other human. "MC!" Simeon called.

The sorcerer looked back to see MC. His smile turned into worry when he saw the distracted expression on MC's face. "Are you alright?" He asked when they was close enough to them.

MC looked up and nodded. "Just, tired- I think." Simeon's face matched Solomon's. It was rare to see the human who's always bubbly, have this tired expression on their face.

"Are you sure?" Simeon asked, which MC just chuckled. "Do I look depressed?" MC asked as a joke. But the other two looked at each other before slowly nodding.

MC sighed and shook their head. "I don't know, I just feel...something that I can't describe." They finally took a seat between the two since class was about to start in a few.

"Hmm...upset?"

"Pissed?"

"Disappointed?"

"Frustrated?"

The two guessed, trying to help the human. But every word feels like a part of what MC was feeling. It was as if they were feeling all at once.

"Uh...how about heavy? You know, like a heavy feeling in your shoulders?" Simeon asked as it caused a light bulb to shine from the top of MC's head. They pointed a finger at Simeon with their eyes slightly widened.

"Yeah...like that." MC said before settling back in their seat.

A frown erupted on Simeon's face. "That's not good..." He said before wrapping an arm over their shoulders. "Did someone bother you?"

MC quickly shook their head. "No, not at all. I just...felt this way ever since I woke up." They sighed heavily.

Before any of the two even say anything, the professor came and class had started.

______________________

The day went on and MC couldn't shake off this feeling. Everyone was busy the same day, so no one really noticed. The two exchange students looked up to their friend with a worry expression but they knew more than to force their friend to open up.

______________________

Night has fallen. The House of Lamentation was quiet. Everyone was tired from the earlier day. MC, was equally as tired, but they couldn't fall into slumber. Sure, they could ask help from Belphie, but they just couldn't bring themselves into it.

With a heavy sigh, they got up from their bed. They walked through the halls of the house and they found their feet bringing them to a certain demon's room.

A million thoughts sprinted through their head. Should they knock? Why were they here? What should they do?

Before they could even go back to their room, the door opened. "What are ya doing here so late at night?" A sleepy voice erupted.

They turned back to face the demon. It was as if everything had shattered, they felt all their emotions breaking. But they tried their best to keep it in. They didn't want to be a bother, after all.

"I was just passing b–"

"That's bullshit."

Mammon crossed his arms and leaned into the doorframe. His messy hair and sleepy eyes weren't gone unnoticed by the human. Did they just disturb him? Is he mad? Annoyed?

He placed a hand on their shoulder and the world went quiet. "What's wrong?" He asked softly.

They quickly swallowed and blinked to keep their emotions in check. "I..I don't know.." they replied. Their tone was soft and quiet. It sounded so fragile, as if they would break at any moment.

Mammon pulled them close, hugging them tightly. "Rough day?" He asked.

MC felt their emotions swirling inside their chest. A very known feeling they felt back in the Human World. They felt depressed, vulnerable, broken even.

They nodded into his chest. Not having any energy to talk back.

"I got ya, human. Yer Mammon's here." He said in such a comforting tone. Their grip on him tightened at his words. They let themselves get carried by Mammon into his bed.

"I feel like shit." They mumbled, only loud enough for Mammon to hear. Their tears began to fall from Mammon's soothing touches. "I'm here. Don't worry." He comforted.

The rest of the night continued to Mammon comforting MC. The feeling never went away but Mammon had absolutely made it bearable.

[koenigami]

you're so used to his presence that his absence scared you

It’s one of those nights in which the lands of dreams seem so far away. Your eyelids feel heavy, your eyes burn, and you would think sleep will soon, in the next few minutes or even seconds wash over you. But it never comes.

It’s funny, you think. One night. Just one night that he isn’t lying there beside you, and all of a sudden the thoughts and fears in your mind are too loud. The tumult in your head makes your limbs fidget as you keep tossing and turning, sighing and groaning while you wonder if you’ll even be able to fall asleep tonight. The silly thought of if you’ll actually ever be able to fall asleep again passes your mind, and as ridiculous as it sounds, in your tired and miserable state it is a concern that makes you tear up a little.

You try to imagine his arm thrown around you, the heaviness of it pressing into your side, the warmth of his hand as it settles beneath your chest so that you can hold onto his forearm.

But it’s not there. Your bedroom feels cold and dark without him. An ever consuming darkness that plays tricks on you and turns every shadow into a menacing figure. Every creak and groan of your old floorboards and furniture makes you flinch, wrapping your blanket tighter around you and higher up to your chin as if it could shield you from the inexistent danger that your brain has come up with.

You realise that sleeping without him feels like living without oxygen. It’s not possible.

A new case. A new detainee. Too much paperwork. You wonder if he’ll even come home tonight. What if he just crashes on the couch in his office? He will surely-

And then there’s another creak outside your bedroom, somewhere in the hallway. You tense, hold your breath and don’t dare to inhale or exhale, all while keeping your eyes fixated on the door. Steps. They’re slow and calculated, and you surely would not be aware of them if you were asleep. But you’re not. And your brain isn’t either because it tells you to run, hide, fight, and you’re not sure in which order.

With wide eyes and the blanket up to your nose, you watch the knob turn and the door opens slowly. More darkness flows into the room followed by another large, imposing shadow. All you hear is your deafening heartbeat until there’s a familiar clinking of metall. His handcuffs.

You follow Wriothesley’s figure as he navigates through the bedroom. Like every other night, he puts his keys and handcuffs on the nightstand, he changes into comfortable pyjama pants, he shortly leaves the room to wash his teeth, and eventually the mattress dips and you swear you can feel the warmth radiating off him.

“Y/n?” you hear him whisper in surprise. “Sweetheart, why are you awake?”

He lies down and you instinctively snuggle against him, like a moth being attracted by the light, your body gravitates towards his and his to yours. Your eyes close briefly when he cups the side of your face, his thumb gliding back and forth over your skin.

You shrug sheepishly. A moment of silence passes while you think about whether you should say it or not, but you do.

“Can’t sleep without you.” As if two little children sharing a secret between each other during their first sleepover, Wriothesley and you look at each other. The streetlights from outside shine on his eyes as he moves his head, allowing you to catch a glimpse of the fondness with which he’s looking at you.

And as if not sure how to answer, the chuckle vibrating through his chest echoes in the room. “Missed me that much?”

He nudges your forehead with his, and you can’t control your hands when each of them settles on one cheek of his as if they have a mind of their own.

He has shaved today, you note, feeling the softness of his skin beneath your palms.

“More than you know.” It’s another secret, another whisper that carries so much weight, Wriothesley feels like you might as well have just shouted it at him.

There’s a shriek followed by giggles and laughter when he turns his head to nibble on the inside of your hand before enveloping you in an almost suffocating embrace. You can’t remember the thoughts that have been keeping you awake when he holds you against his chest like that, with your ear right above his heart. You forget about the noises and fear that made you shake like a leaf before he arrived, because somehow it’s not as dark as before.

“I love you, Y/n.”

Because somehow it’s always better when he’s around.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

"Can you hold still?" Soda leans over Darry's stomach, puttin' his full weight into it, and Darry laughs. Soda shoots him an agitated little frown he doesn't mean at all and jabs him matter of factly in the stomach. "It's star day this is important."

Darry rolls his eyes but settles back down. "I can't help it." Soda leans sits back, spins the marker in his hand over his fingers. "I'm ticklish."

"Well, figure it out or I'm gonna sic Pony on you." Darry tips his head back 'n looks at Pony upside down. His youngest brother pulls out a more than passin' imitation of the Darry's glare. Though, he should be good at it. He's seen it nearly every day. Darry reaches up 'n baps him on the head 'n Pony cracks 'n laughs.

He's layin' on his back on the living room floor, Soda at his side and head restin' in Pony's lap. Soda brings the marker back against Darry's ribs and he does his best not to laugh. He only half succeeds until he glances down at Soda's tongue bit between his teeth 'n the furrowed brow he only gets when he's focusin'. It's not funny but glory he looks so much like when he was six 'n drawin' horses at the kitchen table with the concentration of Michael Angelo, Darry can't help but snort.

"Darry!" Soda opens his mouth in mock frustration 'n that just makes Darry laugh harder. "That's it. Pony. Sic 'em."

"Wait-!" Pony worms his hand down before Darry can bat it away 'n jabs him in the ribs. "OW! That's it, you're cut off." He fights to sit up but Soda 'n Pony both jump down on him, howlin' with laughter.

"Nuh uh, mister! I'm not done!" Pony presses both his palms down on Darry's shoulders 'n Darry humors him by pretendin' that it makes any difference in him gettin' up or not.

Soda puts his marker back down 'n Darry valently bites his lip 'n doesn't even squirm. He lasts forty-five seconds. "Soda-"

"Finished!" Soda presses the cap back on 'n tosses it to Pony who snatches it out of the air.

"Can I see?" Soda studies Darry's torso for a second 'n then nods happily. Darry grabs the shavin' mirror Soda offers him 'n admires the nonsensical lines connectin' the freckles dottin' his body from his stomach up to his neck. The ones all the Curtis' only got in summer. He smiles, runs a finger along the ink fondly. "Damn Soda! You went all out this year, huh! Care to, uh, explain?"

Soda grins at Pony and points to six freckles on his side. Darry tilts his head 'n furrows his brow. "One guess on this one." Oh, well that narrowed it down.

"That one Pony's?"

"Ding ding ding!" Whenever Soda drew constellations he always managed one for Pony, a horse, 'n one for himself, a pop bottle. If Darry squinted he could see it. He could also see a dog, cat, 'n just about any four-legged animal with a tail but he would keep that to himself.

"Where's yours, Soda?" Soda points to a sort of temple that started on his collarbone 'n ended on his shoulder. It takes Darry a moment longer but he can pick out the vague shape of the bottle.

"Alright, now the rest of 'em." Soda carefully explains each one, two more horses, naturally, a fish, Orion's belt, a wonky set of three dots along a rib, a lasso, 'n two little smilies. Darry carefully traces each one, more than a little impressed by how his brothers could take a handful of random dots 'n find so many little pictures.

"My turn!" Pony jabbed Darry in the side 'n took his place on the floor. He slaps nearly every pocket before he refinds the marker, handin' it over to Darry with a mischievous lil' grin to Soda.

He pulls his t-shirt straight over his head even though most of his freckles are clustered on his arms 'n face. He never picked up his brother's tendency to walk around all summer in no shirt. Dallas always made teased him for that. Glory, Pony's playin' modest 'n makin' the rest of us look like whores. 'N Two would always howl well if the shoe fits! 'N then duck out of Dallas' grip fast as he could. Only Soda 'n Darry knew the real reason. The kid didn't tan one bit. No siree, Pony burned.

He lays flat on the floor, eyes closed, Soda playin' with hair idly. Darry picks up Pony's arm 'n twists it, lookin' for anythin' that sticks out to him. Darry always did Pony's. Pony enjoyed just layin' there 'n Darry needed more time to study where the dots could become shapes. Pony would do Soda's since, out of all of them, the kid had an imagination that could spin 'n spin 'n spit out ideas 'n drawin's n' stories the fastest. 'N Soda had an incredibly short patience for not movin'.

"Hey, look." Soda brushes back Pony's bangs 'n gently traces a jagged line across his forehead. "Hand me that." Before Pony can swat his hand away Soda's connected the freckles from one temple to the other so they form a mountain range across his skin.

"Our little prince, huh." Pony opens one eye 'n glares down at Darry but his oldest brother is just lookin' at him with that fond little smile he gets.

"Oh c'mon." He wriggles around on the carpet 'n gets nothin' for his troubles but rugburn. "Hurry uppppp."

"You sound like me now, Pone." Soda ruffles his hair 'n Pony reaches up blindly with his free arm to swing at him.

"Well, maybe I'd be done faster if you'd stop wigglin'." They drift into a soft silence, Soda standin' up halfway through to cue up the Beatles' latest record, The White Album, which had been a joint birthday gift for Darry last month. Half of the gift had been them toleratin' Darry's affinity for that McCartney kid's weepy grandma songs.

"Alright, I think I'm done." Pony jolts up, grinnin' down at his arms.

"Lemme see, lemme see." Darry twists the mirror around so he can see the back of his biceps, pointin' out what was what.

"Look, this is Soda's." Darry's linked four freckles into an elongated diamond 'n penned in DX. Soda cracks up, twistin' Pony's arms so he can see better 'n forgettin' it's attached to the kid.

"You're a walkin' ad, kid! They should hire you!" Pony snatches his arm back 'n wrinkles his nose up.

"'N work with Steve? Yeah, hard pass." Soda howls 'n Pony tries 'n fails to look put out.

"Hey, this must be yours, Dar." Soda positions the mirror so Pony can better see the lopsided Superman logo on the back of his shoulder.

"Yup, but this one's my favorite." Down the hollow of Pony's throat 'n up under his jaw are three little stick figures all facin' different directions.

"Hey! That's us, right?" Darry ruffles his hair and drops a kiss to the freckle on his temple that makes up the end of his crown.

"Yup," He shoots Soda a grin 'n wiggles his eyebrows conspiratorially, "the shrimpy one is you."

"They're sticks! They all look the same!" Soda grabs him by the chin so he can get a better look.

"Nope, Darry's right." He nods solemnly. "The good lookin' on is me." Pony shoves him off 'n he lands on his ass. Darry hoots a laugh 'n manhandles Soda so his head is restin' on Darry's knee.

"See, Soda gets my creative vision." Soda peeks up at him, upside down, 'n cackles.

"Oh shut up." Pony snatches the marker from Darry 'n instantly goes to work. Soda starts squirmin' less than a minute in 'n Darry leans over 'n flips the TV on, an episode of Scooby-Doo is playin' 'n Soda grins 'n crains his neck to watch.

"You got our north star this year, Pepsi." Darry taps Soda on the tip of his nose where one single fair freckle stands out against his tan skin.

"No kiddin'? Pony's had it the last three years, the hog." Pony sticks his tongue out 'n goes back to drawin'.

The episode's not even half over before Pony nods, self-satisfied. "Alright, c'mere."

"Oh my God, Pony, why do we even try?" Pony's blushes, the tips of his ears goin' red.

"They're just doodles."

"Do I need to bring up Soda's horse?"

"Hey-!"

Pony's joined vast groups of freckles into three distinct shapes across Soda's chest 'n stomach. A horse, that looks far more identifiable than Soda's drawin', across his side, a record 'n the player on Soda's left ribs, a map of some of the actual constellations Pony would drag them outside on clear nights to point out over Soda's heart. Darry can pick out the big dipper, one of the triangles, 'n the bear.

"Wait, this one's my favorite." He points to two little hearts on each side of Soda's face made from four little freckles each.

Soda twists this way 'n that gigglin' between the horse 'n the freckles. "God, Pone, you missed your callin' as an artist."

"Damn straight!" Darry laughs 'n pulls both his kid brothers in tight for a hug. Pony whines but buries his head in Darry's chest beside Soda. "Well, I dunno about y'all but I'm hungry after all that."

Soda whoops already clamberin' off the floor 'n divin' for the keys before Darry can get to them. "Dairy Queen!"

Pony throws his shirt back on, carefully rollin' up the sleeves so Darry's Superman logo can still be seen. Darry reaches over 'n pulls him in for another hug.

"You sure you don't wanna wipe any of that off?" Pony gestures to the mess of marker 'n Darry laughs, brushin' Pony's hair back.

Soda's already climbed in the truck, shirt still off 'n Pony's drawin's on full display.

"Hell no! I got stars to show off."

[honeysghost]

Take It Easy

Pairing: Sam x Darlin'

Word count: 649 (very quick, sorry >.<)

“Darlin’?” Sam’s voice falls flat in the night, laced with worry.

It wasn’t that surprising anymore to find his mate somewhere outside at all hours of the night, but they would always respond. 

They’re tough, he knows that—but he couldn’t help the unease that crept under his skin after five minutes of searching with no sign, no response.

Scanning the woods once more, his gaze finally lands on their curled up form, snoring softly. 

“Always going past the point of exhaustion,” he mumbles to himself, drawing closer. 

As gently as he can, Sam cradles them in his arms, careful not to wake them as he begins the walk back to the house. 

He’s already planning out the lecture he’ll give them when they wake, but for now it’s enough to know they’re safe.

────────────────

When they wake, it’s only five. Their body seems to have its own built in alarm—a blessing and a curse. 

Everything aches. 

They think back to the night–going for a run in their wolf form, needing to blow off steam after a long day at work. They thought better when they were shifted. 

Sam’s fingers twitch, curled tightly in their shirt–his arm stretched across their stomach. They can’t help but smile at the sight.

He stirs when they attempt to pry his fingers loose, cracking one sleepy eye open to glare at them.

“Don’t even think about goin’ anywhere, darlin’. I have a whole heap of words for you, soon as I’m awake enough to say ‘em.” 

“A whole heap, huh?” They tease but don’t protest, already scooting closer to his body, seeking all the warmth he has to offer.

They feel him wince when they press their icy hands against his waist and laugh, whispering an apology against his skin before pressing a kiss to his shoulder, burying their face in the crook of his neck. 

“You push yourself too damn hard,” he sighs, voice still laced with sleep. 

“You know what they say about glass houses.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not the one passing out in the yard, am I?”

“Hey, it’s not like that’s a regular occurrence. I was tired, took a nap.” 

They don’t have to look at him to know he’s rolling his eyes. He rubs lazy circles against their hip with his thumb, nudging their head away from his neck with his other hand. 

“You’re something else, you know that?”

They hum in agreement, kissing him softly. 

“Tell you what,” He sighs, finally drawing away from them, laughing when they start to whine at the distance he’s created. They follow his movement, staying pressed against him.

He pulls them in closer, moving their body with him as he readjusts. “Needy.” 

They pout. “Are you calling me out?”

“So what if I am?” 

Another kiss. “Back to the matter at hand; if you promise to take it easy today–and not pass out in the woods again– I’ll spare the lecture and take it easy with you.”

“A slow day, huh? I think I could work with that.”

The memory of the morning they confessed creeps into their mind. It wasn’t so different from the way they were now, tangled in each other’s embrace, every word and action laced with tenderness even before they were “official.”

“I promised Ash I would-” The words die on their tongue as Sam kisses them, slow and deep, leaving their thoughts far behind.

It’s so easy to get lost in the feeling of him–the way his scent lingers on their skin, the heady sensation of his fingers digging into their skin, never close enough for either of their liking–the way he kisses them like their lips are the air he needs to breathe. 

They run their hands through his hair, pulling him as close as he can get.

“Okay,” they whisper against his lips, breathless. “Okay, slow day. No thinking.”

[lovingapparition]

i’ve got a river running right into you.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn

Warnings for descriptions of medical gore.

Ghost gets hurt. Ghost is touch starved. You just want to help. It’s awkward. 

NOT COMPLETE / NO BETA

It's loud in the medical bay. The lights overhead buzz, adding their hum to the sound of clinking medical instruments, shouted calls for supplies, and the pained sounds of the injured. No set of hands are still as the wounded are wheeled in on gurneys or dragged in by their fellow soldiers. There's too much iron in the air to really adhere to the stricter medical protocols, and it's a scramble for everyone to assess and treat the damage in front of them. Each doctor's movements are efficient and practiced; stitching a wound just as a soldier would clean a gun. 

Just another day on the job.

You were hustling from one sectioned off bed to another, caught in the flow of all the action in the medical bay. The thin curtains between beds did nothing to muffle the chaos of the situation. Too many bodies were moving in and out of the area, it was almost dizzying. Your section of the unit had been chaotic for the better part of three hours, leaving you no time to stop and breathe. It seems things had gone south on the recent mission. The details of which were lost on you, but they didn’t matter now.

Stepping behind a curtain, you immediately get to work assessing the situation the soldier on the bed has found herself in, and you set about putting her back together. She's only caught minor fragments of shrapnel in her upper arms and chest. Nothing deep and nothing dangerous. It doesn't take you long to patch her up, thankfully. As you work, your brain vaguely registers that your medical team must be shifting focus to the less severely injured of the bunch.

You and the soldier both breathe a shared sigh of relief as you finish up her sutures. She only needs a few, and you tell her to return in about a week to check in before they can be removed. As you fill out her paperwork with a quick hand, you notice that the sounds of the room have hushed. You must be reaching the end of the torrent of injured soldiers.

Though small, your team was incredibly efficient; working like a machine during frenzied moments like these. Every second counted, nothing could go to waste.

You briskly step into another curtained area to see a broad, masked man on the gurney. The poor bed looked like it might strain under the weight of his bulky frame and plethora of equipment. For a moment, you can't even tell what's wrong with him. Stepping closer, the scent of fresh blood hits you just as you notice the dark wetness blooming on the upper right thigh of his gray fatigues. It looks like he’s used his own belt as a tourniquet. Your eyebrows scrunch down as you move to his side, your gloved hands automatically moving to his mask.

"Are you awake? Hey-" you're interrupted with a stiff, gloved hand gripping tightly at your wrist. Looking through the skull mask's eye sockets, you can see the whites of his half-lidded eyes starkly against his eyeblack. He's staring evenly back at you.

"I'm awake," he rumbles, low in his chest as if through water, "leave the mask." The directive is clear, even through the murk of his discomfort. You're not sure who this guy is, but from his tone he clearly expects to be obeyed. You knew there was a special operations unit active out of the base, and you can only guess that he's a part of it. Those types tended to be.. odd. This guy fit the bill.

The exchange doesn't last long though, and you immediately move down to visually assess the rest of his body as you open a new emergency medical kit. "Can you feel anywhere other than your legs that you've been injured? Have you hit your head at all?" you ask, running through regular questions since he seems to be lucid enough to give clear answers. He watches you intently, blinking slowly and almost lazily when you look at him, trauma shears in hand.

He simply shakes his head, grunting what sounds like a negative response. Great, how very helpful. You sigh as you work the shears beneath his pant leg. Without even looking up at him you slide the shears up, cutting half of his pants away to reveal the mess of both fresh and congealing blood on his thigh. Without a second thought, you cut through his briefs, pushing them aside just enough to allow him privacy as you get a better view of his injuries. The belt stays for now, it’s probably the only thing keeping him from passing out. 

It's not great. He definitely needed to be seen sooner, and you're worried about exactly how much blood he's lost. Some of these wounds are deep and still bleeding. Small bits of metal are visible through the clots. You can see bruising already beginning to form on the skin around the lacerations. The hot iron scent of his blood floods your nose, thick in the air between you.

"I need help in here- I've got shrapnel, heavy blood loss and I need extra hands!" you shout to your team without looking up, busy flushing his wounds with saline to clear any loose debris. Your hands are practiced and steady, one hand deftly wiping the blood and saline as you work. The man shifts, a strained breath escaping him. You spare him a sympathetic glance, knowing this part made many uncomfortable. Why had no one tended to him? He should've been among the first.

Evidently, so is the man in the bed. 

Before you can ask, your colleague steps in and immediately gloves up before getting to work with you. Together, you clean and stitch the man's wounds. He remains almost totally silent for all of it, save for the soft grunts as he's sewn back together. Even with the local anesthetic, it's still a bit uncomfortable. Throughout it all, he peers at you, his pale eyes flitting between your hands and your face as you work. At one point his gloved hands twitch at his side like he wants to move them. He doesn’t.

Your colleague quickly removes the man’s vest, knowing just as you do that there could be more injuries beneath it. The vest goes in a chair by the bed for later. The black shirt shirt he's wearing beneath it isn't torn or bloody, but you’re aware of your colleague’s intention to begin feeling for broken ribs as you get his IV drip ready. 

His hands catch your colleague’s wrists with a quickness you wouldn’t have thought possible given the amount of blood he’s already lost. “That’s enough,” he hisses. Your head snaps up, and you can only see the tight narrowing of his eyes through the mask. Before you can react, your colleague jerks from his grip. 

"I need to get these pants the rest of the way off, and then we're done. I'll get you cleaned up and finished for the night," you explain, falling back into your doctor mindset and practiced speech to ease the tension. He makes no response to this, so you take his silence as the go ahead. It's not like his pants were salvageable anyway.

"Are you gonna be okay in here? I have to go check on someone," your colleague asks, clearly annoyed. It wasn’t anything new to have a rude patient, but everyone’s nerves were fried after the hectic shift. You couldn’t blame them at all.

You wave them off, tired. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got him. Shouldn’t be much longer anyway.” They head off, and you turn back to the man, sighing. He’s clearly had a rough night, maybe he could use the benefit of the doubt. You were certain that you’d be a bit pissy after catching some shrapnel. 

"Do you think you can get into a clean bed without ripping those stitches?" you ask tiredly as you remove your gloves. Without looking up, you move to unlace his boot. You swear you can feel him watching your fingers loosen the laces, watching your hand wrap around his ankle as you pull the boot off. His stare holds a weight in it you've never experienced before. When you look up at him, he's ready looking away.

You offer him a fresh towel for privacy as you cut his pants and briefs the rest of the way off and gingerly slide them from beneath him. They go straight in the red trash bin specifically for biohazard waste. You gingerly clean his thigh one last time and apply a thin layer of ointment to his sutures to encourage healing before you wrap his thigh in gauze. He helpfully spreads his legs enough to allow you to securely tape the gauze in place. His skin is warm, even through your gloves.

You blink once, twice, forcing the thought away as you finish up. 

"I can." is all you get out of him. You sigh, it's been a long day. His boots join his vest in the chair, and you roll a clean cot into his room. This one has a thin cotton sheet and a blanket on it. You could almost swear his head is cocked, ever so slightly, with a question, and you answer it without thinking. "You're sleeping here tonight. You've lost a lot of blood and you'll need IV fluids to recover. It's not much, but it's better than that gurney."

He huffs, you can only guess he’s annoyed, but he looks the bed over. The cushioned pad was minimal at best. He would definitely feel it in the morning in addition to whatever pain arose from his stitches. “Look, I’m going to override whatever authority you think you have here. It’s safest for us to be able to watch you, just for tonight.” It’s your turn to leave him without room to argue.

For a long moment, he looks at you indignantly, like he’s not covering himself with a thin towel and your sutures aren't in his thigh. Then the tension slowly eases out of his shoulders, and he nods once.

You don't look away as he slides his legs around to the edge of the gurney, one massive hand still covering himself with the towel for decency. It's nothing you haven't seen before, and you're more concerned with whether or not he's okay to stand without support. You step closer, clearing your throat to cut the silence.

You roll an IV pole to the side of his cot and hand the fluids you’d prepared earlier on it. “Okay, last thing and then I’ll fuck off for the night, I swear,” you tell him dryly. He huffs, a short sound that’s close to a laugh, you think. 

"I'm here, if you need a hand," you tell him, more confidently than you feel. Seeing him standing now you realize he's nearly a full head taller and twice as broad as you. Your hand finds his elbow, and to your surprise he doesn't tell you to back off as you help him ease into the bed.

A low, cut off groan escapes him as he sits tentatively on the edge of the bed. When he eases back to lay down, his shirt rides up just enough to hint at the bloom of a purple bruise draped over his side. His eyes are pinched shut as he slowly settles into bed.

He doesn’t get the chance to try to help himself get comfortable. “Here, just let me. I’ve got it.” You tell him quietly, batting his hands away from the sheets. You gingerly help him maneuver his legs into a comfortable position and tuck the blankets loosely around him. Another stolen glance at him tells you he’s still got that dreamy half lidded look. It’s enough for you to not exactly trust him with getting settled in bed on his own.

“I’m going to give you an IV to replace the fluids you lost and some light pain medication. Then we’re all done,” You tell him as you add more of those shitty military issue pillows to the bed. It’s the least you can do to make him comfortable. The local anesthetic won’t last him the entire night, and you’re certain the rest of his body must be sore from the aftermath of the mission. 

Placing his IV goes without fuss. He's slumped back against the pillows, breathing evenly as you fill out his paperwork for his overnight check in. You'd managed to fill out most of it, but you still didn't know his name or what unit he belonged to. "Hey, what's your name and unit? I need to fill this sheet out for my records,” you ask, not even looking up.

"Ghost. One four one," each rumbling word has you bristling, your face paling. Oh hell. 

"..Thank you sir." Your throat feels like it’s closing up. You don’t even bother asking for his actual name. You’d heard about a Ghost on the base, but you’d never seen him; never thought you would. It was all just rumors, something to shoot the shit about over dinner in the cafeteria. 

You wanted to sink into the floor. How could you have missed the literal skull mask? The hectic rush of the day coupled with your exhaustion must have completely cleared your brain out of any irrelevant gossip, and now it was biting you in the ass. For the last half hour you’d been practically ogling him and talking to him like he was any other soldier on the base. 

The rest of the shift moves by in a blur, it’s mostly paperwork and cleanup since everyone has been seen too. You luckily are not chosen to pass food out, so you’re saved the further embarrassment of having to interact with Ghost even more. With any luck tomorrow morning would be the last you two ever speak, and he could go back to being invisible to you, and you’d be saved from dying of embarrassment.

A low chuckle rolls from his chest, and your head sharply snaps up. You fight the urge to apologize and dig your hole deeper. You can feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you realize he’s laughing at you. You had heard rumors about his particularly efficient methods of combat and data extraction from captured enemies; some of the things you’d heard made your spine chill.

You can only smile nervously back at him and tiredly drag your hand over your eyes. You can only cling to the last vestiges of professionalism that you have left. “You’re all set here. Once things calm down someone will be by with some food for you, if you feel like eating,” you tell him, your mouth dry. He hums softly in response, and you figure the pain medication has started to take effect. “I’ll be back in the morning to check in, have a good night, sir.” 

[fluffs-n-stuffs]

"Cuhut it out- you guys!" "Nu-uh, not until you're all perked up first! You don't want those gym challengers meetin' with an ol' mopey leader, do ya?" "Whitney's right, dear friend. No need to hide that beautiful smile of yours, alright?~"

What it takes to cheer up Johto's beloved ghost boy 👻💕

[strogoff-era]

Some thoughts about a selkie au. This turned out way longer than i thought so i put most of it under a read more

- in this au most selkies turn into seals, but some of them turn into other scottish/northern animals such as bears or wolves/dogs

- selkies are quite common in Scotland and in England, but very rare in the Arctic. Actually, Silna and her dad are the only ones in their community, and that's why they are responsable of Tuunbaq

- it surprises her a lot when she gets on the boats and she gets curious about the other selkies. That's how she becomes closer to Goodsir, who is also a selkie

- they have a very awkward moment the first time they see each other in their animal form since he's a seal and she's a polar bear (natural predator to the seal).......... oops

- there arent many selkies on Erebus compared to Terror, which is actually good because Sir John is really good at being condescending to selkies (a thing sadly common in the English high society)

- Gore is the only selkie in the Erebus wardroom and takes the blunt of it. He is a husky selkie and Sir John always treats him like a dog, even when he is in his human form

- at one dinner Sir John gives the leftovers bones from his plate to Gore bc "you're a dog, you must like that, right ? :)". Gore is so upset that he has to leave before the end of the meal unless he litteraly stabs his boss

- Fitzjames is half-selkie but hides it as best as he can. He fears that Sir John will loose all the respect he has for him if he finds out

- that's why he doesn't take Gore's side in these situation. Gore resents him a lot for that

- eventually Dundy starts to understand the dynamic and he tries to make up for Sir John's shitty behavior

- aboard Terror, selkies have it a bit better. Crozier is friend with a lot of seal selkies (JCR, Blanky, Jopson) so he's normal about them at least

- in this au the whole "stealing a selkie's pelt to marry them" is more a tradition than actual magic

- Jopson tries really hard to "forget" his pelt in Crozier's cabin but the bastard keeps returning it to him.......

- Hickey is a human and knows little to nothing about selkies. Everyone quickly realize that and start lying to him about them

- this leads to him stealing Goodsir's pelt to get it to him. Goodsir is just like "bro... you can't use this just give it back for fuck's sake..."

- all the Marines are human, except Tozer who is a dog selkie. Lots of fights happen to know who gets to pet the Sergent when he is in a doggie mood

- George is human but was raised by selkies. That left him with a deep inability to connect with people and a skewed view on genders (since selkies have a different system from humans)

- but that makes him very popular with the men, especially with the selkies who are very glad to see a human understand their customs :D

I have many more ideas but idk how to explain them. Feel free to play around this AU or send me asks about it ! It is a playground and we are all allowed to play in it together

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

I haven't been drawing very much lately and have been thinking about it in part because I always assumed that that would be a part of my identity and a significant part of what I did as a human being--I am not sure I ever very seriously expected to make a living at it, but I thought I would do it at least on the side

Anyway one of the things you'll hear people say and I think that I think this, at least, sort of, is that you are supposed to make art for yourself first and foremost.

People say this I think to mean a couple of things, with which I do agree: that you should not be overly worried about the attention, that you should not be concerned with wealth or fame, and that you should not be cynically chasing down fads. That all makes sense to me.

But there's something in that framing--for yourself--that has a kind implication or edge to it that I think nudges the posture through into something curved inward in a bad way. Like you should really just do it to make yourself happy and to no greater purpose, in true indifference to every outside consideration.

I find that very empty. It's not only empty, I find it kind of saps my creative capacity. Not that you should never make art just for yourself but I feel like my best artwork has been produced when I felt like it had some purpose outside of me, or when I had someone in mind that I knew (or really hoped) would like it, or when someone had inspired me somehow

[writing-with-gremworm]

A Bothersome Herbivore

I'm not sure when it happened, this tiny herbivore started clinging to me. It's hard to get a break since they follow me everywhere. When I nap, they nap beside me. When I eat, they follow along. Though, the latter is better than the time they slept so soundly I was able to leave them for a few days. When I went back to my normal napping spot they were sitting like a dejected mouse. They had teary little eyes, and their complexation was terrible.

I learned later that they slept through lunch, so they ended up just not eating the first day, and they refused to move during the weekend when I hadn't retuned yet. The worst part about it is they were so happy when I came back. They were like a stupid dog, so happy to cling to me again.

I let them be for a while. It wasn't really my problem, and they didn't actually bother me most of the time. They were surprisingly quiet.

"Why exactly do you follow around like a lost dog?"

"I dunno. I just like you. So, I stay with you, because you're safe."

It was weird. I shouldn't be safe for them. I'm just a lousy second prince with nothing in my future but disappointment. I am, and will always be, second best in the eyes of anyone else, so why is it that this creature clings to me? I still don't understand it.

The thing that irks me the most is that I started to worry about them. I woke up from a nap as usual, expecting them to be beside me. They weren't there. The little mouse had scurried off somewhere and that made me uneasy.

"This is bullshit."

I must have done so subconsciously, but I ended up looking around the places I usually went, expecting to find them there. I only found them when I returned to the greenhouse. They were sitting, waiting for me to come back.

"Leona!" They sounded so happy, their eyes lighting up as if the best person in the world was standing right in front of them.

"Ah." I had so many questions, but none of them mattered. 'Why did you wait? Where did you go? Are you okay?' They were here, so why did it matter?

We returned to routine. But one thing did change. I started leaning on them. I don't know if they noticed, they never mentioned it to me. This change ... felt necessary.

In time it felt stranger to be separate from them than to be near them. In a way, I guess I must have found them comforting too. So, it felt strange when one day, they started crying.

"What's with the tears?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.

"I don't know. I just- I." They sobbed quietly, sniffling and rubbing their eyes. They tried so hard to calm down, only to sob more. It hurt, hearing them quiet their sobs. I felt like I saw a bit of myself in them. Maybe that's why I spoke up.

"Don't force it, just sob okay?" It was a useless comment. They would probably cry for a while anyways. They did stop trying to choke back their sobs, though they kept sobbing quietly, as if they forgot how to cry loudly.

"I'm scared. I don't know if I want to go home or stay here. I feel unwanted either way. I don't know if anyone would miss me if I left, of if anyone in my world even realizes I'm gone. I'm terrified because it doesn't matter which world I choose. I'll be alone again in either world."

A beat.

Right, they needed to go home eventually. They weren't from this world. I forgot that somehow. Unlike Yuu, who was social, this one wasn't particularly close to anyone. Except maybe ... me.

"Oh? Aren't I right here? Do you think I'll forget you because you vanish for a little?"

"I-I ... I thought you were annoyed by me."

"Then why would I let you cling to me? I could have actively ignored you."

"But you ... you left me alone and I ..."

"So? People can change their minds. I'm not running from you anymore, so don't go running from me, okay?"

"Heh, hehehehe."

"Why are you laughing?"

"Sorry I just- I didn't expect you to say something like that. It's so sweet."

"Don't get used to it."

"Hehe, I know. I'm just ... Thank you."

"... It's fine."

Things were nice after that. We returned to routine.

Or, as close to routine as possible. I found myself gazing at them for longer than I intended. If they were still asleep when I was up, I would pick them up. If they were hungry, we'd eat early, or I'd get Ruggie to buy us snacks.

'Fuck.' I had fallen for them. It was confusing. They weren't particularly pretty, or smart, or even useful. Even so, I found them undeniably breathtaking. I couldn't look away from them.

It was juvenile, but I couldn't help but touch their hand. Just to feel their skin against mine. I wanted to kiss their forehead, to hold them in my arms, to claim them.

I'm no idiot. I know I'm handsome, I know my position, though lesser than my brother's, is coveted. I understand that being a member of royalty limits my options for love. Despite everything, I wanted them to stay with me. If nothing else, I just wanted to continue our days like this. The litte moments of warmth, their laughter, their joy. I wanted to bask in it.

When did my world stop being gray?

No, not my world. Just them.

It's still hard to justify waking up, to find a reason to move forward every day. But even still, I want to be selfish and be beside them. I wonder if this is what it means to feel safe with someone.

"I'm going to graduate this year. You've still got a few years left."

"... Yeah ..." They smile sadly.

"Come to me. When you finish. Find me, and I'll have a napping spot ready to share." It was a stupid promise. They might be blocked from my side. They might not even be able to understand me outside of school property.

But I think their smile was worth it.

--

"You've been sulking in that window every day, brother." A grating voice says, a smirk decorating the words.

"So what?" I glare, irritated by the interruption. I come to this window whenever I think about them. It seems like a spot they'd like. Or maybe they just liked me. Maybe after all this time they forgot me. It would be better that way. For them to forget me, they can live a different life, instead of being tied to the second prince.

"I was just worried. How can I not worry a little when you're my brother?"

"Piss off."

"Ah, I see you don't want company. Should I send your visitor away?" My ears twitch. It's rare I receive visitors. It's even rarer my 'perfect' brother bothers to tell me about them.

"A visitor? Haiz. I have enough sense not to turn visitors away." I shift, hopping down from the window ledge.

My heart is beating faster than I would like. It seems like my chest is going to burst at this rate. It will be disappointing if it's not them, so I shouldn't keep my hopes up.

"Leona?" A familiar voice chimes as I enter the room. They smile warmly at me and walk over, looking at me somewhat reluctantly.

"I'm surprised you actually came here." I hold out my hand. They take it carefully and I pull them into a hug, "Welcome home." I add with a whisper.

They tear up, hugging me tightly.

"Yeah, I'm home." They mutter. They feel warm in my arms. They feel like the keystone of an arch, holding me together despite being so small.

'So, I still love you.' I think to myself, closing my eyes and forcing myself not to do too much. I want to give them soft kisses, I want to whisk them to my room and cuddle with them. I want to tell them how much I love them. But the words don't leave my throat. I can't love them, not as a royal.

"Well, isn't this a nice reunion." That ruined it.

"And you're still here because? This is my guest. I thought you'd leave." I hiss, glaring at my brother.

"There's no need to be hostile. I'm just surprised you have someone close to you."

"Oh? Thanks, I didn't realize I needed to tell you these things."

"I'm not chastising you, I'm glad. Really. Ah, I should probably introduce myself to your lover."

"Lover?"

"Lover?"

"Are you two not? Ah, I'm sorry for misunderstanding." He doesn't sound even slightly apologetic.

"I-It's fine."

"... This is my brother. That's it, don't worry about getting close to him."

"Oh- okay." They smile sadly.

"Well this does complicate things a little. I had just convinced the elders to let you have your lover join you here. But if they're not your lover, then I'll have to clear that up."

"That won't be necessary. It'll be more convenient if everyone assumes we're lovers anyways." 'Though I'm not particularly fond of receiving help from you, I won't turn it away when it benefits me.'

"S-So then- Do I- have to pretend to be your lover?" They seem surprised, their face flushed a bit. It's cute. It makes me want to lick their cheeks and nibble on their ear.

"No, just act like before. Us spending so much time together will get the point across."

"Oh! Okay." They nod, seeming perhaps a little disappointed.

"Last time we spoke, I promised to have a napping spot pick out for us. I think I found one. Though, you'll have to sit on my lap if you want to lean on me." The window ledge wasn't wide enough to sit side by side unless you laid against the window.

'This spot is chosen partially out of my selfishness. If nothing else, then I can hold you tightly. Not that you need to know my reasoning.'

"That's okay. If you're okay with it, I mean. I've always kind of wanted to hug you when napping." They admit wanting to cuddle closer.

'I wonder.'

I pick them up, cupping their rear as they cling to me. They seem a bit surprised.

"W-We could just walk there-"

"We are walking there. What? Did you never wonder how I carried you before?"

"I never thought about it- This is embarrassing. I could just walk with you."

"Hm, no. You clung to me this long, cling to me more, won't you?"

"Leona." They whine.

I can't help but chuckle a little. This was warm. It felt nicer than just remembering them.

"Hey, do you love me?"

"What? I mean- yes. You're the closest person I have."

"I mean, romantically, sexually. How, do you love me?"

"T-This is very sudden- and I don't know how to answer- aah."

"That's fine. We've got plenty of time." I sit down, letting them situate themselves on my lap as we sit by the window. I wrap my arms around their waist, and rest on my chin on their shoulder.

"You're more affectionate than I remember."

"Well, I have to make up for the missed nap time cuddles somehow, right?"

"What? Hah, hahaha. Sure, let's go with that. Leona. I missed you."

"Yeah ... me too."

"I never thought you'd admit it ... so ... the question."

"Do you love me?"

"Yeah, that one ... was it, because you love me?"

"Yeah."

"W-wait really? Um! How so?"

"Hm, I'll tell you after you tell me. I did ask first."

"Hahaha, okay, that's fair." They lean into me, resting against my chest, relaxing in my arms. We sit there for a while, just enjoying each other's company. It doesn't really matter how they answer. We'll stay beside each other anyways. I can tell that much. They wouldn't have found me if they didn't intend to stay.

"Hey ... Leona ..."

"Yeah?"

They turn their head and move so their mouth is close to my ear before whispering their answer. Perhaps embarrassed, or worried that telling me loudly would hurt me. Regardless, the action was cute.

"I'm not sure. I've never felt anything like this before. I've never had the chance. So, I may not get it right the first time. I don't know what type of love this is."

"Okay, then let's figure it out together." I've waited this long, waiting a little longer should be fine. Besides, I'm with them now, so that is enough.

[morweneledhwen]

I didn't plan on writing this at all; I wanted to write Something Completely Different instead. But you know how it is sometimes when the words won't leave you alone.*sighs*

Characters:

Zhuo Yichen & Bai Jiu, Zhuo Yichen & Zhuo Yixuan

Summary:

"Can I stay with you tonight?"

[meo-on-prairie]

I JUST WANT TO READ SOME FLUFFY POLY!SATOSUGU, I DONT WANT TO READ SMUT RN!!! DIWNODJEOBDOWBF

[sshcomic]

You have given me a great joy in life with your Renkaza au

May I ask, what happened to the rest of the Kamado family? Did they get their canon ending or are they with Nezuko as they try to deal with her new demonification?

oh yay im glad you're enjoying it so far! 🥰

nezuko's actually with her brother in the box, like in canon lol. i just havent drawn her--or inosuke or zenitsu--in the panels we've seen, but they're there!

as for the rest of the kamados... i actually havent decided LOL. my instinct is to save everyone, since this is a light-hearted comic strip, but also i'm not sure i'd be able to reliably write that since it involves more plot than the "stupid jokes loosely following canon" i mostly have written down aha. so i suppose it's a surprise for now, even for myself.

i guess we'll see!

[milf-murdock]

The gorgeous gorgeous fanfic writers are being forced to work instead of write and it should be a crime

[clonedchaos]

So, an apology for not having my crossover story published by now like I wanted it to. It’s a huge passion project of mine and something I’m eager to show everyone, as niche of a topic/crossover it may be. But, school is keeping me busy.

For the time being, here’s a silly little snippet that has already been written along with a silly headcanon of mine with little to no relevancy to the plot, I just think it’s neat:

In this series, the Ink Demon holds a grudge against birds; in part due to the fact Bendy’s bird hates him. Ironically later in the series, he becomes a cat person…

Cats love to eat birds… and they also nap a lot and can be moody. Seems fitting for the rather grouchy king of the ink realm. Meanwhile Bendy never stops chattering like a baby starling. He 100% talked to that bird 24/7. (And no Ink wouldn’t actually eat the bird, Audrey would’ve gotten on his case about it)

The birb btw:

Silly bird that’s brought up in the prologue and maybe never again unless I find a reason.