#last prompt series

[benevolenterrancy]

(Unseen Academicals, Terry Pratchett) I think Shang Qinghua and Ponder Stibbons should have tea and compare notes about somehow accumulating so much behind-the-scenes power by doing menial jobs no one else wants that they could basically run the show if they wanted...

meanwhile we have Shen "meh good enough" Qingqiu

[ethosiab]

agony

[veinsfullofstars]

💋 MetaDede Week 2024 Day 2: First Kiss 💋

(ID: Kirby series fanart of King Dedede and Meta Knight standing on a balcony - the latter on the railing - overlooking a late-evening sky, painted in the gold-pink-purple tones of sunset and speckled with stars high above. Turned to face his knight, DDD boldly takes his hand and plants a small kiss on the back of it, eyes shut and cheeks dusted in pink. MK looks up at his king with soft fondness, a hand over his heart, a blush of his own glowing through his mask. Above them against the starry sky, a low-opacity, sepia-toned memory can be seen. Meta - teenaged and maskless with nearly-grown wings, wearing plain steel pauldrons and white gloves; and DDD - teenaged and acne-plagued, wearing an oversized red-and-orange hoodie and a maroon beanie. In a fit of last-second courage, Meta grabs his friend by the front of his hoodie and yanks him down, shutting his eyes and blushing fiercely as he plants a hasty kiss - their first! - on his cheek. DDD leans over unsteadily on one foot, an arm thrown back for balance, his pimply face bright red, his eyes wide with surprise and touched with heart-shaped shines. END ID.)

Previous Day | Next Day | Prompt List (made by @/mtddweek)

Started 08/05/24, finished 08/10/24. | Childhood Friends AU Masterpost

[ohraicodoll]

 Feral Masterlist

Joel Miller x Feral Reader/OFC

(You’ve all lovingly named this character Feral Reader, but she’s referenced as Starshine or Red sometimes in the stories.)

Warning: Explicit Content, Graphic Violence, Trauma, PTSD

(Put in order of story timeline)

Monsters Two-Shot | (18+ Minors DNI) | 3rd POV | AO3 Part 1 | Part 2 Honey One-Shot | (18+ Minors DNI) | 3rd POV | AO3 The first time there was an excuse, the second time was just about release after a hard day.

Be Still Drabble | 3rd POV | AO3 It takes her a while to notice. Joel is having a panic attack. Bitter Two-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 Joel makes a decision for all of them when they finally find Tommy in Jackson. Part 1 | Part 2 Violent Delights One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 With Joel injured and Ellie captured, she has to make a choice. Violent Ends One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 They find the Fireflies and one by one, the lights go out.  Crossword Snippet | 3rd POV | AO3 It’s the first time their group has been split up and Joel definitely isn’t waiting for you at the gates.

Daisies Drabble | 3rd POV | AO3 The women of Jackson have their eyes set on Joel Miller.

Beast One-Shot | 18+ Minors DNI for Graphic Violence | 3rd POV | AO3 All she can see is that he’s hurt and she would tear them apart. Left Behind One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 Settling into life in Jackson wasn't going so easily and Joel is hit with the possibility she may not be welcomed to stay. Territorial One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 She never paid attention to the newcomers when they joined Jackson until one of them begins to get close to Joel. Dominant One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 Jealousy and rationality don’t mix. Hero Worship Drabble | 3rd POV Ellie has a little admirer  Your Bury Me One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 A failed trade, a dress, music, and their own form of confession. Mine Drabble | 3rd POV He doesn’t like other’s attention on her

Drabbles:

Reckless: Ellie gets mad at her for being too careless with herself Red’s Personality ***Red Integrating Into Jackson Headcanons ***Red and Joel Headcanons Does Red ever try singing again? ***Tommy x Red Headcanons Tommy after the punch ***Ellie x Red Headcanons ***Joel falling for Red Headcanons Red is Ellie’s Mom Gifts from the Barn Cat The Morning After Bitter Part 2 Joel’s Nightmares ***Moments in Domesticity Headcanons ***Ellie and Red arguement Headcanons

Asks

Where does Red met them in the timeline? TLOU Part 2 Question Sunshine Bestie Red and cheating scenario Romance and Connections Red and Pregnancies Maria and Red’s relationship Ellie’s Adjustment Maria standing up for Red Reds Triggers Red & the baby (More) When Reds Sick Annie’s Birthday Joel Calming Red Down Red’s Trinkets

________________________________ If you would like to be added to a taglist for this series, please reply to this post! Taglist: @alouise20 @faceache111​ @hawsx3 @taxidriversainz @iluvbunnyhops @mrfitzdarcyslover @emlovesya  @agent007knight @spaacerabbit @namgification @wonwoosthetic  @wxnderingthoughts @sagggy @escaping-reality8 @badwolf00593​ @themothersmercy @badwolf00593 @mxtokko @happinessinthebeing​ @taranicristeard  @aroacefanenby @barbellpedro  @maviee​ @sgt-morgan @peppesgirl​ @spideysimpossiblegirl ​ @hreader7​ @jackierose902109

[tunastime]

UM UM UM “staying up until midnight to talk” with SEN or DBHC ethubs or docsuma

Or “pull me closer,” with dbhc docsuma :floshed:

Okay skitters away

staying up until midnight to talk (919 words) (x) (:3c)

Etho’s hands follow a practiced rhythm. He isn’t sure how they wouldn’t, with every wire and mechanism and gear in his body perfectly calibrated to move with precision and within expectation. He certainly fails, and jerks, and stutters, and falls, but base programming, movements that fell perfectly into subroutines he couldn’t even begin to trace, even if Xisuma showed him the exact steps? Of course they were perfect. And of course he never faltered.

The sand beneath him offers a much needed cushioning from the hard, winter dirt, despite the fact that the sun provides little warmth to the air around them in the snow fort. The sky is so blue it makes his eyes strain to look at—and maybe it would hurt, if he knew how it was supposed to feel.

Instead, Etho watches patches of sky blue in the silver-warped reflection of his sword, faint flickers of enchantment pulsing out from the hilt where the hastily carved runes sit. He runs the sharpening stone against the blade’s flat edge, careful not to nick the silicon of his fingers as he scrapes it across, again, and again. Practiced, careful, calculated rhythm. So much so that he doesn’t even register the sounds of shuffling a few paces away until Bdubs’ voice cuts through the silence.

“Etho,” he says, voice all rough around the edges like he were hungry for something more than just company. Etho keeps sharpening, just for a moment, before he chances a glance over.

Bdubs leans at the wooden fence, leaning his weight into the flimsily-set posts. He grins like nothing in the world could bother him. The characteristic dark brown of his eyes flickers with red, with that same hunger. Etho hates it. Which is odd. Because he really doesn’t feel strongly about much of anything, and disgust is an emotion very foreign to him, and he’s beginning to think the slight grinding in his chest is a problem Xisuma might need to diagnose when he gets back. It feels wrong. Because he knows he likes Bdubs just fine. He trusts him just enough. But that look.

Bdubs is still watching him, eyeing the sword in his hand with a gaze he can’t place, let alone read. Better give him an answer.

“Bdubs,” he says calmly, tilting his head to the side.

“You thought anymore about my offer?”

Etho makes a sound like a hum, mimicking the sound of turning the idea over in his head. He stands, setting his whetstone next to the cold embers of last night’s fire. The pot and cups still rest in the dirt, as cold as the rest of their surroundings. The sword stays in his hand.

(In the back of his mind, a memory surfaces. In it, Etho lies in the night-damp grass in clothes that still smell a bit like gunpowder, but not enough to notice unless you got real close. Bdubs is somewhere to his immediate left, still speaking, haloed in the glow of lanterns and lights of a shop. One of them at least. Within the clarity of memory, Etho can pinpoint that it’s Tango’s shop. Bdubs doesn’t live far from here. He isn’t sure when waiting for Tango to restock candles turned into tell Etho all about the extra additions to your base and your journey to find all the perfect horses for the Horse Course that you both just wrapped up, or into tell Bdubs all about how empty the mountain is, and how interesting this new game sounds, and how you hope you both find somewhere cool to base. Because you’ve already told him that you’re teaming up. But it does, and in this same space, the sky is full of bright white stars and a sliver of a moon that's starting to peek into the sky. Bdubs yawns.)

“The one from last night?” Etho asks, coming to with the sword heavy in his hand. He pushes the point into the soft sand until it hits hard earth and starts to give.

“You don’t gotta keep this fence, Etho…” Bdubs sighs, leaning his head into his palm. Etho folds his arms across his chest, splays one hand as he shrugs.

“Seems like the best way to settle this, ‘Dubs.”

“You could join me. Could always still join me,” Bdubs tries. “Just a quick one-two stab! Easy!”

“I can’t do that,” Etho says, shaking his head. “You know that.”

Bdubs sighs again, dramatic, deflating over the fence as Etho’s rejection stands firm. The thirium in his chest feels like it’s been flash frozen and has only started to dethaw, cold in his hands and feet, up his shins and to his elbows. He rolls his shoulders in, cupping each hand around each opposite elbow. There’s a little warmth to be found in the action with no fans kicking on to compensate.

“Well,” Bdubs says, drumming on the wooden beam between the two fence posts. “If you ever change your mind.”

He watches Etho for a moment, that familiar look coming to his eyes, as if it were trying to eclipse the haze of red Bdubs looks at him through, as if it were trying to expand his tunnel vision by just a fraction of an inch. Just as Etho notices, it’s snuffed, and the easy, careful look is replaced by an indifference Etho doesn’t think he enjoys. He still isn’t sure how much he knows for certain. He shrugs, barely a movement at all. Better say something.

“I won’t,” he says.

Bdubs huffs and turns away.

[venomhound]

Hazbin Hotel - Alastor Scenario Dump

One of my friends requested I make more of these, so I guess I'm doing a series. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Like before these are just a bunch of story ideas I've had pop into my head that I have no plans to use. Feel free to use them, just link back/credit me and slap me with a tag because I wanna see what you write!! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Contents/WARNINGS: ANGST; stalking; abuse of Alastor's shadows; heavily implied voyeurism and other creepy shit; (most of these warnings are for the last prompt so if your bothered by any of this, just skip that one) Actual brainrot below the cut; Not beta read we die like men -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Ringing Hollow ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Basic idea is that Alastor ends up caving to Charlie/the hotel and getting a cellphone. Everyone insists he needs it in case there is an "emergency", especially after the whole Exterminator attack on the hotel.

So he relents. As much as Alastor hates to admit it; they are right. But he isnt going to get any of that smartphone crap. Alastor opts to get himself an actual flipphone. (Angel Dust questions how Alastor even managed to find the piece of junk) Its only for emergencies. He should barely be using it, if at all.

But things change one day when Alastor gets several messages from an unknown number thinking he is their close friend. Alastor does end up telling them that they have the wrong number, but you know, being Alastor, he has to tease them relentlessly first.

They actually end up talking for a bit. Both of them find the situation incredibly entertaining and surprisingly like each other's sense of humor. The reader ends up asking who they actually texted. Alastor panics a bit. He doesn't want to just tell some stranger that they just messaged the radio demon of all people.

No matter the case, Alastor doesn't want to give his real name. So he wracks his brain for something that wont give him away. He cant just use Al, that's too obvious. Wait... Alastor-Al-A...A... A-nonymous? Anon? Yeah. Anon could work.

(This is Alastor's own line of thinking of how he 'came up' with the name. The boomer has no idea this is actually a common internet pseudonym because I doubt he has ever touched a computer)

Anyway, Alastor ends up telling the reader to call him Anon. The two of them end up talking alot. The rest of the hotel finds it rather comical to see the radio demon on his phone texting someone with a grin on his face.

Alastor actually gets pretty fast at texting with his stupid flipphone. Eventually, under Angel's suggestion, Alastor does end up "upgrading" to one of those phones with the slide out keyboard. He still draws the line at smartphone.

But everyone finds the whole thing rather adorable. Charlie always giggles to Vaggie about how soft his eyes get whenever he sees a new text from the reader. Rosie teases him nonstop about his 'paramour' and ends up suggesting that Alastor try to meet them in person.

At the first thought of it, Alastor's stomach drops. He still hasn't actually told them who he is. But the more he thinks about it, the more Alastor thinks a meeting between them is inevitable. He has never felt this way about anyone before; and he needs to deal with it one way or another.

So Alastor arranges an in person meetup. However, he STILL doesn't actually tell the reader who he is. He plans it as a surprise. The purpose of this is twofold; Alastor thinks this will be a wonderful surprise (he is the fantastic radio demon after all!), and it will serve as a test to see if the reader actually likes him.

The secret third reason is that Alastor is actually scared of what the reader's reaction will be and is avoiding it until the ninth hour when he literally cannot anymore. But he would rather die then admit that.

The reader asks Alastor what he looks like and other, you know, obvious things they should know for when they meet. But Al dodges the questions and tells them that they will know everything and learn who he truly is when they finally meet.

Well the time comes. The reader shows up to the designated meeting place, a semi public location. Then they see him. The Radio Demon.

The reader's eyes meet his and they freeze in terror as he approaches them with a knowing, determined stride. They are mortified when Alastor kisses them on the back of the hand; calling them darling and confessing that he was the one who they had been talking to all along. 

The reader backs off, stuttering an apology and a half hearted excuse to leave before quickly running off. Alastor’s smile never wavers. But it can be seen in his eyes and the way his ears have flattened against his head that he had hoped for a better reaction.

Alastor makes his leave before he can embarrass himself further. When he goes to text an apology, his number has already been blocked. He swears he feels a foreign pain in his chest in that moment.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Mockingbird ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Alastor begins fall in love with the reader. Driven by his strange feelings, he starts to compose little songs that he hums/sings to himself. The songs are inspired by the things he likes about them, things that make him think of the reader, and ways he sees their presence improving the hotel. 

There is even a special one dedicated specifically to their laughter. A tune that he made to resemble how melodic he finds it. 

Charlie and Vaggie start to notice Alastor singing to himself all the time. How his eyes soften and his smile turns wistful as he sings. Its how they realize that, holy shit, the guy has fallen in love.

They think that the songs are how Alastor is choosing to ‘deal’ with his feelings and that he is using them as an outlet. Not realizing he is composing them himself.

So other then like the weird love singing to himself there really aren't signs of Alastor having a crush, especially not one on you. So it kinda becomes like this big mystery that Charlie is determined to solve. Charlie holds a 'top secret meeting' and drags the rest of the hotel into it. Who has Alastor fallen for?? She will find out dangit.

I also have the image of at least one of the songs being composed entirely in French. So like Alastor finds the reader asleep at some point, maybe they fell asleep on him or they fell asleep somewhere out of exhaustion, but either way, Alastor ends up singing the song he composed for them while they sleep.

Alastor gently picks you up and cradles you to his chest. Singing all the while. He takes you to your room and tucks you in, singing the song as if it were a lullaby. The reader half wakes up at some point and hears him, but cant understand the words.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Chasing Shadows ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Basically a really sweet girl checks into the hotel. Maybe she just has that southern belle vibe or reminds Alastor of his mama or whatever; but the point is he has an immediate soft spot for her. 

Anyway Alastor quickly picks up how guarded and almost paranoid she is. Her eyes always seem to be darting around or looking into the distance for something. Although she is quick to help others, she dashes anyone elses attempts to help her. Alastor finds it very odd.

Then Alastor’s shadows start reporting of ‘incidents’ happening around the hotel, mostly around the new guest. Her things going missing, gifts and letters being left outside her door if not outright in her room, and the one that pissed Alastor off the most was one of the shadows saying they even found a small camera had been placed in her room.

Alastor isnt stupid; he knows someone is stalking the poor girl. And he is seething. Part of it is anger and outrage at someone daring and succeeding at breaching his territory of the hotel, and the other half of his anger is at such a disgusting creature thinking that they are entitled to treat a woman this way. 

Alastor quickly puts more shadows around the new guest's room, having every entrance and exit watched for the intruder. Yet the stalker manages to slip by him again, leaving a bouquet of flowers as well as stealing a pair of undergarments. 

Alastor nearly kills the poor shadow that informs him of this. How could they let someone slip past them again??

You got the gist of how this story goes. Ive had this sitting in my ideas folder forever cause I love it alot but, realistically speaking, Im not going to write it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So either someone else can use it or you can just brainrot about it with me.

The big twist is the demon that is stalking the new guest has the power to turn into/manipulate cockroaches. That's how they are able to traverse the hotel so easily and undetected. 

Wasn't sure if I wanted to go all in on that and make him an actual roach boy or not. You could also make the demon a Jewel Wasp which is a bug known specifically for mind controlling cockroaches.

Since the stalker is cockroach themed, I also had the idea floating around that Niffty would be the one to finally catch them in the end.

I was picturing the relationship between the new guest and Alastor to be strictly platonic; with like big brother/dad protection vibes. Basically Alastor just wants to protect someone who he sees as a ‘lady’ from a disgusting man. Its his southern trauma kicking in hard

[birrdies]

the ethics of the artifice day 1 of shep's hermitcraft character design event second / lighter version under the cut

[firstkanaphans]

Hi Sarah! For the smut prompt, I'll eat up anything you write with AkkAye or SandRay but I'd love number 4 for Sand and Ray. I feel like Ray would love being told how good he is, I'm a strong 'Ray has a praise kink' believer!

Hiiii! Somehow this turned into top!Ray. I hope you don’t mind? Word Count: 1600ish

{telling} them how good they are

“How long’s it been since someone fucked you?”

Sand was so kiss-drunk that it took him a few seconds to digest Ray’s words. They were in bed and Sand was laying on his back while Ray straddled his waist, and although it wasn’t exactly rare for Ray to get possessive like this when they were intimate, that particular topic was one they had never broached before. Maybe he had misheard.

“What?” he asked, reaching out to trace a finger over the “beautiful” tattoo on Ray’s hip. Ray was shirtless and Sand felt drawn to the ink on his skin. He felt drawn to the boy wearing it. 

“How long’s it been since someone fucked you?” Ray repeated. “And who was it? Was it Boeing?”

Sand snorted because he found the idea of Boeing topping anyone hilarious, but Ray didn’t laugh. “It wasn’t Boeing.”

“Who then?”

“No one you would know,” Sand said, letting his hand fall back to his side and then sitting up so he and Ray were face-to-face. “Just some guy I met at the bar. I don’t remember his name.”

“When?”

“Eight or nine months ago?” It was only an estimate, but Ray’s pout became more pronounced at his words. “Is that a problem?”

“I want the last person you fucked to be me.” He said it petulantly like that was an honor Sand had deliberately been keeping from him and Sand couldn’t help but laugh. He collapsed back down onto the mattress and gestured at his more-than-willing body. “Well then, by all means.”

He hadn’t actually expected Ray to take him up on the offer. He’d thought it was a joke—a petty squabble with a past he had no control over—but then Ray’s eyes darkened with a hunger it was impossible not to recognize.

“Roll over,” Ray demanded, his voice taking on the cadence of authority his rich blood afforded him. Sand’s humor washed away in an instant and his heartbeat quickened. Although he would never admit it to anyone, he liked it when Ray told him what to do. Fucking Ray was only half the fun. His true joy came in hearing Ray tell him, in painstaking detail, exactly how he wanted to be fucked. 

So, like an obedient dog, Sand rolled over.

He was already naked from the waist up, but Ray stripped him of his pants as well and then carefully kneaded both globes of his ass before pulling them apart and leaning in to place a wet kiss against his rim. It was loving—worshipful, even—and despite the fact that Ray had never done this to Sand before, he was skilled with his mouth. It didn’t take long before Sand was trembling beneath him, stretched open on his fingers and his tongue. He decided to distract himself with conversation.

“When’s the last time you did this?” he asked. Instead of answering, Ray froze. “Ray?” Still no answer. “Ray?”

He looked over his shoulder to find Ray still hovering over his ass, his mouth wet and messy, his eyes wide. “Well, see, here’s the thing…”

“Never?!” Sand cried in shock.

Immediately, Ray grew defensive. “I know what I like. Why would I bother doing anything else?” But then his face softened and he reached out to squeeze Sand’s ass once more. “Can I? With you?”

Sand turned back around, once again under his spell. “Fine. Just hurry up or I’m going to come before you’re even inside me.”

Ray climbed off of Sand to remove his own pants and when Sand risked a glance at him, he found that Ray was smiling, looking inordinately pleased with himself.

“Do you want me to use a condom?” Ray asked, covering Sand’s body with his once more as he leaned down to kiss his shoulder blade. Sand pushed up onto his knees and Ray tucked himself easily into the space behind him, clearly already knowing the answer, but wanting Sand to say it anyway.

“No,” Sand said, pushing back against him,. Ray took his dick in hand and began running it along Sand’s opening, taunting him the way Sand oftentimes did to him.

“Why not?”

“Because I want to feel you come inside me.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, in one fluid motion, Ray said, “good boy,” and pushed inside.

Sand wasn’t sure which of them was more affected, but the feel of Ray inside him, filling him more full than he had ever been, immediately threatened to overwhelm him. It wasn’t a physical reaction so much as an emotional one. Sand had been fucked far rougher than this by far more endowed men. But it had never meant anything. It had only ever touched his body, never his heart.

Behind him, Ray let out a moan and then collapsed down so that his forehead was pressed against Sand’s back. For several seconds, the two of them just stayed there, their bodies connected, as they breathed in tandem.

“Are you okay?” Ray asked after a minute—checking in, the way Sand always did with him. Sand knew Ray well enough to know that was a learned behavior, not something that came naturally to him. It warmed his racing heart. “Was that too much?”

“No. I’m good,” Sand said, pushing back onto Ray’s dick just enough to make the boy moan again. “Now fuck me like you mean it.”

With a hesitance Sand wasn’t used to from him, Ray began to move. He pulled out of Sand’s body and then pushed back inside with no particular finesse or skill, but it still felt good because it was still him. Sand pushed back in time to his thrusts, silently asking for more, but Ray didn’t seem to know how to give it to him.

“Is this right? Am I—?”

Suddenly, Sand realized what the hesitation was. Ray didn’t like not being good at things. He had a pathological fear of disappointing the people he loved. He needed positive reinforcement.

“That’s perfect. You’re perfect,” Sand said, reaching behind him for Ray's flank and slowly leading him into a steady rhythm. Ray took his instruction and began to speed up. Sand dropped his head down onto his hands, opening his body up even more. “Fuck, that feels so good. You’re doing so good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sand agreed. “You can go harder.”

Still hesitant, Ray did as asked and with every thrust, Sand fell a little more under his spell.

“Fuck, Ray. Right there.”

The praise seemed to reawaken Ray’s confidence. Or at least his dirty mouth. “You like it when I fuck you, don’t you? You like my dick inside you?”

“Yes,” Sand moaned.

“Say it.”

“I like your dick inside me.”

Ray gave a particularly hard thrust and his cock rubbed right against Sand’s prostate. Sand wasn’t sure whether he had done it on purpose or whether it was just beginner’s luck, but he could feel his self-control start to unravel. 

“I want to make sure you’ll be able to feel me tomorrow,” Ray said. “I want to make sure you’ll remember who it was that was fucking you.”

“As if I could forget.”

His words seemed to trigger something in Ray. “Fuck,” he said, collapsing down over Sand’s back, abandoning his long thrusts in favor of letting their bodies grind together as if he could no longer bear to let them separate. “How do you last for so long? It feels too good.”

“Go ahead and come,” Sand said, hopelessly endeared. “I want you to.”

Ray cursed again, but took the out Sand had given him. With a few last hard thrusts, he came inside Sand’s body for the very first time.

For several seconds, they both just stayed there, intimately connected. Sand’s cock was throbbing with arousal and his whole body was sore in a way he wasn’t used to, but in that moment, he felt very, very loved.

Ray pulled out of him slowly. Sand could feel the warmth of his seed leaking from his opening and he was about to climb out of bed to get something to clean them both with when he felt Ray’s tongue push inside him. 

It was Sand’s turn to curse. He had never before been completely at Ray’s mercy before and it made him feel wild. Wild and free. Free from his own thoughts. Free from the expectations he put on himself. 

Ray continued to lick his seed from Sand’s body and as he did so, he reached around and grabbed his cock. Sand sighed at the touch, knowing he wouldn’t last long and, sure enough, he came under Ray’s skilled ministrations quickly with his lover’s name on his tongue.

That night, Ray was the one who cleaned them. Sand had never realized before just how intimate the practice was. He wondered if Ray felt just as loved and cared for when Sand did this for him.

“So,” Ray said once he was finished, finally crawling back into bed and cuddling into Sand’s side. “Did I do good?”

Sand considered teasing him, but saw no reason to lie. “The best.” 

Ray rolled his eyes as if he didn’t believe him, but it was the truth. It was the first time in his life that Sand had been fucked and actually enjoyed it. 

“I’ll get better,” Ray said as if it was a challenge. Sand knew better than to argue with him. “But you have to promise me something. No one but me ever again. Do you understand? I want to be your last.”

“No one but you ever again,” Sand agreed. It wasn’t a hard promise to make. He was the only one who had ever mattered. “Now go to bed. You can practice more in the morning.”

[iamamythologicalcreature]

Carry On Countdown, Day 1: Creature

(Quotes from "Wayward Son" and "Any Way the Wind Blows" by @rainbowrowell)

My first ever @carryon-countdown! I immediately saw this image in my mind when I read the prompt for day 1.

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #24

A/N: This contains (fairly vague?) spoilers for season 4

xxx alternate prompt: no-holds-barred beatdown

River doesn't enjoy grocery shopping, especially not at the big chains. There are too many options and too many people, and they always play the same shit songs over the tinny speakers. He's recently gotten the urge to cook a proper meal, though – something he hasn't felt the desire to do since he made the decision to move the OB to the nursing home. Cooking was something he usually did at his granddad's house, for the two of them, and it feels weird to go through the trouble of shopping for and cooking a meal that only he's going to eat. But the last few weeks have been...difficult, and he thinks maybe this'll be good for him. And if it isn't, he can go back to eating takeaway.

He's browsing the pasta aisle when he hears someone shout, "Bertrand!" He glances up from the box of pappardelle he's holding and catches a glimpse of a man stalking down the same aisle he's in. He's huge and he looks pissed. Whoever Bertrand is, River feels bad for the poor bastard. And then he glances up again and realizes that the giant angry man is coming toward him.

"Oh, shit," River says, shoving the pappardelle back onto the shelf right as a fist flies into his face. It connects with his nose with a loud crunch and stars burst across his vision as the back of his head smacks against the shelf behind him. Blood gushes from his nose and his eyes are watering like crazy and he blinks rapidly, raising his hands as the man winds up again.

"Wait-" he begins, but it's like asking a tornado to stop and expecting it to listen.

The next blow is right to the solar plexus. It forces the air out of his lungs and paralyzes his diaphragm. Knowing what's happening, and that it's temporary, doesn't help the panic that comes with being unable to breathe. River's too focused on trying to inhale to offer any resistance when the man grabs him by the arms hard enough to bruise and throws him to the ground. People are starting to take notice, if the noises around him (gasps and murmurs and a loud shriek) are anything to go by.

The man doesn't seem to give a flying fuck.

He's on River in a second, straddling him, so that even when River's body remembers how to breathe again he can't draw a proper breath because of the weight on his torso. He throws his arms up in an attempt to protect his face, but the man grabs River's left arm and shoves it down, pinning it to the ground with his knee. There's a constant stream of angry words coming from the man's mouth, and it takes River a moment to recognize it as profanity-laden French.

French.

Bertrand.

His mind flashes back to the angry mob in Lavande. The men had wanted to kill him – or, had wanted to kill Bertrand, anyway. And now one of those men is here, in a Tesco in London, because of course he is.

Fuck.

River's been punched before, a lot. His balls still ache at the memory of the beating he'd taken at the hands of Duffy and Hobbs. But even in that instance, they'd practiced some restraint.

This man doesn't.

Blow after blow comes. He feels a gash open across his cheekbone, and immediate swelling. His teeth cut the inside of his cheek, filling his mouth with blood. He doesn't want to swallow it so he chokes on it instead, coughs and lets it spill from the corners of his mouth. I'm not him he wants to shout, but he can't. The man won't give him the chance. There's shouting now, and he hears words like stop and police and you're killing him repeated over and over by different voices.

Oh, god.

This man, whoever he is, is killing him.

River going to be beat to death by a Frenchman in the rice and pasta aisle of a Tesco.

And then, a familiar voice.

"What on earth are you doing?!"

The man stops, panting, and looks up at Catherine Standish. No one else has been brave enough to do anything but shout at him from afar, but now here she is, this older woman standing right in front of them in simple floral dress and sensible shoes and looking for all the world like a guardian angel.

"Pardon me, madam," the man says, breathing heavily, "but you do not know what this salaud has done to me. To my family."

"Who, River?"

The man frowns. He blinks. "Who is River?"

"Well, he is!" Catherine says, gesturing at River with the shopping basket in her hand. The man looks down at River, the frown deepening.

"I did try to tell you." The words are garbled by blood, and River forces his head to turn to one side so he can spit some of it out. Even that small movement is dizzying and he closes his eyes with a groan.

"But--" the Frenchman sputters.

"Bertrand is dead," River rasps. "You're welcome."

"Merde," the man swears. He runs his bloody-knuckled hands through his hair and climbs off of River, sitting back heavily. "I thought you were – I'm so sorry. Je suis désolée. I-I can help."

He reaches toward River and River can't help but flinch, wincing as the action sends little bursts of agony stabbing through his head.

"I think it'd be best if you left him alone," Catherine says, kneeling next to River, who has never felt more grateful and more embarrassed to see someone in his life. "There's an ambulance on the way, River."

River doesn't want to attempt a nod, so he lets out a small grunt of acknowledgment. "What're you doing here?" His words are starting to run together, and they come out slow and clumsy.

"I was buying some coffee for the office."

All River can think to say is, "Oh."

The office. God, Lamb is going to have a field day with this when he finds out. Roddy, too, and maybe even Shirley as well. Getting his arse kicked was bad enough, but having it saved by Catherine...He sighs, forcing his eyes (eye – the left one is swollen shut) open.

"Thank you, Catherine."

"Hm? Oh, that's alright. No need to thank me, River."

"I mean it," he slurs, and he feels a hand on his own.

"Don't try and speak," Catherine says, patting the back of his hand gently. "Just rest until the paramedics get here. It'll be alright."

The tenderness is almost enough to bring tears to River's eyes.

xxx

[intermundia]

So the reason I love fanfiction is intertextuality. I love allusions to canon woven into a new narrative, and building in my mind the complex web of references that all contextualize each other. It's those links that add depth of meaning to a fanfic, metatextual weight to characters and locations. I think the better the transformative process of fanwork, the more of the original it carries inside, the denser and richer points of reference to the story on the other end. If you think of a canon fact as a color, the more vibrant the fanwork, the bigger thrill I get from it. It lights up more of my brain.

There's this thing I like to do where I will find a media property that I know nothing about but has a sufficient high quality body of work, obikin, geraskier, merthur, etc. I will read thousands of fanfics and build up a mental map of the series in my mind, noticing things referenced by multiple stories in different ways and trying to extrapolate back to an original event in the canon story. The more references to an event, the more specific and real it is, whereas other things referenced by one or two people exist in a quasi real state, smaller nodes in the network as it were. 

Once I've built up a robust mental map of a story, I will watch the series. I will watch the Clone Wars, the Witcher, Merlin, etc., and compare my expectations with the reality of the canon narratives. I will observe the ways in which fandom skewed the story via emphasis, or where it improved the story via giving interiority to characters in traumatic or intimate moments. Once I've finished watching the series, and have canon fixed in my mind, I reread all my favorite stories with a richer mental picture of each one, really savoring the work of the author in engaging with a story I love.

I genuinely think this is a sort of wish fulfillment from my time as a classicist where all we could do was build up a mental map of the extant texts, but there was no way to ‘watch the original’ as it where, no way to check how historians and poets transformed their experience. It's a guilty pleasure to apply the same conceptual mapping skills I learned for antiquity to pop culture, one degree removed from reality, but I enjoy it so much and spend way too much time doing it (when I should be writing). I wonder if other people do this though, it's kind of a tumblr ass hobby lmao

[moomoorare]

A wife to death, rebirth and mutilation. The axe's blade comes down and down again, a nightmare done, gone and then the light throws you on the dirt of a new world, fighting for your life and victor's cup yet again. Will you win?

Reblogs <3 are my best friends

[veinsfullofstars]

👿 Kirbtober 2024 Day 6: Ancient 👿

(ID: Kirby series fanart of the Aeon Hero (Dark) glaring at the viewer with his dark feathered wings spread wide, holding his shield in one hand and gripping the handle of his lance in the other as he perches against it, the weapon driven diagonally into the ground in a large, spiderwebbing crack. Pinkish streams of liquid-like magic ooze upward from the fissure, lighting up his magenta-and-silver armor from below. Between his long platinum horns, a Heart Spear glows with halo-esque elegance. END ID.)

Previous Day | Next Day | Prompt List (made by @/paintpanic)

Started on 09/04/24, finished on 09/05/24. | Kirbtober 2023 Comp

[ohraicodoll]

Saw the prompt post. And your tags. So I'm dropping this in your lap and leaving the rest to your excellent discretion! Any fandom. Any characters.

“you’re so cool.”

Good luck! Have fun!

Thankuuuuu Cuckoo! (I was totally going to do Sandman and Dream but couldn't stop laughing over what his reaction would be without making it ooc. So more TLOU lol)

Hero Worship Joel Miller x f!Reader (Established Relationship) + Ellie The Last of Us 1k Words

“You pull it straight back until the string is almost kissing your lips,” she guided her, watching as Ellie pulled the bow string back with shaky arms, “Elbow in, not out like a chicken wing. And breathe, you’re fine.” The teen seemed to glare at the small target across the way in the makeshift target practice Jackson had crafted. She took a deep breath, released and flinched.

All three of them watched as the arrow hit the target on the edge of the hay bale. Joel chuckled. “That had to be the wind!” Ellie argued, glaring at the older man. “There hasn’t been a single breeze all damn day,” he smirked, looking up to meet her instructor’s eyes over the girl’s head. With an eye roll, she picked up her own bow and took Ellie’s spot to demonstrate, “You keep flinching. If you keep your arms straight how I showed you, the string isn’t going to smack you in the face. Look, just watch.” 

Purposefully, she slowed down her movements and pulled the string back, arrow notched. Joel was right, there was no breeze and the target wasn’t very far away. Much closer than when he’d let the girl practice shooting the rifle. 

Elbows in and stance proper, she released the arrow and watched it sail home to the center of the target. Bullseye. Ellie groaned. “Whatever, you both are show-offs,” she grumbled, glaring at them both now. “Mmmhmm, why don’t you go grab another set of arrows if you’re gonna run your mouth and be a sore loser,” Joel nodded towards the small shack a little bit away where one of the older men kept all the range supplies. With a grumble, they watched as she trudged away, bow practically dragging in her hand. “She’s getting better,” chewing on your lip, she leaned against the wooden fence that acted as a barrier between the shooting area and the danger zone. “Yeah she is, but you know her. Wants to be instantly good,” Joel chuckled and rested his arms beside her, knee raised to brace on the fence, “She’ll get there. Besides, I think she’d rather do this than be at the theater though I do miss the two hours we’d get on our own when she would go.” Raising a brow, she looked at him out of the corner of her eye with a smirk, “Yeah I’m sure you do. Ellie’s trying to persuade me to let her stay in the small house behind the property. She needs her space.” The excuse was almost laughable as only a week ago she had asked to stay in their shared room during a bad storm, blaming her window they had already fixed. His eyes burned into the side of her head, fingers adjusting against the fence until they grazed the skin of her elbow, “Wouldn’t be the worst idea.” She huffed out a full bellied laugh and turned her eyes to him, “Oh please. You’d be at that back window with the binoculars checking on her every second if you let her, Miller. Probably rope Tommy into it too.” He sighed and was the one to roll his eyes this time, “Yeah, yeah. Give it a couple more years of her going full teenager and we’ll see. She drives us nuts enough as is and I’m dreading the day she starts being interested in boys.”

She struggled to fight down a grin, not wanting to break it to him that it wasn’t the boys he was going to have to worry about. With a smirk, they both turned to look at the teen, watching as she talked to the attendant and then catching sight of the young boy very blatantly staring at her not even a foot away. The boy had to be roughly six or seven and stared at her behind large bottle glasses, eyes huge on his tiny face. His mouth hung open slightly, eyes transfixed. Nudging Joel with her elbow, she nodded at the kid and the stars in his eyes. Ellie, her arm full with a new quiver of arrows, turned and almost ran straight into the little boy who hadn’t moved an inch. She looked almost startled, brow furrowed in a way that was too similar to Joel, mouth turned down. It had taken her a bit to not be in full aggressive mode and instantly be on edge with every person that stared at them, but every now and then that tough attitude came out. She didn’t like to be stared at. The kid blinked. The two adults tried not to laugh. “What?” Ellie asked a little harshly, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re so cool,” the boy choked out with a look that was pure admiration. Joel turned his head into her arm and tried not to laugh out loud, pressing his mouth into the fabric of her coat. His shoulders shook with the effort. Ellie almost seemed taken back, unsure of what to do, false bravado gone. But then she grinned and that attitude slid back into place before she leaned towards the kid and seemed to whisper something. They couldn’t hear what she said, but could see her head turn to look at them and nod before pulling back and walking over. The boy’s face stared at all three of them star struck. They tried to act like they hadn’t been watching the interaction and went back to the lesson as normal, didn’t mention Ellie’s little fan or how her shooting got better afterwards as if she only needed a little bit of confidence. It was a moment they didn’t want to intrude on or make her embarrassed about. And a week later when she went to the girl’s room to drop off a newer pair of shoes, she didn’t bring up the kid drawing tucked between some book pages that was obviously from her admirer. All three of them were drawn in crayon, looking larger than life, with the words, “Ellie's family” scribbled at the top.

[applepixls]

i noticed something while watching through all the povs of build and seek.. while they're drawing their prompts, just before skizz goes grian says "I'm glad you [scott] are writing these prompts because if i was writing them they'd be a lot more nebulous" and if you watch everyone else's pov he says "it'd be like... dog." but in his own perspective he says "it'd be like... the feeling you get on the last day of school" and the thing is i know exactly what he's done cause in lizzie's episode on the imp & skizz podcast she mentioned that sometimes in editing (for life series) she'll change what she said in an interaction to make it funnier etc which seems to be exactly what grians done here small detail, i wanna know if anyone else has picked up on it :)

Edit: ghdjjmk little bit embarrassed, just realizing grian made the joke about "the feeling you get on the last day of school" later on and most of them just included one clip or the other feeling silly but i love grian and scott being somewhat similar and both organizing and making games (be it larger scale like mcc and life series or smaller scale like build and seek and guess the build) the only difference being scott likes his players and wants them to enjoy, have a fun time and want to play again while grian hates his players and wants them to suffer, cry a lot and be coerced into joining again for the content /lh /j

[jack-doohan]

JENSON BUTTON after the 2023 F1 Academy United States Grand Prix qualifying

MOTORSPORTS GIFCTOBER Week 4: This One is New