#rosa writes

[mxmi-rosa]

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Work in progress

[moonlightcycle571]

Wouldn’t it be funny if Billy could only give powers to one person at a time, so the Vasquez kids take turns being Captain Marvel Junior (as they still look like kids) and they make everyone thinks it’s one shape shifting child.

Reporter: Captain Marvel, who is this new protoge worth you?

Marvel: you’ve met Junior though?

Mary, who wanted to take over: yeah we talked last week.

Reporter: ah what

At first it’s just Mary and Freddy (mostly Freddy cause he’s really into being a superhero) so everyone thinks Captain Marvel Junior is a shape shifting gender fluid kid and Marvel is a supportive dad.

But then the other Vasquez’s join in the fun

Reporter: Captain, new protoge?

Eugene, in it for shots and giggles: Claire, it’s me, Junior

Reporter: … you’re Asian now?

Eugene: woooooowww

Marvel: that’s low even for you

Reportee: but I-

Eugene: Both Captain and I have lived lives of many genders, colours and have been in many cultures. And yet you shame me for feeling nostalgic and reverting to an ancient form of mine.

Reporter: I- w h a t

It’s sparks a lot of debate of cultural appropriation for shapeshifters in general, with a lot of people invoking Martian Manhunter, fae and other shapeshifters. So naturally Pedro steps up

Captain Marvel and Junior both volunteering at a homeless shelter.

Reporter: … junior?

Pedro: yes?

Reporter: what are you doing

Pedro, making an ancient Mexican recipe he got from the Library in the Rock: making a dish I learned a couple of centuries ago from my then family.

Reporter, really doesn’t want to get cancelled: ok

Naturally this takes a lot of coordination, and a lot of people test them by giving info to one kid, and different info to the other. Solomon sees right through them cause the divine group chat is connected to Billy and the chosen Junior. Things were starting to chill for a bit. Then Darla joined in.

Darla, visibly younger than the other forms: Hi :D

Reporter: why do you keep getting younger and younger???

Darla: :3

At this point the reporter is so done. Are you a child with a lightning emblem on you? You are Captain Marvel Junior. And it seems to work most of the time.

Billy: *gets deaged as Cap*

Reporter: oh junior! New form? This one looks closer to Cap!

Billy: I’m not Junior???

Reporter: *bluescreens*

Bonus:

In a Justice League Meeting

Flash: So is Junior like a mantle? If so why is it only one kid at a time?

Hal: yeah, what do the others do when you take one at a time?

Billy, an absolute troll at heart: what do you mean, it’s the one kid?

Superman: what???

Billy: yeah so Junior hasn’t settled into which form they like the best and switch it up. I think they like it better that way.

Martian Manhunter, troll n2: *nods along* finding ones main form is an important part of self discovery. On Mars, many like to alternate between forms as they could not be tied down to one.

JL: ah

Bonus 2:

Batman: *slowly puts away the ‘Not An Adoption Problem’ Support Group invite*

Bonus 3:

Dudley: please please please please

Billy, fed up: WHY

Dudley: it’ll be so funny.

Billy: you know what, fine!

Later Dudley is given some powers but decides to only let the Reporter see him.

Reporter: … Junior????

Dudley: no one will ever believe you *flies off*

[mournfulroses]

Rita Dove, from On the bus with Rosa Parks; Poems; "The Venus of Willendorf,"

[owlwinter8]

I made a fanbind of the incredible Anastasis by @chthonion!! This fic series is truly something special, and even on my first read I knew that I wanted to bind it. This was also my first bookbind where I fully felt like I knew what I was doing, and I'm incredibly proud of how it came out!!

Art inspo: Stellar Corona by eradelphic and Through Window Up by Ninhol Cover/back/spine art has been uploaded here! <3 EDIT: Typeset has been added to the google drive with author permission as well!

[quintessenceofdust88]

Nonna Rosa fixes it

[Now on AO3!] Okayyy, it's officially not the weekend anymore, but only for like five minutes, so technically I'm on time! This got totally away from me, and I had to actually force myself to end it where I did. Nonna Rosa took the narrative from my hands and said 'I'll take it from here', and good for her. Not to be dramatic but I love her. Anyway, if any Italian-speaking people read this: I AM SO SORRY. This is all Collins dictionary or Google Translate, I don't speak a word of Italian and I'll be very glad to correct any mistakes you might notice ♥ I hope you guys enjoy it! if you want to know more about Nonna Rosa, send me an ask, I have looots of headcanons for her (and Tommy's childhood). Here you go:

A week after breaking up with Evan, Tommy is still feeling like shit. He can barely sleep, anything he tries to eat tastes like sawdust, and he feels like he’s living on autopilot. He goes to work, he comes back home, he tries to eat, he tries to sleep, rinse and repeat. Nothing else matters, there’s nothing else he feels like doing. He doesn’t answer Howie’s texts asking how he’s doing (he answered the first one, telling Howie not to worry about him, but can’t do more than that); he completely ignores Eddie’s invitation for Muay Thai and basketball, and he comes up with an excuse as to why he can’t make karaoke bar that Thursday. And yet, there’s one thing he can’t put off, as much as he wishes to: talking to his Nonna. 

Tommy calls his grandmother at least once a week; she still lives in Indiana, in the same house he spent most of his childhood in, and he knows his uncle Bart visits often. But he likes to hear from her himself. Visiting her was a rare occasion, and the last time he was able to was about four months ago. The minute he had stepped in, Nonna had asked him if he was ‘innamorato’, because he was looking so much happier than usual.

And he knows she’ll perceive his sadness just as quick, if not quicker. The woman has always been able to read him like an open book. She’s probably the only person alive who can; he’s always made sure to keep his layers hidden from everyone else, even from… 

Well. Doesn’t matter now, does it? 

Fact is, that if he misses his call with Nonna, it’ll be even worse. She’ll know something’s up, and he doesn’t put past her to fly across the country to check on him (he’s always been the favorite grandson and everyone knows it). So it’s best to get it over with. With a heavy sigh, he sits down on his couch (and tries not to think about how empty it feels when it’s just him in there) and rings her up, bracing himself.

“Pronto? Tommasino?” She answers the call, as always with the camera too close to her face, and that at least brings a smile to his face.

“Nonna, you need to stretch your arm a little. Remember, like Charlie showed you?” He asks with a chuckle; Charlie being his cousin’s daughter, Charlotte, who taught Nonna how to FaceTime so she could ‘see Tommasino’s pretty face more often’, in her own words. 

She stretches her arm and Tommy gets a good look at her. Nonna looks the same as always, sharp blue eyes in a soft face that’s wrinkled both from age and from a lifetime of smiles. Her hair is wrapped in hair rollers and tucked safely behind a red bandana. Tommy misses her fiercely, and wishes more than ever that he could get wrapped in one of her hugs. 

They always did wonders for him when he was a little boy who used to climb trees and get scrapes and bruises; when he was a scared eleven-year-old missing his mother (and as a grown-up he can appreciate Nonna was hurting at least as much as him, having lost her daughter, but still never let it show) and dealing with an angry abusive father; when he was a scared eighteen-year-old, before leaving the only home he’d ever known to join the Army. And when he was a scared 33-year-old man, coming out as gay to his 75 year-old-grandmother, afraid of being rejected by the one person alive who truly loved him, and Nonna had stood on her tiptoes, pulled him into one of those hugs, and told him all she ever wanted for Tommy was to see him happy, and that she would always love him. 

A hug from his grandmother had always made Tommy feel like the world was an easier place to be faced, and right now, that’s exactly what he needs. And his longing must show in his face, because she’s frowning at him, her eyes full of concern. 

“Oh, Tommasino” She says softly. “What’s wrong, bambino mio? You look so sad” She asks, and to Tommy’s horror, he finds his eyes filling up. Nonna has that way of bringing out every emotion he tries to repress.

“Everything’s wrong, Nonna, and it’s all my fault” He blurts out before he can stop himself, and the look on his grandmother’s face tells Tommy she’d be placing a sizable plate of cake and a cup of strong coffee in front of him if she could.

“You have a habit of saying things are your fault even when they aren't, so I'm afraid I'll need the entire story, my boy” She says gently, and Tommy watches as she sits down by her kitchen table (the same kitchen table where he did most of his school homework, the same kitchen table from where he always used to steal a biscotti while they were still warm), supporting her face in her hand and turning those sharp blue eyes at the phone screen. Tommy swears he can feel them pierce through his very soul. “What happened? Is it your Evanino?”

The question sends a knife right through Tommy's chest as he imagines what could have been. Gosh, Nonna would have loved Evan (who doesn't love Evan, you idiot?, he tells himself), and he knows deep in his heart Evan would have loved her as well. Every time Tommy would talk about her (which he did fairly often; he was a grandma's boy and had no shame about it), Evan would get a wistful expression on his face and tell Tommy that she sounded awesome.

He had been planning on taking Evan with him next time he managed to visit her, not wanting to introduce them through the phone. Now it's for the best he didn't; at least Nonna won't have to miss him like Tommy does.

“He… he's not mine anymore, Nonna,” He admits, his voice thick with emotion. “We broke up”

“What?! Ma comme?! You were so happy last time we talked!” She asked, and of course Tommy was happy; it was the day before their six month anniversary, and he had been so full of excitement. “Was he not happy? Is that why you're blaming yourself, Tomasino?”

A smile as bright as sunshine crosses Tommy's mind. A smile that only started to fade once Tommy told him he knew how it ended. A smile that had become his personal beacon of light in the past six months. A smile he misses like a lost limb.

“He… he was happy” He says, because that much he knows to be true; Evan was happy with him, Tommy made sure of that. His grandmother frowns at that, and Tommy doesn't blame her; the story seems convoluted, feels convoluted, even to himself, and he lived it.

“Thomas, you have to help your old grandmother, because I cannot understand what is the problem. If you were happy and he was happy, then why are you not together anymore?”

“Because he asked me to move in with him” Tommy says, and that doesn't seem to clear the situation for her. If anything, her frown deepens, and she reaches for a piece of bread, fiddling with it; Nonna could never keep her hands still, especially when she was nervous, and Tommy had inherited that from her. 

“Does that mean something different when it’s two men?” She asks, completely genuine, and that earns a surprised chuckle from Tommy. 

“No, Nonna” Tommy says, and all of a sudden the urge to laugh is gone again; it never lasts long, not after Evan. “It… It means the same”

“Very well, and you said no? That’s why he ended things?” She asks, and Tommy sighs brokenly, the memories of the night no less painful than when it happened.

“No. I… I broke up with him, Nonna. He asked me to move in with him, and I didn’t just say no. I… I broke up with him," Tommy admits with a heavy heart. 

“Tesoro, you do realize you are not making any sense? You and your boy were happy; he asked you to move in with him, and instead you broke up with him. Then you show up looking like your heart was broken and tell me it is your fault. What am I missing, bambino?”

“I have a house, Nonna!” He snaps, finally being able to voice the things that have been stewing in his heart and mind since that night. “I have a house, and he lives in a rented loft, and it makes no sense for me to move in with him!”

Nonna doesn’t answer right away. She chews thoughtfully on her bread, letting a small silence fall between the pair of them before she eventually sighs and answers him.

“Benne, you have a point, it wouldn’t make sense. But that isn’t the whole problem, is it, Tommasino?” Nonna adds shrewdly. “You could have talked it out, explained that to him. So what made you walk out of the best thing that happened to you in years?”

Tommy can always trust Nonna to lay things down exactly as they are, no matter how painful it sounds. She’s right, he did walk out of the best thing that happened to him in years, maybe ever, and it’s getting harder and harder to justify that decision to himself. 

“N-Nonna, I was… I was falling so in love with him” He tells her, and feels tears starting to prickle the corner of his eyes.

“Yes, I’ve known that since last time you were here” Nonna says impatiently. “That’s not a reason to leave, Thomas; that’s a reason to stay”

“Only if he loved me back” He says automatically, and Nonna crosses her arms, unimpressed. 

“And who says he doesn’t? Did you ask him?” She asks sharply, and Tommy sighs. This conversation is taking a completely different route than what he expected. 

“I didn’t have to, Nonna. I… I just know it, okay? I was his first relationship with a man. I cannot be the last, that’s not how it works. And I… I thought I was okay with it, that I could enjoy it while it lasted, but… But I didn’t expect to love him this much” He admits, as much to himself as to her. It’s all his fault, really, for falling so deeply, flying too close to the Sun. “I-it’s safer to break my own heart now than to let him do it when I’m way too deep to recover. N-not that I’m recovering all too well, but… could be worse” He finishes, already wiping the few tears that inconveniently decided to rush down his cheeks. 

If Tommy expects his grandmother to nod sympathetically at that and coo at him (he kinda does; she has a habit of doing that when he cries), he has another thing coming. Nonna scoffs loudly, hitting the table with her hand, strong from decades of kneading bread. The noise is enough to startle Tommy out of tears.

“Thomas Domenico Kinard, I didn’t know me and your dear Mamma, may God have her soul, had raised an estupido vigliacco!” She exclaims, her hand flailing loudly to emphasize her words. 

Tommy will be the first to admit his Italian is rusty, but he’s pretty sure she just called him a stupid coward. And. Ouch.

“Nonna!” He exclaims back, but she isn’t dissuaded. She tuts him with a sharp ‘Silenzio!’ and a raised finger, and Tommy shuts up right away. He knows that when Nonna starts, the best he can do is take the scolding, so he leans back on his couch, trying his best not to look like a chided boy who got caught stealing fruit from the neighbor’s orchard.

“You are my grandson, and I love you more than anything in this world. You are a good man with a wonderful heart, but you have one big problem, Tommaso. You always assume you know people’s feelings better than they do, and then you make your own decisions based on that without actually asking anyone. Remember when you decided I should move to California because you thought I was lonely here?” She asks, raising an eyebrow, and Tommy nods sheepishly. “Do you remember what I told you?”

“That if and when you wanted to move to California, you would let me know, but you were perfectly capable of making your own decisions” He mumbles back, the epic scolding from five years ago still fresh on his mind. 

“Esattamente. Now, I think your Evanino deserves the same courtesy. He is not a silly child, Thomas. If he wants you to be his last, if he loves you, who do you think you are to decide that he doesn’t?”

“But he never said he did,” Tommy replies stubbornly. “He… He never even told me he loved me, he just asked me to move in with him. It’s like… It’s like he wanted to prove a point, Nonna. That he could be… committed, or queer, or whatever, I don’t know. But he never said he loved me”

“Did you say it to him?” Nonna asks, and Tommy stares at her with his mouth agape. Damn this woman and her ability to ask the most uncomfortable questions. 

“N-no” He admits. “I… I was too afraid of him not saying it back”

“Hmmm” Nonna hums thoughtfully. “That’s your other problem, bambino mio. You think you don’t deserve to be loved. I blame that man for that” Nonna says with a scoff, and they both know exactly who she’s talking about; there’s no lost love between Rosa Lucciola and her ex-son-in-law, Brian Kinard, and the way he treated Tommy and his mother before she passed is the sole reason for it. 

“Well, that’s neither here nor there, Nonna” He says with a shrug, always uncomfortable when his father becomes even a small topic of conversation, but she tuts disapprovingly.

“Ah, isn’t it? Has it never occurred to you that maybe your Evanino could have the same problem? That he was as afraid as you to show his heart and have it broken?”

Tommy desperately wants to say that he thought about it, that it occurred to him; but it hasn’t. Evan is such a sunshine of a man, always so prone to smiles and loving gestures towards anyone he cares about, that Tommy never thought there could be insecurities there. Now it makes him feel selfish and stupid (or estupido as Nonna had so accurately called him). 

“Nonna…” Tommy says, his mind catching up to everything she said and a horrifying realization dawns on him. “What if he did love me back? Oh my God, did I fuck this up?!” He asks before he can stop himself. 

“Language! Do not take the Signore’s name and swear in the same sentence!” She chides him, and Tommy mutters ‘sorry’, but her look is impossibly fond. “But, well. Maybe you did; maybe you didn’t. Are you going to sit around and mope or try to find out?” Nonna challenges him. 

“W-what if he never loved me, Nonna? Or what if he did, but me walking out made him stop?” Tommy asks, not knowing which possibility scares him the most.

“What if he still does, Thomas?” Nonna counteracts. “What if he loves you and is too afraid to reach out because you already rejected him once, hm? Someone has to be brave, and he already was when he asked you to move in, bambino. Maybe it was a little impulsive, but his heart was in the right place; it was in your future together”

Tommy realizes Nonna is right. He can’t expect Evan to reach out (he realizes he was at some level, and he would have rushed to it; one call from Evan and Tommy would be right back to his life, ready to reheal his own heart when things inevitably went wrong, just for another glimpse of Evan Buckley’s personal sunshine); it’s his turn to fight for them. It’s his turn to be brave. 

“Ah, you finally realized it, hm?” Nonna says; something must be showing on his face, because there’s a satisfied smile on her face. “Fight for that boy, Thomas. Fight for your happiness, tesoro. Prove to your Nonna you are not estupido”

“Nonna, you are most definitely the best person on the planet, and I promise you didn’t raise a estupido. I’ll do right by Evan. By… By me. By both of us” Tommy promises to her, promises to himself. He blows a kiss to the screen of his cellphone, desperately wishing he could kiss her cheek in person. “Ti amo, Nonnina” (I love you, granny) 

“Ti amo, nipotini del mio cuore” (I love you, grandson of my heart) She tells him back, and a mischievous smirk appears on her face. “You better bring that boy here to try my rondelli before the year is over, you hear?”

“Dio, I hope so, Nonna” He tells her, and they say their goodbyes before hanging up. Tommy already misses her.

He holds his cellphone close to his heart, wondering if he should text Evan, but decides against it. This is too big for a text, too big for a call. He’ll go over in the morning, probably with a bouquet of flowers or whatever other extravagant gift he can come up with, ready to grovel and explain himself and beg for a second chance, even if it’s only to hear a ‘no’. Even if it’s only to let Evan yell at him and get the closure he deserves. Even if it’s only to get his already shattered heart broken into even more pieces. Tommy has to be brave.

After all, nonna and mamma didn’t raise a coward. 

(Evan doesn’t say no. And when Tommy explains, after several rounds of make-up sex, what made him change his mind, he promises to send Nonna a present. The present ends up being him and Tommy, because they go to Indiana for Christmas, and Evan falls in love with Nonna and her rondelli. Just like Tommy knew he would)

--

Tag list (let me know if I missed anyone! also if you want to be removed or only tagged in Little Blobs' Verse):

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21 @actuallyitsellie

(Although here's a lil spoiler - Nonna Rosa will probably show up in Little Blobs' verse cause I'm not ready to let go of her and she'd whack me in the head with a spoon if I didn't let her meet her great-grandchildren)

[daughter-of-sapph0]

drawing my OCs being gay again

honestly my main goal with these characters is to make a bunch of horny lesbians say "wish that was me"

[starlightrosa]

Battleships

Summary: Charlie and Angel are playing a game of Battleships. But not with pen and paper. More like marker pens, and ticklish backs as their papers. Just so happens that these ticklish backs are property of Lucifer and Alastor.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Tickling, swearing, Angel Dust's unique humour, a bit of depressing talk concerning Alastor's mum (Alastor do be a mama's boy and he big sad) but mostly fluff <3

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another day in the Hazbin Hotel, and there was a very obvious mood of mischief. Ticklish mischief, to put it much more obviously. There seemed to be tickle fights breaking out every hour between Charlie and Vaggie, Niffty was running round and tormenting whichever unlucky soul was within reach with her feather duster, and even Husk was sneaking in a few underarm tickles whenever Angel Dust was too close to the bar.

It was driving two certain people in the hotel up the wall, but for two very different reasons.

Lucifer was one of the affected. He had woken up craving to be held. Or cuddled. Or tickled. Hell, the king had no idea what he wanted relating to specifics. But damn it, if he didn’t get some form of human touch in the next three minutes, then the world was going to end.

Alastor was the second affected by the ticklish mischief ravaging the halls of this rinky-dink hotel. But Alastor thought this playtime was silly. It’s Hell, who spends their afterlife trying to tickle someone else, where every day was utter torment and suffering punctuated by the wails of the eternally damned and the screams of tortured souls? That was a background noise Alastor preferred, to see lost souls drown in an ocean of failure.

But the radio demon could not dwell on his preferences. He would be busy soon, for that charming Charlie had planned a little board game tournament of sorts in an effort to build trust among the hotel patrons. A silly idea, but Alastor didn’t think there was any benefit to crushing the princess’s feelings, so he kept schtum for now.

The crazy tickling vibes from earlier seemed to have petered out. Yet in the hotel’s lobby, Angel Dust and Charlie were locked in a fierce game of something Charlie called ‘Battleship’. Their hastily drawn paper grids and pencils lay in wait, the pencils pointed at each other like military-grade weapons.

“E6.” came Charlie’s voice. Angel laughed, picking up a blue marker and putting a big ‘X’ on that coordinate.

“Missed again, twinkletoes.” Angel crowed.

“Shit. Your go.” Charlie said, waiting for Angel’s guess. The alluring arachnid sinner thought for a bit, before making his guess.

“A4.” Angel guessed. And if the loud groan from Charlie hinted anything, seems Angel had scored a point, or did something right. Alastor wasn’t quite sure how this game worked.

“Ugh, fuck! Hit.” Charlie groaned, picking up a red marker and blotting it with a crimson ‘X’. Angel pumped one of his many fists in the air, no doubt in a victorious manner, or for a quick bragging right. One of the two.

“Hot damn. I am unbeatable at this game!” the spider crowed, looking much too pleased with himself. Alastor rather thought that this game, while simple, did indeed look a bit fun. Not as fun as actually destroying something, but… close enough. And it wasn’t just the radio demon who had heard this game. Lucifer knew what Battleship was. But he didn’t dare come down, for fear of making his obvious lee mood even more obvious, and the markers Charlie and Angel were both using was sure to drive Lucifer crazy with want.

But the princess and spider sinner had seen the way both had been acting. Lucifer’s shaky and nervous demeanour, compared with Alastor trying to be aloof and uncaring like always in an effort to mask his curiosity at the game they were playing was a rather funny thing to see indeed. And Charlie made this known to Angel, with both setting up for their next game, fresh sheets of paper and newly sharpened pencils at the ready for their grids.

“We should get my dad and Alastor in on this game, Angel. I think they’d enjoy it.” Charlie whispered quietly, the princess barely masking a smile of her own. She wasn’t stupid; she knew the tells of her father in a lee mood, namely because she did mostly the same thing when she was in one herself, from the nervous glances at wiggling hands to refusing to look at anything that could even be vaguely considered as a tickle tool.

“Oh yeah? Good idea, Princess. Your dad would go for it, but how the hell are we going to get Alastor in? Does he even know this game?” Angel asked.

“I think Vaggie and me having all those tickle fights has… kind of made my dad want something similar, if he hasn’t been wanting to be tickled since he woke up. Alastor is always smiling, but he needs a genuine smile. So here’s my plan…” the princess said, highlighting the fun parts, while Angel listened carefully.

“We’re gonna make them our game boards. You and me, Battleships. Red marks for hit, blue marks for miss. I know my dad has a ticklish back. I don’t know for Alastor. I know he’s ticklish, but he would never say where. So let’s have some fun with this.” Charlie giggled. Angel had a hint of mischief in his own mismatched eyes. This was going to be entertaining.

Late afternoon soon gave way to evening, and as the moon came up into the crimson sky of Pride, the pentagram sun descending down for another day’s end, Alastor and Lucifer finally came into the hotel’s game room, seeing paper and pens dotted about. Alastor sent a barely disguised joyful look at Lucifer’s muffled whine, seeing so many markers strewn over the room.

“Ah! There you guys are. We’re just about to get started. Me and Angel are gonna play Battleships.” Charlie explained, gesturing to them both to sit on the floor, which both men did happily. Lucifer watched Charlie draw her grid, while Alastor was on Team Angel, watching the spider scribble his own grid.

“Why do we need to be witnesses for this? This seems just like a two-player duel.” Alastor pointed out. His question did have merit, and Charlie barely concealed a laugh as she quickly screwed her paper up and tackled Lucifer to the floor. Before Alastor could even laugh at the daughter of the king taking down the monarch so fucking easily, a similar weight slammed into the radio demon’s own back. Alastor gasped and fell forward, twisting his head quickly to see what the fuck had happened, only to see Angel’s grinning face above him. Oh, those cheeky little shits.

“Angel, what is the meaning of this?!” Alastor demanded, doing his best to wriggle. But his demands were silenced, because with a brisk snap of Charlie’s slender fingers, golden rope twisted gently around Alastor and Lucifer’s wrists, tugging both pairs of hands up and out of the way.

“Sorry, Smiles. Me and Princess Charlie are gonna play our game of Battleship. You and FancyPants over there get to be our game boards, so yay for you guys~!” Angel explained, a wide smirk on the spider’s features as he took a seat on the back of Alastor’s thighs, Charlie doing the same with her father.

Both Charlie and Angel worked to quickly pull the jacket off each of them, and rolled their shirts up, exposing the skin underneath. Lucifer’s porcelain-white back awaited Charlie, the king already shivering with barely-repressed laughter, and Alastor’s scarred back was presented to Angel.

So many scars, hot damn. Angel traced a couple of the thicker ones absentmindedly, to a choked back snort from Alastor. Well, this was not how the Radio Demon expected the night to go. One could definitely confirm that this was NOT on the bingo card.

“Hah, ya sound like Fat Nuggets.” Angel teased, referencing his beloved pet pig, smirking down at Alastor.

“Oh shut up- Mmph!” Alastor began to demand, but he snapped his mouth shut as he felt the cold tip of a marker gently trace on his back. From what he could feel, Angel seemed to be drawing a grid of sorts. Charlie seemed to be doing the same, and judging from the noises opposite, Lucifer was already giggling and doing his best not to squirm.

“Oh, you got a ticklish back, do ya Smiley? Shit, how the hell are you gonna last this game?” Angel laughed.

“I ahaham gohoing to dehestroy yohohou ahand thehen-!” Alastor threatened, but his threat was cut off by a shrill squeal from Lucifer, and then rapid pounding as the king’s boots hit the floor rapidly, the king giggling freely. Alastor knew his back to be fairly ticklish, but by the sounds of it, Lucifer’s had to be far worse. The thought of that almost made him feel bad for the king. Almost.

Charlie and Angel rested their markers down on each side of their ‘game boards’. Red and blue, one on each side. Both Lucifer and Alastor’s backs were drawn on to mimic a Battleships grid, from letters A to J, and numbers 1 to 10.

“You’re goin’ down, princess.” Angel laughed. Charlie sent a mischief-laced smile back his way to the spider sinner.

“In your dreams, Dust.”

And with the fighting words out of the way, the game officially began. Charlie had the first call, at Angel’s insistence. Or as Angel put it, “Ladies first and all that shit.”

“C3.”

Angel located the spot – at the top left side of Alastor’s back. He poked softly, and pinched a few times. No reaction from the Radio Demon, not even a wobbling smirk. With a disappointed tut, he picked his blue marker and drew an ‘X’ into that spot on Alastor’s back.

“Miss. In return… F2.”

Charlie nodded, finding that spot – top middle of her father’s back, at the top of his spine. She pinched that spot and poked softly. Lucifer gasped and broke into squeaky giggles. Because his hands were tied up, as were Alastor’s, the king nor the radio demon could even dream of moving.

“Hit! Nice, Angel.” Charlie smiled, picking up her red marker and drawing a red ‘X’ into that spot. “My go. Umm… I’ll say H9.”

Angel nodded and looked down at Alastor, noticing the eternal smile now had some kind of nervous look to it. Angel pinched at the annotated spot on Alastor’s back, enjoying the radio demon struggle under the spider.

“Damn, nice shot Princess!” Angel laughed. “Looks like he’s ticklish as fuck here.”

“Angel, I’ll kihihill yohoHOU! Stohohohahap ihihit!” Alastor tittered, squirming side to side. Angel Dust couldn’t help but laugh, grabbing the scruff of Alastor’s collared shirt to avoid being tossed off.

“Jesus, it’s like I’m on one of those bucking bulls in the bars downtown.” Angel joked, steadying himself atop Alastor’s back with a few ruthless side squeezes before the demon could get a chance to throw him off.

“AH! Ahahangel, I’m gohohoing to rihihip yohohour tongue ohohout!”

“Stop laughing first, Smiles.” Angel shot back. “Oh wait. Ya can’t, cause you’re too ticklish~!”

“Alastor, you aren’t in a position to make threats anyway.” Charlie teased, as she awaited Angel’s next guess.

“Let’s go for D1.” the spider guessed. Charlie found the spot quite easily, anyway, unleashing another series of quick fire pokes. Sadly, nothing from Lucifer despite the huge lee mood that plagued the king.

“A-Ah… oh good, I’m okay.” Lucifer whispered, shoving down his smile.

“Missed, Angel.” Charlie said.

“Ah, fuck. Well, if I missed him, I gotta kiss him. Pucker up, Daddy Morningstar~” Angel joked, enjoying Alastor’s muffled snickering and Lucifer’s panicked babbling at that idea.

“I don’t think my mother would appreciate that, Angel.” Charlie laughed, the melody of laughter in the room bringing a huge smile to her face. It was nice to see everyone enjoy themselves. “My go. So let’s try one spot up. H8.”

“Real original.” Angel joked with a playful eye-roll, even as he moved one square up and pinched and poked that spot on Alastor’s back. Alastor couldn’t help it, and a deer’s squeaking noise left his mouth.

“Nice, Charlie. Hit!” Angel announced, drawing a red ‘X’ into that spot on Alastor’s back, which Alastor would argue tickled more than the actual poking bit itself. And the fact that Angel was very slow in drawing the crosses themselves just made everything that much more maddening.

Lucifer and Alastor would never admit it, but both men were actually having some semblance of fun. Lucifer was happy his daughter involved him in this game, even if it was at his expense.

Alastor did enjoy the fun and mischief this place offered. In a way, this was probably something his mother would have done, had they both been still alive. Alastor’s heart ached painfully at the thought she was in Heaven and he couldn’t see her, or talk to her, or to be held in her arms a final time.

By the time this fierce round of Battleships ended, both Lucifer and Alastor’s backs were covered in a plethora of red and blue crosses. Alastor had red dotting both his top and lower back, and blue in the middle.

Lucifer had many more red crosses, and only a smattering of blue marks over his obviously very ticklish back. Both men were panting slightly by the time the game was finally over.

“Well, this was fun.” Charlie smiled. Angel nodded.

“Aw hell yeah, toots. We have to do this again.” Angel smiled.

Alastor was quick to loudly protest. “NO!! Not again, I forbid it and-!”

But a series of skittering fingers along his upper back shut the radio demon down quickly, and Alastor was floored, his normally reserved laughter giving way to squeaky giggling. Oddly adorable.

“Round two, Angel~?” Charlie asked with a smirk. Angel’s mischievous grin clawed its way back onto his face.

“You read my mind, Princess.” Angel responded sweetly, both princess and sinner looking at Lucifer and Alastor with a shared evil grin. And after the necessary cleaning time to wipe the grid off Lucifer and Alastor’s backs (only for the grid to be drawn back on each of them) the laughter from the hotel carried on well into the wee hours of the morning, the battleship duels between Charlie and Angel Dust raging on.

The End!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Animals

for your next poem/story (pt. 2)

Accentor - a small Eurasian songbird with generally drab-colored plumage

Brach - a female hound

Culver - a dove or pigeon

Diprotodon - a monotypic genus of Australian Pleistocene herbivorous marsupials related to the kangaroos, resembling a rhinoceros in size, and walking on four legs

Eyas - an unfledged bird, specifically: a nestling hawk

Falanouc - (or Falanaka) a viverrine mammal, Eupleres goudotii, of Madagascar closely related to the Asiatic palm civet

Gerenuk - a large-eyed antelope (Litocranius walleri) of eastern Africa with a long neck and limbs

Huemul - (or Guemal) either of two small South American deer, Hippocamelus bisulcus and H. antisiensis, having simple forked antlers

'I'iwi - Hawaiian honeycreeper (Vestiaria coccinea) with chiefly bright vermilion plumage formerly used in making feather cloaks

Jerboa - any of several social nocturnal jumping rodents (family Dipodidae) of arid parts of Asia and northern Africa having a long tail and long hind legs

Kinkajou - a nocturnal arboreal omnivorous mammal (Potos flavus) found from Mexico to South America that is related to the raccoon and has a long prehensile tail, large eyes, and yellowish brown fur

Leveret - a hare in its first year

Murre - any of a genus (Uria) of black-and-white alcids, especially: a common seabird (U. aalge) of northern seas

Nyala - an antelope (Tragelaphus angasii) of southeastern Africa with vertical white stripes on the sides of the body, a dorsal crest of hair from the neck to the base of the tail, and in the male shaggy black hair along the underside; also: a related antelope (T. buxtoni) of Ethiopia

Olm - an elongated European cave-dwelling aquatic salamander (Proteus anguinus) with permanent external gills and small eyes covered by the skin

Pudu - a small reddish deer (Pudu pudu) of the Chilean Andes having simple antlers resembling spikes and standing only 12 or 13 inches high

Quarrion - cockatiel (i.e., a crested small gray Australian parrot, Nymphicus hollandicus, with a yellow head)

Rorqual - any of a family (Balaenopteridae) of large baleen whales that have relatively small heads, short, broad plates of baleen, and the skin of the throat marked with deep longitudinal furrows and that include the blue whale, humpback whale, minke whale, fin whale, and sei whale

Spatangid - a sea urchin of the suborder Spatangina; heart urchin

Turaco - any of a family (Musophagidae) of typically crested African birds that are related to the cuckoos and have a long tail, a short stout often colored bill, and red wing feathers

Urubu - black vulture (i.e., an American vulture, Coragyps atratus, that is smaller than the turkey buzzard and heavier in flight)

Vicuña - a long-necked mammal (Lama vicugna synonym Vicugna vicugna) of the Andes from Peru to Argentina that is related to but somewhat smaller than the guanaco, has a light brown woolly coat that is paler below, is considered to the be ancestor of the alpaca, and has been historically hunted for its wool and meat

Widgeon - any of several freshwater ducks (genus Mareca)

Xiphosura - an order of arthropods comprising the horseshoe crabs and extinct related forms and usually including only the two recent genera Limulus (synonym Xiphosurus) with representatives along the American coast of the Atlantic and Tachypleus with species along the Asiatic coast of the Pacific

Zokor - a burrowing rodent (Myotalpa aspalax) native to the Altai mountains that resembles a mole rat

More: Word Lists ⚜ Part 1

[xxnashiraxx]

With Stars to Fill My Dream (12) - You Know How Much You Broke Me Apart

LOOK!!! I CAN FINALLY SHARE THIS!!! ❤❤❤ I commissioned this absolutely BEAUTIFUL art from @ritzeldraws of the dance scene in this chapter! It's so beautiful- it captures their expressions and feelings perfectly and it's been my iPad background for months waiting to be unveiled! It's so lovely and I'm beyond happy that I got the opportunity to request this. :") Thank you again!! (They're dancing to Duvet by Boa btw, just in case you thought it was a happy dance)

Prepare your tissues for this chapter 💕 It's sad, and my song choice is awful (sarcasm) but you'll recognize it if you've watched Cyberpunk Edgerunners. No happy endings in Night City 💔

Please enjoy!

Chapter Summary: A brush with death leads to denied realizations from Astarion when Ofelia suffers a fatal wound. After she recovers, the party takes a group photo with Ofelia's revived phone- courtesy of Gale- and they all dance the night away trying to forget about their next objective: taking down the goblin leaders. The unlikely pair's slow dance leads to a drunken confession, and further torment appears in the form of a dream visitor wearing the visage of a former friend from Ofelia's past...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 7,811

Have some dance pics below the link!!! ❤ (peep the accidental cursor lol)

✧˖Tag List: @khywren

Opening under the cut!

Astarion tries not to think too hard about the way her eyes had been so sweet one moment, and the next had snapped like someone had wrung a child’s neck in front of her. She’d been very successful hiding her tone, but the eyes never lie, and hers were like cold dead stars. Empty and black.

He watches her come out of the broken mill, face impassive, before her brows twitch and a sheepish frown pulls at her lips.

“Lae’zel… I’m really sorry. I should have listened… you know way more about any of these things than me.” 

“No matter. It is normal for warriors to exchange furried words in the heat of battle. Apologies are not necessary, but I will offer mine as well. What were you retrieving?” Ofelia lights up and holds out the little rectangle she’d pried off the goblin.

“My phone! I found it! It plays music!” She grins at Lae’zel earnestly and the gith looks at her a moment before turning away.

“I take it back.” Ofelia sticks her tongue out at Lae’zel’s retreating back before gathering the rest of them close. They disclose the identity of the gnome they’d pulled off the mill, the man walking away towards the treacherous temple ahead- nothing they could do to stop him.

“Okay, we’ve got what? A bugbear behind that building?” She asks, keen eyes darting to the left. Gale nods. “Three trolls in that building there, another four goblins around the back of the old apothecary. Then it’s the road down to the temple. And that sounds like way too many for us to tackle with sunset so close…” She presses a finger to her lips, deep in thought.

“We could break into groups, at least take out the rest here a little at a time?” Karlach asks, her eyes flashing towards the trolls.

“Okay… let’s balance the teams. Karlach, Gale? Trolls?” The two specified nod, though the wizard with less enthusiasm. “The bugbear… Lae’zel and I.” Astarion tuts.

“What about me, darling? I hope you’re not considering pairing me with these two?” He jerks his chin at Wyll and Shadowheart and the latter rolls her eyes at him and graces him with a rude hand gesture. Ofelia flicks her eyes up to him, darkness flaring in them, before she turns her chin away.

“Okay. Come with Lae’zel and me.” He grins, and though they can do without the wet blanket, he’ll trust Ofelia’s judgment. He slides next to her, brows creasing when she stiffens, but she flashes a warm smile at him and his concern ebbs. She’s started behaving like a timid little thing around him and it’s sweet, almost as sweet as her usual red cheeks and tender warmth. What a lovely thing she’ll be to indulge in when she finally lets him devour her whole.

Ofelia lets him pounce on the passed-out bugbear and he preens at the opportunity to show off, lodging his dagger into the neck of the beast as it roars in anguish. He dances out of range of its angry swipes, leaping away gracefully thanks to the meal she’d provided him this morning. Ofelia strums a little tune to embolden Lae’zel and with a final cleave of the githyanki’s greatsword, the creature collapses into a puddle of blood and sour ale. Vile smelling, at that.

“There are lots of supplies lying around, would be good to take them back to camp after we’re done here.” Ofelia murmurs to Lae’zel and the other woman grunts in acknowledgement.

“Ahh yes, moldy cheese wheels and old brandy. Hardly a feast,” He drops said bottle, her eyes meeting his again and he can see that razor-thin edge beneath like a yawning abyss, void and unseeing. He blinks and it’s gone, replaced by dry humor. When she looks away towards an old barn, he frowns. She’s behaving strangely. At least something useful had come from his centuries of torment- the power of observation. And he’s very good at it.

Had it been what he’d said? Perhaps it was a little… cold. Not that it matters, really. But it does now, and he’ll need to remedy it once the opportunity arises. He rolls his eyes inwardly, breathing out a sigh. Why is it so hard to win her affections? She’d even admitted the first time he’d drank from her how much she likes vampires, that should have won him some points, surely? All he needs is for her to agree to a gods damned night with him and he can take the rest from there. It’d be easy to pretend to care at that point. Clinical, even.

[humanmorph]

🤖☠️⚔️🐟

👍 they're funny to me. i love the thought of everyone being a little baffled except cori who is soooo excited. unrelated but brnine is just off-panel playing darts with misericorde + cor'rina & losing badly & not even paying attention to what's happening here

[mxmi-rosa]

Welcome, 18+ users!

➵ 𝕽𝖔𝖘𝖆, 𝔖𝔥𝔢/𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶, 20 ❦

ᴇʟʟᴏ! ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ᴘᴜʀᴇ ꜰɪʟᴛʜ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴜᴘ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ɪᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʙʀᴀɪɴ.

❙ ❬ 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 ❭❬ WIP ❭

ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴜ𝚚ᴇꜱᴛꜱ, Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ɪ'ᴍ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜰɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ. ꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴅᴏ ᴅᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ꜱᴛᴏʀɪᴇꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ.

ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ ɪ ᴅᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴀ'ʟʟ. ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ʙᴜꜱʏ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ʜᴏʙʙʏ ꜱᴏ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱɪɴɢʟᴇ ᴅᴀʏ.

Do not repost, redistribute, translate, use for ai, or recommend any of my works on any other platform or site.

I will not tolerate any discrimination or hate on this page. Any action of doing so will be blocked.

[mournfulroses]

Rita Dove, from On the bus with Rosa Parks; Poems; "Nightwatch. The Son,"

[grandmoments]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

[quintessenceofdust88]

Fuck it Friday

I was tagged by the amazing @typicalopposite for Fuck it Friday and I decided it'd be a great occasion to post a little more of my 'Nonna Rosa fixes her stupido grandson's relationship' that I started on Wednesday! It's really just a snippet, but I hope to have if finished and published this weekend, so yay ♥ Happy Friday, everyone! (and later today I promise I'll get around to publish the prompts that are in my inbox!!)

“Pronto? Tommasino?” She answers the call, as always with the camera too close to her face to the point where Tommy can only see one glimpse of her eye, and that at least brings a smile to his face.

“Nonna, you need to stretch your arm a little. Remember, like Charlie showed you?” He asks with a chuckle; Charlie being his cousin’s daughter, Charlotte, who taught Nonna how to FaceTime so she could ‘see Tommasino’s pretty face more often’, in her own words. 

She stretches her arm and Tommy gets a good look at her. Nonna looks the same as always, sharp blue eyes in a soft face that’s wrinkled both from age and from a lifetime of smiles. Her hair is wrapped in hair rollers and tucked safely behind a red bandana. Tommy misses her fiercely, and wishes more than ever that he could get wrapped in one of her hugs. 

They always did wonders for him when he was a little boy who used to climb trees and get scrapes and bruises; when he was a scared eleven-year-old missing his mother (and as a grown-up he can appreciate Nonna was hurting at least as much as him, having lost her daughter, but still never let it show) and dealing with an angry abusive father; when he was a scared eighteen-year-old leaving the only home he’d ever known to join the Army. And when he was a scared 33-year-old man, coming out as gay to his 75 year-old-grandmother, afraid of being rejected by the one person alive who truly loved him, and Nonna had stood on her tiptoes, pulled him into one of those hugs, and told him all she ever wanted for Tommy was to see him happy. 

A hug from his grandmother had always made Tommy feel like the world was an easier place to be faced, and right now, that’s exactly what he needs. And his longing must show in his face, because she’s frowning at him, her eyes full of concern. 

“Oh, Tommasino” She says softly. “What’s wrong, bambino mio? You look so sad” She asks, and to Tommy’s horror, he finds his eyes filling up. Nonna has that way of bringing out every emotion he tries to repress.

“Everything’s wrong, Nonna, and it’s all my fault”

-- Np tagging @bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @30somethingautisticteacher and whoever else wants to join! :D

[daughter-of-sapph0]

I drew a stupid meme of my OCs

[starlightrosa]

Fizzarolli's Nerves

Summary: Fizzarolli is preparing for Mammon's yearly clown contest, and he's getting nervous, as he just has to be perfect. But all this practicing is disrupting Asmodeus's plan of relaxing with his beloved. That won't do at all.

Pairing: Fizz/Asmodeus

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Tickling, Swearing, Mind-Rotting Fluff. (Author regrets nothing.)

(My very first fic! Please be nice <3)

“You’ll do it, Fizz. You’ll be fine. You need to be perfect for Mammon. Always perfect.” the imp mumbled, practicing everything he felt he needed to practice in order to win Mammon’s clown contest for the tenth time in a row. Fizz knew the elements of the contest off by heart, having won it so many times. So everything running through that little imp’s head was covered.

Balloon animals. Pie gags. Comedy section. Singing, dancing, acrobatics. You name it, Fizz practiced it. There was certainly no shortage on what Fizzarolli could do, and he had to win. He had to be perfect.

That was how Asmodeus, King of Lust and Fizz’s loving partner- er, BUSINESS partner, found him.

“What’s the difference between a snowman and a snow-woman? The snowballs! Wait, no. More energy, I need to have lots more energy. Like, twenty seven coffees kinda energy. Okay. You got this, Fizz. You got this. Try again. What’s the difference between a snow man and a snow woman? The snowballs! Hmm, still missing something. What could I do? Maybe I could juggle? Do a pose? Maybe I could hit myself in the face with a snowball? Um… ah, think, Fizz!” the jester rambled.

Ozzie yawned as he came into the living room where Fizz was, the rooster rubbing at his eyes.

“Froggie, it’s eight in the morning. Are you seriously practicing this early in the morning? Come back to bed, babe. You’re gonna be exhausted…” Asmodeus murmured, the grand lord rubbing at his eyes.

Alas, the imp did not heed Ozzie’s warning.

“Ozzie, I have to be perfect for Mammon. If I’m not perfect, then I’ll lose! And I don’t wanna lose, that just-! Ugh. It just can’t happen, okay? I need to be perfect. I need to be better than perfect! I-!”

And that was when Ozzie got on his knees and scooped Fizz off the ground, pulling his beloved into a hug. Despite initially struggling to get out, Fizz soon relaxed and sunk his head into his lover’s chest.

“Fizzie~” Ozzie coaxed, using that voice that Fizz liked to hear. Honey rich and sweet, it always comforted Fizzarolli enough to talk about what was bothering him, and it brought Ozzie some peace of mind to be able to know what was distressing his beloved imp partner.

“Ugh. Ozz, what if I’m not good enough this year? What if I don’t win?” Fizz asked. Ozzie just chuckled.

“Fizz, you’ve won for nine times straight. Ten times this year, guaranteed. And you wanna know why you win so much? Cause you got some talent about you. Plus, Mammon says he wants the best, and we all know you’re the best he’s got. And besides, if that fat Christmas tree wants something better, he just isn’t gonna find it. Plus he won’t give the others a chance, he’ll pull the strings so you win anyway, and I’ll put money on that bullshit.”

“I need to win, Oz! And I need to practice if I want to win. Can you let me go?” Fizz asked, trying to gently pry himself out of Asmodeus’s arms. The King of Lust, however, did not budge a single bit.

“Well, I would on any other day, but I am not having my Fizzie Frog being anxious as fuck. So here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna go back to bed, watch a stupid rom-com, and laugh at it, spending time with each other along the way.”

“Nice thought. But maybe later, Ozzie.” Fizz murmured. And that was when Asmodeus’s grip tightened slightly.

“I don’t think I phrased it as a question, Froggie~” Asmodeus responded, the Lord of Lust’s fingers moving slightly towards Fizz’s stomach. Fizz squirmed a little in Ozzie’s arms, already knowing where this was going.

“Ozzie, don’t you fucking dare!” Fizz yelped, biting back a smile.

“Oh, but I do fucking dare, baby~ give Ozzie that tum-tum, and I’ll tickle those worries right outta ya!” he declared, his fingers finally landing as he snuck them up Fizzarolli’s jester shirt, softly poking and scratching along Fizz’s belly.

Poor Fizzarolli had no chance to resist.

“Pffffhahahaha! O-Ozziehehehe!” Fizz giggled, gently squirming side to side in his lover’s arms, trying to gently slap Asmodeus’s tickly fingers off.

“Hands to yourself, Froggie. Don’t make me get them out of the way~” Asmodeus teased.

Fizz pouted playfully even as he struggled a bit. Rough tickles made him laugh a lot, but these soft and gentle tickles were much worse sometimes if Ozzie was the one tickling Fizz.

ESPECIALLY if Ozzie was the one tickling Fizz.

Ozzie saw the playful pout and he tutted. His Fizzy, pouting at tickles? Oh, that just would not do, no sir.

Asmodeus migrated his gentle scratches down to Fizzarolli’s hips, enjoying the squeaky laughter that slipped out of his beloved’s mouth. “Aww, someone’s squeaky. Squeaky Fizzie.”

“Hahahaha!!! A-Asmodeus, it tickles! Q-Quihihit it!” Fizzarolli managed to press out, a dark black blush adorning his cheeks. Asmodeus had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop audibly cooing at how goddamn cute his boyfriend was being.

“Not until you agree to come relax with me, Froggie. Just say that you’re done practicing for the day and these tickles will stop. How ‘bout that, huh? Seems a fair deal to me.”

“B-But I can’t stop!”

“If you can’t stop, then neither do these tickles, Froggie.” Asmodeus cooed, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers slipped up to Fizz’s torso to prove a point, beginning to gently count his beloved’s ribs. “Two. Four. Six. Eight…”

Fizzarolli was lost in snorting laughter as he felt Asmodeus’s fingers lightly working his ribs.

“Ahahahaha, hehehehe! N-Not fahahahair, Ozzie! Hahahahaha!” Fizzarolli cackled, the odd snort leaving him. For Lucifer’s sake, how could one imp be this cute? Asmodeus felt his heart squeeze in adoration with every snort that came from Fizzarolli’s mouth.

“All is fair in love and laughter, Froggie.” Asmodeus shot back.

Fizzarolli threw his head back, his jester’s hat jangling as he did so. Satan’s beard, it tickled so much!

“Aah! Ah, ah! Nohohohohahaha! Ozzie, not there! Not there, plehehehease!!” Fizzarolli begged, feeling his lover’s fingers tracing at that one spot at the crook of his neck.

Ozzie only chuckled, not stopping the traces. “I’ve not even done anything yet, Fizzie Frog. You can’t be that ticklish here, surely?” he asked, though Ozzie knew much, much differently. It was one of his little rituals he did. Before they both went to bed, Ozzie would give a gentle kiss on Fizz’s neck each night. The imp was rather ticklish on his neck though, and the feeling of Fizz slamming his face into Ozzie’s chest, trying to muffle his ticklish giggles never failed to bring a smile to the Sin’s face.

“N-No, I’m nohohohot!” Fizz lied, immediately going for the defensive move. But Asmodeus was no fool when it came to his beloved partner. Ozzie knew Fizz’s tells, just as Fizzarolli knew his.

“Is that so, Froggie? Funny, I seem to remember that you can barely handle my goodnight kisses on that neck of yours. Like, all I do is this…” he explains, landing a kiss on Fizzarolli’s neck, right into the crook of his neck with an overexaggerated “MWAH!” noise, grinning wickedly. “…And you just fall about laughing!”

Fizz, as expected, burst into hysterical giggles as he kicked his robotic legs every which way, trying desperately to not kick his beloved in the face.

“O-Ozzie! Stop it, hahaha! Stop it, that tickles, Ozzie!” Fizz cried out, a wide smile betraying his true feelings.

Then Asmodeus decided to get a little bit mean. He gently held Fizz against his chest and nuzzled the crook of his imp partner’s neck… before blowing a soft raspberry into the crook. Fizz absolutely squealed.

“EEEEEEEEK! HAHAHA, AAAH HAHAHA! SHIT, HAHA! OKAY, OZZIE, OKAY!” the ticklish little imp shrieked, going limp in Asmodeus’s arms. And that was when Ozzie knew he’d had enough.

“Thought as much, babe.” Asmodeus smirked, finally switching the mood from playful to cuddly as he stopped the tickles, his fingers softly scratching the top of Fizzarolli’s head. The imp melted under his touch as Ozzie walked back to their shared bedroom, the doors closing behind them.

Asmodeus settled Fizz under the covers with him. And soon the pair drifted off, smiles on both of their faces as the sounds of that dumb rom-com in question, Pretty Woman, played in the background forgotten by them both.

Finito! Hope you enjoyed this one :)