#the dirt fic

[perniciousgranma]

"It’s going to be a long road, and it’s not going to be easy” Caitlyn rubs her thumb across her cheek, “But I could use a partner.” Vi’s shoulders lower, she nods. “You have me.” Caitlyn walks one more step, rests her forehead against hers. “Are you sure?” “Yeah. I want this.” “Good.” Caitlyn kisses her, but feeling Vi’s lips somewhat stiff against hers, she leans back. “But you’ll have to trust me.” Vi says. “It won’t work if you don’t trust me.” “You too, Violet.” Caitlyn whispers, “It has to be both of us.” A pause, Vi’s forehead is still against hers, her eyes closed. Then, she breathes out: “You’re right. Ok. I can do that.”

From Chapter 5 of "The Dirt and the Road" -Now complete!! Read it on Ao3 ✨

[toyboy-molloy]

armand playing minecraft with daniel's grandkids but they like to mess with his carefully crafted world and he's just like 'if I wish to keep having relations with your grandfather I cannot eat you :)' they tell daniel his new boyfriend is really fucking weird but they like him

[wasabi-gumdrop]

oh

i am. unwell.

[crsssie]

frog - jinshi x reader (Spoiler Warning for Chapter 63 of the manga)

"hng." Jinshi whimpers, face flushed as you freeze.

It's a frog. You fucking swear it's a frog. You didn't just accidentally grab and squeeze Jinshi, a fucking eunuch's, dick. You did not. You are hallucinating. That was the frog that jumped on you and knocked you off balance— nOT Jinshi's dick or whatever. He shouldn't even have one!

"Sorry." You sit up, legs still straddling Jinshi as you get off of his chest. "I saw a frog and fell."

Jinshi sits up with you, face flushed in embarrassment as you pray you can play stupid out of this one. It was hard enough that he literally witnessed you hurl a rock at the assassin with eerie precision, but you would rather die than have to die with Jinshi because you found out he wasn't a eunuch.

Every day your loyalty is tested when around this man.

"That makes this way easier." Jinshi sighs, grabbing you by the shoulder as you tense up to lean back from him. "I have a confession to make. I—"

"I think I killed the frog." You mumble, face pale. You're acting. You have to. You are not following Jinshi to the grave and cleaning up the aftermath of his ass getting someone pregnant.

"No, listen, that wasn't—"

"Oh my god, I'm not gonna make it to heaven." You mumble again, staring at your hand before wiping it on your chest. "Master Jinshi, I'm going to hell."

"No, that wasn't—"

"I'm going to hell because I crushed a frog..." You mumble.

Jinshi gets fed up with your acting, pushing you backward into the dirt as he cages you in, lifting your leg as he presses his clothed erection into you. You yelp, trying to crawl away, but he holds you in place, eyes staring through yours to your soul as you shake underneath him. Playing stupid didn't work this time.

"That was not a frog," and he rolls his hips against yours for emphasis, watching as you mentally restrain yourself from moaning. God, since when were you this lewd?! "Stop playing stupid, pretty one. You gave it a good squeeze too."

You freeze up as he lowers himself ever so slowly, and you blurt your thoughts out before you can think of what the best choice is at the moment.

"I am not having my first kiss on the dirt in a cave!" You cry, praying that it's enough. Seriously, you aren't following Jinshi to the grave. He may be hot, and women may throw themselves at him and men turn gay for him and nations go to war for him but you are not following him to the grave. Your loyalty does not lay that strong. You don't want to die just yet.

Jinshi leans in anyway, lips brushing yours as a bark sounds above you as you call back, and you sigh in relief when you hear Maomao's voice.

You're saved. Oh heavens, you're saved.

[ziekkfreak2-0]

Hhhey guys, wouldn't it be funny if after eating Cynessa's core, Uzi got fully possessed by Cyn.

Wouldn't that be so funny.

For clarification, I mean regular Cyn without the influence of the solver. The Cyn who lived so long as a puppet of the solver, watching the people she considered family turn against her.

But that's fine. It made sense, didn't it? Who would trust someone who has killed them thousands upon thousands of times. Death was her punishment, to which she accepted with open arms.

And yet.

She was still alive. Not in her own body, but still alive. Alive in a body that didn't malfunction, with legs that could stand up straight and a voice box that didn't involuntarily say her every action.

Her family didn't look at her like she was wrong. Like she was strange.

Like she was a monster.

Now, she is loved.

A chance to live the life she never had.

Was it so wrong to indulge a little?

[intrepidacious]

about that night (the bugs and the dirt)

summary: You never talk about that night, and Bucky never asks. Even though he can't help but suspect something is wrong.

pairing: bucky barnes x witch!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: past character death and vague mentions of blood (yk, spooky stuff); there's no actual dialogue in this and the characters are worse for it 💛 please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: it only took me three years but i finally managed to finish a fic in time for halloween 😌🎃 i genuinely don't know how to describe the vibes of this except buffy the vampire slayer season six meets "if lisa frankenstein was a drama" meets hozier's like real people do. have fun 🫶🏼

masterlist | read on ao3

Something’s wrong.

Something’s been wrong for a while, but Bucky can’t quite put his finger on it. It’s a fragile thing, this knowledge, this certainty, lingering at the back of his mind like the dim light of a forgotten lamp, shimmering, seeping through the cracks.

Whenever he asks you, you tell him that everything is fine, and he wants to believe you, desperately. You wouldn’t lie to him, you with your luminous eyes and your soft smile. Deceptions would taste foul on your lips.

But something’s wrong.

It’s all wrong.

He’s always been too smart for his own good, and he’s going to find out, you know he will, but that’s precisely why you can’t let him. He’s going to know how far you’ve fallen, and he’s going to despise you for it.

So he forgets.

Sometimes, when he wakes up, his tongue is heavy with bile and dirt, his eyes crusted shut with something worse than bad dreams. Sometimes, when he listens closely, he can hear the air humming with lost hymns that are not from this earth.

Maybe he should’ve gotten used to that, by now; your walls have always had ears and mouths and eyes, after all. That’s the price for loving a witch, you’d say, back in the days when your smiles came easy. Wherever you are, you’re never alone.

It’s different than he remembers, though, even through the cracked and blurry pictures of his memories, his foggy mind, but he can’t put his finger on why. Darker. Colder. Damp. It’s like something has left.

Doubt follows his every waking hour, even more so when he tries to think of that night.

That night.

Oh, that night.

The taste of blood on your lips when you kissed him, desperately, like you hadn’t seen him in months. The muddy streaks on your arms when he looked at you in the pale moonlight, the scrape of dirt underneath your fingernails. It had been raining. You smelt like pain.

What had you been digging?

He needs to forget about that night and what it actually was you’d dug up, then. You’d told him you’d had to bury an animal that had gotten lost and died in the garden, and it was a half-truth even by the most generous account.

Dark, evil things happened that night, and no matter their intent, you were the sum of them.

You’d sacrificed a lamb to dig up a wolf.

He doesn’t remember your answer now, but it must’ve been enough for him, then. It must have been.

So he doesn’t ask again, no matter how hard uncertainty tugs on his lungs.

On that old, familiar path, he follows you home and feels like a stranger.

The blood itself was the easiest to wash off, and maybe that was the worst part. In the human world, crime rarely disappeared without a trace, but magic always left its mark.

You remember tumbling on your way back, almost tripping over your doorstep, a sudden pulse of energy pulling the breath from your lungs. These were your own four walls, the ones you’d blessed yourself, tended to and looked after for years, and they seemed to recoil.

Bucky caught your arm without even looking, catching you like he always had, and you crossed the threshold together. You looked at him, then, for the first time since the graveyard. You could feel his pulse under your grip, his heartbeat strong and loud enough to be mistaken for your own, but his gaze so uncertain, like he wasn’t sure he actually belonged here.

With you.

You made up your mind right then and there. He could never know.

You stir your tea as you always do, and you’ve set out his cup on the kitchen table. Alpine paws at it before he can pick it up, a fierce growl accompanying the sound of smashing porcelain.

She’s been angry with both of you, and he doesn’t know why. She keeps hissing at him, and she refuses to sit on your lap when you study your books next to the fireplace like she always used to. Like she’s punishing you in whatever little way she can for a crime he doesn’t understand.

You sigh, and you repair the cup with a flick of your wrist, and then you don’t reach out to pet that spot behind Alpine’s ears.

It’s little things like that.

And it’s your tired eyes.

Of course, no one else can know either; it’s not a risk you’re willing to take.

If Bucky notices the phone’s been unplugged all this time, he’s never said a word. He’s never been much for talking, anyway, but he does it even less so these days. You’ve both turned quiet around each other, but the only thing that matters is that you’re both still here.

Even now, you can feel the dark powers humming through your veins, just like you could that night. You hear the whispers calling out your name and see the shadows at the very periphery of your vision. They follow you into your dreams until you give up on them, slipping out of the warm embrace of your bed to hunch over the tome again, again, just a little more.

Perhaps you should worry about repercussions, but what for? After all, everything you did that night, you did out of love.

Everything you’ve done, you’ve done for him.

Sometimes, he doesn’t notice them for a very long time, and then it hits him all over again just how exhausted you look. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, your side of the bed is empty and the roof of his mouth tastes like ash and decay. In those moments, he thinks he might still be dreaming; his bones are heavy and cold and unyielding, and he lies there like something forgotten, and all of his thoughts revolve around you.

He’s so worried about you.

He wants to ask if it’s something he’s done. He wants to know if he can make it better, make you smile again like you always did at the sight of him, every time. But he’s afraid of the answer.

You’ve not been yourself and you know it, but at this point, you feel unable to stop it. It’s too late, anyway. The dead already walk to earth, and you’re the one to blame. You’re the one to thank.

Sometimes, the thought does hit you that there’s something a little wrong with you these days. But then he looks at you and he smiles, and you’re young and foolish and in love all over again, that weight of all those weeks of screaming and crying lifted with every glance, every touch, every kiss.

This, the uncertainty, is the worst part of it. It becomes his closest companion, and it only lifts slightly when you return to him, if only for a moment. When you do smile, when you put your hands around his neck and kiss him and he can feel real again, feel like himself again.

He barely notices that you will only look him in the eye when it’s dark, when he can lose himself in your touch, foreheads pressed together, breaths heavy and mingling, the only real creatures in the world. The sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

Maybe you are wrong. Maybe you are wicked and evil and rotten to the core, and maybe there’ll be hell to pay for it yet.

But you’re not sorry.

hearing hozier perform "like real people do" as a duet with victoria canal changed lives y'all

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!! also, comments are trick or treats that last all year long. just saying 💛

oh, before we leave, here's an extra shoutout to @brandycranby for telling me this was fun and the perfect length. i accidentally made it longer again. love u 🫶🏼

[oneday-yourside]

Harry's world/Bad end

Inspired by Christina's world by Andrew Wyeth

[finalgale]

Sometimes I think about Sanji and his cleanliness. He washes himself once a day just like Nami and Robin do out of the whole crew.

He probably does it out of the pride of a chef right? Got to stay clean to cook! Can't make feasts with dirty clothes or body.

Or maybe if he's clean then no bugs would be interested in crawling on him. If he scrubs himself and his kitchen spotless there won't be a corner where a bug might make a home and he won't freak out.

How much dirt had been on him from that rock, how the rain water just made him feel worse. Feeling himself slowly wither away and on top of that feeling the roughness of the dirt and sea salt in his skin that never went away.

He must've felt delighted when he got a bath when they got rescued.

How he probably couldnt take off that helmet to wash his hair for seven months, caked with grime, sweat, bugs and blood. They maybe gave him a basin and towel, but it could never feel the same as a hot bath. He couldn't change his clothes, so even if he cleaned hus bidy, his clothes remained dirty rags.

He must enjoy getting cleaned. To feel in the shower washing his hair, washing away the feel of iron against his head, making sure nothing was on his hair. That he could run his hands through it and there are no knots, no clumps of mystery.

I wonder if he takes extra long sometimes, if he had bad days, scrubbing dirt he still felt on his skin that wasnt there. Or just feeling the hot water, knowing it wasn't rain, or limited lukewarm water.

I wonder if it bothers him if he gets too dirty on an island and can't wash himself right away. That a corner of his mind will always say

Or maybe it won't. Becauase another part of him reminds him of the Merry or Sunny, waiting for him to come back home, and the soaps and hot water that are waiting for him. Maybe he even enjoys getting dirty somedays, knowing that he's not too far away from getting rid of the mess, so he can indulge a little bit and horse around and relax with the others, even if it means getting messy. It's his choice now.

Because to Sanji being clean (or even getting dirty) means being free

[sirmanmister]

💥💥💥 BOOM POW GET KILLED GET KILLED GET KILLED!!!!!

This is a redraw from January 6 2023, in honour of it being 1 YEAR since I posted the last chapter of The Father(s) and Son(s)!!!!! A little bit over a year actually because it was April 10th and it took me a little while to draw this lol

So much has changed in the span of a year omg. And for THE BETTER?? Like I’m going to school, I made and lost friends, I’m slowly but surely getting over some social anxiety (still a wip tho!!! 😭😭) and I’ve found so many cool mutuals and artists and just!!!! AAA!! Not to mention my art skills have improved a whole HELL of a lot!! LMAO

I don’t write as much as I did when I wrote my fic initially, and I feel bad for that sometimes, but it’s just a testament to how things have gotten a lot better for me and it’s not bad that I’m busy. I’m still trying to cobble together some more writing to eventually get another fic out, cuz I do genuinely miss it, but we’ll get there when we get there!

Anyway. TYSM TO EVERYBODY THATS STUCK AROUND FOR SO LONG/CAME HERE FROM MY FIC IN THE FIRST PLACE I LOVE YOU ALL AND YOU MADE MY LIFE BETTER!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶

Pspsps closeups/old pic under the cut!!

[blackseafoam]

Fan art for @kybercrystals94 ‘s fic ‘Come Back’. It has everything I love in a fic and is so well written ;-;

[space-gutz]

(guy who spent way too long on this image) hiiii :3

This is a drawing I made for my fic about Metal being abandoned for a decade after Robotnik's death and how Sonic ends up finding him & trying to restore him. It's also kind of a deep dive into Metal's personality and character. This is my first ever finished multichapter fic!! :D

[perniciousgranma]

Here they are, all in one place, the illustrations for “The Dirt and the Road!” -a roadtrip noir🩸🖤

Caitlyn is out of options- the only chance she has of avenging her mother is by partnering with Vi, the sister of her mother's killer, convicted in her place ten years prior. Together, they set out through the country on a desperate search, with the Chembarons on their tail. Caitlyn is struggling with her grief and her guilt, Vi has to learn how to live. The road will either save them, or swallow them whole.

Read the complete work on Ao3!

[c0rrupted-mov]

Bugs when you lift up a rock

I’m spreading my Sky and Vik being childhood friends agenda idc they deserved to play and be silly and look at cool bugs forever

[koobiie]

fanart for what may be my favorite fic of all time, Running Behind by @asidian! here's prompto enjoying all the foods from the fic beacuse he deserves it <3

[spider-stark]

finally caved and started watching the last kingdom a few days ago. already feel the urge to write fan fic beginning to grow.

[lululablette]

Things that happened in HEoD, definitly, more than once