#they did do a lot better than normal with it though

[tinkerbellknockoff]

Missing You // Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Missing You // Ellie Williams x fem!reader

Ellie's sick and missing you while you're out on patrol.

-- a/n: wrote a small drabble cuz I needed to write SOMETHING

Ellie could feel every tick of the clock and every second passing throughout the day. Time went by slowly, days agonizingly long as she sat and waited. And what was the thing she was waiting for?

You.

You were sent out on a week-long patrol of the surrounding area of Jackson, told to go a little further out than normal to see if there were any more settlements that could be raided for supplies and anything else that could possibly be found along the way. Ellie was supposed to go with you but unfortunately for her, she was sick. 

“It’s fine! I’ll be fine,” Ellie pleaded with you, her voice laced with annoyance. You were as stubborn as a mule (that’s how Ellie often described you, whether or not you liked it), her pleads going right above your head. 

“Ellie, don’t kid yourself.” You give her an uninterested look, “you’re sick. You’d only get worse by going outside.”

“But, babe-” Ellie pouted, following you around the stables as you grabbed the saddles to prepare your horse, “you’re gonna be gone a week. A week! What am I supposed to do without you?”

“I dunno, Ells,” you hum, placing the saddle onto your horse before turning to her, “be happy?”

“How am I supposed to be happy without you?” Ellie pouted. Looking over her expression she was clearly sick, her nose stuffy and red, her eyes droopy with exhaustion. You sighed, displeased, as you moved closer to her. Against your better judgment, you pressed a soft, gentle kiss to her lips.  She let out a soft hum as your lips met hers, quickly pressing back against you, following your lips as you pulled away. You let out a little laugh, shaking your head.

“Ells, no more kisses.” You spoke, and your comment was greeted with a groan. You shushed her before her complaints came, your goodbye having to be quick before she dragged you into another hour or so with her.

And that brings us to now. Ellie was bedridden for a bit, Joel came in after getting word from Tommy. Even though Ellie’s tough and stubborn exterior, she eventually succumbed to getting help but God- she wished she was being babied by you. 

That was her overall thoughts for the next while. She wanted to be with you. She missed you. 

The week eventually passed, and Ellie felt better. She was still slow and all, but definitely less of the congested mess than she was before. Ellie mellowed in her house, her earbuds in as she quietly sketched in her notebook. She didn’t even acknowledge the creaking of the door as you came in, purposefully quiet since you didn’t know if she was asleep or not. Your appearance was disgruntled, your hair in a messy bun chaotic as you gently plopped your bag down by the door. You felt gross.

But, even then, your eyes softened as you were greeted with the back of Ellie’s head as she quietly worked. You crept forward, the floor slightly squeaking underneath you as you came in. Your grin was mischievous as you realized that she was not paying attention at all. 

You ended up behind her, gently reaching your hands up to cover her eyes.  You felt her tense up for a minute, her breath hitching. You let out a soft giggle,

“Guess who?” 

Ellie’s face broke out into a grin as her hand crept up to wrap around one of your wrists, lightly tugging you down, “who else would have the nerve to sneak up at me?”

You let out a soft giggle before being silenced by a harsh kiss, Ellie practically slamming her lips against yours, before parting just barely- lips still touching,

“I missed you. A lot.” Ellie spoke with a soft voice. 

“I know you did,” You spoke with entertainment and endearment, Ellie simply responding by locking both of your lips again once more. 

[thanossssss]

Haiii could you maybe do a fanfic of regressor dae-ho with a weighted tiger please and thank you?? -🐯

Regressor! Dae-ho w/ Caregiver! Jung-bae

Summary: Jung-bae surprises Dae-ho with a weighted tiger stuffed animal.

Contains: Age regression, stuffed animals.

Not proofread.

Dae-ho stared at the clock, impatiently, watching as every second passed. He had called Jung-bae a while ago, to see if he was available to come over, since he was regressed and wanted company. Jung-bae agreed and said he’d be there soon, but that was over thirty minutes ago and it usually took, at most, twenty minutes for Jung-bae to get there.

Dae-ho was starting to get worried that something happened or that Jung-bae wasn’t actually coming over. He didn’t want to bother him, so he decided to not call him and planned to just wait there in silence until Jung-bae came.

Luckily though, Dae-ho didn’t have to wait much longer for Jung-bae, as he soon heard the front door open. Dae-ho excitedly stood up and ran over to the door, where Jung-bae was. He was holding a small gift bag in his hand as well.

“Sorry I took so long. I-” Jung-bae was cut off by Dae-ho running over to him and hugging him as tightly as he possibly could. “I missed you!” Dae-ho exclaimed, making Jung-bae smile as he hugged him back.

“You took forever! Didn’t think you were coming anymore.” Dae-ho told him. “Oh buddy, I’d never ditch you. I’ll always come over when you need me to.” Jung-bae responded, causing a soft giggle to leave from Dae-ho.

Dae-ho continued to cling to Jung-bae, before he ended up noticing the gift bag he had in his hand. A loud, excited gasp came out of Dae-ho as he pulled away from the hug and pointed at the bag.

“What is that?” He questioned, his voice filled with curiosity and excitement. Jung-bae chuckled, looking at the bag, then looking back up at Dae-ho. “It’s a gift I got for you about a week ago. I was having trouble remembering where I put it, so that’s why I took so long to get here.” Jung-bae explained.

“It’s for me?” Jung-bae nodded. “Yeah, little man. It’s for you.” He said, making Dae-ho gasp once more. “What is it? Can I open it?!” He asked with pure happiness in his voice. “Of course! It’s your gift after all!” Jung-bae smiled as he handed over the gift bag to Dae-ho.

Dae-ho giggled as he grabbed the bag and sat on the floor with it. He began throwing out all the tissue paper at the top, before he got to his gift. He peaked into the bag, his smile only growing bigger as he pulled the item out of the bag. It was a tiger stuffed animal, that was definitely a bit heavier than a normal stuffed animal.

“Woah! He’s super heavy and soft!” Dae-ho exclaimed, looking up at Jung-bae with the happiest expression on his face. “Yeah, I saw him at the store and I thought you’d might like him. He’s supposed to help with stress and anxiety, so if you feel anxious or upset, he should help you calm down and feel better.” Jung-bae told him.

“I love him lots! Thank you!!” Dae-ho giggled out while he hugged the weighted stuffed animal close to his chest. “Anytime, buddy! I’m glad you like him!” Jung-bae said, gently ruffling Dae-ho’s hair, which only made the taller man giggle more.

It was very clear to Jung-bae that Dae-ho adored the gift he had gotten him, which he was incredibly happy about. He really did love seeing Dae-ho happy, especially since he knew just how much the man admired him. So much to the point that Dae-ho knew exactly who to name his new tiger plushie after. Jung-bae. That’s what Dae-ho decided to name his tiger.

[causeimcrayzeebee]

*clicks pen*

Guess Tamba’s parents are going on the “Tetro Opps” List too.

oh for SURE. i loved permafrost so much…. using this ask as an excuse to yap about that episode sorry for blabbing anon 🙏

the way that tamba talks about her parents is so heart wrenching. she goes to, not really defend them but, paint their actions as something okay. the kind of defense where she realizes the situation is messed up but telling someone it straight up like that makes it sound as bad as it is. she holds her parents in high regard after all, and she doesn’t want to paint them badly. yanagi knows better though and understands immediately that her parents have been incredibly shitty. policing diet and weight is something many young athletes go through and they absolutely shouldn’t, it’s insane that that kind of parenting is glossed over by a lot of people. i did gymnastics when i was young and i just could not see myself doing it with all the lofty expectations, esp since i was older and heavier than many of the girls doing it, and honestly I feel for a lot of those girls who were clearly pushed into it. im grateful my parents never forced me into it.

not to throw in some big words but i feel like i have to for this, as i think a lot of tamba’s involvement with gymnastics also ties to misogyny and fatphobia by her parents, as well as the competitive nature of gymnastics. her parents are such sticklers on her about her appearance and her weight, doing something as bad as counting calories all for the belief that she had to maintain the body type for gymnastics. them saying no to tamba doing soccer was made because they didn’t think she had the body for soccer, driving her life based on how she looked. tambas parents were so controlling and really conditioned her (literally n figuratively) so now she projects these ideas onto others, like wada and his eating habits. she hasn’t been allowed to be herself, on her own. (this also makes me wonder what her parents think about her being a lesbian, if they even know. maybe she didn’t actually send that love letter bc of them? or just on her own volition? who knows…)

i really love the way tetro highlights the difference in yanagi and tambas athletic journey. yanagi found the love for skating from the darkness of his abusive household, while tamba was forced into gymnastics by her own family. yanagi grew a love for the sport, tamba dreaded it; no matter how much she said she loves it, she really just keeps doing it for her parents approval.

i am so normal about yanagi telling tamba to reach out (AND HAMA TO WATARI IN BUG FAMILY UGAHSHSH), genuinely it’s super sweet and a great moment between two people who get each other. this chapter has been heartbreaking but also really fucking sweet at the same time, im like dreading the bda…

[spotaus]

New Age AU Drabble (Lonely)

Hello everyone!! Welcome to the next drabble I swore I was going to write! This one I'm very fond of, because it involves the two who kickstarted this whole thing, the King and his Royal Mage (in-training)-

This happens some time after Nightmare's reversal to his new age, so it's basically the next one in chronological order for the main story drabbles!

@ancha-aus @mutzelputz @papiliovolens Hi guys!! Welcome back :)

Ping

Error glanced up from his project when the little tingle of his magic blinked into his awareness. Someone’s outside? He looked over at the heavy door that separated the cool space of his study from the stairs which led down to the main floors of the castle. On his end, it was absolutely tangled in blue wires, like his own little spider web. Though, to be fair, the rest of the room wasn’t faring much better. He’d certainly taken the chance to make the space his. The king had told him to, after all! Much better than the tidy room his brothers always made him help clean…

Blue strings lashed out from the ceiling and wrapped around his current project, wrapping securely around it before tugging it, his knitting needles, and the notes he had scattered all up into the loft space shrouded in shadow above him. It was just a lot safer to keep all his projects up there, out of his way until he needed them. Out of sight of his rare visitors. He couldn’t show them something that wasn’t ready! That would be embarrassing! Not Royal Wizard behavior at all. 

As his project rose, Error rolled onto his back, popping his spine before making an effor to stand up himself. How long had he been laying there? Normally he’d have been up in one of his hammocks, but this project required he keep it level until a later step, so he’d decided that the soft rug on the floor and a few blankets would have to suffice. Had it been an hour or two? Knowing him, probably much longer. He didn’t like pulling back the curtains, his strings didn’t glow in the darkness if he did. Infusing magic worked a lot easier for him in the dark.

He glanced to the door again. Thirty seconds and there hadn’t been any more pings? It had to be someone he actually halfway wanted to see, then. Darn. 

Error crossed the space, stepping over a few loose supplies, and around a few of his hanging strings, until he came to the door. As much as he wished he could ignore this person, he knew better. So, he gripped the solid iron handle and swung the door inwards towards him. 

Stood outside on the landing of the stairs was Sir Dust. 

He wasn’t an unwelcome sight, but he definitely wasn’t an expected one either. Lately, it’d been that Ccino guy showing up to his door unannounced, bringing him meals or just checking in on him. Sir Dust had been there the day he was hired, the knight doing his best to encourage Error to not make stupid, rash choices. Fortunately, given that chance to think, Error had been able to return with a smart and rash choice instead! Which, might he add, landed him this sweet gig for royalty. That was why, when Dust came around, Error didn’t turn him away. His magic was powerful, and despite being small, he was really cool. 

“Error.” Sir Dust greeted. “Brought dinner. Ccino’s been busy.” 

Sir Dust was always blunt. Even that first day they met, when he’d spoken more than a few words he’d seemed strained. Uncomfortable. He was comfortable here in his home territory. 

And, he wasn’t lying! Error hadn’t even noticed it, but when he looked down, his eyelights honed in on the plate held easily in one of Dust’s hands, and a jug held in the other to his side. 

Error was quick to lean out the doorway with a grin and snatch up the plate, careful not to make contact with Dust’s hands. He’d abandoned his glasses somewhere behind him in the room, so he had to raise the plate closer to his face before he recognized the contents. 

“Noodles, sweet!” He half-whispered to himself. 

His hand moved, gesturing out towards Dust. More of his strings shot past, from somewhere in the room, and clutched the jug before tugging it back inside with a flick of Error’s free hand. 

“Ccino told me to tell you: Drink that water. You’ll get dehydrated.” Dust voiced, watching unbothered as the jug was tugged back and out of his view. 

Error glanced up at him, and scoffed. Ccino had been doing his best to get Error to drink more tea with him because tea had water. Error was fine! He didn’t need as much water or food as an average monster, it was normal! Besides, he’d forget about it anyways. 

“Okay. Thanks!” he said anyways. Though, it was mostly thanks for the food. Error loved when Ccino made noodles. They were always buttery, and Error wasn’t sure how he always made something that looked so bland taste so good. …Now his mouth was watering. Maybe he was a little hungry after all. 

Error waited for Dust to start making his decent back down the stairs, but when he saw the monster was still stood still and quiet, he raised a brow. Was there something else? Had to be. He hoped Dust didn’t want inside. Error had all the plans to devour this food and then dive headfirst back into his project. He didn’t want to be distracted. 

“One more message.” Dust said, watching Error. His white eyelights were clear under his hood. Error didn’t think he was wearing his mask, but even with the soft glow from his web of strings he couldn’t tell in the shadows. Didn’t matter to him either way. 

“King Nightmare’s rescheduling your next… report.” Dust said plainly.

At that, Error felt his soul stop a bit in his chest. “Why?” He asked without thinking. The King had been listening and seemed interested during his last report! He’d made a lot of progress since then too, finished one of them enough that they could test it! The King had said he was excited to see it! Surely he hadn’t been tossed aside so quickly?

Dust seemed unphased by his demand of an answer. 

“The King is just taking time to rest. Last project wore him out.” Dust explained, before he added, “Ccino’s orders. Like drinking your water.” 

Error couldn’t tell, not really, but he was pretty sure the knight was grinning at that last part. Ha ha, very funny. Though, he wasn’t wrong. Error was pretty sure the entire castle knew that Ccino guy was in charge of keeping the King in check. Heck, when he’d first been brought in, the King looked worried about introducing him to that Ccino. Error never knew why, they’d gotten along great! 

But, if it was Ccino telling the King to take a break? He figured that the King was probably listening. Fair enough. His soul calmed down a little at the rationalization. 

“Oh, alright.” Error said finally, “Do you… know when he’ll want the next report by, then?” 

He could still plan, right? Maybe it was only a few days. 

“Mm, pretty sure Ccino said next month? Gotta catch up on some things. You live here.” Dust replied. 

Oh. Okay. Hmm. That was… a lot longer than he’d been hoping for. He could probably manage, though. Keep chugging away at his current project, maybe have time to draft a new one. Bigger? But, wait, the King wanted him to propose any bigger ones to him first. Supposedly he’d be allowed unlimited creative liberties, it was more so if something exploded he’d know what happened, but still. He didn’t want to break the few rules he had. Old projects then! Make them the best ever! 

He blinked in surprise when the little ping tingled in his skull. 

Dust had turned around without him noticing, a hand extended to just barely nudge one of his hanging strings. He didn’t look back as he spoke. 

“Gotta get back to rounds. G’night Error.” He said.

Error watched, disoriented for a second, before he nodded to himself. 

“Good night, Sir Dust!” He returned hurriedly.

He watched as the knight started moving, and entirely silently he descended the steps. Only when he had turned the curve out of sight and his shadow disappeared from the wall where torches below cast it, did he pull the door shut and return inside his room. 

His steps echoed against the stone floor until he returned to the cushioned rug, and then moved even further past that to one of his low-hanging hammocks. 

It was tucked beside a bookshelf that the King had let him stock with whatever books he liked from the library during his first week. The room had been cold and bare, obviously unlived in for a while, and Error didn’t exactly have a lot to move in. Just his spare clothes, the (now empty) pouch he’d been using to store his coin, and the dolls. He’d refused to remove those from his bag until he was alone, though, so he’d really had nothing to call his own. The King had given him the opportunity to collect items like books from the library, had let him choose some items from an incoming shipment of trading goods, and had sent someone to buy any equipment Error might need to advance his magic and creations. 

And, for the most part, Error was very self-sufficient. He’d had time to knit himself new clothes, and blankets, and decorate the room entirely with his magic. He spent a lot of time up in the high ceiling too, it was where he kept his dolls, and the projects, and all his important belongings. Everyone once in a while, though, he liked the bookshelf wall. Especially when he was eating. It was just easier to remember not to just hang up the plate among his projects. 

Ccino’s cooking was always delicious, Error would never not look forward to a meal made by him, even if it was the lamest sounding food ever. He’d managed to make brussel sprouts tolerable. A feat, honestly. The tastiness and warmth that spread through him couldn’t distract him from his worries, though. 

Error knew he’d have to work hard to make sure the King was impressed. But also not too bothered by it. He knows his explosive spells used to make his professors and tutors angry, and while the King had been nice about it so far, if he was tired? Error wouldn’t want to push the limits. But if he was too simply about it or lackluster, the King might be upset he was wasting his time? Ohhh. At least he had a month to work and try things out before then. Hopefully he could have an idea at that point. Hopefully. 

…

Ten days. 

Error had given it about 5 days after the time that the report was originally meant to happen, five days after Dust told him it’d been rescheduled, before he felt like he might go stir-crazy. Not because he was worried, but because of the exact opposite. He had his few other ongoing projects, mostly if not entirely completed, up to the King’s review. But he’d also developed another, newer, concept that he just knew would brighten the King’s mood. 

Dust had been the one periodically bringing him food still, he hadn’t seen Ccino, and Error didn’t dare pry too far. All he’d been told was that the King was still swamped with duties and was locking himself in his study to complete his duties. 

Now, Error was not one to talk about unhealthy work ethic, not in the slightest, but he figured it couldn’t be fun. The things the King was doing weren’t exciting or engaging like Error’s projects were, they were all papers and about talking to people. Error dreaded the idea of sitting alone in a room, trying to figure out something stupid like which roads a guy should walk or what people thought of him. Sounded stressful. 

So, Error had made something to make the King feel less bad! Less cooped up! 

Originally he had wanted to wait until his report, but he’d been so invested in making this that it’d only taken him a day, and his miniature prototypes had worked perfectly, so the larger one was ready in just a day or two! He’d really really tried to convince himself to be patient but… The King had liked him because he was bold! And did things he didn’t expect! And Error didn’t want to lose that reputation. If the King wouldn’t come to him, he’d just go to the King! 

That was the thought process, of course, which had led him to the entryway to the King’s royal wing. Then past it and the guards standing watch. Then to standing right infront of the door to the King’s study. 

He knew it was the study because he’d been inside once before. The King usually met with him up in the tower, but they had met down in his study once, to talk about the revised contract. It had been a long, boring conversation which involved the King asking Error to repeat his words back to him at certain points (the King had caught him spacing out several times, but never scolded him) to make sure he was actually listening. Something about making sure Error was safe and had other options? The King seemed super serious about making sure Error was okay, just because he was a kid, but he wasn’t a kid anymore! He was 13 by the time he signed, basically a whole adult! 

But, point is, Error had spent at least an hour or two in there listening to the King talk. He knew where this room was. 

Staring at the door was… a little imposing. What was his plan again? Burst inside? 

Yeah. If he knocked, someone would send him away. Just like at the try-outs. He had to just commit and walk in. The King had said in the contract that Error was always welcome to come to him if he needed something. And right now? Error needed his attention. 

He reached out, grabbing the big handle in one hand as he clutched his satchel with the other. He twisted it, and the moment it processed that it wasn’t locked, he pushed it inwards and slipped inside. He blindly shut it in his wake, just in-case someone tried to push him outside. 

Leaning against the door, his eyelights shot around to take in the room. 

No one was charging at him, and no one was rushing to yell at him. Good. Good. He-

“Error?” 

Well that wasn’t a voice he recognized! 

Error abandoned his skim of the room to search for the origin of the voice, and found himself staring wide-eyed at a monster across the room. This monster was a skeleton, their bones white, they seemed short, and skinny, and their one socket was wide in surprise with a single cyan eyelight, the other empty and seemingly gone dark. They stared at each-other. 

This odd skeleton, Error noticed, wore the King’s clothes. To a tee, the cloak, the shirt, the pants. The shoes looked different, but the pants covered them enough that Error couldn’t quite tell on a quick glance. That, and this skeleton had the King’s circlet resting on their skull, crescent moon plastered right in the center of their forehead. 

Error would’ve doubted the conclusion his mind came to, if it weren’t for the fact that he noticed this skeleton was not the only other one in the room. A quick glance revealed that Ccino was sat nearby to the skeleton, resting on one of the chairs around the coffee table. Error had been able to pick up that Ccino didn’t relax much at all. Especially not around strangers. 

“King Nightmare?” He asked back, staring at the monster across the room still. 

The way the monster seemed to flinch at the title told Error he was right. This was the King! 

A lot of questions flooded his mind, but they were beat-out by a sudden flood of curiosity. He hurried across the room, rapidly approaching the King, until they were stood just a few feet apart. He didn’t even notice Ccino’s worried ‘ah, ah wait-’ or the way the King had to refrain from stepping away. He just saw his suspicions were correct. 

“You’re… shorter.” He voiced, stupidly. 

He wasn’t wrong! The King was now shorter than him by at least half a head! Before the mass of dark magic that was the King had been taller than him by a lot, and he was tall for his age, but now! Now he was tiny! He wasn’t sure what to do with this information besides be delighted. He was used to being taller than people, but taller than a king? Now that was more his speed!

It took a few seconds for it to finally hit Error that the King did… not look happy. He didn’t look mad, but Error knew that was not an expression people would give when they were happy. His brows were furrowed a bit, his mouth tugged down ever so slightly at the corners, his shoulders were tense. 

“I- Yes, I am a bit… shorter. Than usual.” The King replied, “May I ask why you’re, ah, here, Mage Error?” 

Error blinked at him for a second. Right! He was here for a reason! 

“Oh! I just finished a lot of my projects, and I know that the report was rescheduled, but I made something I thought you would really like, and I…” He trailed off a moment as he realized Nightmare was staring at him. Had he done something wrong? 

Nightmare was still watching him, but seemed more alarmed that Error had stopped talking. He wasn’t sure he liked being able to read the King’s expressions like this. Usually, the king had a poker-face worthy of a family game night, only breaking when he was pleased and smiled. Now his expressions were so obvious even Error could read them. It was strange. 

“...Please, continue. A project?” The King seemed to catch himself and prompted. His expression schooled again, though it looked like he had to put in some effort. Eyelight flickering away from Error before shooting back to him. 

Error hesitated for a second, but ultimately continued. 

“I just… Thought that if I came to find you it wouldn’t take too long to show you, and then you wouldn’t be stuck doing just all your paperwork all day.” He was a bit more reserved than he’d meant to be when he presented the idea, both his hands now clutching the strap on his satchel. “I mean. If you’re that busy I can always. I can come back.” He paused again, “Or I- I- I can wait until my report day. Like I… probably should have.” 

He didn’t like the way his voice had stuttered and lagged at the end as he became more uncertain. He glanced over at Ccino. 

The older skeleton was watching between them wordlessly, looking a lot more tense than when Error had first seen him. Like he was waiting for something to happen. His eyelights were plastered on the King. Who was staring at Error intently. 

“Is this project something which you could share inside the study? I… wasn’t intending on leaving my hall today.” the King asked him in an oddly gentle tone. His voice slowed the same way as usual, but it was strange to hear it in such a high voice. 

Error’s hands wrung the strap of his satchel as he thought. “It’s. Ah. Explosive. It’d have to be outside.” He admitted in defeat. He hadn’t thought about the possibility that the King might not want to abandon his work to go look at Error’s spells. Thinking back, they did probably all look pretty silly to the King. He was really good at magic. Just like Dust was. “It can wait.” he added briefly. 

The silence that followed only lasted a second or two, enough for Error to furrow his brow and feel that little hint of indignation that used to plague him, the one that made him so mad at everyone. What was he thinking? He was good at magic too! Maybe not as good as the King, but certainly he was powerful, his magic wasn’t bad or a waste. Those instructors back at the academy were wrong, he knew so, he had to stop thinking about what they’d thought of him.

Error found himself glaring at the floor when a sound snapped his attention upwards. A fizzling sound and a little groan from the King. The King had gripped his skull, covering the socket with the cyan eyelight and turning away from Error’s view in a snap. 

That fizzling noise had sounded… unhealthy, to put it plainly. It didn’t help that Ccino finally spoke up, a little ‘My King?’ worriedly ringing out from the chair where Ccino had planted himself. The King had hunched himself forwards a bit to clutch at his socket, like he was trying to hold in pain. 

Was… was the king sick? Was that why he looked like this? Initially he’d assumed the dark energy had been a glamor. Some kind of magical enhancement to shield him, to make him more fearsome, even to cover up stunted growth. This must’ve been what he looked like normally, right? But. If that were true, the King would’ve just called it back onto his person or had Ccino usher him out. If he was sick, though? He might not be able to control that magic. Might be limited in its output, or even barred from access…

Error would’ve asked him, but his eyes moved curiously to the mirror instead. The reflection gave Error a perfect view of the King’s other side. The way the magic in his palm was flickering and sparking. Between- Between colors. The cyan Error was familiar with, and a soft purple that he’d never seen. 

He must’ve been right, on some level, because he realized it. He couldn’t sense the King’s magic. 

Or, at least, he couldn’t sense any magic that was active. The King’s magic worked like an aura, at least as far as Error had seen of it. Wide-spread, curling around anyone and anything it liked like a vine, and strangling what it didn’t like a noose. He wasn’t as good at seeing magic or feeling it as his brother, but he knew when a magical signature was missing, and he could feel familiar ones. The magic that the King was using to make his eyelight flicker? It was familiar, if only faintly, but it wasn’t his normal magic. Not by a longshot. There was very little intent, and what there was felt. Strange. Desperate, almost. 

“It’s alright. I’m fine, just a hiccup.” The King said, clearly responding to Ccino. 

It took a few deep breaths before the King righted himself, and Error watched as he peeked at the mirror first. He saw that the King’s eyelight was cyan again, but only partly. The bottom portion was still that lavender, and he hissed under his breath before covering his socket with his hand again. 

That same fizzling noise again, but muffled. Error watched, clearly, as the King’s face momentarily contorted with pain, before going still again. 

That couldn’t be healthy, whatever he was doing. His brother had told him all sorts of horror stories about things going wrong with magic at his academy. People who would change their appearance, and they would do it poorly, with adverse effects on their body. He got a chill.

“I- I- can wait. The project can wait.” Error muttered over the sound of that magic fizzling and popping over the King’s socket. 

He didn’t waste any time, even as he was pretty sure the King turned to call him back. He was already to the door, and then out of the door, and then hurrying down the hall. 

No one in the castle actually cared what he was up to, so he wasn’t exactly careful as he hurried down the halls and back to the tall tower which was his. When he passed the entryway, hsi strings caught his arms and tugged him up and over the dozens of spiraling stairs, straight to his doorway. He practically spun inside and retreated to the rafters among his projects to disperse the ones he’d placed into his satchel. 

…

It was childish, but Error felt faint about what he’d seen. He wasn’t sure why, but his head hurt just thinking about it. Altering appearance wasn’t something unheard of, or even really frowned about in his circles. But the magic the King had been doing was unfamiliar and strange. Not just something to alter the appearance of his magic, but something else. Something that was unnatural.

He tugged a string directly from his socket as he hung alone in the rafters, and saw the way that it hung from his fingertips. Blue, a deep one. Monster souls shouldn’t have traits, most didn’t, at least not the way human souls do. Magic, however, tends to manifest in a way that reflects its owner. Error had seen the way a white soul produced bright red magic. His own manifested as a dark blue. Integrity, he’d been told. It was reflecting on how he saw himself as well, he never gave up, he always walked his own path. Those who’d met him could certainly vouch for that. 

As far as he’d known, the King’s magic was cyan. Somewhere between Patience and Kindness, which made sense to him. The King had certainly been kind, offering him this job despite the rules, and he was patient too. Letting Error go on and on and on about his creations. He’d never doubted that those were accurate traits. Now, though? Now the King seemed to be sporting Purple. Purple was not a color which Error had ever seen from him. And it seemed the King must’ve thought the same thing of himself.

Error took a breath as he moved the string so it sat hovering between his index finger and his thumb, the ends clinging with residual, pliable, magic. With his other hand, he pinched the end nearest to his thumb and closed his eyes. 

He didn’t think about it often, but his strings were just that, made up of plenty of little threads, all woven together in just the right way which pleased Error. Texture and thickness which he liked and relied on to hold his weight, keep his projects secure, it was unlike any threads seen in the rest of the world. All his own. It’d taken him time to perfect it, though. Each new string, a new pattern and new density, until a few years ago when he’d figured it out. If he was right, though, he could mimic other styles. Other existing patterns. Other existing colors of magic.

He let his grip slide an inch or so down the string, concentrating as the fibers snapped and rearranged themselves. He furrowed his brow as he recalled the method to make a rope, the braids and twists and tension involved. Each strand felt like he was mentally moving a ten pound weight, and his concentration wavered when he realized his fingers were growing warm. Then, a few more seconds, another inch, and it felt like his fingertips would burst into flame. He hissed and opened his eyes, retracting his hand to see what sort of abomination he’d made. 

Half the string was still that familiar deep blue, but the portion near his thumb was a bright yellow. Thick, three times as thick as the blue, and with the appearance of a rope. It trembled and shook with tension, the portion where Error had given up being a strange and ugly, frayed mass of blue and yellow strands, some portions a muddled green at the exact mid-point. 

The sight made Error wince, and he pulled his fingers apart, the frayed portion snapping easily. The blue strand fell limp into his palm, while the yellow strand began to unravel. Quickly. LIttle chunks of burnt-out thread exploded like confetti, turning white or back to that blue color. It spun and spun until Error was left with little chunks of blue magic thread stuck to the fabric of his shirt and floating to the floor below him. The yellow magic he’d imbued, all the intent pushed behind it, wasn’t nearly enough to keep it steady or in place. Even if he’d finished the entire strand and burnt his fingers to do it, it wouldn’t have held up a small rock, let alone anything important. It was useless.

His little test, he realized, didn’t even cover the severity of the situation. He’d used strings, something he’d removed from his person. The King was doing that… to his own socket. 

How long had he been doing that? If Cyan wasn’t his natural magic, how much strain had he been under? For how long? 

It was none of his business, he reminded himself. The King was an adult, with a lot of advisors and strong magic users and people like Ccino. He had people who would tell him to stop. Error didn’t have the whole picture, surely. It wasn’t his place to worry about it. It just… rubbed him the wrong way. It bothered him. 

…And now he had two things to sulk about. Great. 

…

Ping

There it was again. 

Honestly, Error hadn’t expected anyone to come to see him again so soon. It’d hardly been a few hours since he attempted to visit the King, and it must’ve been dark by now. Who was coming up past dinner time? 

He eased himself down from where he’d placed himself in the rafters, and stood in front of his large door for a second, before opening it up to peek out. 

And. Outside, in the dimly lit corridor, was… The King. 

Or, at least, it looked like the King? Same clothes, same height as he’d seen earlier in the day, and his eyelight was cyan once again. Only, this time he couldn’t see the King’s expressions. He was wearing a mask. Error had to blink to process it. An owl, round and dark, with big eye holes right at the right level for the King’s sockets. It reminded Error a little bit of the fluffy owls he used to see outside his window, the ones just barely out the nest still losing their fluffy baby feathers. Was… Was it heresy to think the King was small and cute? Probably. Very absurd thought, compared to the haunting dark mass he usually was. Maybe that was why he disguised?

“Mage Error,” The King greeted, voice calm as it usually was, “I am aware that this is an impromptu visit, but may I come in? I realize I did not attend to you as I should have earlier, and I wish to rectify this mistake.” His cyan eyelight watched upwards, and Error stared down at him for a moment through the crack in the door. 

He glanced past him, too. But it seemed like the King was entirely alone. Just like he tended to be. 

Error swung open the door, pulling himself out of the way along with it. It wasn’t like he was going to say no to the King, but he wasn’t nearly as excited as usual. What should he do? Say? Obviously something was up with the King, but was Error supposed to say anything? Or was the King just here to make sure Error stayed out of trouble? Adults did that a lot back in the day when he got on their nerves. 

His thoughts persisted as the King entered the space. Error shut the door behind him and watched idly for a breath. The King was moving oddly. Like he was faint. His steps were just ever so slightly uneven and he seemed to wobble ever so slightly as he moved to sit at the unoccupied chair before Error’s desk. What was wrong with him? 

Error started moving, shifting away the items he’d once again strewn out on the floor back to the shadows of the rafters, and instead lowering a set of strings which held his hammock and a wooden board he much preferred to a table. The King watched as the items lowered, just like he always did, but the table was empty as Error hoisted himself to sit on the edge of the hammock across from the ruler. 

“You… have questions, right?” Nightmare voiced.

The King was looking at the empty surface suspended before the both of them, and Error realized he hadn’t even moved to gather his projects. For some reason he was hesitant to bring them up again. 

“Can I? Ask you stuff?” Error questioned uncertainly. “Adults usually don’t like when I start asking questions.” He admitted. 

The King looked up to him, before he sighed and nodded. “Ask anything you like.”

That was… an odd allowance. Error wasn’t used to that either. Usually the King was the one letting him talk, and talk, and talk, and his questions had never been about. Well. The King himself. Just about the knights, or the tapestries, or the food. Never about the King. 

“Why are you small?” The burning question was the one he had to get out of his head. He had theories, but the King was the only one who could confirm or deny them. 

The King was quiet for a brief second, before he brought a hand to his mask. It hovered there as he chuckled, though to Error it sounded a lot more like a giggle.

“It is a… complicated story. I’m still not quite sure myself, but I will share with you what I know as to how I came to be this way.” The King moved a hand behind his skull, tucking it beneath his hood, and tugged at a pretty silk ribbon. A purple one, Error noted. “It’s the least i can do.” 

The mask fell forward into the King’s awaiting hand, and once again Error was met by the image of that clean and soft white bone. The rounded face he didn’t recognize. His expression was neutral, schooled, careful.

“I know you are not from Orchard, nor are you familiar with the traditions of our kingdom. However, you recall the story of my upbringing, and my twin, correct?” He asked, and Error nodded. He recalled decently that there had been twin princes, the King, Nightmare, and his brother, Dream or something? He’d been asking about the tapestries and the King had told him how the two of them had grown up really close, and how he ended up with the throne in the end, banishing his twin so he wouldn’t steal the crown or something. 

“Good. Well. My coronation was not actually mine. It was that of my twin. Dream. He was the crown prince, but I had found word of a great cost to completing the ritual, and I was sure he would be hurt by the process.” The King explained. “The power of the kingdom is passed from generation to generation through the soul. Each King’s soul warps and changes, taking the shape of an apple, golden and shining with a seemingly divine magic. When my mother gave up her soul for Dream to eat, to inherit her title, I…” 

The king trailed off for a breath, and Error felt his insides twist a bit. Eating a soul? That was… a concept. Fascinating, but also he couldn’t imagine a scenario in which someone would actually follow through with it. Of course eating an entire other monster’s soul would provide a magic boost, just like when monsters absorbed human souls, or humans overloaded on magic.

“I stole it from him and completed the ritual myself.” So, maybe that was why he was sick? “The ritual, as it was meant to do, provided me with power beyond myself, yes, but it also altered my mind and physical form. I aged significantly, something I had always assumed was due to the overwhelming force of the gifted magic. In a matter of moments I was old, my mind more clear and sharp. The way you knew me before was the shape I was meant to hold. That I expected to stay.” The King rubbed a hand against his good socket, the other gently resting over the mask sat on his lap. “Several weeks ago, I collapsed. And when I awoke, I had taken on this form again, and it seems my mind is reverted as well. Both have returned, aside from my memories, back to the exact condition that they were on the day of my coronation. So, I find myself back in my youth, and small as a result.”

He seemed to pause for a second, before puffing a sigh, “Or, almost the exact condition. It seems a wound I suffered the same day didn’t ever quite heal.” He ghosted over his empty socket and the cracks running up and out of sight beneath his hood.

Error stared at him a second, and he blinked in confusion. That was a lot of wacky magic shenanigans, and that was coming from him of all monsters, but he was processing something that had been glossed over.

“Wait, so how old are you?” Error questioned, confused.

The King blinked at his question, before Error caught sight of something he didn’t quite expect to see today. A slight lavender blush dusted the King’s cheekbones. Error’s not even sure the King noticed he’d done it. 

“That’s a… tricky question I’ve been trying to decipher. However, as far as my development and mental state are concerned, I regrettably appear to be 13.” 

The King seemed ashamed to admit it, but Error found his mind working a bit faster than he’d meant it to be. The weak aura, the weird magic, the short height, the baby face, the higher voice, all of it! He’d heard of cases like this. Not usually between monsters, but often when monsters would overtake too much magic, or too many supplements, or strain their bodies, they could take on a higher form before reverting. Usually it only affected the amount of magic they could harness, and no one had ever sustained one long enough to actually age before releasing it, but it wasn’t an impossible idea. If the King had been operating on borrowed magic? It was entirely possible that there was a sort of stasis provided to him. Especially since Error was pretty sure he never ever got hurt. 

Part of him wished he’d paid more attention to the books on the shelves back home. His brother would eat this up. Soul-based research with an abnormally long-lasting period? Oh boy…

“That’s cool!” Error blurted without really thinking about it. 

The King seemed to actually flinch about it, cyan eyelight looking wide at Error form across the makeshift table. 

“I- What do you mean?” The King questioned, obviously confused and shocked. 

Error frowned a bit. Did the King really not realize how much skill that takes to pull something like that amount of magic transfer off? Error’s not even sure he could do something like that, and all without losing himself to this other invasive magic?

“King Nightmare, it sounds like you were a torch holding a really really hot fire and you didn’t even get burnt. I’ve never heard of someone using magic like that.” And he blinked as he suddenly perked up, “You’re young too! We’re like each other! Doing cool new magic things that no one wanted us to do! Well, I mean, you want me to do it, but- That’s not the point!” 

Error actually leaned forward a bit so his elbows planted on his knees, and he squinted at the King. “I bet I’m older now too, that’d be really cool. What season is your birthday?” He’d not seen the King celebrate his birthday since he’d been there, but then again, the King was always busy, and Error didn’t pay attention much. 

The King seemed taken aback, but still spoke, “My birthday is in the spring, but-”

Error lit up at that, “Yes! I am older!” he exclaimed excitedly to himself. He’d never had anyone younger than him to hang around before! Granted, he’d met other kids at the academy, but they hadn’t liked him much. 

His grinning was cut a bit short when the King stammered from the seat across from him again. 

“Mage Error, I- I’m glad to see this news isn’t distressing you, but I please ask you to consider my next few words.” The King was watching him, and Error tried to tone down the smile gracing his face. “News of my… state is not being circulated just yet. Orchard is still recovering from centuries of mistreatment under my bloodline’s rule, and I am nowhere near to being able to restore the kingdom as I had planned. My goals will likely only bring more turmoil and frustration to the people, and while assassinations and other sabotage have rarely graced these halls, if word gets out of my newfound weakened form? This castle, this entire kingdom, could be thrown to chaos.” The King’s tone was very serious, and it sounded tired. “You, Error, are not officially my mage, but to prying eyes your studies here fill that same purpose. I was willing to take you in when I was sure I had the power to protect you, but I can’t provide that security any more.”

“Before I came here, I reviewed our contract. At the loss of my protection, you are welcome to request an indefinite leave of absence from the position, and I will have one of my knights accompany you anywhere you wish to go and ensure you arrive safely. I do not want to put you in danger due to my search for reform. You have no obligations to stay in this place nor risk your life for it.” The King’s voice was steady as he said it. “You do not have to give me an answer this moment, but I needed to inform you so that you have a full understanding of your options.” 

Error’s grin had faded about halfway through the King’s speech, and he could already feel the fuzzy numbness creeping up one of his legs as he tried to keep himself from lashing out. Dust had talked to him about that. His reactiveness. 

“King Nightmare, I’m not going anywhere.” he declared, crossing his arms with a huff. “That dumb contract you made me read also said I can stay as long as I want the position. And I want the position.” And the food, and the tower, and the courtyard, and the knights, and the King who listened to him talk about his explosives. “I don’t care if you’re short or have purple magic or whatever,” the King flinched at that, “ You’re still really smart and you have a bunch of really strong people you’re in charge of. Including me, by the way.” 

He was almost offended. He was strong! He was dangerous! The King had always praised him for ingenuity and sheer force of will placed behind each of his projects, and Error took pride in that. He was strong, and powerful, and he wanted to do fun experiments and help the King. Almost more now that he knew that the King was some twig of a monster. Now he didn’t have to worry about lame old people bossing him around. 

The King seemed to lean forward ever so slightly in the chair he was sat in, and Error didn’t shy away. If this was a battle of the wills, he wouldn’t be-

A sniffle. 

Error jolted when the King pulled his hands up to his skull and hastily dragged his sleeves against his sockets. Was he crying??

“Ah- Forgive me!” The King said in a small voice, “Emotional regulation, another damning loss from my sudden form alteration. I’ve been lucky I hadn’t embarrassed myself sooner.” He practically teased himself. 

Error let his body stop tensing, and he noticed the uncomfortable fuzzy feeling had fled in the aftermath of his bold declaration. If he’d had any doubts before that this King was actually as he said, this was the final sign. The King had never showed so much emotion before. 

“I think it’s fine. I get mad all the time and you never mind.” Error voiced, though he wasn’t sure how welcome it would be. 

At that the king laughed, and Error grinned to himself, looking away from the scene. He didn’t like it when people saw him cry. He understood that one all too well. 

A silence fell between them. Error wasn’t going anywhere, he’d made that abundantly clear. The King wouldn’t be sending him away, either. It went unsaid, but it was there in the agreement they’d made just hardly a year prior. The King never went back on his deals.

“Mage Error, I believe you wanted to show me something earlier. Now that it is dark, I believe I would be willing to have Horror accompany us out to the courtyard so I may observe.” 

Error glanced back to the King, and saw that he was looking up at the darkened ceiling. As though trying to predict when a string would lower down his newest creations. 

“Oh, actually I bet we can do it here. From the balcony, I mean. It goes up into the sky, so it shouldn’t hurt anything.” he said, his excitement gaining momentum once again. “I actually made test ones this time too, just to make sure!” 

Error swung backwards out of his hammock, and let the strings above him loosen to drop the item into his awaiting hands. 

The King rose from his seat, walking a bit strangely still, but nothing which bothered Error much. He was more interested in the curious face of his ruler as he approached Error near the balcony exit. Error wasn’t one to use his balcony often, he didn’t even have strings set up to pull the curtains aside, so he lifted one back so that the King could pass by, and he followed himself shortly after. 

The balcony was a thick one, reinforced underneath by large wooden and stone beams, the railing thick enough that one could sit along it like a high-stakes bench. Error did just that, pulling himself up so his feet dangled over the edge. The King remained back, hood pulled tight to his skull as the night winds attempted to tug it away from him. It took a few moments before he joined Error near to the edge, leaning on the balcony which was just ever so slightly too tall for him. His arms rested at chin-height and he seemed to be debating whether to rest his chin on them like an arm rest. 

Error watched from over his shoulder, and grinned to himself as he secured the little invention with his strings before holding it out for the King to see in the moonlight that illuminated the darkness. Them, the castle grounds below, the mountainside and the sprawling hills and valleys beyond. 

“I’ve seen people make these before with gun-powder, they always glowed red, though. So I infused some magic into the canister and the projectiles, and they should do something fun.” Error explained excitedly, pointing out different locations on the thing held in his strings. Long, slender, a mix between a crossbow and a cannon, but tiny. Only the length of his forearm. “Best thing, it should be quiet!” He’d noticed that some of the knights didn’t like when his explosions made loud noises, and a lot of guards came rushing the first few times he’d set off his creations. 

The King examined it for a few moments longer, before he nodded silently. 

Error snickered before he pulled it back into his grip and aimed it up and out. Away from the tower, where it should’ve been just over the large, round, open space in the center of the castle. High in the sky. 

He shifted, dragging his fingers along the surface, the long portion lighting up and flinging something from the end of the device. A little ball of pure white. Up, up, up.

It exploded. 

Error laughed in triumph as the night sky above the palace was set ablaze with a collection of little shimmering lights, like falling stars in all shades of blue and green and purple and white flying everywhere before going dark. His eyelights shot back to the King as he loaded the next round, and he was delighted to see that the single cyan eyelight was plastered on the smoky after-effect left by the burning magic. He desperately wanted to start telling the King all about how he’d done such a genius thing, but he found himself simply hefting the little device up once again and firing into the open darkness instead.

[beabnormal24]

You got the funk (gets me stupid, gets me drunk) ~ Franco Colapinto/Lando Norris, 6k, E

Or: 6k of Franco giving Lando road head

Lando swiftly glances at the blinking red icon of their position on Franco’s phone screen, a poor resemblance of an arrow if Lando could see it clearly, though that might be an arduous attempt in the complete darkness of this road, no lamplight in sight, nor any other kind of light source except for his dazzlings.

And the ones of the other car almost blinding him, rushing next to them before finally disappearing into the darkness.

Lando hears Franco muffle a sigh next to him.

“What?” He asks, for a second turning his eyes away from the road for a second, enough to take into the sight of Franco stretching his arm across the headrest, looking worriedly at his phone, another maps’ app open on the screen. “What?”

“I think we are lost.”

Lando snorts, releasing the accelerator when he spots a darker shadow on the tarmac in the distance, that might or might not be a hole. It’s better to be safe than sorry, anyway, and, although he might never admit it in front of Alex, he does treat his Camaro like his daughter.

Excuse him, but he freaking paid for her with his own adult money, he would probably cry if he ever saw a scratch on her.

“Yeah, figured.” He mutters, feeling his thighs clench when they pass over the shadow, the bottom of his seat poking into his back for a second before going back to normal. A hole, indeed, then. “I can’t see anything, mate, just bloody trees.”

The greenish tips of a forest surround the car on each side, following their path like faithful hounds, half drowned in the blue darkness of a waxing crescent night, half caught in the yellowish shadows coming from their headlights.

Lando won’t admit that he’s at least a tiny bit scared, mostly because they haven’t really seen anybody aside from that idiot running against twenty speed limits for a while.

Which means that, perhaps, now they are the idiots.

“It’s beautiful.” Franco says, knocking his elbow against Lando’s on the middle armrest. Lando snorts, raising an eyebrow without even looking at him. “No, vale, it’s scary.”

Lando pats his thigh for a second, smirking to himself when it makes Franco jump only slightly in his seat. “How long did the thing say we should stay on this road?”

“Eh,” Franco makes a half-aborted sound, his voice coming out as a squeak, “There is no signal, now. But it said 20 minutes? Maybe 25?”

Lando has to stop himself from closing his eyes and banging his head against the headrest because, well, there’s still a not very smooth road in front of them, he is half sure that they saw a deer’s sign a few miles ago and he can’t see shit past seven feet in front of them.

If he were to hit a deer he is sure that Alex would be able to tell even from miles away and come and get Lando’s head himself, even if Lando would probably already be curled up in a ball on the asphalt, crying and swearing he would never drive again.

And he also wouldn’t want to scare Franco, of course.

He groans, instead, gripping the steering wheel with a hand and swiftly avoiding the upcoming hole on the right side, wheel just catching the edges of it. “Shit that’s a lot of time.”

“You didn’t tell me that Carlos liked living in the countryside.” Franco says, slumping against his own seat. “Wasn’t he like- rich?”

Lando is only half jealous about not being the one just sitting there in the car and doing nothing. But allegedly, he would never let anyone but himself drive his car and, of course, there’s nothing better than getting to see Franco’s profile in the half shadows, the adorable curve of his nose and the plush of his pouty lips.

Franco sits there being the perfect passenger princess all the times, all pretty and silent when Lando is not in the mood, chatty when Lando needs it.

So, really, no complaining at all.

“Yeah, loaded.” He shrugs, leaning his chin over his free hand. The perks of an automatic, especially when he has to drive for so long in a semi-straight line. “But, you know, he and Alex have like tons of horses and dogs and shit, so…”

“Didn’t you say you have horses, too?”

Lando can feel the tips of his ears immediately blooming red. It’s not like he is ashamed in any way, it’s just- “My sisters do horse riding.” He mumbles.

“Rich boy.” Franco singsongs, tapping Lando’s elbow, and even though he knows it’s teasing, Lando can still feel the deep red roots of embarrassment clawing at his cheeks.

He was born in a pretty comfortable household, alright, but he studied to be where he is right now and he swears, he really bought this car with his own money.

He splutters in protest, “I am-“

“Not rich?” Franco interrupts him. When Lando glances swiftly at his face, he has an eyebrow raised, his doe eyes widened in skepticism, though the smile on his lips is still playful. And- when did his mouth get so shiny, again? “This car doesn’t say it, gatito.”

“Would you turn the radio on, please?” Lando chokes out, slapping Franco’s thigh in retaliation, not missing at all the way his skin seems to have gotten warmer all of a sudden, even through the thin fabric of his pants. Uh.

Franco giggles, obviously thrilled by being able to turn Lando into a mushy mess, although if Lando were honest with himself, it’s not even that much of a hardship when you’re Franco.

Even when they had first met, three months ago under the neon purple-blue lights of a gay club Yuki had repeatedly tried to drag him to, and finally managed, he had been so captivated by the sight of Franco that the Argentinian had had to physically close his open mouth with a hand under his chin.

But to his defence, there was not a single functioning brain cell in his head when Franco was looking like that, all long lashes and glinting eyes and pouty glossy lips and freckled chest out on display with the poor excuse of a black mesh T-shirt.

He should not be excused for wanting to bring him back to his place and fuck him into the mattress and then, maybe, when he got to hear Franco’s laugh at one of his very bad jokes, even something more.

Which, to his luck, actually happened.

Franco leans over the console, trying to figure out the controls of the stereo, pressing the button of AFM so insistently that it makes Lando’s eye start to twitch.

“Vamos, carajo!” Franco snaps, adorably scrunching his eyebrows as the fourth consecutive tap of his fingers against the screen does not make the loading indicator disappear. “It doesn’t work! I am trying!”

Lando looks at it quickly, slapping his forehead right after. “Fuck, right, there’s no signal.”

“Oh.” Franco mumbles, flopping back down on his seat. “Yeah, I forgot I said that.”

“Do you want to sing for me, then?” Lando jokes, though if he were completely honest, he doesn’t mind listening to Franco in the shower. Perhaps being almost stranded in a dark forest is not exactly the same, but well- perspectives. “Cumpleanos feliz, cumple-“

Franco snickers, crossing his arms. “That is terrible.”

“Well, sorry if it’s the only one I know in Spanish.” Lando says, just as a row of shadows narrows in front of the car, purplish figures drawn on the asphalt growing thinner just to disappear a second after under his rolling tyres.

He gulps down the sudden knot in his throat, the telltale sensation of freezing goosebumps of fear crawling up his spine as his eyes rake quickly on each side of the dark road.

The yellow lines on the tarmac delimiting the sides seem to be getting more chipped the more they advance through it, the treetops higher, almost as if trying to bend down to cover the sight of their car from outside viewers.

“Despacito? You can’t tell me you don’t know Despacito.” Franco laughs.

Lando can feel the weight of his gaze on the side of his face, mischievous eyes looking at him from under their lashes, tracing scalding trails over his cheek. It’s kind of comforting, especially when Franco’s hand suddenly drapes over the back of his’ on the armrest, warm and gentle, smaller than his but much softer.

Lando exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“Hey,” Franco’s voice is a soft thing, closer than it was before, and Lando has to shake his head out of his thoughts, suddenly realising he has been staring at the road for way too long without uttering a word. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, ‘course, just-“ he gulps down, another shadow disappears under the light cast by the headlights. Long, too long. The trees seem to be suffocating, tightening their grip, tighter, tighter- “Eh, just a bit anxious, you know? It’s the first time you meet my friends properly. I love them, it’s a- a big thing. For me, I mean.”

It’s the first time anybody meets my friends, or I tell my parents about them, honestly. But that, Lando doesn’t say. He tries to let Franco know how much he is special everyday, anyway.

“Mh,” Franco mumbles, clearly unconvinced. “You said Alex can talk to rocks.”

Lando did in fact say that. Not even an hour ago. “Yeah…”

“And Carlos, I mean- we’re the only ones who talk Spanish, si? I can win him easy.”

“They can be a bit too much.”

“Yeah, of course, they are your friends. And you are already too much, and I am already too much. How can they be worse?”

Well, Lando can’t argue against that. “I mean, it’s also that the car-“

“You are scared, eh?” Franco interrupts him, snapping his fingers.

“What? No!” Lando rushes to say. When he turns around, Franco is looking at him, chin propped on his hand and his lips curled into a smirk. He wants to kiss it away, bite his bottom lip and drag his tongue over it. But yeah- right, driving. “Don’t look at me like that, I am not scared. What would make you think that?” He mumbles, turning his attention back to the road.

“You are so red.” Franco teases, and when his fingers come up to pinch at Lando’s cheek, he slaps them away. “You really are scared.”

“Don’t distract me, I am driving.”

“The trees, the dark, right? And we’re alone on this road, for almost half an hour.” Franco says, ignoring him. His fingers resolve to trail down lower, to the column of Lando’s neck, towards the open collar of his shirt. His touch is a soft brush, sending goosebumps all over Lando’s skin every time his nails trace along his birthmarks, and Lando has to shift in his seat when he starts to feel the middle of his thighs tightening dangerously. “You’re scared, gatito, it’s alright.”

“Stop with it.” Lando snaps, though there’s no bite in his voice.

Rivers of shivers run down his spine as Franco’s fingers move to tease the last open button of his shirt, teasing to slip beneath, caressing the space between Lando’s pecs right under his hanging chain necklaces.

Has this road always been this long? What did Franco say? 25 minutes of this?

Lando grits his teeth as he feels a deft finger tugging at his necklace, deciding that enough it’s enough. “Remember who’s the one in charge, Franco.” He says, lowering his voice.

“Oh, trust me I know.” Franco says lascivious. His dancing fingers travel back up to Lando’s free hand, circling his wrist gently before taking it. “I can still feel it from last night, gatito.”

Lando follows his movements blindly – quite literally, since he’s still successfully forcing himself to keep his eyes on the road -, but he can’t help but twitch when his palm comes in contact with the suddenly exposed skin of Franco’s collarbone where he undid the top button.

His fingers are being pressed against it, and Lando traces distractedly the lines of a purplish bite that he left there the night before, biting down right under Franco’s scar as he fucked inside of him, Franco’s tears of pleasure mixing with Lando’s saliva as he kept biting and biting any place available with Franco panting his name into the shell of his ear.

Well, Lando is not proud of the animalistic side of him during sex. But Franco is definitely not against it, so…

“I could feel these all day.” Franco mumbles, just as he forces Lando’s fingers to press yet on another bruise, on his pec, right above his nipple. “Fuck, Lan, you can’t imagine how hot it was. I could feel you biting me and- I feel like I’ve been hard all day.”

Lando gulps again, deciding that it might not hurt to just sneak a peek again, the road is mostly straight, anyway. And when he turns around Franco looks- well, he looks almost like Lando just fucked him then and there, the top half of his shirt open for the world – or the inside of this car – to see, pearly skin all littered in bruises and hickeys the size of Lando’s mouth, his legs spread wide showing the obvious bulge of his dick under his zipper.

“Fuck, Franco.” He exhales, forcing himself to breathe deeply through his nose. The fingers gripping at the steering wheel itch with the need to just touch, let them wander along the detailed lines of his chest, pinch his nipple the way he knows makes Franco go crazy.

Stupid fucking road-

“Let me suck you off.”

Lando almost doesn’t see the next hole in the road, too late to do anything about it except for simply slow down, but they both feel it under their butts the moment the car passes over it. And Franco freaking groans.

“WHAT?” Lando screeches, flicking his eyes to Franco just to see the complete seriousness on his face, his façade only broken by the tongue peeking out of the seam of his lips, wetting them. Lando can’t think straight. “Are you out of your mind?”

“For you?” Franco says, letting go of Lando’s hand still pressed to his pecs to bring his own between Lando’s legs and grip. Lando clenches his thighs together, only trapping Franco’s hand further over his groin, his nails unceremoniously tugging at the zipper of his pants to pull it down. “Yeah, completely crazy.”

“Fran-“ Lando tries to protest, but it’s weak as that delicate pale hand that he loves to kiss so much is suddenly unzipping his pants and disappearing under his boxers. It hovers on his already half hard dick, Lando can feel the chill sensation of his skin against it, the telltale sensation of all the blood in his body rushing to down there because that’s the effect Franco – beautiful, adorable, freaking sexy Franco – has on him. “We can’t- I am driving.”

“And you’re so hard for me. So big, I can still feel it in me.” Franco says, circling the base of Lando’s cock with two fingers and slowly tugging upwards. It doesn’t take more than a bunch of seconds for Lando to grow completely hard in his hand, the head of his dick bumping uncomfortably against the inside of his boxers. “And you’re scared.”

Lando doesn’t even try to deny it this time, instead shifting his hips until Franco’s palm is completely pressed against his hard on.

“So let me take care of you, take your mind off of it.”

“I- I am driving.” Lando tries to protest again, but even his body can’t follow his own orders, a spark of electricity running all over him from where Franco is touching him, torturous slowly. “Franco we can’t-“

“Si, we can.” Franco interrupts him. “Are you saying that you don’t like it when I suck you off?”

Fuck, Lando loves it. Franco really has the mouth of someone who’s meant to be good at that, all plump and the arch of his upper lip sharp like a bow that only tenses when it’s wrapped around Lando’s cock.

The road seems to be getting darker, now, Lando thinks at least 5 minutes must’ve passed ever since they lost signal, and he knows for a fact that Franco can manage to rend him to mush in 10.

Is he proud of that? Not really. But is he complaining? Not at all.

“Okay,” he relents, almost jumping when Franco’s hands immediately go to the hems of his pants, “Fuck, wait, wait a second!”

“Uh?” Franco blinks up at him from where his head is already buried between Lando’s legs, confused, his big doe eyes all dazed. “What?”

“Let me take the seatbelt off.” Lando huffs, unfastening it from his chest. “It’ll make it easier.”

It feels weird, driving without it on, he probably hasn’t done it in years, ever since he was a stupid teenager doing stupid drives around with his freshly licensed friends.

His legs feel more free than usual, his movements more unconfined, but he doesn’t really have that much time to adapt to the new sensation as Franco eagerly bends over his lap, button nose pressing against the inside of Lando’s thighs.

Ah, he must’ve taken off his seatbelt, too, at some point. When did that happen, again?

“Raise your hips, I need to take off your pants.” Franco says, trading his fingers through the belt loops.

Lando follows willingly, perhaps already more affected just by the thought of Franco giving him road head than what he would like to admit. He should cut himself some slack, though, since it’s, well- it’s Franco.

And Franco’s warm, slick wet lips suddenly wrapping around the head of his cock.

“Fuck!” Lando shrieks, accidentally pressing his foot harder on the pedal. The car responds accordingly, suddenly picking up speed just to lose it a second after when Lando adjusts his position.

“Don’t kill us.” Franco reprimands, slapping the exposed top of Lando’s thighs. “I am too hot to be already dead.”

“Warn a guy next time.” Lando grits through his teeth, slapping both hands on the steering wheel and gripping tight.

“Alright,” Franco sighs. “I’m going to suck you, now.”

Anything Lando could’ve possibly thought about saying completely evaporates the moment Franco wraps his lips back around him, not even giving Lando the time to adjust to the feeling before he goes down to the hilt.

“Fuckin’-“ Lando stutters out, taking one hand off the steering wheel to trade his fingers through Franco’s soft hair.

His tongue is doing something magical to the bottom of his dick, passing right over a vein on the underside, and then twirling around like Lando is the most delicious lollipop he has ever tasted.

“Fuck, fuck, Franco-“ Lando groans, twisting his fingers in his scalp.

Franco moans around him, the sound wrapping around Lando’s dick like a warm hand, and he can’t help but buck his hips up just slightly.

Franco takes it like it’s nothing, as if Lando wouldn’t see the way the corners of his mouth are stretching obscenely around him if he were to look down- just for a second-

Lando does, a quick flick of his gaze, his sight filled with Franco’s curly head over his lap, the tip of his nose pressed to the top of Lando’s exposed thighs, saliva running down the sides of Lando’s dick as he brings his head up to suck on the head.

The road, yes, the road- okay.

He turns his eyes back to the road just in time for Franco to slip his tongue inside of his lit, fingers wrapping expertedly around Lando’s base and flicking his wrist quickly with each lick.

“Bloody- you take me so well, Fran. Your mouth is so good.” Lando groans, leaning his head on the backrest and clenching his grip on Franco’s curls, guiding his head back down on his cock until Franco’s lips meet the edge of his fist.

It’s wet and it’s warm, and Franco is using his tongue more than usual, swirling and then pressing it to the length of Lando’s dick in a way that must hurt a little bit, and yet he does it like it’s natural.

Lando groans, shifting his hips up until his head touches the back of Franco’s throat, feels him moan brokenly and then moan even louder when Lando tightens his grip in his hair, tugging almost meanly at his curls.

Lando knows that he can take it, though, that he likes it.

Fuck, sometimes Lando still can’t believe it, ever since the first time he got Franco in his bed, how much of a freak Franco can be, trashing and panting every time Lando’s teeth as much as graze one of his nipples.

Lando loves it, especially how wrecked he looks after, all red cheeked and unruly hair and plump lips sticky with mixes of saliva and come. Though this time he hopes it’ll go away before they get to Alex’s.

He knows that he doesn’t own Franco. That would be terribly bigoted of him and Franco would probably hate him for actually believing it outside of silly dirty talks in the bedroom that only have a real meaning in the heat of the moment.

But that doesn’t mean he appreciates other people getting to see Franco like that, too. That’s just a sight for him.

Whatever ridiculous spark of jealousy is starting to form in his chest, though, is quickly thrown away as Franco manages to move back up to suck hard on the head of his dick.

Lando groans, one hand tightening its grip on the steering wheel as he forces his eyes open. The road is mostly straight, thank God, and there’s nobody else but them, and thanks to some kind of magic Lando is able to keep the car from swirling around even as Franco starts to hollow his cheeks and lap at the underside of his dick in slow, torturous strokes.

“Fuck, baby, you are so good at this.” Lando praises, patting his hair. Franco hums around him, taking half of his dick back into his mouth. “Such a good mouth, such a good boy, mh?”

Lando can’t see him, but he is sure that he must be preening, his cheeks all flushed red as he thrives under the compliments.

The attention seeker, Lando loves him more than it’s probably healthy.

“Are you still thinking about the trees?” Franco teases him as he gets away from his cock, just slowly stroking it with one hand.

When Lando lets himself look down for a second, he’s met with the sight of him blinking up, the red on his face a stark contrast with the apparent angelic look on his doe green eyes.

Lando cranes his neck to kiss his forehead, perhaps sweeter than what having his boyfriend’s hand jacking him off as he drives actually is, but Franco smiles sweetly anyway.

Lando looks back at the road, realising that, indeed, Franco has done an amazing job at distracting him. He shouldn’t have doubted him at all.

“The only tree I am thinking about now is mine in your mouth. So please go back to that.” Lando jokes and all that he can hear is Franco snorting before he’s going down once again, swallowing him whole.

Lando moans low, hand going back to Franco’s hair. He lets him settle his own pace, now, head bobbing up and down rhythmically, slowly getting deeper and deeper and not once showing any sign of gag reflex.

Lando really doesn’t know how he got so lucky.

And then, the unexpected happens.

Franco’s phone pings, first, and then the radio suddenly blasts with an Adele song at full volume, the signal clearly back without even giving a warning.

Lando startles immediately, and he’s too focused on keeping the car on the road and immediately turning the music off to notice that his hips have jumped up in the process, too hard, effectively choking Franco.

“What the fuck, Lan?” Franco blurts out, moving away as he coughs roughly, still half bent over the control panel with a hand around his throat.

“Sorry, I’m sorry!” Lando says, quickly moving the steering wheel to move the left. The electronic voice of Franco’s GPS says ‘15 minutes to destination’. “I didn’t mean to-“

His voice is interrupted by his ringtone resonating through the speakers, Carlos’ phone flashing on the car’s screen.

“Fuck,” Lando groans, “The signal is back, I think he wants to know how far are we.”

The frown of pain on Franco’s face is quickly swept away by a sly smirk, as if he had not been cursing Lando in all known languages just a moment ago.

Lando doesn’t know what to read into his foxy expression.

“Answer him.” Franco says, although it sounds more like an order, so serious as if he already knows Lando will do it anyway.

Lando will, probably, for how much he likes to think that he is the one in control, they both know Franco has him wrapped around his finger. Has Lando driving him around at two in the morning when he has sudden cravings, or getting to his knees when Franco really really wants him to.

“What?” Lando flicks his gaze to Carlos’ caller ID, then the road, and then at Franco’s face slowly coming back down between his legs.

Even as he clearly repeats, “I said, answer him.”

Oh,

Oh.

“Fran, I don’t think-“

“Do you want to come?”

Absolutely, Lando is just on the verge of having one of the best orgasms in his- well, fairly rich sexual life and he has no intention of doing any kind of edging - at least not now, like this.

More importantly, he doesn’t exactly look forward to having to sit through dinner while willing a hard on down as Alex serves him casserole and Carlos’ dog sniffs at his feet.

That would be pretty… inconvenient, and given how cocky Franco can get when he puts his mind into it, he’s sure he would try anything to get a hand on Lando’s dick under the table.

“Fuck yeah,” Lando breathes out. And then, just because he knows good manners. “Please.”

“Then answer the man, puta madre.”

Carlos sounds slightly concerned as Lando finally accepts the call, or as concerned as Carlos Sainz can actually be when it doesn’t directly involve his precious bike, or his dog.

Lando doesn’t know if Alex, even, is on the list.

“Lando, where are you?” Carlos' metallic voice fills the cockpit.

Lando can hear the sound of pots moving in the background and the clicking of silverware, but he’s not really thinking about whatever kind of dish Alex must be making when Franco is suddenly taking Lando’s dick head back into the wetness of his mouth.

Lando slams his hand on the steering wheel, biting back a moan as Franco’s tongue slips in his slit, one delicate hand toying with his balls.

Fuck, Lando’s more into this than he should be. When did Franco turn him into this kind of freak?

“Lando? Are you there? Is everything alright?”

“Answer him.” Franco raises his head just enough to talk in hushed voice right against the underside of his dick, goijg back to sucking on his head the moment after.

Lando swallows, clenching his eyes shut for a single second before forcing them on the road ahead. “Y-yes just the, uh, the signal.”

“Ah yeah, sorry, I forgot to tell you. I should’ve probably given you indications before.” Carlos says, though he doesn’t sound sorry at all. “So, where are you? Alex needs to know when to get the casserole out of the oven.”

“Eh, 15 minutes tops.”

“Ask him if Franco likes parmesan!” Alex screams into the microphone, Carlos groaning right after.

���I think you heard him, Lando.”

Franco hums around him, perhaps the muffled sound of chocked laughter, and the graze of his teeth against the underside of Lando’s dick has him jolting suddenly.

Franco must take it as a sign to keep going, because he firmly wraps his hand around Lando’s base before hollowing his cheeks and opening his mouth as wide as it can get like this, wet saliva spilling from the corners of his mouth and hitting Lando’s bare thighs.

He’s going to die right here, he’s sure of it.

“Yes, yes.” Lando says quickly, taking a handful of Franco’s hair and tugging him down. Franco goes willingly, moaning low enough to barely even reach Lando’s ears. Lando pushes his hips upwards until the head is hitting the back of Franco’s throat, and he can feel the wet suction of it engulfing his entire length. “He eats everything, trust me.”

Carlos and Alex surely can’t catch the second meaning behind that, right?

(Right.)

“Ah, that’s good to know. Alex’s chicken just gave us her first two eggs so we also tried to make an impromptu frittata.”

“It’s our chicken, Carlos.”

“It’s yours when she starts biting at my ankles.”

In all honesty, Lando could care less about their bickering, especially when Franco is bobbing his head up and down, tongue swirling and saliva pooling wetly under his palate, so much that Lando can’t really think about anything else aside from wet, wet, warm-

He is going to come, sooner than he would’ve expected. The illusion of being focused on the road had him thinking he could hold off a little longer but there’s so much he can do when Franco’s heavenly mouth is wrapped around him like this.

Carlos sighs on the other line, “So, alright. Ten minutes, is it alright if we bring out the white wine? I would’ve preferred red but someone forgot to buy it.”

“You went to the mall this morning!” Alex yells in protest.

“It’s okay, it’s- good.” Lando groans. “Whatever’s good.”

Franco is swallowing him down, down, his lips almost touching the trimmed hair of his pubes. He has only ever managed to actually deep throat Lando just once, but even with all the bad angle of bending over the central console, he seems adamant on hitting the second record.

And he’s doing such a good job at sucking Lando off, even like this, because Lando feels like he is going to come probably sooner than he would like, the hot wave of his orgasm building at the pit of his stomach.

And he has no intention to do that while Carlos and Alex are in his fucking speakers.

“Nice, that’s good to know. I know you would’ve preferred beer but we are adults, now, Lando. We must drink fine things at dinner.”

“Yes, yes absolutely, fuck-“ Franco does a magical thing with his tongue just as one of his fingers presses way too closely to Lando’s sack, right where he is sensitive the most.

“Lando, is everything alright?”

“Yes, I-“ Lando chokes out just as Franco hollows his cheeks again, sucking him hard. Lando is sure a vein is going to pop right out of his temple if he keeps holding off any longer. “Just- the road is shit. But I’m almost there.”

“Okay, then I guess we’ll-“

“See you in a bit.” Lando rushes to say, finally ending the call and feeling himself relax against the backrest the moment silence fills in the cockpit.

Franco seems even more eager to make him come, then, bobbing his head quickly, sucking on every downstroke and insistently pressing his finger against Lando’s perineum.

“Fuck, Fran, you’re so good. I am so close- fuck-“

Franco doesn’t pull off, just slips down deeper until his nose is brushing against Lando’s pubes and that is as much of a silent confirmation that Lando allows himself to get before he lets his orgams crash over him.

“Ah, so good. You feel so good, I am going to come, so- ah, yes-“ He comes inside of Franco’s mouth for what feels like hours, spurts of come hitting the back of his throat, and he can feel each swallow of Franco’s throat at every drop of release around his dick, slowly growing oversensitive.

Franco only pulls away when the trembles of aftershocks start running all over Lando’s thighs, and he must sense that the wet suction of his mouth has started to become more painful than pleasurable.

“So…” Franco trails off, swiping a hand over his mouth as he goes back to his seat. “Was it any good?”

Lando glances at him swiftly and Franco looks exactly as wrecked as he imagined, if not worse, slumped against his seat with the long column of his throat exposed as he rests his head on the backrest, little puffs of air escaping his parted wet lips.

When Lando lets his eyes trail lower, is just to see Franco’s hand wrapped around his own dick, suspiciously wet.

“Fuck, Franco.” Lando grits through his teeth, eyes going back to the road. His softening dick gives a weak twitch, he should probably cover himself back up and find some wet whiles, he’s sure he put them somewhere in this cockpit. “Did you touch yourself, too?”

Lando can’t see him, but he just knows that Franco is blushing. For all that he tries to be straightforward and such a little brat, Lando knows that he can get timid when things get pointed out to him.

Lando loves him for that.

“You sounded so hot.” Franco says, voice scratchy. “I like it when you say I am good.”

“I loved it. We definitely need to do that again.” Lando laughs, feeling a bit dizzy and boneless from the recent orgasm and the thought that he made Franco come just by praising him.

They should probably test the limits of this, Lando definitely wants to see how far he can get with Franco squirming just by whispering in his ear - how far Franco can get him.

Franco’s phone pings again, loud. ‘10 minutes to destination’.

“Uh, could you help me clean up a bit now?” Lando asks awkwardly, flicking his gaze to the side to see Franco insistently wiping his own hand down with a dry tissue.

Ah, that’s going to feel so bad on his thighs. If they really are going to do this again, they should probably start to equip the car, too.

Lando has no intention to stain the beautiful leather seats.

“Ay, cono, do I have to do everything myself?” Franco protests, but he still takes another tissue out of the packet to start gently dabbing at Lando’s legs, the wet trails left by Franco’s spit and sweat.

The fabric it’s rough against his skin, but the sweetness of Franco’s touch easily makes up for it.

No matter how rough they can get with each other, Lando knows that deep down Franco likes the moment of care a little bit more. His smiles are always the biggest when Lando comes back from work to bring him his favorite pastries, or when they spend Saturday nights cuddling on the couch to watch trash TV.

Lando likes it too, of course, especially when Franco curls up into his side and pouts until Lando finally starts patting his hair, all of the over confident facade falling to reveal the true sweet side of him.

“Hey,” Lando says softly once Franco has helped him get zipped back up, seatbelt fastened into place. He reaches out towards him, taking his hand to intertwine their fingers over Franco’s thigh - the perks of an automatic. “I love you, mh?”

Franco snorts, but he squeezes back, trying to get his hair back to a coeherent thing rather than the mess Lando had created by gripping at them. “I love you, too.”

—

“Franco! It is so nice to finally meet you, Lando talked so much about you I couldn’t wait to finally see the real version.” Carlos says, enthusiastically slapping a hand on Franco’s shoulder.

“Nice to meet you, too.” Franco says back, Thankfully, Franco barely flinches at the contact, rather smiling broadly as if already at complete ease - Lando does that for him, either way.

“Alex is in the kitchen taking care of the last things, he’ll come in a second.” Carlos says, gesturing for them to take one of the already filled wine glasses. “So, how was the ride here? Pretty boring, eh?”

Franco glances at Lando’s burning face with a mischievous smile, his soft lips already pressed against the brim of a glass. “I found it a lot of fun.” He says, taking a quick sip.

A drop of bubbly liquid immediately slips from the corner of his mouth, traveling down towards his chin, and Franco wipes it away with a swift movement of his thumb, all under Lando’s watchful gaze and flushed red cheeks.

The fucking tease.

“A whole lot of fun.”

[spaciebabie]

see i absolutely despise jimmy (and curly) as a character(s) but as a literary freak i can appreciate the way hes used as a story device with his relationship to curly. i could type this more eloquently but currently ive had a glass of champagne and i havent drank in like 6 months so my tolerance is low so forgive my writing but. jimmy cannibalizing curly. yeah.

theres multiple messages here, theres the message that jimmy is doing what curly (assumedly) did to get into his position and, employing another metaphor, taking the "dog eat dog world" saying to heart. and literally. devouring his competition. or maybe curly didnt do that. and thats what jimmy thinks curly did and so he aims to do the same. choose whichever one you like more they're both interesting storywise.

theres the message where jimmy "consumes" curly in some twisted expression of love. devouring curly so that he remains a part of him, an expression that he is the gold star captain and something to aspire to. admiration for something he'll never be and so he chooses to consume him in order to potentially absorb some of his skill or become more like him.

and then there is curly sitting there helplessly being devoured. its something he has no say in, not something that he chose to happen to him, its something hes become swept up in. he becomes devoured by jimmy in the literal sense of cannibalism, but also in the sense that he became so absorbed in his friendship w/jimmy he ignored his wrongdoings and ultimately led to anya's assault as well as the death of the whole crew.

curly and jimmy intertwined so that one is always consumed by the other. curly in a literal sense, jimmy in a more psychological one. i mean like its really quite crazy they did the "im consumed with thoughts about this guy and want to be him so i must literally consume him" thing quite well. when examining mouthwashing's narrative you find new things to admire every time. each little story element has a place in creating a wonderfully complex and heartbreaking story. its very well done and honestly something to aspire to from the perspective of someone who enjoys studying/writing literature.

all of this is to say i think that there should be more art of jimmy covered in blood and engaging in this cannibalism like the stupid little leech he is

[sysig]

Skelefam

Unfortunately, as much as I love this mod - I mean, it’s beautiful! Just look at it! - it does have a game-crashing bug D: For some reason skeletons can’t get jobs, it crashes the game lol, so as much as I’d love to have Gaster in the Science career, he is a stay-at-home parent! That’s fine, nannies suck in TS2 lol. There’s also only a few clothing options but I’m gonna try some poking around to at least expand upon what’s there already :D

I ended up using the stretchSkeleton cheat - hehe, skeleton - to make Papyrus a bit taller and Sans a bit smaller. It’s only really noticeable in their ankles, and their animations are a bit misaligned, but other than that it’s very cute! :D Sans is also chubby but it’s kinda hard to tell :0

Sans, stop breaking the fourth wall!

Look how little he is compared to his brother hehe

Also, and I did not edit or plan this - they naturally started falling into their relationship dynamics! Gaster and Sans have a much lower Short Term Relationship here than Gaster and Papyrus haha

Would that I could! I was still testing at this point and yup, it crashed. Sadge

Well even if I can’t get the jobs, I can still cheat-unlock the Career Awards! Scientist behaviour lol

Look at their delicate little haaands

Did you know that Gaster sucks? He does!

Oh what are skeletons not your type? Don’t be rude

Sans even rejected him when Gaster offered to dance together! I love them

Gaster’s POV - he was listening to Sans tell a joke and next in the queue Papyrus wanted to show off to him. So accurate haha

Papyrus’ POV, of course he’s friends with both of them, sweet boy

And Sans’, look at how much more he thinks of his brother over Gaster! What more could I ask for honestly

Only concerned with Gaster seeing lol, Papyrus is way closer! He doesn’t count haha

Racecar bed babyyyy

Retextured the outfit for Papyrus, so now they’re much easier to tell apart! :D

Crossover babies ♪ One of the Todds walked by and I just now realized I also gave them a red/blue twin aesthetic haha

And that’s all he’ll want and care about from now on :)

Hehe. He gets it!

Papyrus is bad at making friends! Sans there in the background passively ++ing with Todd lol, he’s a natural

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

He was a better neighbor than Susan was, the bitter old bitch. Normally Lucifer wouldn't speak ill of the dead but that woman he was pretty had a demon controlling her.

He locked everything up and checked it multiple times to be sure it was truly locked.

Lucifer went out on the back deck when night fall came, the gentle breeze going through him. He looked down the way past Adam's house a ways there was a park with a pond. He used to take Charlie to that park all the time when she was little.

His therapist said that was a good goal to have, to work up to going back during the day. He can't even get the nerve to go at night when he knows no one is there for sure.

Just being on his deck is a lot right now.

Luicfer's eyes landed on the tree in his back yard, a healthy apple tree that was blooming fresh apples since it was summer. It was 100 feet from his deck and that's as far as he can go in his own yard.

He started to shake, okay time to go in.

Lucifer went back in and locked his patio door and had to recheck everything.

It was exhausting but it made him feel safe.

-

Adam woke up early to start his new job, it was the main reason he moved here besides the cheap price of the house.

He could finish unpacking this weekend, he has all the necessary things for now.

When he went outside he saw a delivery van pulling out of Lucifer's driveway. There were multiple brown boxes left in front of his door. Luicfer's lights were on and he peaked out the door making sure the van was gone before opening it and going to pick it up.

Lucifer spotted Adam and his heart jumped, shyly he waved.

Adam smiled and waved back: I'm just headed to work.

Lucifer: O-Oh, what do you do?

Adam: I'm a supervisor assistant at a doctor's office.

The mere thought of going to the doctors made Lucifer's skin crawl, all those people and germs. Gross. He remembered when Charlie made him go when he had pneumonia it was not a good time.

Lucifer: Oh n-neat.

Adam: What do you do, if you don't mind me asking?

Lucifer: I ummm...... Believe it or not, I-I-I run a business from home. These boxes are actually all my paper work.

Holy shit that's like five boxes.

Lucifer didn't like the paperwork, but it kept his mind busy. Running his own business he could do 98% of things from the comfort of his home while his brother Michael ran the office.

Meeting? Zoom meeting.

Phone calls? Work phone.

Paperwork? Delivered right to him. Perk of being the boss.

Though, he's been avoiding meetings these last few years, he just has invoices written and sent to him so he stays in the loop.

Adam: Wow, that's impressive. Well, I better get going I don't want to be late.

Lucifer nodded with a small smile, he started to lug his work inside as Adam drove off to work. When he got the last box he saw Alastor and shrunk in on himself.

He quickly grabbed his box and went inside locking the door. He didn't see him did he?

He hoped not. But what if he did?

Fuck his life.

Trapped Heart

@beef-brisket

⚠️This deals with Agoraphobia, anxiety, depression, and mentions of domestic abuse ⚠️

-

Adam: Well that's the last of them.

He looked around his new home and smiled, this place was so much better than his last home and a third of the price too.

They were practically giving it away.

There was his lawn mower that was on the truck still.

Adam went out to put it in the garage when he noticed his neighbor, a short blonde man getting his mail from his box. He was better looking than his last neighbor.

Adam waved: Hey!

Lucifer jumped as he grasped his mail, he looked over and saw a handsome brunette standing in the driveway across the road smiling and waving.

Lucifer: O-Oh, hi!

Adam: Names Adam, I just moved in.

Lucifer: N-nice to meet you! I'm Lucifer, I hope you like it here.

He wanted to be polite and welcome his new neighbor right, but he could already feel the cold tendrils of anxiety start to slowly crawl through his skin trying to wrap around him like a vice grip.

How long has he been outside? His heart started to beat a little hard with each moment he's not back in his home. He could die! He's not safe he needs to get back!

Adam: Yeah me too.

By the looks of it he already likes what he sees.

Lucifer nodded, he could feel the tremors starting in his hands the palms getting sweaty.

He needs to go.

Lucifer: I-It was nice to meet you Adam! B-But I need to get going.

Adam: Oh okay, maybe we can hang out sometime?

Lucifer gave a tight smile: Y-yeah.

He waved again to be polite and tried not to run back to his house, his therapist said it was good for him to be out as long as he could stand it.

Pushing himself a little each day. Today him reached his limit.

Once his front door was closed and locked behind relief washed over him, he's safe now nothing can hurt him. He hugged his mail to his chest, he needed to sit down.

Lucifer went over and placed everything on the coffee table. He tried to remember his breathing exercises.

Adam seemed very nice, maybe he'll send Charlie over when she comes to give him a proper greeting.

-

Adam tilted his head as he watched his new neighbor go into his home, if he didn't know any better he would say the man was panicked. Did he do something? He knows his personality can be a little brash at times but he thought he was being polite.

A man that lived beside him came out for his mail as well.

Adam: Hi! Umm, I'm new here.

Alastor: Oh hello! I'm Alastor, I guess that makes us neighbors.

Adam chuckled: Guess so. Umm, if I may ask, is the man that lives there okay? I didn't intend to upset him.

Alastor looked over at Lucifer's home and rolled his eyes.

Alastor: Getting the mail was he? Don't worry about it that man's afraid of his own shadow. I wouldn't waste my time, he never leaves his house.

Well that sounded a little dramatic.

Adam: What?

Alastor leaned on the fence: Oh yeah, Mr. Morgenstern over there never leaves his house. Rumor has it that his wife used to beat the fuck out of him in the home but it was worse when they were in public. Apparently she'd just humiliate him and others would join in making things worse. He was never free of her but at least in the home he could be alone.

Adam was horrified to hear that: Dude, the fuck, is that true?

Alastor shrugged: Not sure. All I know that is true is she left him nearly 8 years ago and he's become some kind of hermit that never leaves the damn house. His daughter Charlie, sweet girl you'll likely meet her, comes over from time to time.

Adam looked over at Lucifer's house, that couldn't all be true right? Maybe some was and the rest is telephone gossip extras?

Him and Alastor parted ways, he had to put everything away in his house. All the while his mind kept going back to the handsome neighbor across the way.

[puppppppppy]

i feel shy talking here when i dont have anything worth sharing but i cant help feeling like ive said things in the tags that could be brought up in court

[creativity-deficient]

Soooo what are y’all’s hcs on the Tweak family 🤔🤔🤔

[loderlied]

mmm essay about sally and kid gort in the tags (cw for child abuse, mentions of suicide, animal cruelty and a murder attempt. i always hope i don’t have to say this but just in case: i don’t excuse or condone any of her or gort’s behaviour at all.) this is literally not even touching upon everything i have to say because i hit the fucking tag limit lmao. NOBODY READ IT’S BAD BRAINSTORMING I JUST NEEDED TO GET IT OUT SOMEHOW

[adore-gregor]

🤞

[jorvikzelda]

This may be a good and normal thing but I have absolutely zero regrets about having purchased the laptop last night. Like all day yesterday and even as I was buying I was going oh god should I should I not but now I’m not even having second thoughts about the huge display lmao

[lesbiansanemi]

God nothing hits like early bleach, the substitute shinigami arc and rukia’s execution arc are just. Ugh. Something about the crunchy-ass early 2000s-ness of it that the rest of the series lost (not just animation wise but aesthetic wise), when there was still hope that all the potential would be capitalized on, idk, it was just fun and getting to fall in love with all the characters because pretty much every single one introduced was great and engaging. I just really really wish the series had kept that early vibe that it started losing once the visoreds were introduced, they got the last little tail end of it. As soon as we got to the heuco mundo arc this all vanished and it’s so upsetting, the series just lost a lot of its personality, if that makes sense, I wish it had kept it so badly

[beananium]

when i finished pjd 2nd i moved on to extend and my arm physically rejected rolling girl on hard

[devilsskettle]

anyway this scene is making me insane like this is literally what i’ve been talking about . i think she is so sick of being confined to her role and like having to be the “good one” or something and having people tell her what she should or shouldn’t do, or should or shouldn’t be okay with, and now with what happened in the desert she’s sorted out her priorities and they’re different from what everyone is telling her they should be and yes one of her priorities is her pro bono work but another one is pulling off these elaborate cons with jimmy and actually those two things are not that different to her, it’s a similar kind of challenge/risk/reward situation . and like she can be honest with herself about what she wants without having it compromise any other part of her life . and for both of them now i think a lot of their boundaries have been revealed to be lines drawn in the sand that are very easy to step over, over and over again . so anyway idk what i’m talking about but i get frustrated for her that other people are constantly trying to put her on a pedestal, because sure it’s nice to be admired but what about like her agency and her actual desires and personality and shit like that . anyway i think she should be allowed to be as fucked up and conniving as she wants. as a treat