#what am i cooking? you will never know.

[daily-odile]

odile wip that happened to be a bit prettier than usual...

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 2 - Psyche Skills

Part 1 - Part 3

[starry-bi-sky]

realizing i have. a lot of untapped trauma potential for clone^2 danny because i just Fully Processed Four Months Late the fact that his parents were capturing and torturing ghosts in the basement before he became Phantom. and the fact that he was on house rest for 2 weeks. during that time period. and he wasn't really leaving the house. he could hear their screaming through the floorboards

*points at clone danny* i can give you suuuuuuch a bad time babe ahaha. i've got two untouched years before you meet damian what fucks you up before then

[rintoki]

a a a a a a a a a

playing dress up with aventurine. where he’s your pretty little doll. trying on clothes because he likes to show off how pretty he looks in everything. except the clothes gets progressively raunchier… and sluttier… and more revealing. until he finally comes out in just lingerie, expecting some kind of reaction from you.

but you’ve just been looking on with a mild smile on your face, barely even a chuckle as he climbs onto your lap. aventurine can feel the familiar anxiety in his belly, the doubt growing in his mind. but he can’t turn back now; instead he grabs your hands, bringing them to his waist as he puts on the overconfident expression he knows all too well.

he spills his honeyed words, his eyes drawing you in. he’s far too pretty—gorgeous even—for you to ignore him like that. so he toys with the loosely tied bow across his chest; it wasn’t meant to stay tied for long, one small tug and it all comes undone.

he feels your thumbs rubbing along his waist, hands squeezing slightly and aventurine feels right on the edge. so, so close, he’s almost got you. the thrill of winning just within reach, just a little more…

“you look amazing in this one as well, i’m sure your lover will deeply enjoy it,” your easy smile and relaxed frame gave nothing away, toying with the silky fabric of the lingerie.

and he nearly stumbles as you move to stand, signaling the end of your little ‘meeting’. you’re not sure what he’s looking to gain from doing this, especially since he has yet to propose some kind of deal to you. however, it was getting late, and it wouldn’t look too good on either of you if you were seen leaving his residence so late in the night.

“if there’s no other outfits to show me, i think i’ll take my leave then. have a good night, aventurine.”

you’re gone before he can even think of an excuse to make you stay. or rather, if him dressing up like such in front of you isn’t enough to get you to stay, what else is a man to do?

[writinganon1]

@cokoweee

Ya’ll ever have a dream so lifelike it feels aggressively real until one thing goes a little too wrong and then you start to realize that maybe you’re in a dream but it’s also too real to convince yourself it’s not real that you can’t wake yourself up? 

TW: panic attack, I say gun, uhhh blood ig? Bishop says a kinda weird thing but that's just him bein him

can I say blood? last time I did it marked me as mature...

-

Her heart thumped against her chest, lactic acid building in her legs as she ran. She tapped furiously at her phone, fingers slipping over the screen as she tried to deploy Sheldon. 

Donnie says “no no no” chimed a pixilated picture of Othello, his finger waving back and forth. 

“What the-” She slammed against a wall, her shoulder crunching against the brick. 

His stupid programming on the poor thing to keep Sheldon at his house. Maybe she could override it? 

No, not enough time. She was just going to have to run and hope for the best. 

Her shoulder screamed in protest as she climbed the ladder in the alley. Scrambling over the side of the building to catch her breath, she tapped at the screen again. 

There had to be something she could do to foil his programming. She wiped at her nose, the cold still not quite gone even after days of bed rest. Bullets flew over the edge of the building, seemingly locking on to her body heat. Throwing herself at the ledge at the last second to force the bullets to crash into the wall she coughed violently, phlegm coating her throat.

Stupid sickness. 

Stupid Othello leaving her with the stupid rabbit farmer.

She pushed herself off the ground, arms struggling under the weight of herself. It was as if every muscle in her body was on fire, each fiber screaming at her to stop. She gulped raising her head over the ledge. Agent Bishop was standing on the adjacent rooftop, his face curled into a sneer, eyes unblinking despite the sun in his eyes. 

He waved at her, fingers waggling in the air as he pulled a small gun from his pocket. Aiming it directly at her chest he grinned, his eyes flickering with something distinctly unhuman. 

She stumbled backward, her feet skidding over the concrete as he seemed to lock onto her. Loose rock dug into her knees as she clambered over the rooftop. 

Away.

All she needed to do was get away. 

She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the raised bump of the scar, as she moved.

This was…

This was wrong? 

It didn’t happen this way. 

No. She didn’t need to get away, she needed to get out. 

The bullet ripped into her skin, tearing away at muscle, and shattering the bone in her rib.

She screamed, blood pouring from the gaping hole in her chest, as Bishop moved closer. He walked to her side, footsteps clanking against the concrete. 

Clawing at the ground she dragged her body along the roof, rocks digging under her nails. Bishop laughed, his foot trampling her hand, digging it into the ground. She gasped, breathing shallowly as she fought to get loose. 

He grabbed her hair, wrapping it between his fingers and tightening his grip as he pulled her from the floor. 

“Oh, this is wonderful.” He smiled, voice dripping with venom. “Such a pretty little thing I caught this evening. I’ve been dying to chat with you.” He pulled her hair up, forcing her to rise. “I wonder if she’ll do any tricks?” 

She spat in his face, her ears filled with an all-consuming ringing. 

Away. 

She needed to get away. 

It didn’t matter how. She needed to get away. 

He said something else, flaunting some sort of mechanism he had hidden in his shirt. She tried to focus on his words, but her breathing was too shallow, her limbs too shaky, the ringing too loud for her to hear a word. 

She clamped a hand over her chest, a sorry attempt to staunch the flow of blood from the gaping hole in her body. Cursing softly she watched as the red seeped into a slithering pink fleshy mass. 

She stifled a scream as the pink turned an orange maroon, her own blood fueling some sort of monster. 

“Shhhhhhh.” Bishop whispered against her ear, “It’ll be done soon. Just one quick slash and you’ll be out of my hair for good.” 

The mass jumped forward, faster than she could comprehend, her body spasming in pain as she scrambled back.

Was this the Krang she’d heard so much about after she’d left the jail? Weren’t they supposed to be mindless or something? 

It lunged forward again, tentacles lashing toward her face. Bishop shook her in front of him, like a toy for a dog. 

“Kendra?”  

She screamed as he tightened his grip on her, shaking her around like a bag of flour. The world around her turned hazy, her vision blurring in and out. 

She wasn’t going to go out without a fight. 

Throwing her head back she jammed her skull into his chin, breaking the grip he had on her hair. 

She clawed at the ground, a strange silky feeling coating her fingers. Pushing away the softness of what was sure to be Krang, she kicked at the mass as it wiggled unnaturally. 

“KENDRA!” A familiar voice shouted at her, a gentle three-fingered nubby touch against her arm. 

Her eyes flew open, arms flailing to the sides to swat at what was left of the Krang matter, as hands held her back. She gasped, her chest heaving as a sinking feeling hit her gut. Dread splashed over her head like a wave, drowning her, leaving nothing but fear.

Eyes widening she looked next to her for Tello, horrified as darkness encroached on her vision, leaving her staring through a pin hole. Nausea rolled through her stomach as she gasped for air, her chest shuddering to keep up with her breathing. 

It hurt. It hurt so bad. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” He whispered, hand placed against her back. “It’s ok you’re home. You’re with me.” 

She jerked backward. He was loud. So so loud. Even with the ringing in her ears, he was too loud. 

Breaths were punched from her lungs faster than she could finish taking them in. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes blew wide. Her chest tightened, lungs twisting as she shook. 

She’s dying. She has to be dying. There’s no other explanation. 

Dead in her room from a nightmare-induced heart attack,  

Her eyes flickered back and forth over the room, not focusing on anything, just wildly scanning for danger she knew wasn’t there. Willing her arm to move, she let out a chocked warble. 

The room seemed to melt around her. Things blurred together, a fuzzy abstract painting of almost-real-life. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she tightened her muscles. 

Her whole body shook as she tried to take steadying breaths. 

“Did you know softshell turtles only have half a plastron?” 

She was in the middle of dying. 

She most definitely did not need turtle facts right now. 

“Technically a full one, but it’s covered by skin, rendering it effectively useless for plastron purposes.” He shrugs. “Same deal as the shell.” 

She looked at him, confusion breaking through the panic. 

“Makes us really flexible though. Wanna see?” 

He got off the bed, walked to the middle of the room, and bent backward. He smiled upside down at her from the floor and smoothly brought himself back up. 

“Pretty neat huh?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Bet no other turtle you meet could do that.” 

Amusement rippled through her as she watched him demonstrate his stretches and various yoga poses.

“I’ve never met another turtle like you.” She breathed, some of the panic melting away. 

“Precisely! No one can do it like me!” He said, pointing his finger at her triumphantly before his face softened. “ We starting to feel a bit better?” 

She brought her thumb and pointer finger close together. A little 

He nodded. “Am I good to come back up or do you need some space?” 

She patted the bed next to her, inviting him closer. She waited until he was seated comfortably before slumping against his shoulder, exhausted. 

He shifted slightly, reaching for his phone with one hand, the other wrapped around her. He let them sit for a moment, reminding her to breathe every few seconds before Sheldon zipped into the room. 

He whispered something to Othello before zooming out of the room. She watched passively as it happened, her body still not quite connected to her soul. 

Sheldon returned moments later, a bag of ice, a bottle of water, a cookie, and tub of lavender lotion in his little propeller arms. 

Othello took them from him, patted his head, and shooed him away. Taking one of the ice cubes he flattened out her hand and placed it in her palm. 

She jerked slightly at the sensation of cold in her hand, surprised when he placed another in her palm. 

“Focus on the melting.” He said, voice low and gentle. 

The ice filled the lines of her hand and dripped over the sides and down her arm. She shivered as the water pooled in her hand. Othello grabbed the cookie from the pile he had created and broke off half to give to her. 

“Thanks?”

He watched her carefully. “What does it taste like?” 

“A cookie?” She said through a mouthful, her hands still full of TV static. 

“I need details.” He pressed. 

She paused, taking a moment to consider the flavors in her mouth. “Vanilla, chocolate chips.” She took another bite. “ Like I left it in the oven a minute or two too long and overcooked them just slightly.” 

She’d have to make another batch, this time keeping an eye on the time. 

He pressed an uncapped water bottle into her hand. “Drink.” 

She pressed the bottle to her lips, feeling the way the cold blossomed against her skin as she held it there. Quietly observing the way she could feel it go down her throat and into her stomach. 

“Are we feeling more alive?” 

She nodded, running her hand along her thigh to feel the fabric of her pajama pants as she pressed her head against his side. 

“Good.” He murmured, sleep creeping into his voice. “You had a panic attack I’m pretty sure.” 

“...Sorry it was for something stupid.” 

“I get worked up over stupid stuff too.” He mumbled, eyes half closed. 

“Your stuff isn’t stupid.” She countered. 

“Then neither is yours.” 

She stopped, lifting her head to look up at him.

He grabbed her hand, flexing the fingers for her. “You feel ok?” 

“I don’t know.” She answered honestly. 

He nodded and guided her to a lying position. “Tell me five of your favorite things.” 

She paused, looking around the room. “Hmmmmm. You.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Mhm. Uhhh, lavender. The color purple. Satin jackets. Baking. Messing around in the lab. Oh, I guess that’s more than five.” 

He tapped her shoulders rhythmically, “You can keep going if you need to.” 

She took in a deep breath. “I think I’m ok now.” 

“Positive?” 

Nodding she pulled the blankets over herself. What she really needed was rest. She was so exhausted from the whole ordeal that the idea of doing anything else felt impossible. 

He got off the bed again, searching beneath the bedframe for something before he pulled a large purple blanket from under the bed. She blinked in surprise as he placed it over her, a weight holding her down to the bed. 

“I should’ve mentioned it was weighted.” 

She pulled her hand out to give a quick thumbs up as he climbed back into bed. She shifted to hold out her arm for a hug. He smiled and pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. 

“You smell like you’ve been using my soap.” She grumbled against his plastron. 

He shrugged. “ I like the way you smell.” 

Rolling her eyes she tugged the blanket higher over her shoulders smiling as soft chirping filled the room, the sound he always made right as he fell asleep. 

“Good night Tello.” She whispered.

His plastron vibrated as he churred back, gently running circles through her hair. 

She was home. And she was safe.

~

squad don't write stuff at four AM I'm pretty sure this only makes sense to me at this point. Anyway I was listening to my pretty princess playlist while writing this 💁‍♀️

the reason why this was written is in the tags btw

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OOOH BABY THIS ONE WAS A LONG TIME COMING. NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE!!

YOU THOUGHT IT WAS A DAY LIKE ANY OTHER. A DAY OF ADVENTURE WITH YOUR CLOSEST FRIENDS. OH HOW TIGHTLY YOU HOLD THEM TO YOUR CHEST, AND OH HOW TERRIFYING IT IS TO WATCH THEM GET EVISCERATED BY SOMETHING YOU DONT UNDERSTAND. MAYBE IF YOU JUST LISTENED A BIT MORE, IF YOU LET THE SMART ONE LEAD THE CHARGE, THIS WOULDNT HAVE HAPPENED. ONCE AGAIN YOUR IMPULSIVENESS LEADS TO DISASTER. HEAR ME NOW, YOUNG TIDESTRIDER, YOUR STUPIDITY WILL BRING THE DEMISE OF EVERYTHING YOU WERE BORN AND FORGED TO PROTECT. HOW COULD THE PROPHECY HAVE CHOSEN SOMEONE SO USELESS? I BET YOU WISH YOU CHOSE THE RIGHT LEVER. FAILURE.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

ohhh i just know magneto is so pathetic in bed constantly asking charles if he’s making him feel good and charles just praising him like 😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌

THIS IS WHAT I LOG ON TO THIS WEBSITE FOR 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

[baconcolacan]

I honestly sweat a little when people come over from my not shippy Eddsworld art, just to see I’m a basic bitch guy who likes when the blue one kisses the red one, and also likes TO kiss the eyebrows guy

[dicktat]

Lol I did it organized a Christmas event and not enough people came so I completed all 24 entries by myself, merry Christmas everyone

[mynonclicheblog]

you're leaving in two months, huh? guess that's kinda my notice, too. at least we have the rest of the summer.

[moe-broey]

One thing they don't tell you about the Senshi tulpa that WILL inevitably manifest in your mind to tell you to eat better is that. Every time I make myself a coffee via kuerig instantly, I can hear him. Lamenting the fact that I have become so accustomed to convenience and ease that even a standard coffee machine has become foreign to me. I am thinking about how to make coffee without use of a machine in the first place, I am wondering where my french press went, I can see him. In my mind. Showing me how to make coffee in The Dungeon. Dungeon Coffee.

[krogans-give-the-best-cuddles]

Tbh I get why they're not having more prev games options factor in (the crunch and remaking this game like 5 times) and I think the argument of focusing on making this game reactive inside of itself instead of to past events is fair and valid even.

I do however have to raise my eyebrow at the "we prioritized the choices that could be the most interesting" when what they had was 1. Who you romanced as inquisitor (which?? Was labeled friendship/romance in the screenshot I saw?? Even tho it didn't let you choose who your friends were???) 2. Whether the inquisition was disbanded 3. Something about Solas or whatever

But NOTHING about the well of sorrows?? But both the inquisitor and Morrigan are gonna be in the game?? My first question is: why did you not think who got the well of Sorrows would be interesting? My second question is: what is the goddamn point of having the inquisitor or Morrigan come back if the most ominous/interesting potential consequence for them is not going to be relevant at all?

They also said that they would be keeping it vague what was going on on all other decisions so that it felt like "your dragon age" still exists- but it would be impossible to be vague about Morrigan/Inquisitor and the well of Sorrows, GIVEN who has the power over it in this game. So the available options are 1. They are lying and they do make a Canon decision we cannot control 2. They forgot about the well entirely 3. Inquisitor and Morrigan die in a fire explosion two seconds after seeing them and conveniently completely cut off from the power the well has over them so we don't have to think about this at all

None of these are satisfying options. I am not against kind of "clean slating" this game for real. I think it is set in locations where that could be *stretched* to be feasible, and I think that if they had EAs guns to their heads the entire time making it, it IS the most artistically sound decision to prioritize making the game stand on its own over having it be a serious of fanservice moments. But why the fuck do we need to have Morri show up then? Put her away. Put the inquisitor away even. The fact that they have brought Morrigan back AND made this choice makes me question the story direction heavily- bc it seems like 1. Not everybody present even knew what the dominoes the previous game was setting up were and/or 2. They ARE still trying for fanservice anyway, which is stupid bc this whole venture was to prioritize new storytelling

[fuwahua]

Hewwo hewwo! I request some dimiclaude with uhhhh hips for the spot? Maybe lee!claude? TYSM 🙏🏽✨

🎧 DAY 11 : HUG

Tags: Dimiclaude (FE3H), Post-war timeskip, Established relationship, cuddling

(Hewwo throwing some more FE your way!! Pretend this isn't super late omg but I hope you enjoy the little guys~ ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ )

There’s something magical about winter Faerghus at twilight. It’s the combination of dimming moonlight reflecting off the snow-covered grounds, broken only by the lanterns lit by the city’s dwellers, and the songs that travel the halls of the castle at dawn’s peak, illuminating the skies with not just the rising sun but the prayers of the people who inhabit it. A solid twenty or so minutes in which the kingdom entirely transforms.

“Come back inside, love. It’s cold out.”

It’s also right when Dimitri rises from bed.

Claude hums, unmoving from his perch at Dimitri’s balcony. When the Fodlan letter first arrived at his doorstep in Almyra, he’d thought the hallucinogens had finally kicked in—three years he’d spent working to rebuild his reputation after returning from Fodlan with his tail between his legs, only to be fed a golden spoon with the offer of an alliance across nations. He hadn’t responded at first, thinking it to be a prank, only for the second to come in. Sometime between the fifth and eighth letter and the third tightly packed bundle of dried pheasant jerky, Tiana convinced him to give the king a chance.

“Love?”

The poorly-hidden confessions in the letters might have played a role in that decision.

“Mmm, I hear you,” Claude says. The soft sound of Dimitri’s steps padding closer to him are gentle, so unlike the man who once stared him down the battlefield with vengeance burning in his eyes, yet no less genuine. Dimitri’s hand hovers over his waist, hesitant, until he leans back into it. Claude grins, eyes flicking up. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” Dimitri greets. His gaze roams from Claude to his kingdom and back, confusion evident. “Is there something the matter?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Then why not come back inside? It’s cold out here.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You’re shivering.”

Is he? Claude furrows his brows, concentrating on his grip on the balcony only to blink in surprise that he is. The waking sounds of the kingdom have blocked out the quiet clicking of his chattering teeth. That, and maybe he tends to get lost in thought more often these days. “Huh, so I am.”

“Claude. Come inside, please.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he sighs, waving away Dimitri’s concern. He grins at the weary look on the other, huddling closer and pulling Dimitri’s arms tight around his middle. It’s a little unfair to take advantage of Dimitri’s morning cuddliness to his advantage, but a few hugs never hurt anyone. “You can just keep me warm like this, right?”

“This is hardly an appropriate—”

“Faerghus sure is pretty in the morning. It would’ve been nice to see this together back when we were students.”

Dimitri falls quiet at that. His exhale is gentle, a warm puff of breath that mists up the air before them, as they overlook the hustle and bustle of dawn. It might be pride in his nation, colored by Claude’s unsubtle compliment, that keeps him rooted, just as likely as it is affection. Secretly, he’d like it to be a bit of both. They stay like that, warmed by each other, before Dimitri speaks again. “As much as I’d love to spend the day with you here, I’m afraid that we have a diplomatic meeting scheduled for eight with the Archbishop.”

“Teach? They won’t mind if we’re late.”

“Lady Judith will be there as well.”

Yeesh. Claude grimaces, picturing the scowling woman’s face with ease. If she knew he was spending his morning cuddling with Dimitri instead of preparing for the new trade routes… yeah. No thanks. “Well, that doesn’t motivate me to get ready at all.”

Dimitri huffs a laugh at that, resting his head above Claude’s. His chin is less pointy now than it used to be, filling out in the years apart as the kingdom has come together; some bemoan the king’s formerly waifish junior self, but Claude much prefers him wider—well-slept, for one, and guilt-free in his indulgence. It’s what he’d wanted for the other back in Garreg Mach and he’d always believed in “better late than nothing”.

It’s with that thought that he reclines back, staring shamelessly at Dimitri’s face. Rounder cheeks, longer hair… most noticeably is his eyes, azure colored warm with affection and no longer the haunting, piercing gaze that once lingered around the prince. Some would say the king looks kinder now, sweeter.

If only they knew how sweet he could be. Claude reaches upwards to pull Dimitri down into a kiss, gentle; the other’s arms falling to settle on his hips and pull him back. He purses his lips, waiting, but—

“Ah! Hey now, careful.”

“Mm?”

“Your hands,” Claude points out, squirming as they ghost over the gaps of his corsetting, knuckles brushing the divots of his hips. “T-they’re distracting me.”

“Are they?” Dimitri asks, hair spilling over Claude’s shoulder as he hugs him tight, enveloping him with ease in his arms. He squeaks at the sudden, harder presses against his hips, fingers spreading in a gentle caress before rubbing deeper indents against him that has Claude squirming, laughter escaping him into the cold morning air. “I didn’t notice.”

Liar! “Dimihihehehetri! Stahahap—you’re tickling mehehehehe!”

“I’m just trying to help you warm up, love. You know I’d hate to let you freeze.” And oh, oh, that’s not quite fair, whispers of devotion against his ears even as betraying hands dig away at his weak points, digits burrowing beneath the wrinkled fabric and splaying wide as his cheeks flush red. Claude’s head shakes meekly, hands tugging away at Dimitri’s sleeves.

“I’m wahahahaharm!”

“You’re shaking, still.”

“Thahahahahat’s because eheheHEHE of you!”

Dimitri shakes his head regretfully, though the clear smile stretched across his face does nothing to convince Claude of his authenticity. “I promise I’ll leave you be if you come inside. And I’ll go out first to distract Lady Judith as well.”

Ooh, that little—if he weren’t too busy laughing his head off, he’d share certain words with Dimitri’s little promise. Unfortunately, Dimitri’s hands take that opportunity to pry under his coat, cold air tingling against his skin only to light up seconds later as fingers dig in.

Claude squirms, knees buckling, as Dimitri’s nails scratch at his weak points and leaves him breathless with protesting laughter. He feels like a wild wyvern, screeching and flailing in the air but ultimately unable to free himself from Dimitri’s tickling hug. That inability to move, and the reminder that he’ll be teased about this for eternity if Judith finds them in this position, finally breaks through. “I’ll gohahaHA IN! EnouGHAHAAHAA!”

A huff of air escapes Dimitri as Claude elbows him in the stomach, finally relinquishing his hold and chuckling as Claude takes the opportunity to hop out of his embrace, shooing him away with one hand. He raises his hands innocently, backing away when Claude’s eyes narrow towards him despite panting. “I… will get you… back.”

Panic flits by Dimitri’s face. “L-Love, I just—”

“After,” Claude adds, “our meeting with Byleth and Judith.” The panic almost seems to worsen as Dimitri realizes that he now has at least several hours’ worth of anticipation for Claude’s vengeance to unveil itself. It takes but a moment for Dimitri’s shoulders to sag, resigned to his fate; Claude grins at the sight, straightening up and smoothing down his coat before winking. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice.”

“Truly?”

“Sure. I’ll make sure to warm you allll up.”

He laughs as Dimitri whimpers. Oh sweet, sweet revenge.

[cosmogyros]

Literally can't pay my rent until I get paid for September, which hasn't happened yet. Today is Friday, and Monday is the last day of the month. I'm so tired of being poor.

[cemeterym]

i'm begging my uni to stop making every fucking student social activity something where you have to walk around a bunch if you are a slow walker who cannot help it they literally want you dead

[caterpillarinacave]

Just took a nap but the entire time I was having this really vivid dream that was made up entirely of Matthew Fairchild struggling with a modern day waffle iron