#when I was writing it I thought
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see-me-here-alone · 3 months ago
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Niji en fix it fic
Chapter 1 - Word count: unknown
Summary: Y/N is fresh into their role at Niji needs to manage their beloved streamers amidst the company's turmoil. They confide in their cousin Michael, who is there to comfort them during emotional times. As y/n embarks on this new chapter, they wrestle with the uneasy thought that their cherished connection to the streamers might shift in ways they can’t yet foresee.
------ OwO ------
As the final hiring confirmation meeting faded into its close, Riku Tazumi, my new boss, gazed at me with a sincerity that took my breath away. “友達になってくれませんか?” he asked, his voice soft yet heavy with unsaid truths. The words, “Would you like to be friends?” were more than a simple inquiry; they were his way of requesting a raw honesty, an assurance that I wouldn't soften my truths to spare his feelings.
In the midst of NijiSanji's storm of criticism, he needs someone who can pierce through the static and deliver the stark reality of what's best for the talents. Meeting his earnest gaze, I replied with unwavering resolve, “最善を尽くします,” my voice a vessel of hope and determination.
We exchanged our goodbyes and my heartfelt thanks, and as the call ended, a profound weariness settled into my bones. Yet beneath that exhaustion was a bubbling excitement for this new chapter in my career. I couldn’t predict how fans and talents would respond, but I knew one thing for certain—I needed to share this news with someone special.
I moved slowly into our shared living room, where I found a familiar figure slumped on our old gray couch. He fidgeted nervously with his nails, tapping his foot to an unrecognized beat. “Michael, guess what just happened,” I said, trying to maintain a neutral expression, though my excitement fought to escape.
He looked up, bounding off the couch to envelop me in an impossibly tight hug. “You have to guess! You need to guess! You can’t just assume, dude!” His fervor was so palpable I struggled to breathe.
Eventually, he pulled away, his gaze drifting from my face. “I know you too well,” he said, guilt lacing his voice, “I know what you’re thinking and everything you’re going to do, so I’m sure you got the job.”
Tears brimmed and spilled down my cheeks as he stammered, “Oh shit, dude, was I wrong? Fuck…” He scrambled for the half-empty tissue box, grabbing it from the coffee table with a look of sheer panic.
“No, dude, I got it. I’m literally the best person ever—of course, I got the job. I’ll be working as a court jester when my boss’s ideas get weird and dumb, and I’ll protect people and...and...I’m so excited,” I choked out through sobs, overwhelmed by the emotion of it all.
Michael’s eyes softened with understanding as he saw me, his emotional cousin/housemate, unraveling. “Yeah, okay, dude, let’s order Indian food. My treat,” he said, patting my shoulder in a gesture of comfort. We ordered our meal, and as we waited, I continued to spill my excitement.
After our meal, we said our goodnights and retreated to our separate rooms. I sat at my desk, the computer screen still aglow, and opened YouTube. Sonny Brisko was streaming, but a tight knot of unease formed in my stomach. The thought of soon meeting, and inevitably managing, the very streamers I’d admired made my heart sink. I shuddered at the fear that my enjoyment of their content might be forever changed by this new role.
Resolute, I typed “ASMR loud talking sleep” into the search bar, clicking on the ‘watched’ button to sift through my previously viewed videos. As I scrolled, I sought solace in the comforting hum of the ASMR, allowing myself to drift into the soothing familiarity of past favorites. Yet, even as I tried to escape into this sanctuary, a fleeting thought lingered: perhaps these people are even more extraordinary than I ever imagined.
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yeehawpim · 11 months ago
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ncutii-gatwa · 1 year ago
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really makes me laugh seeing some people complain doctor who is gay now. babe THIS aired in 2005. doctor who has been gay a long damn time get with the program
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odoraful · 17 days ago
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𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒
even in their relationship with you, they still have their moments of jealousy every now and again
⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; established relationship; luke & kieran appearance in sylus’ scene; new receptionist in zayne's scene; andrew appearance in xavier's scene; a little silly and a lot fluffy; 0.8–1k words per scene
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ZAYNE ⟡
Every situation requires an assessment to determine the most logical course of action. Zayne embodied this statement in his work, and even in parts of his relationship with you. One such part was when it came to jealousy. In all his assessments, 99% of the time, there was no threat, and, therefore, no intervention required. In any case, if a guy were to approach you in such a way, he trusted you entirely as well to not entertain him. However, as he opened his office door to call you from the waiting room, he was confronted by that 1%.
The new receptionist hired to work alongside Yvonne was young, charming, and far too friendly. Especially towards you. You stopped by quite regularly. Sometimes for your scheduled check-in appointments, and oftentimes to simply visit Zayne during his downtime. That was enough for the young man to recognise you, his energy ignited by your presence.
Zayne could only see your side profile as you stood by the receptionist desk, engaged in a conversation with the young man. You appeared to be all smiles with him today. Whatever story he was telling seemed to be so thrilling. Zayne’s face remained calm, aside from the twitch of his jaw when he clenched his teeth. If anybody had been watching, they would have likely jumped at such a sign of vexation by the cardiac surgeon.
Until that point, he thought he had known what jealousy was. He had read it in books and seen it in TV shows, all of which portrayed jealousy leading to several outbursts and stand-offs. However, as he felt something rising from the pit of his stomach and burning in his chest, he understood that the purest kind of it now flared inside him. It was a dangerous emotion that clouded his mind and, before he knew it, his feet had carried him right to your side.
Mr. Chatterbox regarded Zayne with disbelief at his approach, standing up to properly greet him.
“Doc! What a rare sight seeing you personally greet a patient at the desk.”
Zayne paid only a cursory glance and the slightest nod of acknowledgement to him before his attention was narrowed on you.
“If you’d like to come in now, Y/N,” Zayne said, his voice smooth and warm.
You nodded. “Of course.”
As you walked, he placed his hand at the small of your back, pulling you closer to him by just a fraction. He turned his head to the side, enough so the young man could see his sharp eyes. Zayne wasn’t one for outbursts, so he hoped this calculated display was enough of a warning.
Watching Dr. Zayne disappear with you into his office, the receptionist muttered to himself, “Why does it feel chillier in here than before?”
Yvonne, a bystander to everything that just occurred, quietly approached her freshly hired colleague from behind. She delt a swift smack on his head with the edge of her palm. He yelped out in exaggerated pain, rubbing at the spot as if she had just given him a bruise.
“Could you be anymore oblivious…” she sighed, shaking her head. Her gaze then turned fiery as she began to scold, “And how many times have I told you to stop yammering around patients!?”
At the sound of Yvonne’s voice, he immediately redirected his efforts. Not even addressing his colleague’s prior criticism, he clasped his hands together.
“Miss Yvonne! How are you doing on this lovely–”
“Fax this, please,” she interrupted, holding a referral letter up directly to his face.
He gave a mock shiver, taking the paper from Yvonne’s hand. “So cold in this division.”
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“It seemed like you were making good conversation with our new hire,” Zayne commented, closing the door behind him.
You breathed a laugh. “He’s quite chatty. I guess it’s good to have someone so energetic working at the desk.”
That sensation within Zayne turned molten, though, you couldn’t have known with the coolness of his palm. What would be his intervention here? Maybe he needed to have a stern conversation with the young man, or perhaps he had to be more obvious in his affections towards you. He could never match the energy the receptionist had, so it would be impossible to achieve such a feat.
In his momentary stewing, you let out an uncertain hum.
“To be honest, he kept talking about himself... it was a little overwhelming,” you confessed sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “I couldn’t be impolite to him, so I just smiled and nodded at whatever he said!”
Instantly, Zayne’s mind cleared. His jealousies dwindled into nothing more than ashes. A part of him even felt silly at how intense he was feeling just a few seconds ago.
Unexpectedly, he rested his head on your shoulder with a sigh. Your eyes widened with confusion before you chuckled.
“Isn’t this a bit unprofessional, doctor?” you teased.
“Feel free to file a complaint to the hospital’s human resource division,” he retorted, not missing a beat.
Your mirth readily turned into concern at the affectionate display.
“But seriously, Zayne, is everything okay?” you asked, poking at his cheek.
Zayne lifted his head. He seemed to be, surprisingly, relieved. Though, you couldn’t figure out what exactly he would be relieved about.
“Yes, everything is perfect now.”
SYLUS ⟡
There was nothing that a deathly glare or a good shove couldn’t do to resolve Sylus’ jealousy. Warding off any unsuspecting parties was his speciality, especially if it involved them getting too close to you. However, the leader of Onychinus was thrown for a loop when his very own henchmen were sparking these feelings.
“You are… going out with Y/N today?” Sylus spoke slowly, as if sounding out syllables to a baby. “Is what I’m hearing correct, Luke?”
Kieran not-so-subtly kicked Luke in the shin. Luke stifled a groan. Rather than be on their way to Linkon (and to you), they were here being confronted by the boss. It was an unfortunate slip-up from Luke as they were about to leave, which caused Sylus to sternly halt their exit.
“Yes, boss.” Luke replied, trying to stand up straighter with only one good shin.
“And for what reason exactly?” Sylus asked.
Luke resignedly sighed.
“They wanted someone to–”
“Help clean their apartment!” Kieran quickly finished.
He turned and started at his twin brother pointedly. You better follow along, it seemed to threaten.
Luke began nodding profusely, “Yep! Gosh, boss, you wouldn’t even believe the mess!”
“This type of menial work was probably too peasantry for you–”
“So, they invited us instead!”
Sylus’ henchmen stood there, looking quite proud of themselves and their innocent display. Sylus rolled his eyes at their dramatics. Luke and Kieran could do any task Sylus asked, no matter how dirty, and yet they were quite terrible at lying. Maybe he needed to teach them some skills in deception later. He dismissed them sharply with a wave of his hand.
“Go. Make sure to return before I leave this evening.”
The henchmen bowed, preparing to scurry away, but before they could, Sylus spoke again,
“Don’t take your eyes off them for even a second, do you understand?”
They turned back to Sylus and nodded, bowing once again.
“And–”
Sylus’ continual interruption of their exit left them in an awkward position right at the threshold of his office.
“–they don’t enjoy mopping, so I trust one of you will play the gentleman and take up that task.”
“You got it, boss.” Luke and Kieran said in unison before finally departing.
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Sylus was planning on sleeping before your date in the evening, but that was completely out of the question now.
Hanging out with Luke and Kieran? To, supposedly, clean? He knew what they had told him was a lie. However, a small, burning part of him was frustrated. If that had been the truth, he naturally would have been the far better partner. With the time you had shared together, surely you had not so quickly found his own company lacklustre in comparison to his henchmen. He could have been in your apartment, with you, cleaning together. Instead, he was in his mansion, alone, and grumpy. Grumpy enough to open his tablet, and switch to his camera feeds connected to Mephisto.
He had asked if his skilled companion could do a bit of reconnaissance at your apartment to confirm what this ragtag trio were doing. As the camera feed loaded, he saw that your home was empty. Internally, he cursed. Mephisto flew down to street level, and, as luck would have it, three familiar people stepped out of the apartment complex. Luke and Kieran were there (wearing face masks and caps that disguised their faces as opposed to their crow masks) along with you.
Sylus sat up in his bed. 
He followed this trio as they walked to a nearby clothing store. Unfortunately, it would be considered odd for a crow to be indoors, so all Mephisto could do was perch atop a bench in front of the establishment and watch the three of you retreat inside behind the automatic glass doors.
Tossing the tablet aside onto the silk sheets, Sylus crossed him arms. If the thought of not being able to clean with you had made him grumpy, then seeing that he was not invited to shop for clothes with you truly made his blood boil with jealousy. As he attempted to get some rest, he thought about casual ways to mention on this evening’s date how he could rent out entire department stores for you if you wanted.
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Sylus tapped his dress shoes rhythmically against the floor, awaiting your door to be opened after he had rung the bell. He had arrived at exactly 5 o’clock to pick you up, and although he was always well put together, he put in a little extra effort on his hair this time.
He heard the door unlock, slowly opening to only reveal your head poking out. He cocked his head to the side.
“Sweetie, are you trying to hide from me?”  
“Mmm, think of it more like I’m building anticipation,” you explained with a grin on your face.
Sylus laughed fondly. He leaned his own head against the wall beside the doorframe, turning to look at you.
“Consider me sufficiently anticipated,” he replied. “Now, may I see you?”
You gestured for him to move back so you could give a grand reveal.
“I just bought this today.”
The door swung open, and you stepped outside.
“How do I look?”
Very little could surprise Sylus; however, you had utterly blindsided him in this moment. You were wearing a dress that Sylus didn’t recognise from your current wardrobe. He knew then that the outing with Luke and Kieran had been to surprise him with a new dress for your date.
Flowy, ruby fabric draped against your figure, reaching down to your ankles. His eyes followed the heart-shaped neckline that framed the pearl necklace that rested at your collarbones, matching the accessory in your hair. All this prepared just for him.
“You look absolutely radiant,” he breathed.
Closing the distance, he snaked a hand around you, toying with the smooth material under his warm fingertips. Seeing how gorgeous you were almost alleviated his earlier frustrations, until he came to a sour realisation.
“Though, I can’t help but be… annoyed that Luke and Kieran saw this surprise before me.”
You bit your lip. Of course, Sylus had figured out what his henchmen were doing throughout the day. His voice grew deeper as his lips brushed against your ear.
“Next time, kitten, you should invite me to go with you instead.”
XAVIER ⟡
It took very little to spark Xavier’s jealousy, as much as the man himself would want to deny it. Strangers, colleagues, and acquaintances could cause his unassuming appearance to transform into a hostile front if they got too friendly with you. But today was another ordinary workday, so there would surely be no situation where Xavier should feel such a way.
There had been a string of quiet days at the Hunters Association that meant that Team Alpha could finally make use of their office. Namely you and Xavier, who usually were assigned to field missions. Your neglected chair squeaked under your weight as you stretched your body, lifting your arms high into the air then relaxing. Twirling the pen in your hand, the words on page about recent energy fluctuations seemed to swirl in your vision. Xavier turned from his own desk to observe you.
“I’m going to get a drink from the vending machine.” He stood up, the wheels of his chair clattering against the hard floor. “Do you want one too?”
“Green tea, please,” you replied.
“Warm or cold?”
“Cold,” you decided. You clapped your hands against your face, squishing your cheeks. “I need to shock my system to wake it up.”
Xavier’s face broke into a smile. “Sounds like a good plan.”
Before he could walk away, a voice called out your name.
“Morning Y/N!”
Xavier narrowed his eyes slightly at the approaching man.
He was tall (though not as tall as himself), with ashy hair precisely tousled to reveal his forehead, and friendly eyes. Xavier’s senses heightened in the same way as they would in a battle with a Wanderer. The unfamiliar man had greeted you with such familiarity. Only two words had been spoken, yet it was enough to irk Xavier. If he had called you less kindly, that would have helped to lower his guard.
To his surprise, the man turned his attention towards him.
“Ah, you must be Xavier! I’ve heard much about you.” He extended his hand. “I’m Andrew, head of the Data Analysis sector.”
Xavier stared at Andrew’s hand for a moment—blinking and discerning. Head of Data Analysis… Is this some kind of power move? He gave the hand a brusque shake.
“Excuse me, I need to get some drinks for the two of us,” he said, turning on his heel and walking away to the office’s break room.
Andrew furrowed his brows as he watched Xavier leave.
“Quite elusive, isn’t he?”
You shook your head.
“Maybe when you first meet him. But once you get to know him, you’ll see just how reliable he is.”
The tenderness in your tone came unconsciously to you, but it always happened when you spoke about Xavier to others. Especially towards those who might misinterpret his neutral disposition.
Small talk continued over the next minute between you and Andrew, until he suddenly looked at you with a slight frown.
“There’s an eyelash on your face,” he said, pointing vaguely to the left side of your face.
You used your fingers to swipe across your skin, yet Andrew still shook his head.
“No, no. It’s right here.”
He brought his finger closer to show you exactly where it was.
The dull thud of plastic bottles falling to the ground could be heard a couple of metres beside you. A blinding light zipped through the air, alongside a gust of air that swept your hair back. Before you could even register what had caused this phenomenon, Xavier appeared between you and Andrew. Your wide eyes stared at his hand gripping Andrew’s wrist.
“Xavier?” you called in surprise.
Xavier seemed equally shocked at how instinctually he acted. One moment he had seen Andrew’s hand move closer to your face, and the next he was face-to-face with him.
“I-I don’t know what came over me.” He released Andrew from his iron hold. “I'm really sorry”.
With a small bow, Xavier braced himself, ready to receive the full brunt of anger from the Head of Data Analysis. He shuddered at the thought that this might be reported to Captain Jenna. Instead, Andrew shook his head calmly.
“Don’t worry about it.” He gave an understanding smile, observing your worried expression towards Xavier. “In fact, I do believe this was my bad.”
The abandoned green tea bottles rolled lazily beside the desks, and Andrew picked them up. “I’ll be heading off to my office now, I’ll see you two later.”
Handing the drinks to you and Xavier, you both expressed your thanks. As Andrew left, you turned to Xavier.
“Xavier,” you spoke slowly, “what exactly was that?”
He scratched his head and diverted his eyes from you.
“I saw he was getting too close, and my body moved faster than my head…”
It was hard not to react at how adorably guilty he looked.
What am I going to do with you? You thought, sighing in affectionate amusement.
“I know how it must have looked from afar, but there was just an eyelash on my face that Andrew was trying to point out,” you explained.
Again, you swiped a finger across your face. “I still don’t know where it is though.”
Your movements were halted as Xavier gently grasped your wrist. He leaned in close, examining your face. You felt his light touch against your eyelids as he took off the lash.
“You know, there’s a superstition about this,” he began, handing the lash to you.
“They say if you have a stray eyelash, you can use it to make a wish.”
He cleared his throat, the tips of his ears turning red believing his next words to perhaps sound a little childish. 
“So, I wanted to be the one who would give you that wish.”
RAFAYEL ⟡
Rafayel’s jealousy would make itself known to you the moment he felt it. Though he would hide it between clever, teasing remarks, it was cute to see how clingy he got when it happened. And there was no better situation to provoke such feelings than at a gala hosted by Flux Arts. Admittedly, it was difficult to get the artist himself to attend these gatherings that featured one of his own paintings, so Thomas had to devise a convincing reason for him to go. That reason, naturally, being you. If you were his plus one, Rafayel could certainly face any battle.
You stood in front of Rafayel’s painting now as he had left you for the moment to speak with Thomas. Even after being exposed to his work many times (both mid progress and completed) they still managed to instil awe within you.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?”
The voice pulled you back into the room, and you looked over at the stranger beside you. He appeared to be slightly older and was likely a wealthy, enthusiastic patron of the gala.
“Yes, it is,” you agreed. “It’s one of my favourites.”
In truth, you favoured it because you were there when Rafayel painted it. From start to finish, he had you at his side. Though abstract, upon closer inspection, one could extrapolate details of a city with glorious towers and vibrant, thriving coral. It held a special place in your heart.
The man’s eyes were glued to the painting.
“Rafayel truly is an artist you get once in a lifetime.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the sincerity in the gentleman’s compliment.
“It’s hypnotising to witness the scenes he creates,” he continued. “He seems to bare his soul in each painting.”
“He is quite an expressive man,” you commented, breathing a small laugh.
From picking out the perfect outfits to the perfect paint materials, passion infused every part of Rafayel’s life, including in his relationship with you. It was one of his greatest traits you adored about him.
The familiarity in your tone was lost on the man, who believed you to only be an admirer of the artist, and not an admirer of a different sort.
The conversation continued, and you discovered the man to be a professor of history. He had discovered Rafayel through his own interest in ancient civilisations such as Lemuria. You couldn’t help but beam with pride listening to the man speak so highly of Rafayel, and the impression his works had left on him. The man soon took his leave, thanking you for entertaining his enthusiastic ramblings.
You were so engrossed that you didn’t notice Rafayel with his arms folding behind you. He graciously gave you a few seconds to detect his presence. Though, his frown grew as you continued to be, supposedly, too starstruck from your earlier conversation with that stranger.
He cleared his throat loudly.
You spun around at the familiar voice.
“Raf! How long have you been standing there for?”
He shrugged with as much nonchalance as he could muster. However, anyone with two eyes could have guessed the annoyance on his face.
“Enough to hear the last bits of your conversation.” He strode to your side, arms still folded tight across his chest. “Found interesting company so soon after I left?”
You closed the gap between the two of you with a step, preparing to explain the true nature of that conversation. Not letting you interrupt his sulking, Rafayel continued,
“I need to be more wary. There are too many people here wanting to whisk you away from me.”
As soon as you walked into the gallery arm-in-arm, people’s eyes were drawn to the two of you. At his mention that you were the centre of attention, you had dismissed it, saying it was him everyone took interest in.
Tilting your head to the side, you placed your hands your hips, almost as if to say: Are you going to let me speak?
Rafayel quickly conceded, spluttering out his next question, “And why were you being so chummy with that stranger, anyway?”
“That stranger said he was a professor of history specialising in ancient cities, and that he’s been an admirer of your works for a long time,” you answered.
Poking at his cheek with your finger, you attempted to remove his pout that remained affixed on his face.
“I was being chummy because he was complimenting your work! It made me happy to hear that people have such high praise for you and your paintings.”
Rafayel’s pout disappeared.
“It just made me think… how proud I am to have you as my partner,” you smiled. “You leave a profound impression on people.”
Your words resonated in his head. He stood motionless, with only the slow blink of his eyes.
His lack of reaction made you flush.
“Ah, that was pretty cheesy, wasn’t it? I’m sorry–”
The apology stopped short in your throat as you were scooped into a tight hug. Rafayel’s arms wrapped around your waist. A few gala attendees looked over at the young couple with admiring gazes, wondering what could have happened that would cause such open affection.
Rafayel nuzzled his forehead into the curve of your neck, mumbling right by your ear, “Jeez, here I was trying to be jealous…”
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inkskinned · 1 month ago
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we were sitting on the floor and i was cutting out tiny pictures to make a collage for a friend's birthday. you were on your phone and you laughed about something, and i was still in love with you then, so i asked what had you giggling.
"sorry. i was just..." you took a moment and went back to texting. "i was telling someone about how you're afraid of the dark."
i'm afraid of the dark because something bad happened. "oh." i felt a little slinky of shame crawl down my throat.
you glanced up, and maybe it showed on my face, because you rolled your eyes and held the phone to the side casually so i could see the group chat. "what? was it a secret?"
i looked down to the scissors in my hand. "i just..." no, it's not a secret. it just felt like something private, something serious. saying why would you tell someone that just feels like an accusation. it's unfair. i honestly am not even ashamed of it, it's just a fact about my person that i don't usually share.
what a strange experience. is this a human thing or a generational thing? for our grandparents: did they need to worry about how quickly someone can just... share your personal information? again, i didn't even really have a true objection. what could i say? i want any person in my life to feel they can be honest with their friends. it's not like i said don't tell anyone this.
i cut out another letter to complete the rainbow happy birthday, started hunting for the exclamation mark. i heard you sigh dramatically.
"don't make a big deal about this," you said.
this entire conversation was a pattern for us, and this was when we got to my least favorite part of the pattern. i would get my feelings hurt in some oblique not-technically-terrible way, and then it would be making a big deal about something. you'd get frustrated for me for being soft, but i was born soft. you knew i was soft when you pierced me. it's one of the things that made controlling me so easy.
"i'm not," i felt my voice crack. the question came without my wanting. "why are you guys talking about me?" and why are you saying that thing? why not like - i'm telling them how you're generous and kind and pretty.
you let out this low, tragic groan. "oh my god." you tossed the phone away from your body. "there, see? i just won't talk to them if you don't like it."
the rest of the hour went the way it always went, between us: i said i don't actually mind if you talk to your friends but -, you found a way to call my minor expression of discomfort "being dramatic." you got upset that i had been offended. i ended up apologizing, even though i hadn't actually done anything.
afterwards, you picked up the phone again. after texting for a little bit, you snorted. "okay," you said, "but it is kind of funny you're afraid of the dark. i mean, when you think about it."
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lucabyte · 28 days ago
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monologue
#they said i couldnt have a worse speech bubbles to image ratio and i said 'bet?'#isat spoilers#in stars and time#in stars and time fanart#isat fanart#isat siffrin#isat loop#two hats spoilers#isat#lucabyteart#sifloop#not rlly but it gets the tag in case ppl r backscrolling my tags on my blog for some reason#anyway this dialogue has been kicking around in my files for about 2 months as it is known to do & i wanted to play with typesetting#'write a fic if you like words so much' absolutely not . what if it was pictures instead. and also i wanted an excuse 2 loop gradient#but yeah uhhhh this is very . very loosely the result of me thinking about the 'island is trapped in the fucking future' theory.#like if so. would it just like. reappear. when the rest of the world catches up w where it was stuck in time. like . 20 more years on.#and thus the q: god wait at what point would sif be older than the age they last knew their parents to be. theyre nearly 30 now so like.#you can see my logical path thru these thoughts yes? anyway i think its fun when these two put their braincells together to realise#the horrors. and kind of exclusively the horrors. wahoo!!!#anyway food for thought re: island reappears and to the islanders it's not been any time at all. but its been like 30 years for the rest#fuck do you do: your boy returns 30 years older plus a family (maybe even a child) and minus . a fucking eye.#also theres a fucking angel with them? update. thats also your boy what the fuck. wait fym theyre married. hold on. wait--
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iguessthisisanewobsession · 6 months ago
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The ring was small and silver with a single emerald embedded in the metal.
It wasn’t something flashy, it probably cost less than the smallest gem from his vault all together.
But it was perfect.
Which made it so heartbreaking to turn it down.
“Dick.. you know me so well.. I wish I could take this ring, i really do.”
Dick was still on one knee in the little apartment, but he put the small box down on the floor as he asked.
“Then what’s stopping you?”
Danny let out a bitter chuckle,
“The US government.”
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you-were-meteowrong · 7 months ago
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reblog for bigger sample size
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stoopidstapler · 1 year ago
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SO IVE BEEN GOIN INSANE SINCE THIS TRAILER DROPPED. JUST. SIMON. SIMON. SIMON.
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astearisms · 1 year ago
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fionna and cake drawings before and after watching the episodes so far. it’s nostalgic and somehow cathartic and poignant and relatable and—it just started
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 4 months ago
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Not beating the allegations.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
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unlimited-nobu-works · 10 days ago
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my group chats on private MMO servers
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emuanon34 · 9 months ago
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bi-writes · 3 months ago
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Would you ever do like mob and Simon’s first date night together or something like that ( love your writing )
mail-order bride (18+)
the wine sits idle in the middle of the table. simon leans back against his chair, sighing deeply as he runs a big palm over his lower stomach, all pudgy and full from the meal you had placed on the table.
you had surprised him. candles on the table, his favorite red wine decanted into a crisp glass, beef short ribs falling apart over a plate of mashed potatoes. he had no time to scold you for cooking because you had been finished by the time he stepped through the door.
immaculate, sweet girl. the first bite of the food had him sucking on his teeth, biting back a moan. such a good meal, perfection in a pot, with creamy potatoes that had him licking the prongs of the fork as he watched you from across the table, eyes glazed over with love for feeding him better than he ever had been in his whole life. he had seconds, thirds, pawing at your skirt when you asked if he wanted more, his tongue sliding over the knife that he didn't even need to get any piece of sauce off the plate.
and then dessert. perfect little chocolate cakes in pretty little tins, with a cracked top. and when he broke the surface with his spoon, it was flooded with hot ganache, a gooey molten lava cake that he gave you heart eyes for as he ate it up with dramatic slurps.
fuck, he cannot stop looking at you. maybe you put poison in the food because you've never looked more beautiful than you do right now. you're sitting there, hair off your face, spoon in your mouth as you lick off the warm chocolate from it. that pretty pink tongue sliding over the edge of it, gathering that sweet center and swallowing, the bob of your throat making his breath catch as he follows it all the way to the low neckline of your dress. that sweetheart neckline makes your tits look so perky, so bouncy, and he can tell you aren't wearing a bra because he can see your nipples between the polka dot pattern.
"come 'ere," simon says lowly, dropping the spoon with a defiant clatter onto his plate. you smile, standing from your seat, and you bounce over to where he's sitting. simon sits you down on the table in front of him, shoving his plate far back to give you room. he picks up his glass of wine and chugs it practically, licking the last drop before setting down the glass and flipping you over with practiced ease.
you gasp as your hips hit the wood. you bend, barely having enough time to catch yourself with your hands before you hear his chair scrape against the floor. you can feel his size as he stands up and towers over you, and your toes curl when you hear the buckle of his belt.
"w-what--"
"'m not gonna fuck ya, baby," simon sighs, smoothing his hands up the back of your thighs before flipping your skirt up. he snorts when he sees you're wearing polka dot panties to match your little dress, and you squeak when he grips the flimsy fabric with one big hand and shreds it with ease, tossing it aside. "first time 's gonna be so nice, i promise..." he clicks his tongue, "but fuck, ya gotta let me, luvvie..."
"please," you gasp, sliding back a little, pressing your ass against the front of his jeans. you can feel the open zipper scratch against your cunt, and he sighs shakily. you hear the rustle of fabric, and you sob with relief when you feel the warmth of his cock slap against your ass. "oh, god--simon!"
"i know, luv," he groans, "i know...not ready for it, not yet..." he licks his lips, sliding your dress up further, exposing your lower back and the sweat that's gathered there. he grips himself at the base, swiping over his wet tip before using it to give himself a languid stroke. at the first sound of a squelch, you whine, and he squeezes your hip gently. "agggh--fuck--"
your back bows when he slides his cock between your thighs. he's so big. thick and wide, not as lengthy as you might have expected but god, he's got the girth of your fucking arm. he keeps your back arched as he grips your wrists and tugs, drawing you up until your neck leans back against his chest. he gives you a slow thrust, the tip of his cock catching on your clit as he rolls his hips just right.
"oh--simon--"
"can't wait," he mumbles, sliding a thick palm over your throat, mouthing against your ear. "fuck, i can't wait to 'ave ya...can't wait to devour this fuckin' pussy--"
"simon--" you cry, reaching up and gripping his hand around your throat, and you sob again when you feel the cold band of his wedding ring. mine, mine, mine, mine--
"wot's y'r fuckin' name, baby?" simon asks, rocking his hips. you shake every time he hits your clit, and with his tight grip, all you can do is stand there and take it as he fucks your thighs. his cock is moving so nice between your folds, stimulating every little part of you, and you aren't coherent enough to be ashamed of how wet you are, starting to soak his cock and contribute to the intense wet shlick that sounds from between your legs. "huh? tell me--"
"'m mrs. riley," you babble, sucking his fingers into your mouth as they move up your throat. your eyes flutter shut, your entire body going slack as he lets go of your wrist with his free hand and pulls your hips back against his.
"tha's right," simon grunts, "my pretty girl. my perfect little wife, cookin' so fucking good for me, takin' such good care o' me, fuck--" simon groans, "rock fuckin' hard ever since i walked through tha' fuckin' door, baby."
"mmm--!" you squeal, bracing yourself against the edge of the table as he cups your pussy with one hand and cums between your folds the next. with just a few warm strokes, you're spilling into his palm, jelly in his arms as he collapses into the seat behind him and cradles you in his lap. "mrs...mrs. riley..." you're babbling again, giggling all warm and lucid, and simon chuckles as he cups the back of your head, feeding you his wet fingers and cursing under his breath as he watches you lick the slick off his hand.
you pay special attention to his ring finger, tongue swirling around the gold band. when you let his finger go with a pop, your eyes flutter open, and they meet his.
yeah, he thinks. she's ready.
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bixels · 9 months ago
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Posting a sneak-peak of this now because I'm about to be In The Shit school workload-wise, so this'll take me a while to finish.
Doing some character design exploration/expression sheets for Celestia and Luna. Figuring out Celestia's weird ass anatomy while I'm at it.
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iamrizaka · 1 month ago
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As much as I love the idea of Will wearing Lee's flannel after his death, I much more prefer a scenario where he was constantly trying to steal it when Lee wasn't looking. Lee got fed up with this gremlin child (affectionate) trying to steal his clothes (he knows that he should toss it out, burn it, but he can't bring himself to do it; it holds way too many memories) so he gets a green flannel and embroiders it with little sun symbols.
He hides it in one of the secret rooms in the infirmary, because he can't have any of his siblings – or worse, a spy – stumble across it in his cabin. He leaves it here and makes a promise to give it to Will on his birthday.
Over a year later, Will tries to find a place to hide – no one should see their head counselor and head medic cry. He finds this room and remembers the talks about it and how it was one of Lee and Luke's secret hideouts. He wants to leave; he doesn't need another memory of what it was and what it could've been. But his gut tells him to enter and he finds a neatly packaged box.
There's a green flannel and a note:
For my little brother, Will
— Lee
P.S. stop stealing my clothes!
He never takes it off.
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