#whoops !

[bunnybonesstudio]

Y’all didn’t need to do me like that 😂

Bruh did I just get clocked wtf

[bloodhoundsandplagues]

Stolen scarves

Ekko x reader

Summary: you've had a long day, and it's nowhere near over- all you want is some warmth from your favourite scarf. But when you find the scarf missing and a cryptic note, you will stop at nothing to retrieve it. ▸Set at an undefined time, no spoilers!!, no use of Y/N, gender neutral reader

Warnings: use of the word fuck, possibly suggestive if you squint and I mean SQUINT !

A/N: mostly wrote this for my best friend who has been a slut in my messages for this man (slash affectionate). enjoy all u other people

It’s been a long day running errands for the Firelights, and you’re pretty damn desperate for a nap. 

However, that won’t be happening for a long time. You still have outrageous amounts of tasks to complete, and you’ve agreed to do multiple favours for friends- one being a trip to the other side of the Undercity, which you are very much not looking forwards to. 

You sigh and run a hand through your hair, stepping into the Firelight sanctuary for a brief moment of peace. Although you are not yet able to lie down and go to sleep, you can still take a moment to relax your muscles (and find your scarf- it’s fucking freezing.) 

You see a small group crowded around a small fire (set up far away enough from the tree to not be any danger to it). You make your way over, waving at a Firelight on a hoverboard redoing the paint on the mural. You take a seat on a bench and stretch your legs out, groaning. God, you hadn’t realised how sore you were until now. You crack your neck, sighing. 

You give yourself a total of five minutes to relax before you’re up again. You head up into your room, located in one of the structures built into the tree. 

When you go in, you find your cupboard doors open. You feel no fear, no worry- no one could ever find this place; and besides, if they did, why would they go for your clothes? 

You rifle through the contents of your wardrobe for a moment, and, with a sinking heart, realise that your scarf is nowhere to be seen. You look again, upturning your clothes multiple times, before you give up, falling back onto your bed and pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. 

“Motherfuckin’ shit,” you mutter to yourself. 

Once you have recovered from the absolute horror of your missing scarf, you sit up again- and spot a note on your desk. It’s pinned down by an adorable little owl, carved out of wood you suspect may have come from the suspicious chunk newly missing from your desk. 

You stand and walk over, carefully moving the owl and picking up the note. It takes a moment for you to decipher the monstrously bad handwriting, but when you do, you snort to yourself. 

I BORROWED your scarf 

Will return it soon, promise - 

♡

You shake your head at the note, chuckling incredulously. You could recognise that handwriting anywhere; as if the owl weren’t enough of an indication of who had stolen your scarf. You carefully lift the note and pin it to your wall, amongst a growing collection of similar notes. All signed with the same little heart. You put the owl in a miniature treasure chest, among an assortment of other wooden animals. (If he continues carving chunks out of your desk, you will soon have nothing left). 

You will borrow a scarf from a friend, you tell yourself, still smiling fondly. 

Once you have acquired a replacement scarf (from another Firelight, called Jem), you head out again, ready to carry on with your tasks. It takes a little longer than expected, but when you make it home, exhausted and soggy, your heart lifts. The tree, as always, is lit with golden lights. You can hear children laughing; Scar must be doing his weekly story time. You smile to yourself, unwrapping the scarf from around your neck- you must return it to Jem tomorrow, once you have reacquired your own. 

You make your way up to your room, shivering slightly in your wet clothes. Once the door is locked behind you, you make quick work of getting your clothes off (you discard them in a corner and swear to yourself that you will hang them out to dry later, which you won’t) and changing into something more casual and comfortable. Once you are done, you head outside again, wrapped now in a long black dressing gown coat thing that another Firelight half sewed, half knitted for you using scraps. It is fully dark, the area lit only by the soft gold and green lights scattered around the tree. Almost everyone is inside, in the warm. You are quick to join them, signing contently once you are back in the warmth. You spot Scar, now done with story time, and jog over to him, nudging him in the shoulder. 

“Hey,” you say softly, so as not to startle his daughter, who is snoozing in his lap, “have you seen Ekko?” “Our glorious leader?” Scar shakes his head. “No, I haven’t- but Annie said he was up in his room.” 

You nod and pat Scar on the back, smiling at him. “Thanks,” you murmur. He nods back, also smiling. You and Ekko think you’re so slick, keeping your relationship a secret, but the bounce in your step as you practically sprint towards Ekko’s room says everything he needs to know. 

At first, you plan on not knocking- just barge into his room, tackle him to the ground, steal the scarf back in a sneak attack.  However, as you get closer to the door, and as your heart warms, you decide to go with the peaceful approach. You knock and step back, putting on an official demeanor for anyone who might be passing. You are keeping this relationship a secret, after all. 

The door swings open, and you are greeted with the most beautiful boy of all time, wearing an extremely comfortable looking scarf. Your scarf; you’ll be damned if you don’t get that thing back. 

He steps aside, a silent invitation into his room. You smile at him cheekily as you pass, wrapping your fingers around the scarf. The door clicks shut behind you as you tug him over to you. “That,” you say, swerving out of the way as he tries to kiss you, “is my scarf.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answers, grinning and winding his arms around your waist. 

You scoff at him, playfully wounded. As you are opening your mouth to protest, he leans in, managing to kiss you. As always, it is soft; as always, it makes your legs turn to jelly and your stomach do strange little somersaults. You kiss him back, pulling him closer by the scarf still wound around his neck. 

“I want it back,” you whisper, and he laughs (the arrogant bastard), pulling you into a hug. You nuzzle into the soft fabric of the scarf, secretly wishing for his skin instead- you have found that the crook of his neck is a rather delightful place for you to kiss. 

“You smell like a wet dog,” he mumbles into your forehead, following the harsh words with a kiss. 

“Fuck you,” is your eloquent response. “Right now?” You can practically feel his smirk, so cocky, as he peppers kisses over your face. As he does so, you lean into him, carefully unwinding the scarf from around his neck. It’s a slow process (although your partner’s kisses make it bearable) but you finally manage to remove it completely. You hold it triumphantly over your head, aha!ing victoriously. He looks at you, somewhat incredulous, although he is grinning. You are quick to follow, wrapping your arms around his neck again. 

“Thief,” he whispers into your ear. 

“Is it stealing if it’s already mine?” You quip in response, laughing with him. He kisses right below your ear, and you almost melt into him. 

“Also,” you manage to say, although your voice is slightly shaky as he continues to kiss your neck, “you need to stop cutting chunks out of my desk. I need somewhere to write, you know.” 

“You can use mine,” he murmurs. His hands fall to your waist. “I’ll give you a key, come in anytime you want. Don’t even have to knock.” “Ekko,” you say, because you don’t have the words to tell him quite how much this means to you. You can’t really tell if this is his way of inviting you officially into his life, but if it is, God knows you accept. 

“I mean it,” he says. He’s stopped kissing you now, has pulled back to look at you properly. The way he is looking at you- it is somewhat similar to how he looks at the tree, full of love and maybe a little bit of pride. You make a note to tease him about it later. 

“They’ll all know,” are your words. 

“They already do,” he responds with a cheeky smile. You know he’s right. 

“Okay,” you say, softly, your smile widening. “Yeah, okay, I’ll take your key.” 

“Ah-“ his grin widens to, and he steps away from you completely. “There is one condition.”

You quirk an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Oh yeah? What’s that, owl boy?” 

He snorts at the nickname, mimicking your stance. “I get to keep the scarf.” 

Oh, the sly bastard. You should have known that he had some ulterior motive, some secret plan. 

“I should’ve known,” you whisper, placing the scarf over your heart. “I should’ve known you were going to stab me in the back.” 

He laughs at you- downright laughs, as if this isn’t the most earth-shattering thing ever. (You are holding in your own laugh, but he doesn’t need to know that). 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you cry. “Don’t- you dare-“ 

He is still laughing as he steps forwards, wrapping his arms around you once again and pulling you flush against him. You start to laugh, and you put your arms around his neck, tossing your head back. He snatches the scarf from your hands and wraps it around his neck, leaving a long extra part, which he then puts around your neck. Had you not been completely focused on how beautiful he looks, and how happy you are, you would have worried about the possible health hazards of this. He kisses you, drawing you in, pushing you softly towards the bed. You kiss back, cupping his face in your hands, your breath catching in your throat. He turns then, sitting down on the bed. You make quick work of unwinding the scarf again, tossing it to the side as you join him on the bed. You giggle as you both tumble down, so you are lying on top of him, your hair all in his face. You pepper his face with kisses, like he did to you, and he is grinning so widely it makes your chest hurt a little. And then you’re kissing again, his mouth on yours, his hands on your back, pulling you always closer. 

At some point, this stops, and you find yourself lying facing him in the small bed, pressed close to each other. Your forehead is against his, and you are just looking- looking in a way that you were unable to before you two became a thing. Staring without shame, taking in every detail of his face. The traces of white paint still on his face, the way his eyes are half shut as he looks at you with the same attention. His arm is flopped lazily around your waist, toying lightly with the fabric of your shirt. 

“You can keep the scarf,” you whisper to him, and he smiles in a way that makes you immediately bridge the tiny gap between you two and press your mouth to his once again. 

You stay like that for a while, lying so close to each other you may as well be one, whispering to each other and kissing. You feel like a teenager- or at least, what you imagine a Piltie teenager might feel like, with their first ever school crush- with the butterflies in your stomach and the erratic beating of your heart. At some point, he puts his fingers over your pulse and holds them there, breathing in time with your heartbeat. You drift off then, slipping in and out of sleep for the next few hours. 

When you wake, it’s still night. You nudge Ekko, and he groggily opens his eyes, immediately on alert. You smile at him, reassuringly tracing his cheekbone. 

“I should go,” you whisper, although you really really don’t want to. 

He shakes his head at you. “No,” he grumbles, his voice rough with sleep. 

“Yes,” you murmur. “The walk of shame is my favourite part of being with you,” you add playfully. 

“Stay,” he whispers. His eyes are closing, and you know there’s no arguing. 

You wait, count sixty seconds in your head, before you kiss his forehead, smiling to yourself. “Alright,” you murmur to yourself more than to him, “I’ll stay.” 

[probably-not-a-rutabaga]

i'm working on those requests i asked for last week, i accidentally made one of them a 10 page comic. so. it may be a second before i get to the others..

[capn-twitchery]

oh i do Not have enough nevercold brass for the ship to get patched up,,, twitch i think this might be it

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

I'm nearly 35 years old and 2015 is like last week. "Old" is a relative concept.

not to be "comment on fanfic even if they are oooold"

But I just read a pretty good fic published in 2014-2015 (you know, roughly TEN YEARS AGO) and I was like, damn this is so cool, I have to leave a comment, even if you know, they probably wont see it...

The author replied less than an hour later.

[siskissbee]

so I started reading Human Domestication Guide out of curiosity because I saw a few people mention it on here and uhhhhhhhhh

this has immediately unlocked something in me

maybe this was a mistake

[canidaedreams64]

random doodles GO!!!!

[gay-otlc]

I think I accidentally made myself unwell about nimona again

[vicshush]

[ID: A gif of Robbie Daymond looking seriously toward the DM, his hand gripping his jaw over his mouth. He is nodding a little, then raises his eyebrows and drops his hand, leaning forward and more overtly alert. He lifts his pencil in one hand and shakes it in emphasis, only for the pencil to fly out of his grip and back over his shoulder. His hands fly up in a belated attempt to catch the pencil, now gone. He laughs at himself and grabs fruitlessly at empty space on the table and above his own head before settling back into his attentive, leaned forward pose, now just shaking his raised forefinger. He brings his loosely closed fist to his mouth in contemplation, looking forward to the center of the table (and a map?). /end ID]

I couldn't not gif this.

[lil-cattz]

I got too high and I’m supposed to be writing a paper rn

[sapphanimates]

@astrophysician Trace the Wolf v Trace the Tasmanian Devil, who would win?

(I just discovered your au and Trace earlier today! It all looks super cool, especially this guy ^^ I just had to draw em! Can't wait to see more!)

[s0up1ta]

"so grunkle ford how do you know bill?"

"... that's not important."

[pissmamiii]

anyone want fall in love with me already and have the filthiest, soul merging sex everyday of our lives

[cryptidorchid]

Okay, but Scott being unsure whether the Third Life marriage question was talking about him and Jimmy is so funny to me.

Scott: I mean I called him my husband the entire season and explicitly said "we're married" and wrote "Beloved Husband" on his grave... which could mean nothing

[colorful-horses]

here's a version without the purple background