#writing 💥

[101ocs]

Firefly

OC: Leslie Sawyer [💛]

Note: @twsted-idiot NEW OC 💥💥 i’ll get to posting his actual significance in present day but first. the past. :3 this takes place WAAAY back then so. they’re just babies!! 😮‍💨 [leslie’s bio is uploaded on pinned post!]

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The gentle spring breeze played with his hair as he soared up toward the vast blue sky, his face adorned with a smile so pure and innocent that it could never be replicated. But that was Leslie for you. There was never a moment where that beautiful smile grew dull in the eyes of the world.

“Higher!” his little voice exclaimed as the tire swing came flying down. “I wanna go higher!”

In response to his request, Leslie felt the sensation of big hands cradling his waist to cease the swing’s movement. He giggled and jolted his head back to look at his brother, seeing a warm smile identical to his resting on his lips. “Higher? Well, you gotta hold on tight then!”

Grasping the rope tied up to the thickest branch they could find, palms were beginning to smell of dry fiber from his firm grip. That didn’t deter him from his goal of touching the moon. His brother held the swing high above his head for a moment or two to increase Leslie’s anticipation before releasing him, lengthening his height from the ground. Again, his wispy hair danced as though it starred in a ballet and his laughter rang like a church bell throughout their land. He closed his eyes and let the wind take him over without a hint of worry in his mind.

“You’re gonna touch it! You’re gonna touch the moon!” his brother cheered, pointing upward to calculate where his feet needed to be to hit the desired target.

“I am?”

“You already did! Didn’t you see?”

“I was closing my eyes!”

His momentum decreased gradually to the point that his brother felt confident enough to open his arms and call for him. “I’ll catch you, Les! C’mon!”

Releasing the rope and launching himself forward, Leslie landed precisely in his brother’s warm embrace. He swung him around a few times and let little legs go airborne, evoking more laughter to erupt from his chest. Then, once he was done, he rubbed his rough knuckles into Leslie’s head and gave him a noogie. He whined in response.

“Oww! Johnny, that hurts!”

“Oh, grow up.”

In response to his brother’s teasing, Leslie gifted him with a playful shove and ran off to the hills. He knew better than to stay behind and let his older brother land another hit on him. Tagbacks were the worst when it came to Johnny because instead of shoving him back equally or giving him a sucker punch, he’d headlock him and ‘playfully’ wrestle. (That’s what he always told their mama. In reality, he was pretty close to cutting Leslie’s air supply off.)

Mud sprayed up their backs as they ran through the field leading up to the house, practically signing their certificates of being scolded and forced to bathe thoroughly that night. That didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered was that Leslie got to that porch before he was able to grab a hold of him. Tragically enough, the younger brother lost his footing and toppled over, putting him at Johnny’s mercy. The rich scent of earth hit him in the back of the throat as he groaned and lifted his freckled face from the ground. Blood leaked from his nostrils.

Catching up to him with heaving breaths, Johnny’s cruel laughter reverberated in his head. “Annnnd that’s what you get for tryna snitch on me!” When he didn’t get an immediate response, he took a few steps closer. “C’mon, lil’ boy. Dust yerself off.”

Sometimes it was hard for Johnny to remember that they had a nine year age gap, which made little Leslie six. So when he saw those gigantic tears in the corners of his eyes, Johnny instinctively grabbed him to help him up.

“No!” Leslie resisted his grip. “I’m fine! I don’t wanna go in! I wanna hang with you…”

Johnny’s russet eyes lingered on his bloodied face with a fond expression — Not quite a smile but something close to it. “Wipe them tears then. I don’t like seein’ them.”

It took a while for him to recalibrate. Wiping the tears from his eyes while more appeared, he turned away from his brother to get some unnecessary privacy. Johnny respected it. Instead of waiting for him to be done, he began catching fireflies in his palms. Leslie really liked fireflies. He thought that maybe when he was done crying, he could surprise him with a palm full of them — That was the closest he’d get to comforting him. Johnny wasn’t particularly good with being gentle anyhow.

Tugging on his arm, the little boy regained his brother’s attention. His round face was a light shade of pink from crying so hard but other than that, he was back to normal. Tough for a six year old. Johnny helped him get the rest of the blood from his face by licking his thumb and rubbing it off.

“What’s in your hand?” Leslie curiously asked.

Smirking, Johnny opened his palm and released all the fireflies. They scattered into the air as flashing green lanterns, some still crawling on Johnny’s calloused fingertips. Leslie bubbled in excitement, jumping up and down and trying to grab one. Due to his height, it didn’t work out in his favor.

“How’d you catch ‘em, Johnny? I can’t get none!”

“Just be patient and they’ll come to you. Jumpin’ around like that just scares ‘em.”

They spent a while trying to catch as many as they could. Leslie managed to catch five which was a big achievement in his book. Johnny, on the other hand, caught at least thirty. After examining their pretty lights and silly wings, they would release them back into the air and watch them fly off. There was a time here and there Leslie begged to keep one as a pet, but Johnny put an end to that dream quickly.

“They’ll die soon, y’know?”

Leslie’s eyes darted toward his brother’s face in search of what emotion lay behind his words, but was met with a stare devoid of life. It was unusual for his brother to be lost in thought like that. Usually he would’ve played off his words by saying something silly or scoffing and changing the subject, but he didn’t. And although there wasn’t much proof to go off of, Leslie knew something had changed in his brother. It was like standing next to a stranger.

“…Johnny?”

That seemed to break him out of the trance. Stroking Leslie’s curls back and smiling innocently enough, he came back to earth. “It’s ‘bout time you hit the hay, lil’ boy. C’mon, let’s go in.”

[starriegalaxy]

I’m biting FFau Eclipse

He deserves it </33

Hexcii um-

My jestie in good conscience -

I don't think that's a good idea -

(Suggestive sequel under the cut!)

Tagging : @crabsnpersimmons @amarynthian-chronicles @ping-ski

[rayroseu]

this tweet gave me sick thoughts about immortal x mortal malleyuu trope where Malleus visiting Yuu even as they grow old and their memories diminishes because of aging,,, 😭😭

Like I'm imagining old Yuu will say things like "I remember having this friend that I promised I would always invite him, but I can't remember his voice nor face or most of the things I used to know about him, still, i hope i can make that promise lasts for much longer, i would've loved to write another invitation for him again, but it seems that even his name i have forgotten..."

and and Malleus will just have to listen to this old person's ramblings, knowing he's not recognized anymore, knowing that the time he spent with Yuu is only remembered only by him, realizing he's in this situation again where time relentlessly will wither everyone he cares about as he lives on-- "I'm sure he would've loved that..."

Maybe he could tell the memories he still remembers, but he knows it'll quickly be forgotten as they spent their twilight days sitting still and pondering about death- still, if they can remember a measly promise like for a simple invitations, then he can surely commit to this "I promise to remember you, Yuu."

[ryva]

yall

i just KNOW that if you praised Bakugou about being a good boyfriend, he would be putty. not even in any sort of sexual way, just that if you kissed him on his cheek and thanked him for doing some simple ass chore for you he would be whipped (looking at you all lovey dovey.)

just imagining cuddling together in the most comfy clothes, laying on his chest. "you're so good to me, 'tsuki, " you kiss him on the jaw, "the best." you lay your head back on his chest before you're smothered by kisses all over your face. ending up with the both of you giggling all happy and domestic <3

[the-harvest-system]

we did a thing

[cherrywrecked]

if you have time !! g!p reader x chaewon plspls taglish is ok english is ok TYSM

heh, g!p reader and your baby girl chaewon. 🩷 always the cutest little girl that she is even when she's begging for you to cum inside of her.

you first met chaewon at a bar a few months back. you were alone while she was with her friends. it wasn't on purpose that you had bumped into her, but you were glad, because if you haven't, you wouldn't have her on your bed right now, naked while she fucks herself with her fingers while looking at you. “daddy, please, p-please! please! fuck me already, please.” she would make all these cute noises that's even louder than the sound of her wet cunt. :( her voice would get louder and louder as she keeps on hitting that spot, but she just can't cum... not unless you were fucking her, and you knew that.

removing her hands from her pussy, you slipped your fingers inside of her instead whilst you started jacking yourself off with your free hand. you rubbed chaewon's cunt and made sure her entrance was nice and wet for you. “my pretty baby, look at you... all ready for my cock.” you said, letting out a low groan as you slipped yourself inside of her hole and fuck. her walls feel so familiar yet you can't get enough of it, even if you're fucking her every day. “n-nngh... s-so good!” chaewon would hold on to your waist while you slowly move your hips, thrusting onto her. :(

chaewon is so pretty :( you can't get enough of her face and how she would blush when you look at her straight into the eyes while pounding into her. she would sometimes even cover her face and that would only make you fuck her faster and harder that she couldn't help but to hold on to you or the sheets instead. :( “c-close!! daddy, i'm c-close... n-nngh...” and so were you. hell, you can't even remember a time when you didn't cum with her ever since you met her. “cum for me, angel. cum for daddy.” you started rubbing her clit with your dominant hand and you felt her walls clench tighter around your cock—the same time you started to feel the familiar knot forming around your stomach. she was so tight that it was already hard for you to move, but chaewon made it easier as she moved her hips uncontrollably, eager to feel more of you until the both of you came together. ♡

chaewon, after orgasm, would pull herself back from you only to spread her legs again and spread your cum all over her pussy, making a big mess... only for you to clean her up again with your own mouth. ♡ such a naughty little girl.

[laiamadej]

If anyone could've save me. It'd have been you.

I want to give them comfort, but i can't so i made them do it for me instead. They need it man. If only they had e/o😔

[mosaickiwi]

Patience

hi i really like this post so i wrote it!!! (my hobbies include robbing sai)

warning: Angel coming down from a panic/anxiety attack while Ren waits in da hallway. Also a little self loathing if u squint?

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

The tightness in your chest was finally waning. You took a deep breath—the easiest one you'd had in what seemed like hours. 

It felt cold on the floor now. Or maybe it'd been like that since the moment you locked yourself in. But you were more aware of it, at least. You leaned back against the wall with a sigh, closing your puffy eyes. Though your hand trembled, you gently rapped your knuckles on the marble flooring.

A faint knock on the door to your right came in response.

[REDACTED] had been there the whole time while you cried. They never said a word, but always answered you in some form. I'm here.

Vulnerability was shameful according to the voice in your head. You were making gradual progress to get rid of that voice, to give yourself the grace you gave others to seek comfort when needed. And if he couldn't see you, letting it all out didn't feel so bad. All you needed was to know that they were close by.

You tried to speak and only managed to throw yourself into a coughing fit from how raw your throat was. Hunching over with your head on your knees, you could only wait until it was over. There were hurried footsteps from the other side of the door that you barely heard over the haggard sounds.

This time, they reached out first. It wasn't a knock like usual, but your phone vibrating atop the marble. You felt around on the floor until it was within your grasp. The simple message on screen turned clear as you gently wiped at your eyes, still blurry from earlier.

water?

Despite your exhaustion, you laughed, then silently winced at the slight pain it caused. Any help or care he could offer was always within seconds when it came to you. 

It took you a few measured breaths to gather yourself enough to unlock the door. Along with a thin line of light, a water bottle slid through the small gap, only the tips of his scarred fingers coming into view before they disappeared altogether. You opened the door a little wider and tilted your head to peek out at him.

His dark mess of hair greeted you, rather than his face. [REDACTED] was sitting on the floor, almost the same as you were minutes ago with his back to the wall, knees bent and arms crossed over them. They made sure to keep their head turned away. He knew you didn’t want anyone to see you like this.

You stretched out into the hallway to touch his shoulder. It was the only way you thought to offer some form of a thank you in the moment. Their muscles flexed and shifted under your fingers, but otherwise, they didn’t acknowledge you.

The room seemed stuffy now, so you kept the door open just a crack for a little fresh air. You scooted back to your place beside the door, then slowly drank the water in peaceful silence, the man that sat still as a statue within arms reach at the corner of your vision. Everything still ached in some way from the crying session. But it wasn’t as long as usual. You tapped on the floor and watched him.

Through the space no bigger than your pinky finger, you saw your partner immediately put one hand to the wall, and knock back.

[ragnarokhound]

thinking fondly of you<3 want to ditch the kids and go to a winery this weekend? (drink some red wine(supernova))

also thinking fondly about jaytim. specifically, about how oftentimes we think of them as a slow burn… but you know what might make them a fast burn (an explosion?)?

one of them gets kidnapped and everyone thinks they’re dead:( but then they’re alive

Always, love, I'm sure they'll be happy to spend some time with their favorite familial babysitters, I'll give them a call tonight🍷💥

And OUGH. Yes. SUCH a classic action hero hurt/comfort trope, I'm always here for mortal peril being the trigger that forces a couple to realize what they mean to each other and that they WANT to take that chance!!

I am reminded strongly of one of feyburner's comics that I love so much... in this comic they were hooking up beforehand and this is the scenario that like. Makes it emotionally REAL for Tim and i love that sooo much... but also OwO

thinking about The Scenario:

One of them is kidnapped. Due to inspo in part from feyburner's comic, I'm thinking Jason. But it's been so long/the method in which he was taken leads everyone to believe that Jason's dead. EVERYONE. Tim included. Thinking that he's dead hits Tim harder than expected. Why? It doesn't make sense. I didn't even like him that much, what the fuck.

But he goes after the bastards who did it twice as hard, ridden by this sharp grief he didn't know he would feel. He's on a warpath. He's chasing down leads, shaking down goons, snapping at everyone that it doesn't matter that Jason's already dead this is about justice this is about vengeance this is about preventing it from happening again-- and finally finds the Organization's big base. Their big HQ.

Methodically he goes about tearing it down, one-man guerrilla style. As he moves through the complex, KO'ing goons, sabotaging weapons and computers, hell he might even rig this place to blow--

He picks up chatter about moving the 'livestock' and 'dealing with the troublemaker' and figures there must be human prisoners here. Possibly trafficking victims. He's been raising all kinds of hell, and security is just now going on alert as they find the evidence of his entry--

--when over one of the radios on the goons he just took out, Tim hears a very familiar and very alive voice taunting the Organization that he's out. They should have killed Jason when they had the chance.

Tim immediately factors Jason and the victims into his plans, gets in contact with Jason over the radio (full mission mode, no time for feelings or explanations yet) to work together on bringing this place down.

So by the time things are cleared up-- bad guys busted, victims rescued, base blown to smithereens-- Tim has been wildly coming to grips with the fact that Jason is alive after all and the confusing rush of emotions that's inspired in him, but Jason still has no idea that everyone thought he was dead.

So when Tim finally sees Jason in person, missing half his gear and still wearing the clothes he was snatched in, dirty and bloody and asking what took him so long-- he's not exactly thinking clearly, okay? Kissing him was a purely adrenaline/relief fueled action.

"Woah," Jason breathes once Tim gives him the chance. "What was that for?" "Thought you were dead," Tim muffles against the skin of Jason's throat. His pulse beats hard against Tim's cheek, his lips, sternly refuting the allegations. "Oh," Jason says, bowled over and bewildered. He's still holding Tim with an arm around his waist, his other hand cupping the back of his head, big and steady. "Well. I'm not." Tim squeezes tighter, his fists trembling in the back of Jason's shirt. Jason is solid, and warm, and alive-- and Tim might be in love with him. "Yeah," he apologizes. "Sorry. Had to check." Tim's clearly stumped him. "Huh." Tim doesn't let go. But neither does Jason. Jason clears his throat. "You know, I don't have the best track record with being alive after all," he says in a rambling tone so casual it makes Tim's chest hitch. "You maybe wanna... check again?"

[fatuismooches]

We all talk about fragile reader leaving Dottore, but what if it was the other way around? He dies (perhaps at the hands of the Traveler) and leaves behind only a segment for you (most likely Omega). Omega inherits all of his ambitions, but most importantly, is entrusted with the task of curing you. Of freeing you from your illness. And he will fulfill that task no matter what.

You miss Zandik so, so much. Your Zandik. No one could ever replace your one and only. Now, of course, you love Omega, and you're thankful for him, but... he will never be what Zandik was to you. So, despite you never saying it, both of you know that you would never love Omega as much as you did with his creator. And Omega cannot help but curse his creator, because he too wants to be loved even a fraction of how much you loved Zandik, but he knows that will never happen.

[larabar]

"so, that was fun"

[speg-draws]

woohoo ^^ yay

[ryva]

just thinking about Bakugou comforting you with cuddles when you're feeling icky (aka me rn)

wether you're listening to music and curled up in bed crying, or if your just in scilence, he can always tell what you need. wether it be cuddles, food, time to relax, he somehow knows.

When youre curled up, music blaring your thoughts away, and crying as if water is the only thing taking up your head, he would get all the things to spend the night with you (water, meds for your inevitable post-headache, phones on chargers just incase) and will curl up, either behind you to shell you off and tighten his arms around you. or he'll cover you up in front of you, shieling your face from the world and let you cry into his chest.

if you've gone silent, he'll definitely take your chores away from you, and plop you down on the couch with your comfort show. he'll finish any chore you were working on and lay on your chest as your own personal weighted blanket. he'll refuse to get up (unless you need to pee or get water) until you're feeling better or you end up falling asleep.

i just kinda need him rn <3

[junipers-insects]

The stories where Nightmare ends up meeting Dream as child instead of an adult after he breaks free from his rocky prison are great actually.

Because Nightmare, no matter how long he's been festering in his angst and anger, he can't stay mad at a child.

He'd look down into his now little brothers big worried eyes and see nothing but foolish naivety and innocence. The same foolish naivety and innocence that meant nothing to him back then. The same foolish naivety and innocence he had had when they were both the same age, when Nightmare was just as naive, although that is something he wouldn't have admitted if not for the circumstances.

Dream would cry and apologize for being so stupid and never seeing just how much his brother has been hurting this whole time. And Nightmare wouldn't have it in him to crush his little golden soul like he'd been waiting to do for hundreds of years.

Maybe, just maybe. No matter how much Nightmare considered himself as the superior one, and behaved as such, he really did see Dream as his true equal his mind, which warranted fear.

He waited and yearned for a nemesis to battle for an eternity, he wanted someone to defeat. But they don't exist, not anymore, not as a child in the form of a brother he hadn't missed.

[pegasusdrawnchariots]

Odysseus' reintegration into the world bound by mortal limitations foregrounds both his age and the distance he has traveled. The shipwrecked sailor who manages to crawl ashore naked on Scheria, bereft of companions, possessions, any token of identity — of all but the bare ember of vitality (cf. 5.488-90 — a lonely spark in a pile of ashes) — meets the young Nausikaa, whose life (like that of Telemachus) is just opening to the possibilities before her. The scene in which Odysseus, awakened by sounds that evoke in him fears of hostile men, faces instead a group of teenage girls playing ball, is both comic and poignant as it measures the difference between their expectations and stages of experience. Later, as he is challenged to compete in an athletic contest, Odysseus acknowledges the toll that age and journeying inevitably take. This is not, then, the epic of the beautiful death (one way to read the Iliad (e.g., see Vernant 1991: 50-74)) but the epic of timeworn, embraceable life.

John Miles Foley, A Companion to Ancient Epic, 2005.

[ellavei]

France: *ruffles Spain's hair, kisses his cheeks and fondles his neck with every caress* You are really attractive, Espagne!

Spain: Haha, you are always so funny, Francia. I just changed my shower gel today, you seem to like this smell, don't you? I will buy it for you.

Portugal: At this point, I don't know if you try not to see his intentions or if you really are like this, Espanha.

Spain: What intentions? He is just being sweet.

Portugal: Your sweet French send your hot pics to my messages.

France: I saw you like them 5 times.