#yeesh this is sappy

[owari-no-suffering]

FIRMLY of the belief that the only reason (aside from marketing) that they don't age up the previous generations of pretty cure as vessels of wisdom for the new ones is that truly the only way nagisa and honoka's lives were going to go is they moved in together and turned into absolutely sappy and adoring wives. Imagine some baby magical girl(s) making the trek to their home to ask how the fuck the big bad of the year is supposed to get taken down and all we see is nauseating levels of domesticity. Nagisa telling a story and Honoka from somewhere else just fondly going, "That's not quite how that went." Nagisa fretting after the company leaves and Honoka kissing her temple because it'll be okay--they're a testament to that.

Wow I really just laid the groundwork to write a self-indulgent fic. Yeesh.

[theprestigegirly]

it’s me that’s sappy tonight (shocker i know) (i have had a drink) but i gotta say you guys are so so cool and so nice like no matter how yeesh my day is if i go on my phone i know i can talk to my mutuals about luis or serennedy or anything and u guys will always make my day fun thank u for being my internet friends it means sooooo muchhhh u have no idea— i was so scared to get back into fandom spaces but i’m here and it’s so lovely and now i’m more confident as a writer and stuff and i’m so happy!! you’re all so great!!! <333

[isimchi]

I think it's time to move on to the recent college grads. So I'm having Brie invite Ricotta and Bramble over for one last (complementary) makeover.

"No more silk presses, mom, I'm ready for a more natural style." "-Sniffle- My little girl's all grown up!" "Yeesh, I guess even you have your sappy moments.`"

"Bramble, you look so pretty! Some of my best work yet." "Tee-he!"

[greatfcx]

@jazzwithnazz He's practically screaming his favorite song on the radio. Terribly off key. [From jazzwithnazz, muse Bill! <3]

"Biiill... c'mon, man..." Falco groans with a roll of his eyes as he lays sprawled out across an entire love seat. Fox does nothing but chuckle, leaning further back into his spot on a couch next to it.

At last.... far too long has it been since this group of friends finally found some downtime to get together planet side to just hang out like old times. Said group found themselves situated in the spacious and infinitely entertaining living room of the equally and appropriately impressive Toad family household, with Slippy himself off in the kitchen nearby to gather snacks. Or... at least he was until the sound of his canine friend's howling had him hastily scrambling back to rejoin the others and nearly dropping the bags of chips he had gathered.

"Yeesh! I thought somebody was dyin' in here!" the frog nearly yelps as he laughs off his panic. He then makes his way to the glass coffee table in the middle of the room where he would set the bags down.

"Nah, just our idol working on his pipes again," Fox responds with a smile. "Figured you'd know that by now, Slip." The vulpine turns to Bill as if genuinely enjoying the show... or at least seeming as though his friend's good vibes were rubbing off on him. Maybe he'll admit out loud such sappy feelings later, but boy did he miss this.

[sighonaraa]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

SO THE FUNNY THING ABOUT THIS ASK IS

i have only written and published five fics ever. in my life.

which means i am gonna use this to shamelessly plug my mom city fix it, because i just posted it yesterday and it was an enormous labor of love and words (so many words. soooooo many. yeesh) and tears, etc., etc. if i may get Sappy for a moment...... truly it is like. thee highlight of my writing career, as it were. it stretched and challenged me in ways i was not expecting and completing it and being able to put it out there in the world was so. gd rewarding!!!!

here on ao3!

oh and here is my ao3 account for my other four fics! lol.

[snellyboi]

Today's the Day

A tiny vignette about David. When he's 16. I just wanted to write something sappy and a bit cliche. I PROMISE I will write a more in depth hilda thing soon because I have IDEAS

But for now a sappy schmaltzy story about David and Louise.

Today was the day. It HAD to be! I mean, c'mon, it had been a year since they'd met, and David was INFATUATED with Louise. He couldn't stop thinking about her - his bluesy rock band was getting tired of him writing songs about her and unrequited love. He HAD to do this now. It had to be today. The weather said it would be cloudy, but otherwise alright - chilly, but not too bad - Maybe a flurry or two of snow.

It was not that.

He'd read TOMORROW'S weather report. Not today's. Today? Raining sideways, chilly, roads freezing over, an insane amount of bad driving and bad decisions being made. His umbrella was so soaked water was getting through it. He grumbled a bit as he walked into class, sitting next to Frida.

"David!"

"Hi, Frida."

"Did you ask her yet?"

"Shh!" He whispered. "I'm going to..."

"After the test?"

"...after the what?"

Test? As in next week's test? He shivered with fear. He was doomed - doomed! He could barely remember his own name as the paper was slid in front of him. He wasn't...awful at Math. But sometimes he was. And man, was he awful at it today or what!?

He sighed as he turned it in. He sat back, and read a bit - A redwall book. He at least found some solace in that...

He walked to lunch, and tried to listen to some music, but saw-

HER.

He KNEW he would see her, she ate at the same time he did. Of course she would be there. And every day, he normally walked up to her and said hi just fine - but when you have something to tell someone, it's always harder to talk to them.

He sheepishly walked up, carrying his food with him. "Louise - hey, I-"

"David! I'm SO sorry but I need to work on a project with Hilda and Frida."

"...that is due next week, isn't it?"

"Heh, yeah...how's it with Trevor?"

"Ugh," David groaned, "he makes me do all the work!"

"Figures...I'll see you!"

David sighed as she walked away. He ate alone. Well, save for Trevor, who gave him more 'notes' (read as - stuff Trevor was supposed to do.)

Band class wasn't much better. He was lucky - he got to be in Jazz band - and things went pretty well! There was a long stretch where nothing happened, but it seemed alright with-

"David."

"...Mr. Thorne?"

"That last bit seemed a bit...empty, didn't it?"

"...well now that you mention it-"

"You're supposed to *solo* there, David."

Aww shit.

"...oh-"

"David, this is in two weeks! TWO! And you're still not even getting the changes right!"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"We have to practice."

David thought about practice with his band, and the project, and the chores he had, and the other homework he had, and-

"Right. Sorry."

He huffed as he trudged to his next class. The last of the day - and thank GOD, nothing went wrong.

Well.

Until Hilda accidentally justted a chair out, and he managed to get water all. Over. his uniform.

"Agh! Sorry, David, are you alright?"

David looked out for a moment, giving off that silly, vacant stare he sometimes had. He shook his head.

"Oh, I'm alright." He said.

He brushed it off, but on the inside, he was seething. Everything was conspiring against him today - he looked outside as the weather got rainier. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked to the courtyard, music on, avoiding everything, until-

He saw her again.

"David!" She waved, from under an umbrella.

"Hey, Louise." He pulled his headphones off, around his neck. The rain was pelting so hard he felt like the umbrella he had wasn't doing anything.

And it wasn't. Because it turned inside out, and flew away from him.

Louise hissed in a breath through her teeth. "Yeesh, David...good day otherwise?"

"...no." David wasn't normally that transparent. Truth is, this wasn't even the worst day this week.

"Oh." Louise nodded. "Well, I had a good day. Frida and Hilda and I finished up that thing for history, and I managed to get tickets to that show on Saturday, AND I picked up a few days to walk twig, which...I mean. He's Twig. Who doesn't like walking him?"

"Well, that's good." David nodded, sheepishly. He smiled a little.

"There's that smile." She said, winking. "You and that smile...always on when a certain person's around, eh?"

...WAIT WHAT? WAS IT THAT OBVIOUS? HE THOUGHT HE WAS BEING VAGUE THERE-

"We all know how you feel about Frida."

HUH!?!

"It's alright! Must be awful, though, what with her being so into Hilda and-"

"It's you."

David wanted to jump into the sea when he saw the look on her face. He knew it shouldn't've been today. Why did he commit to today!? Why oh WHY did he-

"...me?"

"..." He nodded. "Yes." He shook his head. "I...ever since we met, but...I, uhm...I really think..." He scoffed. "Iiiit's melodramatic, but-"

"I like melodramatic." Louise crossed her arms. "Don't hold back." She added. "I can take it."

"...You...you make me feel..." He fought for the words. "you make me feel like a million suns are shining down at once. You make me feel like a wolf looking out at open ground to run on. You make me feel-"

She kissed him, once. Quickly.

"...Musicians. So good at saying, not doing. Just...do."

He hugged her and kissed her as she held the umbrella...

-

"Have a good day at School, David?" David's mother asked, as she heard the door.

David beamed when he got back. "The best."

[jdopes-recorder]

okay you sappy ass hoes

You made me tear up fuck you

@njmweb

Im kinda shit at this but I'll try. You're one of the closest friends I've had and i can't begin to tell you how much the friends I found in the three mean to me. I never thought I'd actually find people I can be myself with and not worry about being embarrassed. You guys are just as bad. I love how supportive you are and you're just always there to talk to and talk with. With the stuff only you know was happening...you've helped me last year more than you know. It felt so good to have someone actually care and be open with me. I loved when we played roblox just to beat little kids up the entire summer and you bashed on my ice cream and bourn vita (fuck you). Every single thing you've given me (except the flower I'm so sorry it died and i didn't have a book to put it in :D), every random drawing, I have them all and im definitely gonna treasure it my whole life. You are such a copycat sometimes smh (stop listening to the same random artists it's so weird when that happens yeesh). I learned so much stupid shit from you and i love your cat memes and jellyfish. I've picked up little mannerisms of yours since I've been stuck with you for two years, and i randomly realise how I never used to do something that I do now before I met you. Thank you for being you.

@kiew-ie

wait what when'd you get a new profile 😭😭

You fkn cutie. You've been next to me (almost) everyday the last year and it's always so weird when you're absent i just sit there like 🧍‍♀️I love listening to you talk about mlp Or some other cute shit I don't know anything about. I love how we both sound like we've had helium when we're excited. When we doodle in our books and talk about any topic when we're supposed to be studying? We're stupid but i love it. I srsly love your hair and I've told you that before but idk I don't think you believed me, but I get that. Thank you for always letting me sag on your shoulder when I feel too lazy (most of the time tbh). You're so fun to be around and I've loved every minute. I love listening to you rant and even though I never know what to say, I'm always so touched that you trust me enough to tell me shit. I love you and your obsession with pink stuff <3

k well we don't have ells acc cuz she's stubborn af, but I just wanted to tell you guys that even though I never say anything or act like it, you all mean more to me than you know. I never would have ever imagined what would have happened with me just asking dhri what music she listened to. If nana didn't overhear us talking about that, if ells didn't come with leo. It crazy to me how life works. You guys gave me that happiness and peace I had been craving for years. You know how my last friend group was and how toxic it was. I never had true friends and didn't have to be on guard. I can let go of all of that with you guys, because I know you don't care and even do the same (idiots). I don't wanna lose what we have and it scares the shit out of me that we aren't gonna be together and we're gonna leave everything we've known in less than 2 months. I finally got real happiness and I don't wanna lose that again. But you know, like how I never would have seen this coming, I have no idea what will be coming for all of us. This shit is crazy. I never would have imagined you guys would be my best friends. Even though I know we'll all have our own lives and get other friends too, I know I'll never forget you guys. When I look back to mt childhood, you guys will always stand out. Thank you for everything. I guess I'm better at writing about the things I think about instead of telling it to your faces.

Don't being this up tmr, I will self combust.

being madly in love with someone platonically is so ridiculous. hey man i think about you all the time. i wish you were here right now. talking to you makes me indescribably happy. i miss you. honestly what the hell

[wideeyedloner]

[fic] [spn | dean/cas ] near-fall

near-fall spn dean/cas 2600 words thank you so much to Nym for the alpha and houndoom for the beta!! <3 errors mine all mine

ao3 link

As Dean watches the popcorn bag spin on the microwave’s rotating plate, he nearly jumps from how old his reflection looks. Yeesh. The year of resisting the urge to throw himself on a pyre from grief has caught up to him. He looks at least fifty. He feels so much older.

Dean had been drinking too much, sleeping too little, and getting pretty careless on hunts, to be honest. Jack probably showed up just in time with Cas in tow before Dean had the chance to do something really stupid and get himself killed.

He still looks so wrung-out it could have been last month, last week, or last night that he had rushed Cas, gripping him tight, crying like a freaking girl. And now they’re just sitting around like all the rest of this shit never happened, getting drunk and watching crap like Betty White getting tackled into the mud, just for laughs. None of this would have been on his bingo card for 2021.

Wild.

The microwave beeps, so Dean takes the popcorn and a few Margiekugels back with him to the Dean Cave.

He sinks back onto the couch, returns the popcorn bowl to the coffee table and distributes the beers just in time to tune in as Cas explains to Sam, “Once the commanders were slain, their foot soldiers fled. So yes, there were… artistic liberties taken in writing the tale of David and Goliath.” Sam nods along, fully engrossed.

“That makes a lot of sense,” Sam agrees.

This gives Dean an idea for the next video. “Hey, remember that wrestling case a while back? Sure brought back memories.”

“Of you trying to suplex and leg lock me in high school? Yeah, those were great times.”

“Yeah, they were.” Dean reaches for the laptop and—jackpot.

“Seriously?” Sam sounds put-upon, like someone who for some reason didn’t enjoy being twisted into a pretzel as a child.

“Problem?” Dean quickly swallows his beer so he can stuff his mouth completely full of popcorn and chew obnoxiously while Sam watches in disgust.

“You’re going to show Cas a wrestling clip. Knowing you, it’ll be the lip-synching country singer, the himbo, or the stripper.”

“How else is the man going to understand what it means to be a red-blooded American, Sam? It’d be unpatriotic not to show him.”

“Dude, Cas wasn’t technically born and isn’t a citizen of anywh—this is stupid. Cas, do you even want to watch wrestling?”

Cas, sitting placidly between them, beer balanced on his knee, responds, “I wouldn’t be opposed.”

That settles it. “I promise, Sammy. This is a good match.”

They watch the video, passing around the popcorn bowl, commenting on the grainy quality, the wrestlers’ entrances, their athleticism, the color commentary. The Undertaker chases Shawn Michaels inside and outside the cell, beating him bloody and prompting Cas to question what kind of grudge this demon had against the stripper. Dean does his best to answer Cas’ questions about the leadup to the match and pro wrestling in general. Sam, already on his phone to text with Eileen, helpfully supplies additional information.

Dean grabs them more beers toward the end, and comes back to Michaels knocking The Undertaker flat with his signature move, only for The Undertaker to rise back up in his own impressive signature style. Grinning, Dean looks over at Cas in the flickering light from the TV. The match continues in reverse miniature in Cas’ pupils, his pink lips parted and wet with beer. The air in Dean’s lungs turns to lead and drops into his gut.

Beyond Cas, he notices Sam turn to face him, eyebrows raised questioningly. Dean shakes his head no, all good, whips his unfocused eyes back to the match, and tells himself to get a fucking grip.

Kane makes his much-anticipated debut, incapacitating The Undertaker and allowing a bloodied Michaels to win the match. A victory for the Heartbreak Kid.

Dean’s still feeling kind of sappy from thinking about having Cas back, mixed with whatever the hell was going on earlier. Anyone could see that Cas is a handsome man, in good shape, and a great catch. Dean’s head is just screwy tonight. Gotta be the beer or something. He’s also got this antsy feeling he used to get after watching wrestling, like he’s going to go into the city to dropkick and shooting star press everyone in sight.

“I knew you would pick the stripper,” Sam teases.

“He was a great wrestler!”

“Yet he was outmatched by this ‘Undertaker’ and required third-party assistance,” Cas observes. Dean can always count on him for support.

—-

Another round of Margiekugels later, they’re in the gym downstairs, layering gym mats. Even with the central air keeping it a crisp sixty-eight degrees, they feel warm, so they’ve shed their outer layers and boots.

“This is, like, the best part of watching wrestling,” Dean tells Cas.

“Maiming yourself,” Sam stage whispers, still lifting a mat into place.

“I’m still unconvinced we’re in any condition for athletics at the moment,” Cas says. “My…tolerance isn’t what it was.” Because all men mourn their lost ability to consume an entire liquor store.

Sam nods like he knows what that’s like. “Nothing too crazy, okay? My back also isn’t what it used to be, and I’d kind of like to live my life without a permanent spinal injury.”

So they take turns demonstrating to and with Cas some maneuvers they’d tried in their youth, including downtempo Sweet Chin Music, the People’s Elbow, the Sharpshooter. Most pro wrestlers retire by their age, so it’s no surprise that the bodies of two elder hunters and an ex-angel (all lacking the appropriate conditioning) are creaky and bad at it. Each new move is punctuated with a “watch it!” or “I don’t bend like that” or “I didn’t survive all that shit to die in some dumb accident like Lawrence of Arabia.”

They’re laughing and sweating their asses off on the floor when Sam winces and says, “Ow, yeah, that’s my cue.” He sways to his feet, scoops up his hoodie and his boots in one hand, and holds his beer up over his shoulder with the other. “Night. Try not to die.”

Now that it’s just him and Cas, Dean suddenly feels something like discomfort, which is ridiculous. It’s only Cas. “Beer break,” He says, probably too loudly. It’s a little warmer than he likes by now, but still gives him something to do and provides an excuse to look away from Cas.

When he turns back, Cas is looking right at him with those fierce fucking blue eyes. Dean’s sure Cas can see everything that’s been going on in him tonight and can make better sense of it than Dean himself can. It makes him want to curl up, turn away, so he can’t see. But he also wants to meet whatever danger he perceives in Cas’ gaze head-on.

So he steps back onto the mats and says, “Ready?”

The late hour, drinking, and earlier gymnastics have them heavy-limbed and tired already, so they end up grappling. They can’t get too serious about it with the way the mats are laid out, but Cas rapidly gains an advantage. The guy is strong and surprisingly quick, and knocks the breath right out of Dean with a bear hug takedown.

Cas tries to free his arms from beneath Dean’s body to pin him, so Dean quickly rolls them, covering Cas and beginning the count. Cas, the fucker, almost instantly wriggles free and is on Dean again. The mat under his back has been sliding askew onto the concrete floor and he feels the world tilting as he jerks under Cas, trying to steer them both back toward the rest of the mats. Cas is stubborn as shit and knows it, smirking down at Dean while he struggles.

Dean is determined to wipe that smug expression off his face. “You gotta do better’n that—“

He braces his left side and shoves, intending to reverse their positions, but only manages to push his body, sternum to groin, into Cas. The movement makes goosebumps rise all over Dean’s skin.

The central air clicks on, humming quietly overhead. Cas is flushed and sweaty above him, and Dean can feel the warmth of his body through their clothes. His breathing is heavy and every exhale stirs the damp hair not stuck to his skin. His eyes are vibrant as they search Dean’s face.

Unbidden, his body tries to shove again, but it’s a weak effort, and both of them know it. His stomach does moonsaults, over and over.

Jesus. They’ve been this close before, he’s sure of it, on hunts. Crammed together like toothpicks in a box, in motel rooms, in Baby, in diner booths. He’s fought beside Cas before, fought him before, been aware of his breathing next to him, looked him in the eye. But this—whatever it is—has never been so strong.

It’s always been there, part of their friendship but playing at a lower volume than whatever else was going on when they were dying or about to die or the only things preventing catastrophe. Not something that demanded attention. But in the three months since Cas has been back, the volume has turned up with every glance, every word exchanged, every casual touch. Dean just can’t make out what the damn song is.

His body aches all over and his mind is hazy and he knows he should stop this—but he hears himself say, “You gotta—make sure you cover me for a three-count, like we talked about.”

Cas’ eyes narrow, and he slowly lowers his whole body closer, closer, until his chest is pressed to Dean’s, pinning him firmly to the mat. Cas’ right arm has Dean’s left restrained near their heads, and the other hand has Dean’s wrist. His deep breaths are hot next to Dean's ear and he smells of butter and hops.

Cas’ body should be offset for the cover. Dean should probably say something, but his mouth is dry, could maybe use more beer. Cas’ left knee is sinking into the mat between Dean’s legs, and he can feel the heat of his thigh cradled between his own. And—

There’s Cas’ dick, right at the crease of Dean’s hip. It’s hard, muted by Dean’s jeans but unmistakable. Okay, it happens. It’s happened to Dean on occasion on hunts, from fear or just from blood circulation—no biggie. Dean certainly won’t hold that against him (ha)—not when he’s sporting an erection of his own, fully pressed against Cas’ thigh.

But Dean’s body feels like it’s all nerves, alight all at once, flaring where their skin touches. And he swears he’s not trying to but his body squirms within Cas’ firm hold and under his solid weight and manages to rub himself against Cas, and Cas against his thigh. His cock gives a throb at the sensation, making Dean grit his teeth hard, and Cas stutters out a groan.

“Dean,” Cas rumbles into his ear. “the pinfall.”

The—right. He crawls his hand away from Cas’ loose grip and out to the side, feeling a little hysterical, and begins the count.

Smack. “One.” Somehow, they’ve managed to jostle their bodies and he’s trying not to take it personally but the friction feels amazing. Cas clearly agrees, tightening his grip on Dean’s shoulder. Dean bites down on the inside of his lip when he feels Cas’ mouth part against his neck. What the actual fuck.

Smack. “Two.” He hits the mat harder this time, because he’s nothing if not a hedonist, making sure he rocks both their bodies, and Jesus, was that Cas’ tongue? The wheezing sound the sensation forces out of Dean is completely pathetic. 

And there’s a thump-thump-thump as Sam tries—and fails—to wobble stealthily down the stairs. A moment later, he rounds the corner and enters the gym with both eyes on his phone in landscape mode in one hand and the index finger of the other hand to his lips. A look of horror blooms on his face as Cas and Dean stare back up at him silently from the crooked mat on the floor.

“Oh god, I thought you’d still be—“ He shoves his phone in the front pocket of his hoodie and makes a hasty U-turn to trip back up the steps so his voice and footfalls speedily recede upstairs. “I’m so sorry!”

That breaks the tension of—this, and Cas and Dean both begin chuckling. Cas leans up on his elbows to look at Dean fondly, a small smile curving his lips. Dean pats Cas’ arm, fingers traveling along his delts. Man, he has great arms. Dean would ask for Cas’ workout routine if he didn’t know that a) Cas doesn’t exercise and b) he has no intention of exercising at all, ever.

“Imagine if he’d actually walked in on whatever he thinks he saw,” Dean snorts. Lots of people—Sam included—have made comments about them over the years, but it’s not like that. It might be for Cas, but Dean’s always been a ladies’ man, a Don Juan, a confirmed bachelor.

Cas goes still. “Imagine that,” he says stiffly, no longer laughing.

Just like that, it becomes immensely uncomfortable, like the atmospheric equivalent of getting thrown sixteen feet off a steel cage and onto the announcer’s table. Dean swears sometimes that Cas must still possess an angelic aura, because even though he physically takes up the normal amount of space, the guy can project moods and intensity like no natural-born human Dean’s ever met.

Cas sits up and stands. Dean sits up with him, following his body heat. Cas’ jaw is set the way it gets when he’s pissed but his expression is otherwise carefully neutral. Dean wants to ask him what’s going on, what happened, but he doesn’t do heart-to-hearts. If Cas wanted emotional intelligence, he picked the wrong best friend.

Cas is a mess. His hair’s pointing everywhere, he’s sweaty, his face is flushed, his clothes are rumpled, and he has an obvious erection tenting his pajama pants. Fuck, it looks like he’s been fooling around. He wants to reach out and fix the guy’s hair, straighten his clothes. Cas takes a moment to adjust himself while staring at the doorway before addressing Dean.

“Thank you. For the lesson on professional wrestling.” Then he walks out, leaving his flannel, boots and beer behind.

The cooling sweat makes Dean's hair stand on end. He sits with his own frustrated erection, buzz fading into a persistent throb in his head, uneasy ache in his chest from whatever tonight has become.

He has half a mind to follow Cas—for what? For those sky blue eyes to bore into Dean again when Dean demands what this shit is between them? For that grumbling voice to deliver an explanation for what happened just now, for his sudden weird behavior?

Yeah, like because they're both such forthcoming guys.

Dean tries to rake a hand through his hair, but that hand is trembling, so he lets it drop. He must have screwed something up here, but doesn’t know what he did. His mind chases answers he doesn’t have and his stomach churns with the certainty that he and Cas are on opposite banks of a new rift in their friendship, both analyzing the fissure. Difference is, it’s like Cas still sees with a thousand eyes, and Dean just has the two.

He has no answers. It makes Dean feel like the dumbest heel alive.

He falls back onto the mat with a loud smack.

[madasthesea]

You used to watch Merlin, right? What about a Merlin fic? Congrats on the followers.

Thank you! And yes, I love and am forever angry at Merlin, as all true fans are. I’ve had this story sitting in my drafts for ages, so I hope you don’t mind me breaking it out here. (I’m like 99.5% sure I’ve never posted it anywhere, but sorry if I have)

The chimera falls, the lion’s mouth hanging open, the goat’shead lolling grotesquely, the remains of the snake body writhing for a momentin the fallen leaves before going still. There’s a moment of silent relief, andthen—

“What. The. Devil. Was. That!” Merlin shouts just as Arthuryells

“What were you thinking, you idiot?” They round on eachother, storming forward until they’re practically nose to nose, continuingtheir tirades, loudly, in the other’s face.

The Knights of Camelot watch on, surprised. Arthur andMerlin don’t fight. They bicker and insult and Arthur throws punches andgoblets and Merlin rolls his eyes and, occasionally, they storm off in oppositedirections and don’t speak for a while. But they don’t argue, not like this,not shouting at the top of their lungs, their anger ringing like explosionsaround the clearing.

“Should we stop them?” Leon asks, warily.

“—You could have been killed! Because Prince-freaking-Arthurneeds to show off—“

“—You were just standing there, you didn’t even have asword—“

“Nah,” Gwaine says, making shooing motions until the knightsturn away and begin to deal with the remains of the monster. “Better they haveit out here than at the castle.”

Arthur and Merlin, totally oblivious to their audience,probably would have gone on like that for quite some time, if Merlin didn’twince in pain when he moved his arm.

“You’re hurt,” Arthur remarks, his voice tight and stillsimmering with anger, but no longer shouting. Merlin looks down at his leftsleeve, dark with blood and torn to shreds. He scowls at it, then Arthur, thengoes and sits at the base of a tree, pulling medical supplies out of hissaddlebags on the way. Arthur’s face goes white, then red, when he sees thegashes marring Merlin’s upper arm.

“Why, Merlin, do you alwaysfeel the need to throw yourself in the path of the most dangerous thing around?Are you that much of an idiot that you don’t realize that you’re supposed toget out of the way of giant magicalbeasts?” Arthur rants, still loud but on the softer side of yelling, pacingback and forth in the small space not occupied by trees, horses, or a largechimera corpse. He’s dirty, sweaty, and red-faced in fury, but whole andunharmed. The fact that Merlin is not, that he is currently wrapping foot afterfoot of bandages around his arm and still not stopping the blood flow, seems tofuel his anger.

“You’re one to talk. And I was trying to prevent it from killing you, in case you didn’t notice!”Merlin matches him for volume, pausing in his sloppy ministrations to look atArthur incredulously.

“All I saw was you clamoring to be a chimera’s dinner! And Iknow you have delusions of grandeur, Merlin, but why on earth would you thinkit’s your job to protect me?”

“Cause you’re my best friend, and you bloody well know it!”Merlin shouts, irate. “And my plan was working perfectly, you didn’t need tojump in,” he adds, looking back down to his poorly done bandaging.

Arthur has stopped his pacing and is staring at his manservant,blinking repeatedly. It takes him a moment to notice that Merlin is trying totie off the linens with one hand and his teeth. He rolls his eyes, then stridesforward and crouches next to him, brushing Merlin’s attempts away.

“I didn’t,” Arthur says softly, as he undoes the shoddybandaging job and starts over.

“You didn’t step in front of a charging chimera and almostget killed? Because I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what happened,” Merlinseethes, and it’s not that he’s angry at Arthur, really. But Merlin had seen, withaid of his magic, the snake’s fangs come within inches of tearing out Arthur’sthroat. The terror of thinking that he wouldn’t be fast enough to save himlingers in Merlin’s mouth like a bitter tonic, and his muscles are tense as hesits, watching as Arthur winds the red-stained linen around his bicep.

“No, I didn’t know… that.” He ties off the bandagescarefully and then seems unsure of what to do with his hands. “That I’m… Ididn’t know,” he trails off, then steels himself before glancing up and meetingMerlin’s wide eyes.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathes, but Arthur just looks back toMerlin’s injured arm and begins to clean the blood from his skin with a ragdampened with water from his own wineskin.

“I thought… Gwaine. Or Gwen even.” He doesn’t look upagain, but he knows Merlin’s shaking his head a little.

“No. Don’t get me wrong, they’re amazing and I love them.But they’re not you,” Merlin says, shrugging with one shoulder and Arthurcarefully keeps his head bent over Merlin’s blood crusted hand so his smallsmile isn’t visible.

“You never said.” Is all Arthur replies with and Merlin feelscontrite for a moment.

“Arthur, why do you think I follow you everywhere? I go onpatrols with you, and on quests, and to battle…. I wouldn’t do that justbecause you’re my master,” Merlin confesses, almost whispering, and he wants totug Arthur’s chin up so he’ll look him in the eyes, but he’s fixated on cleaningaway the blood that has settled in the lines of Merlin’s palm.

“No, but… as the prince…” he trails off, dropping Merlin’sleft hand and moving to his right, and he appears to be grateful for thedistraction. It means he doesn’t have to look Merlin in the eye.

“Arthur, it’s true that if you die, Camelot loses its heir. Andthat I want to see your reign more than anything.” Arthur’s hands lose theirrhythm for a moment, before resuming steadily. “But, Arthur,” he continues, andhe finally gives in to the desire to tilt Arthur’s chin up until he can’t lookaway. “If you died, I would…. I don’t.” He stops and drops his hand fromArthur’s face, but it doesn’t matter, because Arthur’s attention is riveted onthe way Merlin’s breath hitches and the desolated fear that washes over hisfeatures. “I don’t know if I would ever recover.”

Arthur watches him until he quirks the corner of his mouthto assure him that he wasn’t about to fall apart. Then he gently returns tocleaning the last of the blood from Merlin’s hand.  

“You’re mine, as well. Just so you know,” Arthur finallymurmurs as he releases his hold on Merlin’s wrist. Merlin’s heart lurchesgiddily and his cheeks flush with pleasure at the assurance of Arthur’saffections. He wants to pledge to him that, even though Arthur had only meanthis best friend, he is Arthur’s—his magic,his service, and his life. But as Arthur rinses out the rag and straightens hishunched shoulders, he has a feeling that Arthur has reached his “feelingsquota” for the month.

“That’s good,” Merlin says instead of the oaths and promisesthat are burning in his throat. “This would have been a bit awkward, if not.”

Arthur throws back his head and laughs, breaking the bubblethey had been in. He stands, and offers his hand to help Merlin up. Since oneof his arms is laying rather uselessly against his chest, he reaches up andtakes it gladly. Once he’s standing, Arthur throws his arm around Merlin’sshoulders and leads him to where the knights are saddling up their horses.

Merlin needs help getting into his own saddle, and Arthurrolls his eyes and calls him a girl and Merlin accidently-on-purpose kicks himin the face. They’re going to be just fine.

[solacerider]

tfw you forget today was Undertale’s 5th anniversary

I managed to make something for it, but because I felt bad for forgetting it and also decided to be a tryhard, I made it lineless (why do I do this to myself). But anyways, it’s done!

Undertale is one of those games that has a special place in my heart. The gameplay itself is fun, the characters are charming, soundtrack is bop, and the story WILL make you feel something, whether it’s joy from reading the funny character interactions or sadness when walking to Asgore’s throne room. This game has also spawned so many creative artists and projects and a whole multiverse of characters; it’s a just great community overall. Thanks Toby for creating this wonderful game.

Happy 5th anniversary!

[universal-kitty]

Guzma, what's something you adore about Aki?

   “Heh, it’d probably have to be her unfailingly positive attitude...and how she sticks to herself. Doesn’t let anyone else change her, you know?

   “She gets into a bad spot and can come outta it like phoenix. Every time she gets up, she’s spouting off so much wisdom, I can’t decide where she at; you got a gal with a young face, who’s in her twenties, speaking deep wisdom and being incredible supportive like she’s lived at least five other lifetimes to her memory. And ya know what? She’d get right back into something that hurt her before! Just because she believes in people that damn much!!! It takes a lot before she knows when to stop...

   “She’s damned determined to help anyone who’d let her be an ear and it’s... It’s real sweet.

   “As for stickin’ to herself? I’m pretty amazed by that. You see lotta people who build up lots of different faces for themselves, you know? People built on changin’ faces to hide things or appeal to people. She don’t do that. You can’t keep up? It’s okay, but this is how she is, so it might be better to end things off. That’s it, end of. I love that! The only thing you get when you get past her walls is more of herself you didn’t know before. That’s it. No big plot twists; just a bigger picture.

   “Heh... It’s that kinda energy that’s been helping me try to be more...me. And not always the “big boss of Team Skull” that I was, yanno? I still look out for my squad, for sure, but no need to act tough all the time. Uh, still kinda...learning that, though. But she’s patient with me.”

[outlustings]

Nsfw alphabet for my pre!engine Ricky Boy? 😍 i loved Jeremys alphabet...but Rick would be freaking awesome 😍

Again i have to thank you for your incredible work you're doing here! 🥰🥰🥰

(my god sorry guys been going thru a little bit of stuff and haven't posted in almost three weeks yeesh.

my drafts are full of writing but nothing is coming together. like how do i combine angst and walrider sex smoothly and also keep all of my marbles. how.

anyhoo, have a rick alphabet thingy. warnings for dubcon elements, bdsm dynamics, rick being rick, the usual. love you anon.)

×

RICHARD TRAGER NSFW ALPHABET (PRE-ENGINE)

Aftercare | Rick likes to cuddle for a while, and then, if he's still awake, he's off to take a shower. Nothing too sappy, but not entirely cold either. He's the kind of man to talk about the pattern on the curtains after sex, with his groggy brain all fuzzy as he tries to stay awake and find something to talk about. Or he might start talking about his day, maybe an upcoming project. Just anything. He loves the sound of his own voice.

Body part | Rick loves a lovely, soft body and all of the statuesque curves he can grind his hips against or smother with needy kisses. Soft skin is all he cares about. He loves his hands, the way his bulging veins thrum with power as he holds a leash or pulls his partner's hair, he loves how well his fingers stretch his lover, how much he gets compliments on his hands.

Cum | Rick loves playing around with his cum, having it all over his partner's chest or face, dipping his fingers into it and making his fucktoy clean his fingers up, all the while he wears a maniacal grin as he drags his fingers on their tongue; "Look up at me, sweets, there you go - that taste good? You want more?" He loves marking his territory.

Dirty secret | Rick will want to fuck his partner in some dingy corner of the asylum, against old rattling medical equipment or an autopsy table, making sure that nobody would intervene through paying off the security guards. It's dangerous, taboo, filthy, and it makes his heart pound like crazy. He would love it.

Experience | He knows what he's doing, he's had some experience, but one wants to have sex for mutual pleasure, they'll have to give him a lecture beforehand. While Rick technically knows the ins and outs of sex, he's the kind of guy to finger you like he's trying to puncture his lover's spleen and then get all mad when they tell him to slow down.

Favorite position | Anything goes, but his favourite is having his partner pinned against the wall and fucking them while standing up. Whether or not it's just doggy with extra steps or some vertical missionary, he loves having sex against a wall, cornering his prey and fucking them against some sturdy support.

Goofy | His behaviour in the moment is definitely a mix of seriousness and on-brand silliness. Lots of jokes, lots of rambling. He doesn't like the silence, and he thinks it's funny to deliver some kind of joke-y little compliment when he's balls deep inside someone. Lots of sarcasm and teasing words, too.

Hair | Rick has thick, luscious hair, courtesy of his Italian heritage, and him pulling his underwear down will no doubt make his lover blurt out the old trusty: "Wow, Bush is back in office, huh?" (He will definitely have to spank his lover after that kind of an obscene comment. Tsk tsk.) Rick doesn't do a whole lot of trimming, he prefers the natural look on both himself and on his partner.

Intimacy | Rick hates "being romantic", but he can't change the way his eyes glint when he looks at his squirming partner, the way his expression softens as they tear up, the way he needs to press soft, sloppy kisses to their flushed cheeks as he slows down his thrusts in missionary, rubbing his partner's trembling leg up and down, shushing them, purring praises. Nope, totally not romantic at all.

Jack off | Rick doesn't masturbate a whole lot. If he wants to cum, he'll find someone to cum on. It's really that simple (to him). Even iff his partner teases him with nudes or dirty sexts, he'll cross his legs, will his throbbing boner away and wait until they get home and then he'll attack and punish them for trying to make him act up.

Kink | Voyeurism and slight exhibitionism. Suspension and other kinds of rope bondage, restraints of all kind, general sadomasochism. Forced orgasms. Doctor and nurse roleplay (duh). Surgery play, medical play, the likes. Cumplay. Abduction play. Cockwarming. The usual.

Location | Rick likes to fuck at work. I'm sorry, he does. But a bed is always a good alternative. Also, maybe a little date night at one of those kink mansions with weird torture and mirror rooms that you can book for a couple of hours - maybe something to spice up a boring old Thursday or something.

Motivation | Arguments and bickering gets him going. It's weird, but he loves fighting, loves to watch the struggle in his lover's eyes as he dives between their legs while they're still supposed to be mad at him. He also hates making out and cuddling because it makes him achingly hard and now he has to deal with the shame of lovey-dovey stuff making him aroused.

No | Rick is a kinky fuck. I don't think there's anything he would not try at least once. (And once we get to those post-engine preferences of his - oh, boy. That's going to be awful.)

Oral | Rick likes giving oral. He's definitely into making his partner squirm and cry out as they grind against his face. His face is his lover's throne. He loves it as much as he loves to give a good throatfuck after a long day, with him thrusting into his partner's mouth, hissing profanities and cooing about how good of a job they're doing. He loves oral. All of it.

Pace | Slow. Torturously slow. Rick is very meticulous and makes sure to leave his partner begging for more, for him to just get on with it as he savours every inch of his lover's body. He loves to take it slow, only descending into rough, animalistic fucking just as he's about to cum, and no sooner than that. Sometimes, when he's in a mood, or otherwise frustrated, he'll try to be slow, but can't - that's when he gets rough, slamming into his fucktoy with bruising force, only caring about his own pleasure.

Quickie | Rick likes quickies, but doesn't prefer them over slow sex. It's a nice stress relief every now and then, and he adores bending his partner over his desk and fucking them silly - then just nudging them to go on with their work day. Quickies are reserved for when he's feeling less patient than usual or when he's in a mood. Rough, heated hate-fucking is one of his favourites.

Risk | Rick likes a lot of risky stuff in the sense that his kinks can cause awkward ER trips, but he also is into more vague risks. If his partner is able to get pregnant, they should get ready for Rick toying around with the thrill of a little accident. Especially with a little bit of a CNC/begging element to it all. Makes him go wild.

Stamina |��While Rick likes to take it all slow and go on fucking for hours, his refractory period is super long. He'll be knocked out as soon as he cums, so his lover should get ready for one, long, sloppy session a night and then sweaty cuddles.

Toys | Rick likes to use toys on his partner, making them cum until they cry is what he's into, but he doesn't own too many toys himself. Maybe a modest cockring, things like that.

Unfair | Rick is extremely unfair, with hours of edging and lots of teasing, ruined orgasms and the like. He loves to see his partner squirm, loves to make them cry in desperation as he holds all of the power over them. He loves to tease, loves to give his partner permission to cum, grins like a madman when his fucktoy finally gets to release around his cock, milking him.

Volume | Rick is actually pretty vocal, lots of grunting and moaning on his part, he's loud. Little noises resonating in the back of his throat as he bucks his hips up into his lover's mouth, curse words spilling from his lips as he laughs and groans as he chases his pleasure.

Wild card | Rick wants to get pegged. He won't admit it easily, but the very thought of it makes him painfully hard.

X-ray | He has a long cock, with a thick head that feels awfully good when he pushes it in slowly. Almost 8 inches when full and throbbing. Slightly curved, with sensitive veins running along the shaft. Uncut.

Yearning | Rick is a horny bastard. Always. He's always ready to go, always yearning for his partner, always looking for the next opportunity to get his dick wet. His sex drive is very high.

Zzz | He's the kind of guy to bust a nut and, like I mentioned before, get knocked out pretty much immediately. He's very groggy after having orgasmed, all sleepy and mumbly, his energy drained. Kind of adorable. Especially when he dozes off and starts to snore.

[sadx]

i had a really fluffy elaborate daydream yesterday of taking my crush around town and kissing them at the landmarks and watching the sunset and um god thats how u know u got it bad 

[sleepypaladiknight]

OK FIC IDEA:

that one au where you can hear your soulmate singing out loud in your head- but leopika

leorio wasn’t much of a singer as a child- the impoverished corner of the world he lived in didn’t have much music to sing to, either. the closest he’s got were the staticky, muffled and clipped tunes that rattled out of the neighbor’s radio. that’s why he’s always preferred listening- listening to his soulmate’s songs.

it was in a language he didn’t understand, but it was the clearest, sweetest music he’s ever heard. he memorized those humble tunes and lullabies, tracing the foreign syllables over and over with his tongue and humming the melodies nobody but him and his soulmate knew. he carved his soulmate’s voice into his mind, bragging to Pietro about his melodic partner and how he couldn’t wait to meet him.

then one day they stopped.

he found it coincidental- that it was on the same day Pietro passed away from illness. but it was fitting- it was a day where all the music and life left him.

as years went on his hopes of hearing his soulmate’s comforting tune dwindled away, but the music and the tunes he cherished so much as a boy remained, even as he learned new songs to sing to in the world around him. he’d sing out as loudly as he could, the raunchiest and most irritatingly popular songs he knew on some days, hoping offhandedly to lure the music from his partner again and hear that kind, soft voice just one more time. it never worked.

so, he swore to never sing that song, that one soft melody, until he heard it from his soulmate themself.

then he met kurapika. a guy who didn’t sing at all, and whose expression alone sang out his melancholies. his voice was prim and strict, the annoying, uppity kind that made Leorio’s blood boil, but it was familiar.

in the confines of trick tower, the topic began to stray.

“your soulmate must love your singing.” he teased.

the blond seemed to hesitate, and didn’t meet his eye. “i don’t care about soulmates.” kurapika’s voice sounded almost sad. “it would be for the better if mine never meets me at all.”

“yeesh, that’s real positive of you.”

“and what about you?” he said almost accusingly. “what do you think of your soulmate?”

“i don’t care about my soulmate, either,” he bit out, “but it’s for a good reason. mine stopped singing to me.”

“they must have their reasons.”

“which are probably as pompous and bratty as you!”

then they were back to their usual bickering. life went on, and his ambitions neared with every step of the journey he completed. their little group parted ways to chase after their own interests and dreams, and for around a year, leorio never saw one of them face to face.

then kurapika showed up on a cloudy evening, after billions and gazillions of ignored calls and texts left on delivered. they exchanged apologies and grievances and angers, embraced each other and shared glances that lasted a few seconds too long as they talked.

for some reason, kurapika had a strained look on his face when leorio began to sing the lyrics to some queen song. he wouldn’t even look at him, but leorio shrugged it off as usual angsty behavior.

they found themselves on the rickety balcony of leorio’s cheap apartment, looking out over the city.

“so, still given up on your soulmate?”

kurapika said nothing.

“well, me too, i guess.” he sighed out. “i lied to you- back at the exam when i told you i didn’t care about my soulmate. i,” he laughed, a bittersweet sound, “i actually cared a lot. it just felt easier to deny it. it’s... pretty damn hard facing the idea that maybe my soulmate really doesn’t care anymore, doesn’t want to meet me. maybe they’re gone. maybe they hate my voice or something- from what i remember, they were a hella good singer. nice, bright voice and everything. maybe they didn’t wanna end up with someone musically talentless like me. maybe that one time i sang ‘call me maybe’ in the shower was the last straw.”

and to his delight, it drew a soft chuckle from the blonde leaning against the railing next to him, arms brushing and shoulders touching. his hair looked like silver in the moonlight. still, kurapika didn’t reply.

so leorio forged on.

“i, uh, already told you my soulmate stopped singing. like, completely. but i still remember the songs they used to sing. they were a huge comfort to me when i was little, when things were hard and a little bit of song was something people couldn’t even afford. i didn’t even know what the words mean, still don’t, but all i know is that they meant the world to me.” leorio glanced at kurapika with a sheepish smile. “wanna hear? so maybe you can hunt down the bastard that left me hanging?”

“sure.” his voice was scratchy, almost pained.

and leorio began gently. kindly. he was sure his accent was off- it didn’t roll off his tongue as fluently as it did for his soulmate all those years ago. but the sounds and the tune was the same- the one that he’s devotedly committed to memory, the one that he hastily wrote down on a piece of binder paper as a reminder of the comfort his soulmate used to bring, the one that he swore to never forget- it was his soulmate’s last song.

when he tapered off into absentminded humming, he realized kurapika was crying. his eyes were blown wide, flecks of magenta shimmering across the deep, scarlet hue of his irises. tears rolled down his soft, pale cheeks, glinting like diamonds in the moon’s embrace, falling on a dampened shirt that clasped trembling shoulders. leorio felt clumsy and dumb, trying to soothe kurapika, asking him what was wrong, if he was okay- then kurapika began to choke out words, rubbing away at his eyes with his arms.

“how do you know that song.” it wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

“i already told you, my soul-“

“no. you don’t understand. it’s a very personal song. a traditional song.” kurapika teared up again, liquid sadness welling up in his eyes. “it’s a song- a lullaby- that i’ve forgotten for the longest time. it’s my mother’s.”

leorio gaped, “your mom was my soulmate?!”

“no, you idiot!” Kurapika couldn’t help but laugh through his tears, beating a fist against leorio’s chest. they burst into a fit of laughter, boisterously cackling in the silence of the night, overpowering the honking cars in the streets below and the sound of their worries adrift in their heads. nothing but them existed.

kurapika’s hand remained there, on leorio’s chest, starting to clench at the fabric of his dress shirt. they were silent, for seconds, minutes, maybe hours, until Leorio’s hand drifted up to meet it, brushing gently against the soft, scarred skin of Kurapika’s slender fingers.

“i’m sorry.” kurapika whispered softly, barely above his breath. “i wasn’t fair to you. you were always trying, always singing to me.”

leorio couldn’t speak.

“i’ve been hearing your voice for years now. you and your- your stupid songs-“ he laughed out, but it sounded more like a choked sob.

leorio couldn’t breathe.

“i didn’t mean to make you lose hope. but i was hoping you would, so you wouldn’t chase after someone like me.”

leorio couldn’t think.

kurapika was leaning closer, voice growing quieter and quieter until they had to be inches apart to hear, to exchange words.

“i couldn‘t bring myself to sing. i didn’t have a reason to, not anymore. not after what happened to my clan. i noticed you stopped singing for a time, too. but it only took months before you began again, gaining more momentum with every song. i envied you and your strength.”

kurapika had started to shake, small frame shuddering against leorio’s. without thinking, he brought his other hand up to thumb away a tear that had begun trickling down kurapika’s face.

“i wanted to sing to you too, but all the songs i wished to teach you had disappeared from my memory. i was so preoccupied with my goals, that i... i began to forget the things that mattered more. what the faces of my family and my old friends looked like. what the lukso sunlight felt like on my skin, or how the grass felt underneath my feet. what the croons of a happy piko bird sounded like, or how beautifully blue the sky was on a sunny day. what my mother’s voice sounded like, what the words to her songs were, i, i-” kurapika sobbed, “i betrayed myself and my entire clan. i thought i had truly lost them and the part of myself that i swore i wouldn’t let die.”

their foreheads fell together, touching reassuringly. kurapika’s eyes fluttered closed as he spoke, body rendered as fragile as his voice, his feelings, his heart. leorio held each with careful, treasuring hands.

”i’d become a monster. a stranger in the same body i walked my home with. i thought- i thought that my soulmate didn’t deserve someone like that. someone like me.” he heaved out, chest shuddering with every quiet breath, “you don’t deserve someone like me, and i could never-“

and leorio shut that bullshit up with his lips.

they slotted together perfectly. call him disgustingly cheesy, sappy, any romantically insulting insult you could throw- but it felt like harmony. it felt so beautiful, his emotions crescendoing and his heart thrumming mercilessly in his chest as it fitted against kurapika’s. those soft, slightly chapped lips, damp from the tears that had trickled past them, felt perfect on his, like his lips were made to meet them. and just as easily as he had lost the music and life all those years ago, it was returned to him, in the form of a blond, pressed up against him and demanding for more, more, more with his mouth, hands all over his shoulders, fingers tangled in hair, breathing in each other, kissing like it was the very last thing they could do.

when they parted, leorio let himself get intoxicated by the sound of kurapika’s panting, drunk on the soft sounds that spilled past his lips like music.

”cut- cut the crap,” he breathed out, pulling kurapika closer by the waist and burying his head in his head of gold. ”for the rest of my life, stop talking. and start singing.”

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #907: Bench Date (SSBU)

7:12 p.m. at the Smash Mall Direct......

Chun-Li: (Sitting Next to Samus on a Bench While Looking at a Somewhat Familiar Face in the Distance) Is that really Dedede dressed as a Mall Santa? It kinda loos cute on him.

Samus: Yeah that's him alright. He's been taking the gig for two years now. He's actually doing a pretty good job at playing the part so far. I'm kind of impressed.

Chun-Li: (Smiles Softly at the Sight of Kids Hugging Dedede Claus) I'll say. He seems like such a sweetheart.... (Turns to Samus) Wasn't he an evil king back in his universe?

Samus: (Starts Shaking her Hand in an Unsure Manner) Ehh....He was more greedy and pinheaded than he was evil wise. (Sighs While Smiling a Little) Still, I'm glad he was able to turn his life around nowadays.... Even if he is still a loudmouth.

Chun-Li: (Lightly Pouts at Samus) Sammy.

Samus: (Starts Snickering While Shrugging) What? I'm just saying. If you lived with him for as long as I have, you'd probably feel the same.

Chun-Li: (Sighs as She Rest her Head onto Samus' Shoulder) Probably......(Starts Giggles Softly) You know, seeing him dress as Santa kind of reminds me of the time I made Guile wore the costume in the Christmas Party we had in the past.

Samus: Seriously?

Chun-Li: (Happily Nodded) Mmhmm~ We betted on who could deliver the most points in the Shooting Range Challenge and I managed to win by a landslide.

Samus: (Smirks Proudly at her Girlfriend) Nice~ So you guys had a good time at the party after all of that?

Chun-Li: (Nodded Again) Mmhm. It wasn't grand or anything, but it was able to lift our spirits up for the holidays. Especially when Shadoloo was a still a thing at the time. ('Sigh') It's a miracle they never tried to ruin Christmas.....

Samus: You don't say......You think they actually had a heart after all?

Chun-Li: (Shrugs) Don't know, don't care. (Smiles in a Satisfied Manner) I'm just glad they're permanently gone now.

Samus: (Chuckles Lightly) Yikes. Didn't take you to be the Savage type~

Chun-Li: (Playfully Shrugs) Well, what can I say?~ I have my bitchy moments every once in a while~

Samus: Maybe. It doesn't stop me from loving you though~ (Kiss the Top of Chun-Li's Forehead)

Chun-Li: (Giggles Softly as She Hugs her Girlfriend Beside Her) I know~ Which reminds me, is there anything in particular you for Christmas this year?

Samus: Hmm.... I don't think I know what I want actually.... What about you?

Chun-Li: (Shrugs) Eh...I don't have a clue on what I want either. In fact, I....(Smiles Softly) Think I already have what I needed right here. The friends I made throughout my journey, a little angel of a daughter....(Snuggles Onto Samus' Shoulder a Little) And the most beautiful, strongest lady who is sitting next to me as we speak~

Samus: Wow.....(Chuckles Lightly) That has the most sappiest thing I've ever heard all year.

Chun-Li: (Gives Samus a Playful Poutty Look on her Face While Poking her Cheeks) Oh hush up!~ You like being sappy as much as I do, so don't even start that crap!

Samus: (Chuckles Some More) Okay, okay. You caught me. I am as sappy as you are.

Chun-Li: (Simple Nodded) That's. Right.

The couple suddenly begins to hear the sound of panting as they turn their heads to see Fox slowly making his way to the bench they're sitting on in an exhausted like fashion.

Fox: (Sits Down on the Bench Putting The Bags Down and Raising his Fist in the Air) FINALLY!.... I finally made it out of that nightmarish hellhole at last!!

Chun-Li: (Already Has a Worried Look on her Face) Foxy? Is everything's okay?

Samus: Yeah, you look like hell, man. What happened?

Fox: ('Sigh') I promised Slippy I would get him the model figure of Luke Skywalker in his older years for Christmas this year. But once I got last box from the shelf, a bunch a crazy, lunatic fanboys came out of NOWHERE and attacked!! Had to practically fight for life and everything!!!

Samus: Yeesh....That sounds rough already.

Fox: Yeah, but I still managed to get the figure and got the hell put of there in time. So....('Sigh') That's a plus, at least. Oh and I also brought Li-Fen a gift out of there as well. (Pulls Out a Mini Box From One of the Shopping Bags and Gives it to Chun-Li)

Chun-Li: ('Gasps') You got her The Blazing Phoenix Action Figure!?

Fox: Yeah. I heard her said she wanted one a while ago, so I managed to get it at the last minute. (Smiles a Little) I hope she likes it.....

Chun-Li: (Heart Begins to Melt in Genuine Happiness) Foxy, she'll love it to pieces. Thank you~ I would hug you right now, but I don't want to cause anymore pain to your body. So I'll give you a kiss instead. (Kiss the Top of Fox's Forehead)

Fox: (Immediately Starts to Blush) I-It's not problem at all, Ms. Chun-Li....A-And thanks for that by the way. (Turns to Samus) I got a gift for you too, Samus. I would tell you what it is, but-

Samus: Yeah, yeah. I know. Gotta wait till Christmas morning to find out. (Smiles Softly at the injured Fox) Thanks, Foxy. (Starts Getting Up From the Bench While Doing a Bit of Stretching) But in the meantime, I think it's finally time we head back home now.

Chun-Li: (Happily Nodded in Agreement While Getting Up From the Bench as Well) I'd second that motion.

Fox: Wait. We're leaving already?

Samus: Yep. (Carefully icks Fox Up From the Bench He Was Sitting On) We already got enough to shop for as it is.

Chun-Li: (Picks the Bags Up From the Bench Before Walking Away with Samus) Plus, you're in no condition to walk as of right now. So, we'll patch you up once we get back to the Mansion, okay?

Fox: ('Sigh') If it means I don't have to come back to that store for the rest of the holidays, then I'm all for it.....Also, we can...not watch any Star Wars movies tonight? I don't wanna be reminded of the thing i got my back kicked to get....

Samus: (Chuckles Lightly) Whatever you say, Uncle Foxy.

@keyenuta

@caleb13frede

@26shann

@cyber-wildcat

@ma-lemons

@chompycroc

[fanfiction-g0ddess]

big dragon

twilight leaves spike home alone, but why hadn’t she ever mentioned how lonely it was?

word count: 930

warnings: implied character death, ambiguous ending

a/n: please don’t copy to another website

___

“Are you sure you can handle staying home by yourself? I might be gone for awhile.”

“I can handle it, Twi, honest!”

Spike dragged himself to the dinner table. He hopped on his step stool and all but dropped his plate of gems onto the table. He hoisted himself onto the chair, seating himself in the small crystallized booster seat that had grown with the chair when the castle sprouted. He picked up a gem, but he wasn’t hungry.

“Why don’t you stay at Applejack’s farm? It might get lonely in the castle all by yourself.”

“Aw, I don’t need a babysitter, Twilight. I’m a big dragon now! I can take care of myself.”

The gem danced from claw to claw, spinning and twisting in his grasp. Ruby, his favorite. Partially because it tasted the best and partially because it was Rarity’s favorite. His ear fronds went down and he dropped his claw with a huff, the hollow resound of ruby on crystal echoing in the empty castle. It felt empty, anyways. Twilight would say it wasn’t technically empty. It was filled with books and sapphire furniture and him. 

“You’re right, you’re right. You’re my big dragon now, you can handle a few weekends alone.”

He ventured through the calignous hallway, a single candlestick in his grasp, illuminating the hallway just enough so that he could see a few feet ahead of him. The shadows of the decorative lights capered on the dark crystal walls. The floor was a deep red and much too cold on his claws. The castle was always so dark and quiet at night, he used to get lost when they first moved in. He never minded the silence of the castle before, but now the slapping of the pads of his feet are strangely comforting. The sound of his tail dragging idly across the floor behind him, the click-click-click of his claws everytime he took a step. It proved the castle was vacant, even if it was only him. He wished they were hoofsteps instead.

“I made a list of chores for you to do while I’m gone. I’m going to be busy when I get back, so I need a little help, okay? It’s not long, just a few household chores. Go to one of the girls if you need anything and if it’s urgent, send me a-”

“Twilight, stop being such a nervous neigher and go! Everything will be fine, this place will be even better than how you left it, dragon’s honor!”

Rarity and Fluttershy had stopped by yesterday, no doubt Twilight’s doing. He knew that she gave them instructions to check on him every couple days. He had seen Rarity a few days before when she insisted he come along with her to the spa. It’s not like all he did was spend time in the castle, he was out and about, getting groceries and helping the girls with their métiers. It was nice to feel useful. He had already knocked out his chores in half a day, cleaned the whole castle in less than two.

He couldn’t wait to show Twilight when she got home.

“Bring me back something!”

“No.”

“Pleaseee, Twi?”

“Hey! No puppy dog eyes, you’re playing dirty!”

“Won’t you do it for your favorite little brother in all of Equestria?”

“You’re my only little brother in all of Equestria.”

“You got that right, sister! ...But I’m your favorite, right?”

“Of course, Spike.”

He stopped in front of Twilight’s room, door open but uninviting. He had been in there countless times, but this felt different. Off. It felt like snooping, even though he had no ill intentions. Twilight had been gone way longer than anypony had anticipated and the poorly-masked uncertainty among the group was obvious. Everytime he saw Applejack, her eyebrows were knitted just a bit too tightly and every conversation with Rainbow Dash had an underlying buzz of worry. It went unsaid but Twilight had promised two weeks and she had been gone for almost two months.

She stopped answering his letters last week. 

“I stocked up the kitchen with food but just in case I left you some bits on your nightstand. Make sure to go to bed at a reasonable time, baby dragons need their sleep-”

“I thought we agreed I was a big dragon!”

“You’ll always be my little hatchling, even when you’re bigger than me.”

“Bleh, Twi, no sappy stuff!”

Spike peeked into her room. Everything was just as she left it, tidy and organized to a T. He wandered in and set his candle on her nightstand. He heaved himself up onto her bed, claws digging into her comforter. He sat down on the edge, staring down at the floor. The bed was much too large for him but there was nowhere else he’d rather sleep. He blew out the candle and with a yawn he crawled under the covers, circling under them until he found a comfortable position.

“Twilight, the train is going to take off any minute now.”

“Alright, alright, yeesh. Didn’t realize you wanted to get rid of me that badly.”

“Do you need help with your bags?”

“I think I got this. Oh, and Spike?”

“Yeah, Twilight?”

“Be good.”

He curled in a ball, head just below her pillow. He hugged the tip of his tail to his muzzle, knees up and chin tucked to his chest. He settled into the covers, clutching them closer. If he pretended hard enough, they almost felt like her fur.

“Goodnight, Twilight,” he whispered.

He hoped she would come back soon.