#I'm going back to the burrow

[chasedeys]

joe ja’marr and tee’s entire thing with tee’s contract and agent change and possibly sounding off each other’s contracts and using each other as leverage for their extension is like when all three of them went bald in succession but on high end expensive drugs. do you get me.

[cementcornfield]

Did you see the clip of Joe yesterday?

Is it a clip now? Oh lord....was it funny at least?

It was the first time he ever used the F word in a conference.

He cursed? Y'all lying...I be trying to get him to curse, he don't curse when I'm talking to him...

[thatcrazycrowgirl]

Hey, babes!! 🥰🫂

I saw your requests were open and thought I'd DROP IN UNANNOUNCED (hope you caught the ref 😂💖)— anyways, I REALLY want to see more of your writing around, dear! 👀💗

If you could pretty pretty please write a fluffy or even slightly nsfw ficlet for Jacob Frye (gn reader is completely fine), you would have my heart!

No pressure, don't rush, write what you're comfy with and have the best day. Lots of love and warm hugs 🥰💖🫂

Hello there! <3

First off, I want to apologize for not being around in forever to finish this, but I was back in the AC mindset, so I really wanted to. So, if you're still around, I appreciate your patience! I think I ended up venturing a bit more into the slightly nsfw territory, rather than a purely fluffy one, but I hope you still like this regardless!

Thank you for sending something in, and for your kind words! ^_^

It started out surprisingly subtle; a brush of a hand, a tiny tug on a sleeve, locking your eyes with his as you lightly blew on his dice.

It didn't take long for the surprisingly observant Jacob Frye to catch on to what you were doing...and even more to the fact that being in the middle of a high-stakes game, he couldn't do anything about it.

Yet, something about that forced restraint oddly thrilled him.

With the slightest of movements, his hand slipped onto your knee, before making itself at home on your thigh, gently squeezing and fondling and forcing you to conceal a flustered smile.

You had hoped to be the one in control of the current situation, but with one glance at the smug look on his face, it was clear that the gang leader was determined to flip your plans in his favor.

Not to be outdone, you briefly mulled over a rather risky idea - wondering if you could get away with it without anyone noticing. (Thank goodness the pub was rather dimly lit.)

You mimicked his earlier action, but starting at his thigh instead and creeping your fingers dangerously close to his crotch. You saw his shoulders twitch and his Adam's apple bob from a swallow when your digits finally made contact with his most sensitive area, but otherwise, he appeared to not be affected at all. His eyes hadn't looked at you in minutes.

You had to admit, you were a little disappointed at not getting a bigger reaction.

Becoming a little braver, you brushed your fingertips over his groin again, a hint of a smirk appearing on your lips when you felt a familiar twitch against them. You ventured just a bit lower.

Yes, you were certain you had him. Control was once again yours.

Of course, you weren't expecting what he'd say next; a hushed question into your ear that made your entire face go red, losing the private game you two were playing.

"Checking if my dice are loaded, love?"

[babeluda]

Siobhan Thompson is a treasure and a joy forever.

Also this moment made me bark a shocked gay bourgeois little laugh at my empty apartment so I have to inflict Dimension 20's crash course into England's vernacular on you all, it's the law

[mr-frohickys-adopted-kid]

Dad reveal!!

[iniziare]

Inbox call! This might be a one liner from your memes list, it may be an altered version of a sentence starter, or it may be something entirely personalized, but here we go. My stubbornness has been kicking my creativity in the butt since early this evening, and I can happily report that I'm making progress in my drafts for the first time in ages. But, since I want to hoard for at least a tiny little bit, I figured it might be a good idea in the meantime to send people things that I could, maybe, if you answer them (and with your permission), turn into threads once I've gotten through my drafts.

Reminder of the available lineup in no particular order: Guizhong, Yelan, Arlecchino, Clorinde, Kafka, Seele, Dorian Pavus, Solas.

[boxfullaturtles]

Leonardo and Mechanical failure maybe?

Leo knows better than to fuck around and find out when it comes to Donatello's lab.

That doesn't stop him from waltzing in like he owns the place.

Donnie's elbow deep in his latest project and the back of his neck prickles when Leo leans into his space.

"Hey Doooooonnnnniiieee~ Whatcha workin' on?"

Donnie tilts his head up to scowl at Leo, one hand with a fistful of wires and the other clutching his tools, "I'm making a chamber to stress test my battle shells. What do you want, Nardo?"

"Ooooohhh, sounds cool. Does it shoot lasers?" Leo skips around the side of the chamber. The chamber is tall and rectangular, like a jumbo-sized phone booth, with thick glass on the door and two of the walls. The back wall, the wall Donnie's facing as he works, is solid metal.

"No," Donnie's reply is clipped with irritation but vague with distraction as he dives back into his work, "Mostly blunt force. Some lacerations. Other…stuff. Stay out of it, nothing's calibrated yet."

He barely catches Leo's sing-song, "Oops~" Before there's a mechanical whir and then a bang.

Donnie sighs heavily, rolling his eyes to the heavens, and gets to his feet to lean around the booth and see what mess Leo has created. His frown turns into a look of alarm when he sees Leo has managed to shut himself inside the machine.

"Leo! What did I just say!? Why can't you ever listen to me!?" Donnie yanks on the door, trying to break the seal, but it refuses to budge, "This is dangerous! It's not ready for testing! You idiot!"

Leo is saying something back, shrugging and showing his hands and cocking a brow at Donnie. But all that can be heard are muffled sounds, the glass too thick to make anything out. The ceiling of the booth whirs open and mechanical arms descend to grab at Leo. He dodges as best he can, his smarmy look now one of concern and a little bit of fright. But there's not a lot of room and they get a hold of him eventually, hoisting him into the air by his shoulders and leaving him kicking and swinging helplessly.

"No, no, no, no!" Donnie frantically types at his wrist tech and gets a string of errors for his trouble. Panic setting in, he dives around the back of the machine again to try and find a way to stop it. If he does this wrong he could electrocute Leo, or leave him trapped in the booth, or something even worse.

There's a dull thud from the booth and Donnie freezes with a group of wires in his trembling hand.

Another thud.

And another.

Donnie trips over his feet as he runs back around the front, breathing too fast, heart pounding too hard. He knows what he'll likely find, but it doesn't stop him from being horrified.

Leo, suspended in the air, gritting his teeth with every blow the machine swings into his shell. It's doing what it's supposed to do; stress testing. But it was meant for Donnie's metal battle shells, not for a turtle carapace, and each blow is going to get heavier and harder and more deadly for Leo.

The thick, steel bar swings down and smashes into Leo's shell. Donnie can see tiny shards of Leo's scutes splinter into the air from the strike. Leo's mouth opens in a soundless cry.

It's going to get worse. After the blunt force came the knives and wires meant to lash and scrape and scratch. And then the drills and spikes.

Donnie can't let it get that far.

If he can't get Leo out, his own machine is going to mangle his brother. And then nothing will be able to save Leo.

[recklessmoss]

FLIGHT RISING NIGHT OF NOCTURNE

[sirenvrse]

Sj2 au where bugs didn't come back for MONTHS

[violet-jessop]

this week i stfg

[cementcornfield]

No thoughts on Burrow's suit from the Met Gala 😔

[snail-day]

Satoru thinks he might actually be going insane.

Not in a funny way. Not in a "haha I'm so in love” way, no, like actual, clinical insanity.

Because you’re curled up in his lap again, cheek pressed against his chest, humming happily to yourself while scrolling through your phone with your legs draped over his thighs and he’s just… sitting there. Letting it happen. Pretending to watch the movie while his brain is trying to process the weight of your affection.

He doesn’t move. Barely breathes. If he breathes too hard, you might remember he’s just your roommate and move.

His hands are hovering like he doesn’t know where to put them. He wants to hold you so bad it physically hurts, but what if that’s weird? What if you’re just cold and he reads too much into it? What if you get up and say “God, Toru, you’re so clingy,” and then never touch him again?

So he just lets his fingers twitch uselessly against the couch cushion while you hum something under your breath and burrow deeper into him.

He’s so. Pathetic.

He lets you steal bites of his food. Lets you nap on his chest. Lets you crawl into his bed in the middle of the night with sleepy eyes and say “Nightmare,” expecting that to just explain everything. (It does.) He always opens the blankets and pulls you in, holds you until your breathing slows, until his heart stops threatening to burst through his chest.

He thinks you might be dating. Maybe. Possibly.

But you’ve never said anything.

And he doesn’t just want to assume.

What if this is just… how you are? Sweet. Clingy. Affectionate with everyone. What if you’re just playing house and he’s the idiot who fell in love with the fantasy?

God, he’s so embarrassing.

And then, you go and do something stupid. Like kiss his cheek when you get up. Like pout and say “Toru, come cuddle me,” attempting to guide him back to your room. Ignoring him when he tells you to stop being cute.

He doesn't follow. He just wants to ask.

To clarify.

Yet, anytime the words start to form his mouth goes dry. He stares at you. You glance over your shoulder, sipping from your cup. Waiting.

He opens his mouth.

And then closes it.

Because if he asks… if he really asks…what you are.

What would you even say?

And, can he even handle your answer?

------

Next Part: Wait, we're dating?

[batman-katflap]

Dick, running into the kitchen one morning: "Clark! Bruce! Look! The tooth fairy left me a hundred dollars last night!" Clark, barely containing his shock: "Wow, that is... Great! Isn't that great, Bruce?" Bruce, equally perturbed: "Yes... That is... Great." Dick, running back out: "This is awesome! My mouth is full of the things!"

Clark, turning to Bruce once alone: "I know you're rich, but come on! A hundred dollars? I was lucky if I even got one." Bruce, burrowing his head in his hands: "I thought it was a dollar. I would have never given him a hundred, I didn't--" *Loud crashing sound following by pitiful wailing*

Alfred, walking in a few moments later holding a now sobbing Dick: "Sirs, I wish to inform you, Master Dick just jumped off the first floor banister yelling 'I'm going to be a millionaire'. I will call Dr Tompkins."

Dick, wailing loudly: "I didn't even loose another tooth!"

Alfred, raising an eyebrow at Bruce.

Bruce, holding up his hands: "I can explain."

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Am I placebo effecting myself or is the caffeine actually working

[ddejavvu]

Sirius + cat animagus!reader when she sees him petting another cat and gets jealous

"Darling," Sirius calls, but you don't turn from where you're sunbathing in the window of his dorm room. You probably should have done this in your own bedroom, because he has every right to pick you up and toss you out if he wanted to, but you know he won't, and you continue soaking up the sun on your furry little face.

"Darling, I know you saw me with Angelina's cat earlier."

Your tail twitches irritably, but if Sirius notices, he doesn't let it stop him from continuing to creep forwards towards the alcove where you're sitting.

"The cat came up to me, sweetheart." Sirius croons, reaching for the space between your ears. You yowl at his attempts, batting one of your paws at him, and he's lucky you don't use your claws.

"Okay! Okay, okay," Sirius snatches his hand away, "The cat came up to me, and I did not kiss her between the ears like I kiss you between the ears, thank you very much. Also, her fur wasn't as soft as yours."

You glance suspiciously backwards towards Sirius, and he continues, "Yours is shinier too, darling."

He holds out a hand and- fine, you'll let him scratch down your back to make it up to you. But you're not going to forgive him that easily, he's going to be in the doghouse for a while.

You very pointedly do not close your eyes when he scratches between your ears, standing perfectly still in the middle of his mattress instead of melting into his lap like you normally do.

"There, darling, is that better?" He hums, but you glare unimpressed at him. No, it is not.

"Her paws weren't as cute as yours," Sirius tries, something like panic starting to set into his gaze as he runs his fingers beneath your chin, "And I'm sure she doesn't bite nearly as viciously as you. Which I'm really hoping you won't do to me right now, because my fingers are very close to your mouth."

You won't bite him. But you will decide that you're done with his ministrations for the time being, and dash away to burrow yourself under Remus's blankets until further notice.

"Hey- wait, no! Agh, Remus!" Sirius calls, but his roommate is in the shower, and won't be out to fish you out of his bed for at least twenty minutes, "Remus, my girlfriend is in your bed again!"

"She can stay there." Remus calls, the fan giving his voice a tinny quality, "God knows you probably deserve it, Pads!"

You hear Sirius's mumbled, 'ridiculous', but with the way your face is buried in Remus's blankets, you can't see his face.

"Right. Well I'll sit right here then," Sirius's voice is now right beside your head, and you envision him sitting on the ground next to the bed, "Until you decide you're coming out."

"You stay away from my bed, Sirius!" Remus calls from the shower again, and if you were in human form, you would have snickered, "Leave your girlfriend alone!"

[wolfythewitch]

"Jon," Tim says suddenly, puffs of grey still trailing from his lips, "Where do you keep your feelings?"

"My- feelings?" Jon echoes flatly, his own cigarette dangling between his fingers. The air is hazy with smoke, the stench of it curling lazily in his gut.

"You know," Tim gestures vaguely, "your emotions- feelings- even you must have them, I'm sure."

Jon steals a glance at his face, turning back at the slight quirk of his lips, an indication that Tim was joking. He takes another drag, whistling out the next exhale. Exasperated, he replies, "In my brain, I suppose? Isn't that where all emotions originate?"

"Well, yes," Tim says, "but you're going about it too literally."

"Was I not supposed to?"

"No. Not like that, at least. For example," Tim puts the cigarette between his lips, takes a drag, and holds his breath. His cheeks puff out from the effort. After a few seconds, he releases his breath, smoke rolling out of his mouth like a creek. "I keep my happiness here, in my cheeks. When I smile, I feel it pulling. When I'm happy, it almost hurts."

"Or--" Tim's hand lowers, lightly patting his abdomen. Jon eyes the still lit cigarette nervously. "--I feel fear here, in my stomach. Sometimes I get so nervous I want to puke."

He flicks his hand up again, staccato, stopping by the hollow of his throat. The tips of his fingers run over his adam's apple, lightly tracing the skin of his neck as he swallows. His voice is significantly softer when he says, "I feel grief in my throat. It almost feels like choking."

"And my anger," he says, turning his hand over, fingers spread out and reaching, "I feel it in my palms, my fingers." He closes it into a fist, hard enough that Jon can see his knuckles turn white. "Like lightning."

Jon stares at his own hand thoughtfully, brow slightly furrowed. He says, haltingly, "Well- I suppose my happiness is in my hands," lightly grazing his fingers over his palm, "they've their own mind sometimes."

"And," Jon taps his collarbone, expression still pinched in thought, "my sadness is in my lungs. Sometimes I can hardly breathe." He huffs a quiet laugh, "Though that might just be all the smoking."

His hand travels to his jaw, hovering before dropping to his side. "My anger is in my tongue, in my gritted teeth. The words fly out before I can reign them in."

Tim snorts. "I can attest to that."

Jon shoves a bony elbow into his side, pointedly ignoring the expletives that follow. His hand wavers in the air for a second, before he tucks it into himself, arms crossed and cigarette dangling from his fingertips. "I guess feel fear in my bones. They burrow into me, like- hm- a worm?"

"A worm." Tim echoes, teasing. "You've got fear worms in you?"

"You asked." Jon shoots back, face warm. "I've never tried to put it into words before. You know what I meant."

"I guess I do," Tim says, leaning back against the wall. His head knocks against the brick with a soft thump. He takes another drag of the cigarette and heaves out the smoke like putting out a fire.