#IT'S STILL OPEN FOR PROMPTS BTW

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #105

Danny knew he wasn’t from this dimension. He wasn’t sure how he knew but it was something that he felt deep in his core that was true. Something’s just didn’t feel right sometimes and it also felt like the things that were happening were off or wrong somehow. His parents on his 15th birthday came out to tell him that he was adopted and that just cemented the feeling that he wasn’t from here. He goes to Ghost Writers library to look for anything that could help him and he finds a summoning request, basically you can request that someone summons you as long as you’ve got a vague idea of who it is. Danny asks to be summoned by his birth father.

Pick anyone from DC to be his dad but ima go with Batman for this example just because it’s Bruce LMAO. Batman suddenly gets a piece of paper that requests him summon the Ghost King and while everyone is terrified about what such an entity want’s especially since it’s Batman. Everyone is further confused when a teen gets summoned and looks around the room at all the superheroes in awe.

[starflungwaddledee]

Oooo starstruck dee has little stars at the bottom of her feet! Are they just aesthetic or would they make imprints into the ground? (like pawprints)

exactly like that! though she's not the only one...

edit: might need to add some additional dialogue to this to make it more clear, but a clarification in the interim; he knows about his own footprints. he's just surprised to see something similar already there when he knows he's only just landed. he lifts his own shoe to confirm that they're not identical (and also to reveal this to the viewer). seems his stoicism beat off the clarity in this one, sorry 😭

[ribs02]

this idea was so cute thank you for the prompt!!!

[runraerun]

Billy with hanahaki disease ?🌸?

Pain!:’)

I love it! Here ya go🌸🩸

Fic prompts are: OPEN if anyone else is interested 💌 -> 📬

Tw; blood, slight body horror.

—

It started shortly after Billy moved to this shitty little town in the middle of assfuck nowhere. He chalked it up to the air quality being dogshit compared to California, or maybe he was allergic to that pungent smell of manure that the locals seemed totally nose blind to. The absolute last thing he would have considered was a goddamn plant had started growing inside of him–a love plant.

It was rare. You were only susceptible to it if you had a certain gene that you inherited from your maternal line. Lucky him.

Guess he can’t say his mom left him with nothing when she packed her shit up and skipped town. No, instead of a forwarding address, Billy’s mom left him her shitty, fairy genes. Thanks, Mom. Real swell of you.

“Has there been anyone you’ve had your eye on?” The school nurse asks, voice pitched low, gentle, like she was trying to soothe some kind of volatile beast.

Billy spits another mouthful of blood into the pan he’s holding, the crumpled up flower petals that he’d just finished hacking up look like chunks of his lung rather than a part of a plant. Runs his tongue along his teeth to try and fish anything out that may have gotten left behind in the carnage.

“No.” He says, stubbornly. He doesn’t look up from the pan.

“Well, Hanahaki disease can only take root under very specific circumstances. It feeds off a pheromone our bodies release when we experience a certain emotion; the stress of a love that’s unrequited. It’s the only–”

“I said no, alright?” Billy barks, voice still a little ragged from his coughing fit. Like he’d swallowed with a mouthful of gravel. “Get off my back.”

The nurse sighs, but she doesn’t move to stop him when he puts the pan down beside him and gets to his feet.

“It’ll only get worse if you ignore it, Mr. Hargrove.” She warns.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Billy mutters, but he doesn’t have the energy to put any heat behind his words, so it doesn’t do much to wipe that stupid sympathetic look from her face. He grabs his jean jacket and leaves, shoving the door open with enough force that it slams back against the wall.

Despite his repeated denial, Billy knew who was responsible for this fucking mess.

Steve Harrington.

With his perfect hair and his stupid fucking Bambi eyes, lighting up every goddamn room he strode into with those long legs of his. Jesus… How could Billy ever have stood a chance?

Just thinking of him brought a tickle to the back of Billy’s throat. He suppresses a cough into his fist as he stomps down the hallway, now empty due to everyone else having gone home for the day. Except Billy, who of course couldn’t fucking breathe after gym class today after getting a little too rough with Steve.

It hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, but something about the way Steve elbowed Billy away, how he barked at him to give him some breathing space, yelled at Billy to fuck off already—it had Billy’s chest acting up.

He held out for most of the class, fighting against the fucking petals that were pushing their way up through his fucking esophagus by beating at his chest, shouting to clear his airways, but then in the showers, Steve had avoided him completely. Had somehow managed to slip and out of the stalls without Billy noticing, depriving him of their usual naked back and forth banter that Billy had come to look forward to.

It was one thing for Steve to hate him, but it was another thing entirely for Steve to be indifferent toward him. That was way fucking worse.

The sting of rejection quickly turned to a coughing fit, worse than any he had experienced before. Like he’s hacking up a fucking lung. A few of the other boys had asked him, ‘you okay man?’ or, ‘should we get the coach?’, and worst of all, ‘oh shit is that blood?’

Billy was barely able to shove his legs back into his jeans and shoulder one of his classmates out of his way before he stumbled into the nurse’s office.

Fat lot of good that did him…

He’s gotta pick up Max. He can’t afford to hang around and talk about his pathetic, one-sided love with a complete stranger anyway. Billy leaves the school, gets into his car, puts the windows down and cranks the music as loud as he can stand it, and he tries very hard not to think about Steve and this ever growing thing that’s taken root inside of his chest, steadily consuming him from the inside out.

Christ, who knew he was such a fucking romantic…

[wisteriagoesvroom]

drabble request! feel free to tweak/change especially if the pairing isn't your cup of tea: logan/oscar and morning coffee?

thank you and have a great day today!

okay!! i didn't think i'd have much to say about this pairing but. it turns out i'm a liar.

(ignore the fact that oscar won f2 in covid...in bahrain... and i don't think logan was in the same championship that year. something something artistic liberties)

-------------------

The carpet tickles Oscar's neck. He blinks his eyes open.

F2 celebrations were a blur. Logan dragged Oscar to some godawful nightclub, all bright lights and sweaty bodies and people pressing on him. Last night comes back in sparks. Jagerbombs, shoulder bumps, arms in the air like they just don’t care. Electro beat so loud it rattled his brain. 

They both ended up on the floor of Oscar’s hotel suite. Oscar’s not sure why that was, or what logic there was in that decision when they fumbled with the room key and tumbled in at the wee hours of the morning. 

Logan tosses a red team polo at Oscar’s face.

“Get up, dude.” 

Oscar makes a noise that sounds lot like ngggh.

“That was a total shitshow.” Logan says.

“Yeah. I know. Told you not to go, didn’t I?”

“C’mon man. Last day of F2 and you weren’t gonna celebrate?”

“I feel awful. This feels awful.” 

“But winning F2. Bet that doesn’t feel so bad.”

They both stare at the trophy, sitting sideways on a nearby sofa. Thankfully Oscar had the wits to deposit the silverware in his room before he went out to the party last night.

Oscar also thinks at some point that Logan’s arm ended up around his waist last night. Like really tight for some reason, but he can’t really remember. 

The trophy winks at them in the morning sunlight, as if in on a joke. 

Logan points at the trophy. “You should totally name it.”

“No.”

“Yeah you should.”

“My head hurts. What will it take to shut you up right now?”

Logan’s chest rumbles as he laughs. He’s spry, still, but Oscar knows from their training together that he’s getting stronger every month. There might be a day soon where Logan’s going to stand taller than him. 

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about that. 

“McBreakfast, maybe.” Logan nods to himself as if he's just invented a great new concept. “A McMuffin with double hash browns. Yeah.”

“You’re so predictable.”

“I feel like you like that about me.”

“Humility is a good look, Sargeant. You should try it sometime.”

Logan barks a laugh, and stands up. He reaches an arm out to help Oscar up. Oscar still feels like someone’s dropped a ton of bricks on his head, but at least there’s someone here to help. Or commiserate. Whatever. Maybe they’re the same thing, sometimes.

“What is it that adults are supposed to do?” Logan says, adjusting his shirt. 

“Get a coffee,” he adds, in a deeper baritone.

“Disgusting stuff. Don't get why people like drinking it.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You drink stuff like my kid cousin.”

“Don’t chocolate-shame me.”

“I would never. You loser.”

“Who’re you calling loser?!” Oscar exclaims. He darts at Logan, and ends up pulling the other driver in a headlock. Logan’s hair is warm and a bit sweaty under Oscar’s hands. Also Logan screeches like an eagle the whole time. They’re probably going to get a noise complaint, but whatever. Oscar will take his F2 Championship privileges, if only to bully his friend. 

"Take that back!" Oscar says.

“Nah!”

“Right now!”

"Fuck's sake, man! Okay, okay."

Oscar releases the other guy, and Logan stands up again. His cheeks are very red. 

"Like I said. Feral. And I'm from Florida."

Oscar rolls his eyes as they both go get ready. He has to suppress a grin as they brush their teeth side by side.

Later, he and Logan end up going to a nearby McDonalds. Logan ends up getting his shitty coffee. They order McMuffins and three hash browns to share, and Oscar spends a full minute lecturing Logan about the health benefits of Milo. 

Logan doesn’t look like he believes a word of what Oscar's saying. Yet he listens the whole time, and laughs in all the right places anyway. 

And tomorrow, Oscar has meetings with F1 teams. Proper ones, to talk about his future, where he might actually have a chance to race. Mark's the one arranging them, and Oscar's supposed to be the star player now.

It's your time, Mark had told him, eyes sharp but patient. 

But today: Oscar still has a day left in F2. And he’s going to spend it, cosy in a booth at an unremarkable McDonalds, getting brain freeze from a milkshake, shooting the shit. Laughing until he snorts.

With one of the few people in his small circle who knows what it's like to be young, hungry, and maybe a little bit stupid.

[kissagii]

bachira + tummy kisses for this kiss prompts

Part of Bachira's post-practice ritual is pinning you to the couch so he can relax in your lap. Being close to you is all he desires after a long day, and the feeling of your hand gently running through his hair makes the stress of the day dissipate.

He rests his head comfortably on your stomach, looking up at you with a dopey lovestruck grin. With a giggle he places a playful kiss where his head was resting, the unexpected gesture causing you to recoil slightly.

"Hey, Meguru, that tickles!" You protest. Your words fall on deaf ears because Bachira nuzzles his face further into your stomach, placing more kisses as he giggles.

To get him to stop you have to cup his face and make him look up at you, silly grin still plastered across his face. "What was that for?" You ask between laughs.

Bachira grins wider. "Payback for all the butterflies you give me!"

he's a treasure and must be protected at all costs

[demodoggonetired]

" I'm Batty 4 U "

For the @steddiemicrofic September Prompt: Charm || 548 Words || Rating: T || Warnings: implied verbally absuvie parent, implied period-typical homophobia

It sweeps through the group like wildfire after the whole Vecna ordeal. Something about everyone trying to go back to normal, re-engaging with non-world-ending topics.

Out window shopping, El happens upon a charm bracelet display and within the week convinces Hopper to buy one for her and Max. And who’s to deny the girl that's suffered through so much. 

El states it as her “momento of who she is, and those who helped her find that definition.” All while thumbing the rainbow and sunflower charms. 

So it’s no surprise when Robin, Nancy, and Erica are seen wearing their own charm bracelet designs after Girl’s Night. Then through a spidering chain of conversations and convincing, the rest of the party soon each have custom bracelets.

For Steve though, the issue is that he’s just not a bracelet sort of guy. The occasional pinching when it doesn’t sit right. Constant jangling and shifting every time you move. It’s not for him.

(Plus he knows his Dad would make him throw it out if he ever saw it. “Jewelry isn’t for men.” and all that. (Of course I don’t agree, Robin. But I still don’t want to risk it getting tossed.))

Until Robin solves the problem for him. Turning his bracelet into a keychain for his car keys. And he didn’t realize just how much he’d come to care for said keychain once it’d stop pinching his wrist. 

Exactly as El had painted it from the get-go; a constant reminder that he’s more than the harsh words his dad sneers as “encouragement”.

Of who he matters to and of who matters to him. His family. 

But it’s not for another few months that his keychain gains a companion.

“Hey, uh. Hey, Stevie.”

They’d danced around one another for weeks. From exchanged glances at the hospital, to touching under the guise of lending a hand, pulling excuses to spend time together.

“Yea?”

Finally culminating in Steve getting fed up and testing the waters with a kiss ‘hello’. 

“I know we’ve only been technically dating for a month now. But I’m pretty sure I remember you being a big relationship guy back in high school, and I figured well ‘Stevie probably never had someone buy him the cheesy anniversary gifts he bought for others’-”

“They weren't cheesy, they were well thought out-”

“And so, I got you something as a faux sort of ‘Happy One Month Anniversary’ gift.”

Eddie shoves the little trinket into Steve’s hands, forcing him to drop his book. 

“Small towns, especially Hawkins in particular, suck and so I figured this is as public as we’d be able to be. And I know the bat was maybe a bold choice considering the bites and all that shit but- Actually maybe this was a bad idea- Ya know what, give it back right now, Stevie. This was stupid- I’m gonna do something else.”

Deftly leaning away, Steve hooks his arm around his boyfriend so he can’t lunge for the keychain again.

“Oh hell no. My boyfriend gave this to me, it’s mine now. You can’t take Ozzy from me.”

“Ozzy? What?”

“Yeah, the little bat charm. His name’s Ozzy, he told me so himself.”

“What-?? Shit- Jesus Christ, you’re so lame. Come here so I can kiss your lame, adorable face.”

[corner-stories]

No 4 + aruani

Hope you're having a great day :)

September Prompts 🌻

4. Juke Box More Modern/College AU set in Toronto with a little sprinkle of Pokkopiku.

Somewhere on Dundas street is a tavern that melds a selection of hipster microbrews with a selection of vintage arcade games. Armin's not usually one for going out, as being perpetually overworked is any grad student's god-given right, but tonight is an exception.

So in a dimly lit corner of the place, he stands behind a contraption made decades before he was born. He sips on his lager and goes between watching Porco work at the buttons on pinball machine, and watching Pieck cheer for her boyfriend like it's the playoffs and there's thirty seconds left on the scoreboards. Even if he's not the one playing or even yelling as loud as Pieck, it's a moment like this that makes Armin wonder if he should go out more.

Upon finishing his lager, Armin leaves the Pinball Wizard and the Spectator to head back to the bar. Like a good patron, he waits patiently to be served, orders a refill from a tattooed barkeep, and makes sure to add some cash to the tip jar.

When he turns back around Armin scans the tavern behind browline glasses. The first thing he notices is Porco pumping his fist in triumph and Pieck cheering under the influence of an overpriced IPA, but the second thing he notices is alone in the corner.

With a fresh lager in hand, Armin steps over, weaving through a sea of patrons enjoying the vintage video games of their choice. He arrives to find Annie standing in front a machine that fits with the venue's overall theme, but will not allow the user a round of Pac-Man or Crazy Taxi.

Annie is browsing the music of a jukebox that time forgot, a machine that looks much older than the others but is still alive despite everything. When Armin stands beside her he gets a glimpse of the discs inside. Most of the songs are from the 60s or 70s, though one tune from '81 appears to have made the list against all odds.

Armin watches his girlfriend select a song by the Supremes that he's only ever heard from his grandmother's gramophone. The tune may contrast the indie rock playing through the venue's speakers, but Annie seems undeterred with her choice and pushes the play button.

When the vocals of Diana Ross don't start playing from the machine, Annie pushes the button harder and Armin chuckles.

"I think you're supposed to put in a quarter."

She turns and gives him a look that just screams 'do you think me stupid?' but stops short of actually saying it, much to Armin's amusement.

"I know," she tells him instead. "But sometimes these things are rigged for free."

Armin watches Annie fish around her pockets in search for some kind of coinage, because even in this economy she should have something lying around. He feels in his pockets as well and soon procures a handful of quarters and lint.

"Here, I got some change."

[sunflowerxthoughts]

I'm thinking first date with Jamie!!! And he is so nervous he rambles and you are quiet because mans got a motormouth. And he gets more nervous because you aren't speaking and what if you don't like him back?

And at some point he just, timidly holds your hand under the table and you are blushing so hard and he knows then that it is going well.

And after he calms himself down in the little cafeteria's bathroom and has a little peptalk with the mirror and he is just ready.

He turns on the charm, he properly holds your hand, has all the right moves to have you swooning even more.

And you do. And by the end of the night, he has been such a gentleman and he seems so nervous again at the door that you do the first move and kiss him before getting inside.

And through the window you see James just actually celebrating with the biggest smile in his face, face a bit red from the cold looking so pretty that you decide you are going to call him as soon as he gets home.

[vulpinesaint]

literally evil for my sacred texts professor to assign a two hour movie. i would not sit down to watch a two hour movie for pleasure much less for class

[zorilleerrant]

Hi, just saw the word prompt thing? I don't know if you're still doing them or taking them, but if you are, would you mind something with either 25: Hair or 27: Sick with Bruce and/or Jason? Thank you so much! Love your writing ❤️❤️❤️

(absolutely still taking them! see this is the problem with reblogging everything in a row instead of in a queue because that post is like three hours old or something)

"I'm not sick," Jason says, once the coughing fit is over, trying to shove himself away from Bruce without stumbling over. If he falls while Bruce is watching, Bruce will know he's lying, and then he's done for. The thought only occurs to him when he's already leaning against Bruce's shoulder.

"I know you're not, Champ," Bruce says, and it's ridiculous hearing that tone of voice when he's full on Batman mode, the cowl on with smudges of greasepaint all across his eyelids, wrapping the cape around him like when he was small. It doesn't work. The cape back then was soft, quilted one patch at a time by Alfred's careful hand, and warm enough to keep at least the chill of Gotham's winds howling over rooftops at bay. Now it's the thinnest nanofiber metamaterial Jason's ever seen, soft as silk but not half as warm.

It's a nice night. He's only cold because he has the flu, but Jason always wears a mask, so why is that his fucking problem? Nothing's supposed to be able to get through the filters. Not even whatever has Bruce so wary, using dad voice even through his gas mask. "I'm fine. There's just a problem with the filters." Is there a problem with the filters? He was coughing earlier, and something smelled deep maroon and ominous. The people shuffling around the building - no one left inside, but not so far removed yet - are coughing, too. Speaking in strange voices, like they don't know what they're saying themselves. Their faces screw up when they try to talk.

"Jaylad? Are you with me?" Bruce says, pulling Jason's full weight against his chest, as if they're not in front of a crowd right now, cameras pointed at them from all sides. Jason barely refrains from shoving him away, feeling like a little kid trying not to get hugged at school again, and aware that most of the reason he's not pushing is that he doesn't have the energy, and he needs something to balance his weight on anyhow. "How much of that stuff did you breathe in? Here, list off your siblings, will you? I don't know who's behind this new toxin, but we'll find them."

"No one's behind it," Jason says, completely ignoring Bruce's instruction, and fuck him for trying to give it, anyway, Jason is fine. "Look around at the fucking building, B, it was a science fair. It was an accident. No one was behind - okay, actually, that's a lie, Black Mask is behind it, but it's not exactly like you can throw him off a roof over it, so." Jason can throw him off a roof. Maybe. Once he gets a good night's sleep, at least. Oh, fuck, sleep sounds good, right about now. If only Bruce would hurry up and get him to the Batmobile. Of course, if he says that, Batman's going to worry. Like an asshole.

"Black Mask?" Bruce says, in horror, finally moving them in the direction of the car, finally moving Jason out of the way of paramedics that he's absolutely certain would demand to take his temperature and then the jig would be up. "What the hell does he have to do with any of it? How long has he been running this plot?" Oh, sure, once you bring Roman up, Bruce is all invested again. Couldn't have just listened when Jason said the sprinkler systems needed to be double checked. 'Oh we just checked them last week' last week before the last villain siphoned toxins through them again, yeah. Some detective.

"Well, it's not about to help to fight crime at him, B, I assure you, all of his horrifying chemicals are perfectly legal," Jason says, climbing into the chair and reclining it so he can lie down and never get up again. He almost can't hear himself over the roar of the Batmobile's engine. "Some idiot posts a video about how you can hack the blush, soak it in alcohol and precipitate out the metallic component. You know the new bronze and silver ones? Yeah. Well, if you're not careful, you know. I was checking to see if it's made of Nth metal. Some precocious teens beat me to it, I guess."

"That can't possibly be legal," Bruce says, taking a curve a little bit slower than Jason would've expected him to, even on the drive home, even while they're having a totally civil conversation and Jason hasn't yet resorted to trying to bite him. "There are all sorts of regulations on strange metals. We voted on a referendum last week! And you're telling me he's doing this through his company? To, what, entice kids to accidentally cobble together bombs?"

"He doesn't fucking care about the kids, Bruce. I don't even know if he knows - like the advertising isn't even aiming at them, it's aiming at, fuck, celebrities and influencers and shit, he probably doesn't even know it can do this or he'd be selling the shit to Wall," Jason says, tiredly, words that would be mumbled through his hands if his helmet weren't beaming them straight to Bruce's earpiece. "He just found a way to pawn off his trash to the rest of his company, and told them to come up with profits. And they did! Like you always say, crime doesn't fucking pay, eh?"

"Okay. I very much do not want Amanda Waller to get her hands on this. You really think that's his long term plan?" Jason shuts his eyes, not that Bruce can tell under the mask. Because, like, did he fucking say that? Bruce never listens when Jason tries to explain in completely straightforward English - or any other fucking thing - what is going on in Gotham. He missed the limited edition pretzels, too. Asshole. A warm gust of wind blows across his face and Jason realizes that, at some point while he wasn't responding, Bruce pulled his helmet off. Undoing all the latches silently and everything. He's saying something soothing.

Jason ignores him. Wiggles his mouth a little; it's always easier talking when you don't have to aim directly at the mic. He's used to it enough it's reflexive by this point, but it still makes his jaw sore. "Yo, you know the mayor's get kickbacks, even the new one - I mean, I didn't ask him personally, so his kickback may be, like, his own head - there's no such thing as a regulation with no loopholes in Gotham." And then the kids try to mix it up and test out cool new properties, two projects get too close to each other, someone's baking soda volcano sets of a chain reaction or whatever happened in there. The sprinklers took a beat too long to set themselves in motion, Jason knows that part for sure.

"Jay, kiddo, you sound like you swallowed an entire sheep worth of steel wool," Bruce says, in that grudging way where he's trying to show emotion the way Leslie taught him to, but he sucks at it, because Alfie's British and never made proper expressions when he was a kid. Only the thing is he's turned the car to whisper mode and Jason can barely feel the rumble of the engines now, and Bruce's hand is stroking through his hair, and he could probably fall asleep, moving car or no. "Let's get you some of Alfred's soup."

"Yeah," Jason says, even though Bruce is right for once in his life, and Jason's voice does sound a thousand times more like sandpaper now that his voice modulator is gone. "Alfred is the one that misses me, sure thing old man." Actually, who Jason really needs to talk to is Lucius. Maybe over the phone, so as not to get him sick. Because if one thing will piss Roman off it's a fucking hostile takeover. Plus then they can hoard the metal to, whatever, build a Batspaceship or who knows what, like that part matters.

Bruce's hand stills, fingertips still cool against Jason's skull, and they just breathe like that for a few moments, in sync and slow, their heart rates slowing to rest, just the way he used to after a panic attack, even though Jason's pretty sure neither of them are panicking, unless Bruce cares a lot more than he assumed about a flu he's pretty sure he's mostly over anyway. Bruce squeezes his neck a little too hard, and hesitates before he opens the door. "Alfred does miss you."

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #58

Gotham is a city with a lot of ambient ectoplasm, enough that the Fentons move here instead of Amity Park. Danny being a pretty smart kid being the son of 2 scientists gets a scholarship to Gotham academy where he makes friends with Tim and Damian. Well the 2 were only doing it at first because they wanted to keep an eye on them scientists rarely didn’t become rouges in Batman’s gallery so can you really blame them for being cautious?

Danny is telling them about the portal that they were trying to build and how it wasn’t working and how Danny felt guilty about it. The 3 venture down there when the parents are gone and Danny wearing his hazmat goes into the portal while the other 2 watch on. Danny trips and no one’s having a good time.

They decided to take Danny to Wayne manor until they can figure out what exactly happened to him, unfortunately Danny’s new powers act up and he winds up phasing through the floor into the basement… or more accurately the Bat cave.

[science-lings]

for the ask game: hug!

"You're okay Rulie... I'm getting you out of here." Wild reassured his favorite exploring partner, who looked at him in disbelief. Without another moment of hesitation, the shorter teen shot up and towards him in a single desperate motion, wrapping his arms around him the moment they made contact. Wild was a little surprised by the amount of force Hyrule's frail form had managed to inflict upon him, but he immediately retaliated with matching strength, automatically burying his face in his brother's dirty curly hair. Perhaps they didn't have to leave just yet.

[vikingstoner69]

I'm taking prompt requests please tell me what number and what page and give as much detail as possible

[milktearosethorn]

constantly torn between wanting to ignore discourse forever and not have a hurt tummy versus being soooooo nosy and needing to know the Gossip

[thisblogisblank]

Gay people part 3

The third and fourth ones were suggested by @/ caldin!! Didn't know whether to do their adult or baby forms so I just did both HSHSH