#Prompt 18

[alphieshplife]

Lilac - @moonchaser-microfic - wc: 591

Lilac represents first love and young love

While all his friends are excited for their first trip to Hogsmeade ever, James is nothing but nerves. See, for most of his peers, the first trip to Hogsmeade is an opportunity to hang out, spend money, and get away from the castle. For James, it’s the perfect opportunity to ask his three-year long crush on a date. Finally. 

He has no reason to be as nervous as he is–practically shaking. He’s been practicing for weeks with Sirius, but asking Remus is just…different. Of course, it is. But the worst he can say is no, right?

After spending three days avoiding the conversation, Sirius makes it a point to drag Peter out of the library one afternoon while they’re all supposed to be studying, insisting that the other two Marauders stay behind and continue their Potions essays. James glares at him as they walk away, but he can’t help but feel grateful. 

“What was that about?” Remus asks, and James’s stomach turns. Whether at being alone with Remus or finally having no excuse to avoid asking him on a date, he’s not sure. Either way, it’s not helping the jitteriness he feels. 

“No clue,” James lies. He can feel his face heating up, and for a moment he almost cries. He’s blushing. How embarrassing. 

Remus shrugs and turns back to his parchment, and for a moment, James does the same. It doesn’t take long for him to come to the conclusion, however, that if he doesn’t ask him now, he won’t do it at all. “Hey, Remus?”

The other boy looks up, and James nearly swoons at having Remus’s honey brown eyes on him. “You okay?” he asks, and James realizes he’s just been staring for about twenty seconds too long.

“Hogsmeade,” he blurts out. Oh Merlin. This isn’t going according to plan. There’s a jolt in his stomach, urging him to abort the mission. But he’s a Gryffindor, darn it, and he can do this. Remus tilts his head in confusion, and James thinks his heart skips a beat due to how adorable it is. “Us–well, you and me, that is–butterbeer together, maybe?”

“Erm…what?”

Right, of course. Nothing he’d said made any sense. James hangs his head and curses under his breath, then inhales deeply, before looking back at Remus, this time at the center of his forehead rather than his intoxicating eyes. 

“Would you want to get a butterbeer together in Hogsmeade?” he asks, just like he’d practiced with Sirius. “Just you and me.”

“Just you and me?” Remus asks, and James nods. “What about Sirius and Peter? Won’t they want to come?”

James’s heart sinks just a bit, but he forces himself to keep his spirits up. It wasn’t a no just…confusion. Maybe James hadn’t been clear enough. 

“A date,” he says, again spitting out words without thinking about them properly. “I–I’m asking you on a date. I don’t want Sirius and Peter to come, I want…I want to go on a date with you.”

Without his permission, his eyes wander back down to Remus’s, only to find the other boy looking back at him in wide-eyed shock. “You want to–to go on a date? With me?”

James shrugs, smiling shyly. “Yeah, I–well, I fancy you, so–”

“Yes,” Remus interrupts. James’s heart jumps. 

“Yes?” he asks, almost in disbelief. Actually, there’s no almost about it. He definitely doesn’t believe it. 

 But then, Remus says, “Yes,” again. He says yes and he’s smiling, and he’s blushing and–

And James Potter is officially dating Remus Lupin. Wonders truly never cease. 

[chocoblep]

#18: Plotting a Hunt

Prompt: Hackneyed

Kismet drummed his fingers on the table, watching as Anzhi pored over the parchment he had gripped in his hands. The blonde’s ears twitched as he read, and though there was a slight blush present on his cheeks and a smile on his face, his brows were furrowed in thought as his blue and gold eyes roamed the page. It took him a good few minutes to really absorb the contents of the page.

“This diagram is a little chaotic, but I think I see what you’re trying to do. So, to pull this off, you’re going to have to get cooperation from someone that’s not either of us to send him on a task,” Anzhi finally said, turning his eyes to Kismet.

“Yes,” Kismet replied, finger-drumming stopping and ears straightening as he caught Anzhi’s tone. Maybe there was hope for this plan.

“And then that task leads him to several places, where he will find clues, and eventually that leads him to the Limsan docks.”

“Correct.”

“And then you do the big reveal?”

“Yes! And I propose a trip to our island–”

“You propose?” Anzhi cut in with a sly smile.

Kismet just laughed, but his ears angled back a bit in embarrassment, his cheeks warming. “You know what I meant!”

“Kismet! You’re blushing!” Anzhi’s eyes twinkled mischievously, and he put the paper down to rest his elbow on the table and his chin on his upturned hand. “Does that mean you’re planning to?”

“Well, if I was, I’d be asking for your blessing, now, wouldn’t I?” Kismet countered, reaching up to toy with the braid hanging over his shoulder. Anzhi’s odd-colored eyes flicked to the nervous habit, and then back up to Kismet’s face.

“Well, is this you asking me for my blessing?” he asked, his smile widening.

Kismet’s fingers paused on his braid, and he briefly contemplated burying his face in his hands, but instead he swallowed hard and leaned forward, folding his hands atop the table to keep them from trembling. Why was he suddenly nervous? He knew the dynamic they had, he knew if he did ask, Anzhi would say yes, but being faced with the prospect of the actual answer had his heart hammering against his ribs.

Finally, he looked down to his hands, breathing out a heavy breath. “Yes. That was going to be the topic I broached next.”

The squeal that met his ears was loud enough that he pinned them back atop his head, looking up in surprise, but Anzhi wasn’t sitting across from him anymore. Instead, he was dancing around the table to throw his arms around Kismet’s shoulders with an excited giggle. “Do it! You have more than my blessing!”

“It’s not too… I don’t know, cheesy? Overused? A scavenger hunt leading to a big gift?”

“And a proposal!”

“And a proposal,” Kismet sighed, “though let’s be clear, it would likely be a handfasting like ours was, not an officially recognized marriage. If he says yes.”

Anzhi squeezed him a little tighter before letting go. “It’s still a promise, and I think it’s perfect. He loves cheesy things, and I don’t think anyone’s ever sent him on a hunt like this, so it’s not going to lose its meaning on him.”

Kismet blew out a breath. “There’s no ring, Anzhi. We’ll have to figure out something else.”

“I think I’ve got an idea,” Anzhi immediately answered, and Kismet couldn’t help but laugh.

“Have you been thinking about this!?” he asked, almost accusingly, and Anzhi gave a little shrug as he returned to his seat across from him.

“Only since you moved in,” was the nonchalant reply.

[midcinmancave]

Story Prompts:  "You always have a plan" "We've done worse"

Story Title:  Skirmish

Summary:The men of Stein defend their honor Complete Story Source on FB

Fictober24 Submission #06 Fandom:  Midnight Cinderella Featuring:  Albert Burckhardt, Nico Meier Warnings:  None  Rating/Genre:  General Audience Writer:  Albert Burckhardt, Nico Meier

[hetakinkmeme]

I hope I'm doing this right. I would like to read about a deeply lonely and stubborn nation (England) falling in love and being rescued of their loneliness and bitterness. I am partial to UkFr because France would be a bright character to save England or even EngCan, but I wouldn't mind other pairs as long is not usuk or speng. All the love to the person who fills the prompt and hugs to the creators of this blog.

.

[siren-darkocean]

Flufftober 2024

Prompt 18 of 31

Prompt - Bewitched

Fandom - Randy Cunningham 9th Grade Ninja (Samurai Series Past AU Events)

Ship - Ninjanomicon/OC(Samurai Crystal)

Rating - Teen & Up

Warnings - Just a short one (literally over 200 words)

Extra - I'm struggling halp

The Samurai Crystal specter sat in a small garden inside the crystal itself with the Samurai and Ninja of two thousand and five sat in front of her listening to her sing while the Ninjanomicon specter stood a good bit from behind the two as he listened as well while staring at his counterpart with an entranced look.

The panic and stress to get these @flufftober prompts done in this time frame is getting to me agh!

Anyways here a book and crystal

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Sicktember #18

Prompt: “Wear your coat, you’ll catch a cold.”

Fandom/OCs: Pride and Prejudice (Lizzie and Darcy)

Words: 970

Sicknario inspo: Stoic person admitting sickness from this post, 'I need to sneeze most urgently' from this post, and shoulders slumping after each sneeze from this post.

Author’s comments/background: It was a breath of fresh air to write P&P again. I feel like it’s been forever. Over a year, for sure. I was actually at a loss of what to do with these two until that stoic person sicknario crossed my dash just as I was getting ready to write this, and here we are. Short, sweet, married people shenanigans ahead. 

~~~***~~~

Something was wrong with Mr. Darcy, but Elizabeth wasn't entirely certain what it could be. He would never be called loquacious, but over the past week he'd been nearly silent and always seemed to be unfocused and distant in addition. He had had no quarrels that she knew of and business was going well. It puzzled her greatly, and she intended to discern the cause of his behavior. 

In the end, it wasn't terribly difficult to solve. As a rule she didn't disturb him while he was in his study writing letters, but he happened to be staring out the window as she passed that afternoon, and when he didn't return to his work after a handful of moments she knocked politely. He turned and greeted her, his expression neutral. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy. I just wanted to look in on you, since you seemed distracted. You haven't been quite yourself these last days. Is there anything the matter?"

She approached him as she spoke, and when she was but an arm length away, he suddenly shivered harshly, closing his eyes with a small gasp. When their eyes met again, she thought she detected the hazy, weary look of someone ill, and at once the pieces clicked together. Nor did her husband deny what he knew she saw. In fact, quite the contrary:

"As a matter of fact, I feel I may be coming down with something. Earlier this week it was only a bit of a headache and sore throat, and some weakness. Today every bit of me aches and shivers."

Elizabeth pressed a hand to his face, clucking her tongue. "Yes, you've certainly got the makings of a fever along with the rest. My poor love, come, let's put you to bed. You look dreadful now that I'm getting a good look at you. You must be lying down immediately."

Yet at this Mr. Darcy shook his head, toying with the handkerchief in his lap with a sniffle. "Unfortunately I cannot leave presently. There's a man who's come to town only this morning and will be leaving again tonight. I am rarely able to meet him more than twice a year, and I can't miss seeing him today as I must discuss some things of importance with him."

Elizabeth bit her lip as she looked outside at the cold, heavy drizzle that had been falling steadily all week. "Oh my heart. I understand you must do what you must. Only I hope it's not far to travel. I hate the thought of you being out in this with a fever."

Fitzwilliam smiled faintly. "Not far at all. We're meeting at the inn at the edge of town. In fact, I must be on my way there now."

In due time he was ready to depart. Elizabeth waited beside the door for him, holding his warmest coat. 

"Wear this, and keep yourself buttoned up well," she urged. "I would say take care not to catch cold, but it seems we're too late for that. We mustn't let it get any worse, though."

Her husband smiled fondly, pressing his lips to her hair. "Indeed we mustn't. I will take all the care I can. I hope to be back in an hour or two."

"I'll have hot water for a bath waiting for you," Elizabeth promised, tucking an extra handkerchief into his pocket. 

"My angel. I look forward to it. I'll see you soon," he promised before striding away into the rain.

~~~

Elizabeth didn't stray far from the door, especially when the hour came that her husband was due to arrive. Per the itinerary he himself had given, he was prompt. Hardly an hour after he'd left, the door opened to herald his return, dripping and shivering and with a handkerchief pressed to his nose. 

Elizabeth was at his side in a moment, helping him out of his coat and fussing over his frozen hands. She rang for the servants and asked them to ready his bath, and he murmured his thanks, his eyes expressing deep gratitude. 

Once his wettest outer layers were removed she led the way to his chambers, verbalizing her plans to fetch him tea and his warmest clothes and a hundred other things. Yet she paused when she sensed he wasn't following, turning questioningly. 

He was frozen, a desperate expression on his face, as if he were struggling with something. 

"Dearest? Are you alright?"

He shook his head with a little twitch. "I –hehh– need to sneeze most — hhih! — most urgently…."

Elizabeth almost laughed, but restrained herself, knowing that would embarrass him horribly. She watched as he fought with what seemed to be a fearsome sneeze, his breath hitching uncontrollably as his eyebrows climbed, his handkerchief crushed against his nose in anticipation. At last his shoulders jerked forward and he sneezed explosively once, twice, thrice. With each sneeze, his impeccable posture deteriorated. He slowly slouched into his handkerchief, as if it were the last thing supporting him. After a trumpeting nose blow he straightened slightly, meeting her eyes with his damp, reddened ones. 

"Forgive me for the outburst," he croaked. 

"I'll not hear a word of you apologizing for being ill, poor man. Come, the only cure for a cold so violent is a hot bath and a hot toddy."

"As long as you'll be the one administering the remedies," he yawned.

"Why of course. I wouldn't have it any other way." 

With that Elizabeth resumed the way up the grand staircase, and her husband followed close behind. As they walked, she cast a fond smile back at him. Weary though he was, he linked his fingers through hers with a smile of his own.

[promptsbytaurie]

prompt #18

A: what the fuck? i didn't know you had a sister.

B: and i didn't know you had a life, yet here we are.

[sterek-and-stuff-events]

Mead Moons prompt: Rose

Does Stiles find out that his favorite werewolf is a sucker for rose and pistachio flavored desserts that remind him of his great-grandmother? Or is he collecting petals and thorns from 100 different rose bushes in order to cast a spell to get Derek to notice him (but it turns out he already did?)

Is Derek a grouchy florist who nonetheless enjoys bringing smiles to other people’s faces, especially a certain artist and student of botany? Or is he planning a surprise vacation to Portland for his husband, including a stroll through the International Rose Test Garden, which boasts 650 varieties of the flower?

Is it a different spin on a Beauty and the Beast AU with Creature Stiles and Bookworm Derek? Or does emissary Stiles apologize to his Alpha for a mishap with a dozen magical roses, each granting a different wish or favor?

Let those ideas bloom!

Accepting new and unpublished fic, art, and playlists until July 31st. See here for more info.

[unbloomingmoonflower]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt 18: Fish Out of Water

The smell of the ocean overpowered everything else in the grand city-state of Limsa Lominsa and the young Xaela's wide, mismatched eyes could scarcely take in the sights of the new location.

Fifteen winters she's lived, arriving to this city with the stench of embers and death on her, Shuri sniffled, forcefully blinking the tears that brew afresh in her eyes back. She shouldn't cry; not in this unfamiliar place, bustling with people. Her hands clutched at the front of her tunic, still trembling, as she shambled through the throng of people. Her stomach was beginning to tie itself in knots, bile threatening to rise to her throat, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to force the waves upon waves of fear back below the surface.

The mixture of stone and wooden planks beneath her bare, tender feet was an odd sensation. The materials felt hard and unwelcoming compared to when she would sink herself into the snow that had fallen upon the mountains where she lived her whole life. Tears threatened to fall once again, a lump forming in the Xaela's throat, as her ears picked up unfamiliar words. The language here was all garbled, incomprehensible, and anxiety knotted her insides once again at how she would be able to communicate if she could not even speak whatever language this was.

Pushing through the crowds once more, Shuri found herself at a square. There was a crowd amassed; surely, there was some sort of spectacle happening. The young Xaela inched closer, her horns picking up the sounds of music before her eyes found the source of the crowds' attention.

There, a bard stood off to the side and in the center was a woman dancing. In her hands were chakrams that glinted beneath the blazing sunlight, grey hair flowing to the motion of the most captivating dance Shuri ever beheld. Her heart all but beat silently against her ribcage as she watched, captivated by the dancer's grace, at how fluid her movements were--as if she were the very sea itself.

A girl of fifteen winters danced as a child when her father would play music in their homes, as her mother prepared their meals by the hearth. They would praise the grace she displayed with practice and that the sheer joy in her eyes was palpable. Shuri would dance beneath the moon, thanking the Dusk Mother for every moment she was alive. Just as swiftly, everything came back to her.

The dance of weapons against one another, her tribe falling one by one, with blood tainting the snow. The deathly dance was accompanied by the symphony of screams, with her father pleading for her to flee, to escape the slaughter, and her breath was all but stolen from her once again. Her tears broke free, racing down her cheeks as a violent river, her breathing haphazard, and her heart twisting as though a knife were plunged into it.

So lost in the throes of her grief was she, that Shuri barely realized that she was approached until a gentle hand rest against her shoulder. She recoiled, as if the touch stung her, and her teary, wide eyes met the dark eyes of the dancer she was just watching. Her lips moved, words leaving them, but Shuri could scarcely understand what was said.

The dancer must have realized this, for she spoke in Xaelic tongue then: "Khüü mini chi zügeer üü?"

Shuri's eyes widened impossibly more, her breathing still haphazard, yet relief was beginning to fill her to the marrow. "Chi minii kheleer yaridag."

The dancer nodded, her hand now gently taking one of Shuri's, before guiding her from the crowd. "Bi khiine. Nadad kheleech, chi yaagaad ingej uilj baigaa yum be?" she asked, her voice one of authority and yet so kind.

Averting her gaze, cheeks burning with shame, the Xaela couldn't muster up the answer that was fresh on her tongue. She could only squeeze the hand that held hers as another onslaught of tears overcame her.

"Chamaig kharaach," the dancer sighed, "Ta ünekheer zaluu mörtlöö ene yertöntsiin bükh aimshigt baidlyg üzsen met kharagdaj baina."

With those words said, the dancer drew the Xaela to her side before addressing the crowd in that unfamiliar tongue. The crowd dispersed and when the last of the stragglers had gone, the dancer returned her attention to Shuri. On her lips was the faintest smile as she wrapped an arm around the Xaela's quivering shoulders, leading her and the members of her group out of the square and away from prying eyes.

ᵀʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʰᵒʷ ᴵ ᵐᵉᵗ ᴺᵃˢʰᵐᵉⁱʳᵃ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ᶠⁱʳ��ᵗ ᵃʳʳⁱᵛᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᴱᵒʳᶻᵉᵃ. ˢʰᵉ ᵗᵃᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃⁿᵍᵘᵃᵍᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳᵒᶜᵉˢˢ ᵐʸ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵈᵃⁿᶜᵉ. ᴵⁿ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ, ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᴵ ᵈᵉᶜⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡᵐ, ᴿᵃⁿᵃᵃ ʰᵃᵈ ʲᵒⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ʷᵉʳᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ˢⁱˢᵗᵉʳˢ. ᴵ ᵒʷᵉ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᴺᵃˢʰᵐᵉⁱʳᵃ, ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵒᵘᵖᵉ. ᵀʰᵉʸ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵐʸ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ʰᵃᵈ ˡᵒˢᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ.

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

"Are you alright, child?"

"You speak my tongue."

"I do. Tell me, why are you weeping so?"

"Look at you."

So young and yet you look as if you have seen all the horrors of this world.

[a-drabble-a-day]

Prompt #18

The Curse

~~..~~..~~..~~..~~..~~..~~..~~..~~..~~..~~..~~..~~..~~..~~..~~..

Harry laid flat on his back, unable to move, unable to speak. 

Only the tips of his fingers remained under his control, and nestled within their dubious grip was a bright red rubber ball.

Above him, a cascade of silvery blonde hair fell across the evil smirk on Malfoy’s face, his palms pressed heavily into Harry’s chest, as he held himself perfectly still.

“How do you like my curse, Potter?”

Harry’s eyes flared with indignation, but his futile attempts to struggle only made the red rubber ball slip ever so slightly out of his fingers. Panicked, he crushed it with disproportionate violence.

The smirk on Malfoy’s face widened, his voice full of glee,

“Remember, Potter. If you drop the ball, everything stops. And I’ll leave you here until the curse lifts itself. But,” he drawled, as he dug his fingers deeper into bare flesh, “If you’re very, very good, we can break the curse together. When you come.”

At those words, Draco began moving again, slowly but surely, lifting and lowering himself on Harry’s needy cock, moaning indulgently as he set a maddening pace. 

Harry groaned inwardly, unable even to voice his frustration, his breathing ragged with lust as he was brought closer and closer to the edge, then abruptly drawn back again each time. 

Again and again, he was toyed with and teased, Draco pleasuring himself above, as Harry laid helpless and motionless, all his need channelled into gripping the red rubber ball with all his might, because if it stopped now, he would go mad.

Finally, he felt Draco beginning to lose control, his pace becoming faster and harder, unholy noises falling from his lips. With abandon he fucked himself deeply and roughly on Harry’s cock, until Harry heard his own voice screaming with release and felt Draco collapsing on his chest as he was plunged into darkness.

The curse was lifted.

~~~~~~~~~

[fluentfridays]

Prompt #18

What would happen if the characters in your favorite book/movie/TV show/etc. were in a slice-of-life comedy instead?

[weeblewobbles]

This makes me want to go for a drive.

[chocoblep]

#18: The Chicken or the Egg

Jin Akiyama came from a farming community in the Doman mountains. His mother and father owned a sizable rice paddy, and all four of his brothers–three older and one younger–had taken to the manual labor that was required of those who worked the paddies all day. They’d also had a small chicken coop and two goats. Those were his responsibility, since he had been so small for so long that hauling equipment or giant baskets of rice was simply beyond his physical capabilities.

Instead, he was in charge of taking care of the family’s animals: Seven chickens, two goats, and a pair of matched horses that pulled their cart to market. So instead of rice, he hauled feed buckets. Instead of trudging around the flooded paddies, he mucked out the little stable and cleaned the coop. He felt more connected to the animals than anyone who would talk back to him, and so by the time he was fifteen he was largely regarded as the shy, awkward kid who talked to animals.

That was, until that fateful day that they were given a particular school assignment. They’d been tasked with inventing something. It was a big project, one where they had to come up with a concept, a working prototype, and a name for the invention as well as sell it to the class. At first, he had no idea what he would make, but by the third morning, when he had his hand under a particularly fat hen to get at the egg she’d laid, he knew what he wanted. So he got some spare wood planks, and he measured and cut and assembled. For three days, he tested it, and by the time the project deadline rolled around, he’d worked out any design flaws. 

When he walked into his classroom with what looked like a box and a stuffed chicken, his classmates laughed at him. But when he stood up to give his presentation, he calmly explained how every day he was in charge of collecting the eggs that had been laid that morning, and how sometimes the hen was lazy and did not want to get out of her nest. So he’d built a nest box with an angled bottom that cradled the chicken, but allowed the egg to roll into a receptacle in front of the box once it was laid. To demonstrate, he took a hard-boiled egg and set it in the nesting tray, and then set the chicken plushie on top of it. Sure enough, it rolled slowly down the path to the little bin, and he opened the lid to pull the egg out and present it to the class.

By the time the lunch bell had rung, five students had asked him if they could get boxes for their own chicken coops. By the day’s end, his neighbors had made him an offer to install a set. By the end of the week, he’d made more money than he had in his entire life.

As he dusted his hands off from his fourteenth order, Jin Akiyama smiled. He was finally in his element.

[stealingyourbones]

Clark and Danny having a mentor/mentee relationship that’s not fatherly but instead two parties who both deeply admire each others morals, skills, and what they do for humanity, and both strive to better each other and be he world around them.

Danny can wail the frequency of Jimmy Olsen’s watch gifted to him by Superman and Superman has memorized Danny’s summoning sigil that he can easily carve into anything or whisper the summoning chant and they both would be there for each other in microseconds.

I’m talking a bond that transcends time and space. Clark time travels a LOT as well as dimension travels because that simply is a common instance as a hero and no matter what; Danny will be there by his side when called.

Has he informed Justice League Dark? Absolutely not. He didn’t expect it to be that big of a deal, Phantom is simply a long time friend, colleague, and mentee that is strong enough to assist in Superman level battles and a ghost. He didn’t expect the magic users of the team’s faces to pale when he described his friend after a brief casual reference to the halfa.

[named-anon]

Hello there! Not sure how detailed it should be, but what about Rex with droids head (ep. Rookies)? He can talk to it, scare other people with it, your call. Also I don't know how you manage to do anything in 15 minutes, mad respect

Rex having a deep uh, conversation

[kiko-klept]

“Claws/Fangs”