#but it also included a snippet of

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

part 1 of a little comic / art sequence that i've been working on! :D it's part tribute, part experimenting with brushes n colors and trying new thingz :]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | ... |

and thus continues my endless quest of spreading the carrot fics like a plague! if you've seen my art floating around you probs already figured that this au holds a very special place in my heart, forever and always!!

if you haven't heard of it, it's a fic series by @crowned-ladybug called carrot soup!! it made me wish i could speak colors and i need more people to share my struggle xd

go check it out if you're into sweet voice lore and qpr level gayness and just wanna feel warm and soft and warm (hurt/comfort my beloved) <333 there are some heavier themes cos everyone's traumatized but they're working through it! be sure to check the tags and stay safe! <3

[timefall-if]

i fear my hungry ass needs a snippet... preferably of M... or of black market medic MC... or both... pls and ty 🙇🏾‍♀️ (btw ur if is looking great and i cant wait to see where the story goes!)

M spits out blood, leaving a dark and wet spot on the floor. With one hand, they hold a can of cold beer at the back of their head, hissing at the feel of it and shutting their eyes tight.

The party had just finished when you walked in through the metal doors, and the mess still hadn't been taken care of yet. The walls are smeared with makeup and piss, unintelligible words written in bright lipstick and circled with smelly sprays of yellow. Cheap, ugly confetti lays sprinkled around chipped chairs, and there are a few strings of neon lights still flickering against the ceiling.

You're sitting next to M at the bar, pouring cheap vodka onto a napkin. You turn to them, holding your hand open, waiting for them to give you their other arm. M does so without so much as a glance in your direction, their eyes still closed and head thrown back.

“This will sting a bit,” you say, focusing on the deep scratches on their skin.

As soon as the alcohol touches their arm, M grunts. “Fuck …"

Their body tightens and limbs flex. You look up at them slightly, your stare fixed on their muscles. M's arms are greenly bruised, surely ugly and brutish to someone else's eye.

Not to you, though. Never to you.

"Like what you see?"

You wince at being caught eyeing your best friend. Were you so obvious?

Your back straightens and you meet M's bright green eyes for a moment. Their eyebrows are slightly raised, an insufferably teasing smirk playing on their lips.

"Shut up," you mumble, turning back to the vodka bottle and napkins on the bar counter.

The sound of M's raspy laugh makes the corners of your own mouth turn upward, your head shaking in both affection and exasperation at once. You grab your scissors and cut some white, soft gauze.

M closes their eyes again. "How'd you get all this stuff so quick, anyway?" they ask.

You snort. "Eh. Marek knows someone."

There is a beat of silence. Not uncomfortable or awkward, but there is something you have been meaning to ask, something that just keeps bugging you, and you know M could smell your curiosity from miles away.

You hesitate before moving your body in front of M again and starting to gently dress their wound. "So, wanna tell me what happened earlier?"

They sigh, "Besides getting my ass beat?"

Your mind drifts back to tonight's fight. The lights of the underground pit were bright in the centre, leaving the rest of the room almost dark. The crowd was loud and wild, crushing you, spit coming out their mouths as they yelled the name of the fighter they bet on, willing them to not let their audience lose their money.

M put up a good fight, they always do. They've fought against this opponent before too. Even though the guy was bigger and meaner, M had won every single time. Until tonight.

You don't know how it happened. One moment, M was pushing him into a corner, their fists coming up at the guy's head and hitting hard. Then their gaze slipped to the crowd and saw you, something in their eyes changing from wild and animalistic to vulnerable, then ambitious. Next second, you see M thrown on the floor, the impact knocking the air out of them. Their opponent started to blindly punch wherever his hands would land, though M kept fighting back, using their legs to hit the guy in the stomach.

But it wasn't enough. M kept sneaking glances at you, almost as if to check if you were still there. They were exhausted, bleeding from their nose, and definitely couldn't take any more hits. Marek stopped the fight and got the guy off M, but they couldn't meet your eyes anymore, not even once.

You keep your head down as you pull the gauze on M's arm tighter. "You were doing good, M. I saw you."

They shift in their chair, the metal screeching against the floor. Your hands work deftly at patching M's scratches, and your fingers linger on their skin just for a second too long. Then you let go.

But M's hand catches yours before you get a chance to turn around again, yet their eyes are still closed, head almost bowed.

"I was distracted."

"By what?"

M's eyes snap to you, finally holding your gaze for longer than ever tonight. Their brows furrow as they look at you, a scrunch between them that you move to slowly rub away with your thumb. Their stare is still trained on you—on your face, your eyes, your lips. They follow your every move, their breath hot on your skin. And you think you might know now what they were distracted by. Or more precisely, who.

They plop back into their seat, still holding your hand. "I just ... I don't know. You're right, I was doing good. And then I saw you in the crowd and I-"

M stops themselves, tongue scraping the inside of their cheek, trying to swallow back the words that are threatening to spill out of them without their permission.

"Doing good wasn't enough anymore. I wanted-fuck, I don't know what I wanted. To show you that I could do even better, I guess. And instead, I just fucking embarrassed myself."

This is what that was about? M wanting to prove themselves to you?

You tie a knot with the ends of the gauze strip, securing it on M's arm as you finish the job. They let go of your hand, allowing you to put your utensils back on the counter. You clean the scissors with agonisingly slow movements, feeling the sharp blades beneath the napkin. If you pressed slightly harder, they would cut you.

Once you're done, you sigh. The silence between the two of you stretches, heavy like a blanket. You pause before you turn to them, trying to catch their eye again, but they pointedly avoid your gaze.

Tsk. Frustrated, you grab M's face with both hands so they wouldn't be able to look anywhere else but at you. Their eyebrows raise as if they would've expected you to just let it go. They should know you better by now.

"You don't have to worry about that stuff with me, M. You're always the best. And I'll root for you ... even if you take a punch or two. Okay?"

They try to move their head from between your fingers, but you don't let them. You keep your hold firm, not breaking eye contact. "Okay?"

M looks at you and grabs your arms gently, their skin harsh but their touch as soft as a breeze. For a moment, you think they will push you away, whatever you said surely being the wrong thing.

But M keeps holding your arms instead, keeping them in place, your hands still on their face.

"... Okay."

[lgbtlunaverse]

You know, in a way, Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan are a lot like qijiu.

[thevirginslvt]

snippet of a Pickle fic i’m trying to write. if i don’t finish it for some reason but it gets enough attention i’ll share the unfinished version anyway. reminder that between drawing and writing i’m way worse at writing, so suggestions are welcome and patience is appreciated :]

tags: established relationship (sort of), pickle/reader, pickle/you, more like pickle/me fr, scent kink?, ooc pickle probably, author isn’t updated with the manga

…

“again?”

thick fangs smile back at you, eyes bright with mischievous intent and messy hair following the movement of his enthusiastic nod.

Yes, to see you.

you let out a sigh as you feel your cheeks heat up, already anticipating with both dread and excitement the kind of mood he seems to be in. moving aside and letting him in not only grants you the sight of his hunched form bending even more to pass through your door but also a whiff of his unwashed scent. good, if only you didn’t feel embarrassed about how much you are into it. into him.

the beginning of your relationship with him was… something. It all started with an interest in martial arts that somehow lead to having the resuscitated caveman visiting your home every other day or so. a few crossed glances, some careless approaches… it all steered Pickle into feeling bold enough to follow you home and take claim of you, in a way. you think that, in his head, it was all courtship and he had won you over, granting him a free pass to you and whatever surrounded you. you dropped the handkerchief when you held his gaze and got close, and he reciprocated by going after you and everything you entailed.

You were grateful he seemed to somewhat understand your discomfort when he first tried to mount you in what you had thought was the safety of your home that night. who would’ve thought that all you needed to do was get physical for him to understand? After ripping off part of your clothes he was met with a harsh slap that left your own hand hot and shaky from the impact. wide eyed, it was only then that he seemed to stop thinking with his manhood and looked up to see you and finally take notice of your tears and shaken appearance. He sniffed you once again, confused as he could clearly catch on the scent of your excitement mirroring his own, but the slap was undoubtedly an indicator of you rejecting him. weird, he thought — or at least you thought he did by his confused expression.

tentatively he leaned in to lick a tear, just as quickly pulling back to give you a glance over. back then you thought he would just run off and find someone else, but instead he just hunched even more, as if to say look, i’m safe. I won't hurt you. you could only scoff and hold back an unamused laugh, finding humor in his attempt of playing nice when both of you knew he could just go for it and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

but while his intensity and desperation had scared you at first, seeing him kneel before you with an obvious tent between his thick thighs moved something inside you. maybe you had always been a weirdo, or maybe you had a really bad case of celibacy begging to be taken care of. or maybe the puppy eyes he was giving you, pleading for a taste of you, made you look at the oversized primitive man in front of you as… cute. cute enough to give him a try. cute enough to fuck.

…

[playingplayer2]

Just for kicks, assigning Batfam members bands/songs from my own music tastes

Alfred - ASIA (Never Again, Days Like These, and Without You, Listen Children, Bury Me In Willow, and Nyctophobia)

Bruce - MCR (Welcome to the Black Parade and Helena) and It's Alright by Mother Mother, Drinking Song for the Socially Anxious by The Amazing Devil, and It Hurts Too Much To Speak by Lina Cooper

Babs - Paris Paloma (Bones on the Beach, Hunter, and Notre Dame)

Dick - The Crane Wives (Take Me to War, Never Love an Anchor, Canary in a Coal Mine, and How to Rest)

Cass - Little Dancer by Leroy Sanchez, Shallows by Daughter, and Luna by Iniko

Jason - Sleep Token or Autoheart (Dark Signs and Take Me Back To Eden // Wretch and Hungover in the City of Dust) AND Concrete Jungle by Bad Omens, King by Lauren Aquilina, Immortal by MARINA, Artificial Nocturne by Metric, and Finger on the Trigger by ASIA.

Steph - MARINA (Seventeen, Family Jewels, and Soft to be Strong)

Tim - Far Too Young To Die by P!atD, 100 Million Years by Taylor John Williams, and Detective Detective by Static-P

Duke - Come and Get It from Me by Sun Heat, Sunflower by Post Malone & Swae Lee, and Pompeii by Bastille

Damian - Heirloom by Sleeping At Last, Will I Find My Home by Juniper Vale & Vian Izak, and Language of the Lost by Riproducer

[m0e-ru]

soejima should sign up for a stand up

[schoolchaos]

Mythology and history based musicals are my true love.

[wundrousarts]

Was suddenly reminded about this moment from a November 2020 interview where Jessica Townsend briefly talks about Ages.

Based on the timing of the interview I am unsure if the “not in the next one” bit refers to Hollowpox (which had just recently released) or Silverborn. Regardless, the idea that we might be learning more about Chronologists and Ages in future books intrigues me!

Between the clock emojis (especially the 🕰️🌌 ) and the “… before the clock strikes midnight?” part of the blurb, I think the Silverborn theories floating around regarding Eventide or just moving into a new part of the Age might be on the right track…..

[read-write-thrive]

Charles Rowland Week Day Four - Alive/headcanon

I ended up having to skip Day 3 bc my health is shit rn but I’m back for day four of @charles-rowland-week !!!! (definitely on the later side but shhhh let me have this) With everything going on I don’t have much time for fic writing and it felt like a cop out to just list my Charles headcanons (not to mention I have zero capacity for creativity rn so it would just be regurgitating from elsewhere on my blog). Ultimately I was inspired by the WIP games going around and decided to give y’all a sneak peak into my “Best Friend’s Brother” fic!!! I’ve also talked about this fic here if it sounds familiar lol. The whole fic is one big exploration of a headcanon I have for when Charles was alive so it felt fitting. It’s short but hope y’all enjoy ❤️

~~~

Charles didn’t have a lot of fond memories from when he was alive. I mean, feels a bit dark and depressing to put it like that, but it was true. His life hadn’t been a walk in the park. His dad was shit, his mom looked the other way, and pretty much anything potentially good was tainted by that. Friends in primary school? Not allowed to come over to his house, which meant he stopped getting invited to others’, which meant said friendships didn’t last. Cricket games? Even when they won it was bittersweet to see that neither of his parents had bothered to show up. Dating as he got a bit older? Couldn’t exactly bring a girl home, now could he? So he made sure it never got that far. It wasn’t hard, in the end. Relationships prior to age seventeen rarely last long enough to go home and meet the parents anyway. He assumed that sort of thing came as you got older, but he wouldn’t ever find out in the end.

Anyway, all that to say he didn’t have a lot of happy memories. But there were a few, and he’d come to cherish them more and more over the years. Meeting Edwin was always top of the list (yeah, he’d died, whatever) but there were a few outside of that too. The only time he got to meet his maternal grandmother, for example. She’d flown into London for Charles’s sixth birthday (which coincided with the wedding preparations for one of his mom’s cousins, if he remembered rightly, which made it a more worthwhile trip) and stayed for a whole week. The entire time she was around, Charles latched onto her side and refused to leave, as she gave him sweets and prevented his father from hitting him. Those punishments came back around once she left, of course, but it was still one of his favourite memories. He always reminisces about it around his birthday, or when around sweets, or when he runs into people speaking Hindi or Punjabi. All of which happened somewhat frequently in London—for better or worse for Charles’s mental health.

[transsongtaewon]

The Colour of the Soul | Gen | 1.3k

When Yoojin meets his little brother for the first time, he learns to see warm colours. When Yoohyun leaves, they fade away.

[Link]

[yujeong]

Time was at a standstill. Vegas was holding his breath without noticing, and continued to hold it when he did - he was afraid of what would happen if he exhaled loudly enough to draw attention to himself. His gaze was shifting between Pete and the man who was standing before them in the doorway, blocking their entrance. Vegas had never seen him before, but even so, he recognized Pete in him enough to know who he was. A dangerous aura surrounded him. There was an edge to his presence that Vegas would only come across people of certain circles. He was a fighter. A muay khao. Pete's father. Shame coursed through Vegas' body, smearing his skin, settling in his lungs, rendering him speechless. I thought he was dead, he wanted to tell Pete if he could. He wanted to scream at him, I thought you killed him. Pete was the one who broke the stillness. As if awakened by something, he took a half-step back and made a motion with his arms, almost raising them to his chest, but not quite. In an instant, Pete reverted into the pet Vegas had been keeping at the safehouse, bound by handcuffs and afraid of his belt hitting flesh and drawing blood. A lump formed in Vegas' throat. "Have you stopped practicing? Your form is off." The uncanny similarities between Pete and his father appearance-wise didn't mean a thing when it came to their voices. Vegas shivered. Was this what Pete would sound like in a few decades? (Were these the condescending words he'd choose to spew? Was Pete going to embody his father? Was Vegas embodying his?) "What are you doing here?" Pete whispered. "They let me out for a few days, so I came here to collect some money. Imagine my surprise when I found out my offspring left the job someone found him worthy enough of doing to... do what exactly? Yaai didn't want to tell me." He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. Vegas didn't know what he was allowed to say. If he was allowed to say anything at all. "It's none of your business." "I'd say it very much is my business, as well as yaai's business who was dependent on the money you were making being some rich asshole's human shield." A choked sound scratched Vegas' throat. He didn't like getting reminded of Pete being the main family's bodyguard, even though he stopped being one mere months ago. Especially like this. That was the first time Pete's father stopped looking at his son and turned his head to look at Vegas. For a moment, there seemed to be recognition in his eyes. Did he know who Vegas was? Did he care? A snort came out of his mouth. He leaned on the door. "Oh, I see how it is." He laughed, scratched his neck. "I never expected you to whore yourself out for money. Tell me, is it preferable to the path I carved out for you?" Vegas could sense the disgust in his voice. He could also see it on Pete's face. He was too astonished to share it, but not enough to be unable to speak. "Khun, there has been some misunderstanding-" "Don't bother. I can recognize a faggot when I see one." Pete's movements were too fast for Vegas to stop him. A direct jab to the nose; his father fell like a pack of cards, groaning like a wounded animal. Surprisingly, no blood - Pete held back. Vegas didn't know what to think about that. "That was a pathetic attack, even for you." "Get up." "We're not in the ring, son." Pete growled. Vegas could see his hands trembling as he was keeping them in the air, maintaining an offensive stance. "That never stopped you before." "You were too young to understand what I was doing back then. What I was preparing you for." Pete was silent. "The world isn't kind. It'll fuck you over one way or another." He got up, spat on the ground. "You still haven't learned a thing. You're too old to afford being naive." He turned around, and without sparing a look at Pete again, said: "Now get the fuck out of my house." (For @musictooth, whose posts about Pete's father have reignited my passion for this specific concept and for @wretchedamaranth, whose comments on my writing are always lovely and precious ❤️)

[jadewritesficshere]

Scents

Alpha!Steve Harrington x Omega!Reader

Synopsis: You come home smelling of another alpha.

Contents: territorialness (is that even a word well it is now), does this count as a hurt/comfort?, A/B/O dynamics

18+ only

You yawned as you opened the door to the house. It had been a long day and you were exhausted. You wanted to curl up in bed and sleep. You still had the nest from when you had presented. You knew some Omegas would only build one during their heat then dismantle it after. You had just been so busy, besides it was kind of nice being tucked in and cosy.

You heard some clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen. You peer around the doorway as you take off your shoes. Steve was putting dishes away that had been drying on the drying rack. "Hi Stevie," you say quietly as you slowly step into the room.

Steve turns and smiles a wide smile at you," Hey-" Steve pauses as he inhales. Steve's body becomes tense and he stands up taller. Steve takes a step closer to you," What is that?" "Huh?"

"What. Is. That?" Steve frowns, nose twitching slightly. Your normal scent of honey and nutmeg was hard to smell over the scent that was assaulting his nose. It smelled of smoke and cinnamon.

Steve's heart beat faster. It would smell okay except that's not your scent. And it definitely wasn't Steve's, though he has been told he had a hint of cinnamon before. No...Someone else's scent was all over you. Another alpha's scent.

Steve's jaw clenched. A low growl escaped him before he could hold it back that caused your eyes to widen. He cleared his throat and his hand shot up to rub at his nose. He trusted you. He did! But this wasn't the first time someone had left him and came back reeking of another's scent.

Steve couldn't help but feel his heart sink. He had tried giving you time after you presented so you wouldn't feel like the only reason he liked you was because you were an omega. He wanted to kick himself for not telling you sooner. Steve was hurt that you had someone else's scent on you, parading around without a care.

Your eyes looked wide and innocent at him. You poked his stomach," What is what?" Steve batted your hand away and glared, making you pout. Steve's scent was rolling off him, strong and...annoyed? Your nose and brow wrinkled in confusion. "That!" Steve snarls as he gestures at all of you.

Your mouth drops open slightly before looking down at yourself. You looked fine. You had on your jeans and your work shirt and- oh. Your coworker Heather had given you her jacket because a customer spilled their drink on you. You hadn't thought about the fact that Heather was an alpha. Or how Steve would take it.

"Oh crap, Steve I-," you cut yourself off, inhaling and exhaling shakily. You felt bad. You could tell Steve was upset from his stance. He was tense and looked ready to bolt or fight any second. His smell had bloomed with hurt, not annoyance. Well, maybe a hint of annoyance. A pit settled in your stomach at the thought of hurting Steve.

You fumble with the zipper in your speed to take the jacket off," Fuck! My shirt got wet and became see through. Heather gave me her jacket to cover up." You hastily pull it off, thankful that your shirt has since dried. You hesitate with what to do with the jacket for a second before tossing it onto a chair.

Steve stood there, jaw clenching and unclenching. He had multiple voices in his head yelling at him. The first was how badly he wanted his scent on you. How no other alpha should have their scent on you. The second was how he was thankful Heather had helped you cover up. Heather seemed like a good friend (albeit thats all he wanted Heather to be. A. Friend.). The third was how he had no right to get upset as you were your own person and he had no claim to you- you were not mates. Even if you were mates, you would still be your own person. But Steve hadn't gotten the guts to ask you out yet.

You bit your lip as your anxiety rose. Steve hadn't said anything. You both were just standing and staring at each other. You don't intend for the whine to come out. The sad noise that does escape before you can cut it off snaps Steve out of his thoughts.

He takes two steps and envelopes you in his arms. "Shit, no. I'm being a dick." Steve exhales shakily as he holds you flush to him. "No you're not. Just being an Alpha." You mumble into him, as you lean closer to his neck to smell his scent. "Still. I shouldn't...you aren't..." Steve doesn't know how to vocalize his thoughts.

You aren't his omega. He knows he shouldn't be jealous or territorial. Steve doesn't want to pressure you. Steve simultaneously wants to yell at Heather to back off.

Steve sighs," You aren't my omega- not that I'd own you! We just...aren't together. I'm sorry I-" "What if I was?" "I should- what?" You pull back to look Steve in the face. "What if I was...your omega?"

The silence that filled the air was thick. You felt like you couldn't breathe because of the anxiety welling up in you. You felt like your heart could burst out of your chest. What if he didn't agree? What if he didn't like you snd you had been seeing what wasn't there? What if-

"I'd love that!" Steve grinned wildly at you. He felt overjoyed as he pulled you back into another hug," I would love to be your alpha. More your boyfriend but-" "I thought that was kind of implied?" "Well, you know what assuming does."

Steve shifts his hold on you, not so subtly rubbing his wrist on your neck and shoulders. He was leaving his scent on you, a sign for others to back off. A happy trill left you to which Steve hums happily in response. You know a dopey grin was spread across your face as Steve rubbed his scent all over you.

You know the scent rolling off you is strong, same as Steve. You don't notice it however until the front door slams open and the conversation between Robin and Eddie stops. You turn to look at the doorway as Eddie exaggeratedly coughs. Eddie coughs and grabs at his throat, falling to the ground as Robin stares at how close you snd Steve are.

"The smells...the-" Eddie throws his tongue out of his mouth and plays dead, causing you to giggle (and feel slightly embarrassed). Robin sniffs at the air and shrugs," I mean I can sorta smell it. But it ain't that bad you idiot." Robin nudges Eddie with her foot before stepping over him and coming to you to, "Y'all smell nice."

You lay your head on Steve's shoulder snd hum. "Wait who's jacket is that?" Robin picks up the jacket. Eddie sits up and sniffs it slightly," is that Heather's?" "Yup. She let me wear it after an accident earlier." You shrug as Eddie gets up. "So that's why Steve's all over you," Eddie says smugly. "Yeah. Thats also why we're dating now." Steve pulls you closer to him.

A chorus of congrats, along with some teasing, occurs. You can't help but smile. You feel safe and warm. With your new boyfriend and your pack. You reek of Steve's scent mingling with your own, but you wouldn't have it any other way

[aston-axo]

Niki Lauda convincing everyone he was anything but as insane as the rest of them was the biggest con he ever pulled. I'm enamoured with the workings of his mind.

Something in me broke when I got near the end, and he was like "No, I WILL take time out of my book to complain about people stealing my clothes, the house never having yoghurt, and this one guy trying to sell me a meadow above market price, but I ain't having it."

Also,

>barges into rival's room >today i vin ze championship >refuses the elaborate >leaves

[whitepeachrum]

Nighttime Scaries

Fandom: Hetalia (personified) Pairing: Alfred x Nat (BelaAme/AmeBela) Content Length: Short (~700 words)

“N-Nat?” Alfred asks, swallowing a lump in his throat as he shifts his eyes from the dim corridor.

“What?” She asks as she walks up to him, putting lotion on her hands.

“Dude, I think there's a little girl in the hallway.”

“Sure,” Natalia rolls her eyes at his absurdity and continues with her nighttime routine.

“I swear!! Didn't you hear her giggling!? It's just like from the scary movies!! It's so freaky, oh my god!!” Alfred hides his face behind the blanket, hoping it'll protect him from the ghost.

“Hey, you're on my side,” Natalia pouts, displeased that his who-knows-where-they’ve-been clothes were touching her freshly washed sheets. She yanks the blanket from him.

“AHH!! NAT!! Give that back. I'm so scared, holy shit. She's like right there. What if she possesses me?!”

Nat angrily turns around to look at the corridor to inspect it's presumed inhabitants and finds it void of anything or anyone.

“You should really stop watching those movies, Al. They're just messing with your brain. You need to- Hey! Let me go!”

Alfred had wrapped his arms around her legs and looked at her pleadingly.

“Naaaat,” he whines.

“You're being a baby again. Why can't you just be a man,” she says with a fist on her hip, looking down at his pathetic whimpering.

“I saw it, Nat. She had like these bloody eyes and a little stuffed toy and it was FREAKYYY.”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?”

“Something!! Perform an exorcism! Send her back to hell! Kill her, oh my god, I don't know!!! She's too scary for me, man.”

“I can't do any of that. I can't even see her!”

Alfred shrieks suddenly and makes a bolt for the bathroom, hiding behind the door and peeking over to see if she's still there.

“What now?” Natalia turns sharply to see what the hell he did that for and he points with a shaky finger beside Natalia.

"S-She's..."

Natalia looks around and even walks around, showing the scaredy cat that there's nothing there.

“Al. There. Is. No. Ghost. Now, would you stop being like that and get ready for bed already? My god, when will we ever have a normal night?” She gets under the covers on the clean side of the bed and fluffs her pillows as she relaxes.

“Nat?” Alfred’s voice cracks. “S-She disappeared..”

“Good.”

Feeling something cold beside him, Alfred's body fills with dread. He slowly turns and sees the phantom’s curls from the corner of his eye and immediately makes a run for it, slamming into the door before opening it again, and running out of the room completely.

“Al!”

“NOPE! Screw this!! I’m not staying here, Nat!! I’m sleeping in the truck!!”

Natalia sighs, shakes her head, and gets out from under covers to investigate what scared him. She puts on her slippers and walks over to the bathroom, hearing Alfred slam the front door on his way out.

Confirming that he was gone, Natalia squats down to the little ghost girl to meet at her eye level.

“You did a good job scaring him,” Natalia says.

“My first haunt!!” The little ghoul giggles, hugging her torn bunny.

“It was really good for a first time.” Nat holds up her hand for the girl to high-five her back. She happily returns the gesture.

“Can I do it again?”

Natalia tilts her head in thought, then smiles a bit. “Sure, why not?”

With another giggle, the girl disappeared momentarily. Nat returned to the bed with a chuckle on her breath and an estimate of 10 seconds before Alfred would discover his passenger princess.

A series of shrill and desperate screams coming nine seconds later confirmed it for her that the second haunting was undoubtedly a success.

Finally, she could enjoy a peaceful night, knowing Alfred was not going to be anywhere near her tonight.

[anonymousmink]

💜 Fanfic game time 💜

Send me a ship and a sentence/premise and I’ll complete the scene!

[comicgoblinwrites]

Dragon Age: Veilguard snippet

Ooops I might have written like, 5 short fics in the past week. Oh no....

“It’s what I’m good at, right?” Rook tilted their head to the side, red hair—almost black in the low light—falling over their shoulder. Their gold eyes caught flecks off the lamps below, still a little hazy from the lyrium. “Whatever’s going on with you, Lace, we’ll figure it out.” They turned their gloved hands, pulling Harding’s close so they could press their lips to the back of her hand through the glove. She almost pulled away on instinct, but didn’t feel anything, and Rook didn’t seem at all affected. They looked up at her through their lashes and her heart skipped a beat. Or a couple. “Ooh that’s a dirty trick, you.” Harding scowled. She could feel her face going hot. Rook grinned behind their hands. “A no-good-dirty trick, when I can’t actually touch you. Scoundrel.” Rook laughed. They leaned back, not letting go of Harding’s hand. She felt warm out to her ears. Gods damn them. But she didn’t let go either.

Have a little Rook and Harding being cute. I'm NOT done with the game don't talk to me. I'm making it last, I don't want it to end.

All my stuff is "canon-adjacent" I make no promises that it's completely accurate, only that it's what I thought would be interesting. Rule of cool but for fanfic. That being said I've been on DA wiki so much this week.

Expect to see some of these going up soon, once I clean them up. This one is from today.