#fuck the little speaker goblin

[pumpkinbunned]

I'll say it, Ditto is such a better alien than Echo Echo

[cloudzzcore]

Adam and Lucifer with a child’s entertainer!gn!reader as Lover headcanons!!

Warnings: None really but Readers in a group of entertainers inspired by the wiggles so I’m just calling the group “Whimsy Wonders” to keep it

simple.

Adam first! (Get it bc he’s the first man-)

When he found out that you were in that wiggles rip off of a music group he was lowkey surprised and found it HILARIOUS.

The group name did NOT help in the long run.

“The fuck kind of name is Whimsy Wonders?!” Adam’s laughter rang out as he had a hand on his forehead. You were mildly offended and a bit, “Hey, I didn’t choose the name! I’m just working in the group!” You say, Crossing your arms with a pout. “What’s your groups main song? Wait- wait lemme guess!”

You really had to hold back the urge to just walk away from Adam, He hated when you would do that.

Although he may tease you about it, he’s very supportive of your work and helps you get ready before showtime.

“You can do it babe! Show those crotch goblins a real fuckin’ show!” Adam cheered as you put on your signature (f/c) shirt. “Adam, just call them kids. They’re wonderful anyways, they’re angels.” You say as you reach for your ear piece. “Don’t even think about it.” You quickly scolded as Adam quickly put his hand back. Damn how did you always know when he’d try to slap your ass??

Overall he’d tease but still let you have fun, and hey at least you could handle kids.

He wasn’t trusted with babysitting. Or anything with kids really.

——

Now Lucifer!

Now Lucifer on the other hand, He knows the struggle of having a kid and you performing for hundreds of them as a regular thing is probably one of the many things he adores about you.

He’d definitely watch you and group rehearse and probably have all the songs memorized.

“Hear the drumbeat.. Hear the guitar.. when you dance this way. you do the shimmy shake..” Lucifer mumbled as he was working on a rubber duck, One of the Whimsy Wonders DVDs running on the dvd player in the background, One of Lucifer’s favorites. “Shimmy Shake” he honestly know how it was his favorite. It was just stuck in his head. Tapping his foot to the melody under the beat, Charlie was walking by her father’s bedroom and soon heard the music. “What the-?” She mumbled coming to stop in front of the door. “Isn’t that the Whimsy Wonders?” Charlie thought, Hm. She didn’t know how often Lucifer would listen to this kids band. “Hey dad, can I come in?” Charlie asked with a knock on the door. That knock snapped Lucifer out of his little work induced trance.

Oh fuck someone heard the music–

Lucifer wasn’t embrassed that he was dating a children’s entertainer, but he was embarrassed to seen listening to a kids band music.

Damn that song was stupidly catchy.

You told Lucifer that it was genuinely okay to like any kinds of music, no matter the age demographic.

He dotes on you before showtime early single performance bringing you Lunch after your performance. Helping you get ready to perform, making sure your guitar was ready.

“Luci.. Everything is fine, Showtime is in 20! I have time to sit and not rush.” You try to say as Lucifer was helping you get ready. Making sure your shirt was adjusted for the dozen time. “I-I know that.. I just want you to look your best for those kids..” He mumbled his hand reaching up to hold your cheek. “There’s kids out there who idolize you and.. I just want you to look amazing.” Lucifer added as your gaze softens. “Lucifer.. Everything is gonna be fine. Kids barely care about appearances. But I care about you and your worrying–” You then say before voice over the speaker rang out.

“Showtime is in 2 minutes!”

“Shit! Love you Luci.” You quickly plant a kiss on his lips, Lucifer wish the kiss would linger but it didn’t it was over as quickly as it started.

He couldn’t wait until the show was over.

——

Woah Lucifer’s got a little sad but hey it’s just something short.

Constructive criticism is welcomed!’

— 3/31/2024

[chrzannekk]

Ghoul camp au question(s): How did all the campers/counselors die? Similarly how did they get revived? Did they get revived by qm?

pretty big question to unpack but lets get into it >:)

the first person to experience 'ghoulification' was davey(10). he .. got in a nasty situation lets say , and he woke up in the middle of the woods , suddenly looking like this.

hes scared and confused. he cant really go home like this (or at all anymore) so he runs to camp campbell , the only other place that he called home luckily , QM was there. he's naturally born a goblin (how? don't ask. why? no clue. QM is just as weird in this au as in canon). he let him stay at the camp , in exchange for unpaid labour. davey couldn't say no. a few years later , gwen(13) was touring with her dad. a little accident happened , she got wrapped in some wires and a speaker fell on her. she died on the spot. she had a funeral , but she woke up in the woods , covered in bandages and when she pulled them back , her body was rotting. she didn't pull the bandages back again.

davey(14) found her in the woods while he was playing , he took her back to the camp and let her stay. after that , cameron's son cj died due to a supplement drug overdose. he found this out after cj died. what cameron didn't know is that his son woke up days later in the woods , but this time he has a thirst for human blood. QM found him and called cameron , who was shocked. he hadn't been at camp campbell in a long while , he abandoned the project and he let QM live there because he simply liked the guy. plus he was creepy and he didn't want QM to kill him possibly , who knows. cameron goes to check out if what QM said was true , and it was. also why the FUCK ARE THERE MORE FUCKED UP MONSTER KIDS HERE ? long story short , camp campbell becomes a home for 'ghouls' who got revived , because they all seem to wake up in the woods surrounding the lake.

SPEED ROUND !!! max got ran over by a car and he became a zombie neil had a terrible panic attack which led to a heart attack and he became a ghost nikki ran off into the forest and got eaten by wolves (she put up a good fight) and she turned into a werewolf

ill definetly make a part two explaining all the other characters/their stories/what ghoul they are bla bla

[redbelles]

twenty questions for fic writers

tagged by: the wonderful @carry-the-sky 💖

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

51

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

245,595

3. what fandoms do you write for?

i don't ever really abandon old fandoms, but so far 2024 has been all berserk (nothing posted yet, unforch) and masters of the air

4. top five fics by kudos

like a heartbeat drives you mad

the dreadful need in the devotee

and my body found the wind

stuck in colder weather

all the love you need

5. do you respond to comments?

yes! it may take me a hundred million years, but i appreciate each and every comment i get, and i often go back to them for a little jolt of "hey, people actually like your writing!" motivation when i'm stuck

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

lmao uh. known angst goblin meg redbelles here, but i honestly didn't have to do much work to the canon endings of robert baratheon (the clouds will form a crown) or judas iscariot (in the violence of our dreams) to make them even more horrifically angsty, so. one of those, probably!

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i don't tend to go for out and out happy endings—i prefer bittersweet—but i feel like the answer is either the mercy wheel, which fixes dany’s gabarge season eight character arc, or tongue’s talkin’ riddles (sticky sweet), which gives chrissy and eddie a mostly happy future together instead of horrible deaths in deeply cursed hawkins

and! for what it's worth! the chimneys hardly ever fall down is going to end on a happy note! they're just going to have to Suffer a lot to get there! it's fine!

8. do you get hate on fics?

nope

9. do you write smut?

me, currently 3k into a m/m/f threesome scene:

10. craziest crossover:

i enjoy spitballing about crossovers, but i doubt very seriously that i'll ever write one

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i'm aware of, no

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

i've had offers before, but i've declined every time; they all wanted to host the translations outside of AO3, which is not something i'm comfortable with

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

yep! keep calling me home is a really fun little round robin fic i wrote with three other authors a couple years ago

14. all time favorite ship?

i can't read suddenly.gif

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

shUT UP!!!!! I'M GONNA FINISH ALL MY WIPS!!!!!! SHUT UP!!!!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!

16. what are your writing strengths?

imagery, emotion, themes, dialogue

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

plot? never heard of her. also, i feel like i still suck at writing humor

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

to crib from a previous answer: unless you speak the language, it gets real dicey real fast. i personally avoid it unless a) it’s a canonical term/phrase, like all the faux-russian bullshit in the grisha trilogy, or b) i can check the grammar/usage with a native speaker or someone who is solidly fluent

19. first fandom you wrote in?

[redacted] way back ages ago on [redacted]

20. favorite fic you've written?

recency bias talking here, but i am so, so, so fond of the chimneys hardly ever fall down; i challenged myself to write the first chapter as one continuous scene (i feel like i sometimes abuse scene breaks to heighten tension), and honestly i think i nailed it. also, this sequence:

Maybe he is drunk. That would make sense. He’s going to wake up and find himself alone at the bottom of a bottle. Back in the cold blue, Fort shot to shit and tumbling from the sky like a wounded bird, trailing fire and screaming as she falls. Maybe he won’t wake up at all— maybe he’s dead in a potato field, a ghost who never made it back in the first place. His heart can’t fucking take it.

like, i'm sorry, but that's brutal! and i am so proud of it!

tagging: @sluttyhenley @littlelindentree @oatflatwhite @meyerlansky @ladywaffles

@charmtion @anthropologicalhands @jacyevans @thatworldinverted @thatgirlnevershutsup

and anyone elso who wants a go ✨

[facelessxchurch]

Question And Answer Contain HBL Spoilers #02

Now I see what you mean about the mouth of Sauron

Lmao, why would Mevolent pick such a disgusting, disheveled little goblin man to speak for him? I can think of any number of better types of people Mevolent would select to be his speaker

—

Landy just straight up ripped off the mouth of Sauron down to the black gums I fucking knew my Sauron figure was giving me Mev vibes

At least with Sauron it makes sense bc he’s an eye trapped on a fucking tower, but Mev was in the room with them and at some points took over speaking?? It just looks so silly?? Shit like this makes it hard to take Mev seriously. Why does he always have to ridicule his villains?? Doesn’t he know a good villain makes or breaks the story? Just look at the new Puss in Boot Movie!

[dragonmuse]

(Ok, I know I got an ask about Lucius and Izzy's end getting Charlie's late night drunk texts and the phone call that would come after, but I cannot find it for the life of me. If it was you, I'm sorry, but here is your answer!)

Charlie: youleft someones out of that list. What the duck happens when you actually care what then?????? 

Lucius had been awake when the message came through. He'd only walked in the door a half-hour ago, actually and had only just gotten comfortable. Izzy was asleep in the bedroom, so he'd stayed in the living room so as not to wake him. It would annoy Izzy in the morning, most likely. He preferred to get up, but Lucius worried about him losing too much sleep. One of their little push-pull arguments.

The message was...unsettling. Charlie had texted him a few times over the past few years. Usually scheduling things for Stede since Lucius was his calendar keeper. Sometimes very random asides as if Charlie while doing whatever mysterious college jock things had plucked a fact from the air so specific he had to direct it to a singular audience. It was a bizarre, if somewhat charming, affectation.

This was neither bizarre nor charming. Lucius' blood ran cold.

Lucius: what happened? 

He waited, in tense silence for the reply. Maybe it was nothing, Maybe it was a misfired text. But it hadn't been that long ago that Charlie had reminded him of the existence of a napkin. A few short lines. A poor stand in for a real conversation, Lucius now realized. Shit.

Charlie: nothing. Just. maybe broke my own heart a little. No big.  

No big. Lucius typed quickly.

Lucius: where are you?

Charlie: outside  

That boded well. Shit shit shit.

Lucius: I’m calling and you’re picking up.  

It was clear from Charlie's voices that he was in an altered state. His usual chipper tone with others and even his more sardonic coolness with Lucius had been flattened into mush. Lucius carefully talked him home, trying not to ask if he was getting closer every five seconds. He only breathed a little easier when Charlie had clearly reached his dorm room, sound of a door slamming and bedsprings creaking.

“I’ve got nothing in me,” he said simply. “I’m not anyone. I’m...water.” 

Lucius had not signed on for this when he'd agreed to mix drinks for a weird dude in a lavender waistcoat. He had not signed on to care like this.

“You’re not nothing-" And then there was Izzy. God he was fucking quiet sometimes. "Hey, goblin."

"Who is that?" Izzy asked, sitting down besides him. "S'not Bonnet is it? At this hour?"

"No, it’s not."

"Something I can help with?

"No. Go back to bed."

"Pete?"

"No. No, it’s Charlie. He’s having a rough night,"Lucius put his hand over the receiver.

Izzy's eyes glittered in the dark. "Let me talk to him."

"I-" Lucius started to protest. But Izzy and Charlie had always had an understanding. Maybe a second friendly voice would help. "Yeah, all right.”  He dropped his hand back down, I’m putting you on speaker. I didn’t tell him anything.” 

“What?” Charlie sounded like he was asking from the bottom of a very deep well.

“Chuck.” 

“Hi,” Charlie said sheepishly. “Sorry to wake you up.” 

“Shut up,” Izzy snapped so hard it startled Lucius. “You are not nothing.” 

“No, right,” Charlie's words fell over each other and Lucius dropped his head in his hands. Oh yeah, of course, Izzy was so fucking comforting. Great idea. “Just drunk ramblings. I’ll sleep it off. Sorry again. I’ll just go-” 

“Don’t you fucking dare. How long have you felt this way?” 

“Uh, no way. Nothing. Nope,”  

“You are not nothing,” Izzy repeated, softer this time. He moved closer to Lucius. “Why would you ever think that?” 

“Because I feel like it sometimes. Just sometimes. It’s so much easier to not care. To not let it sink in. To be fine.” 

“But you’re not fine,” Izzy said like he'd just found out someone was gong to die.  

“No. I don’t think I am. I think I was just really cruel to someone I like a lot.” 

“Yeah,” Lucius cut in, matching Izzy's new tone. “Been there. But that’s what sorrys are for.” 

“I think maybe I’m really angry. Like...a lot angry.” 

“Sounds about right,” Izzy nodded.

“And sad?” Lucius guessed, putting an arm around Izzy's shoulders, drawing him in. Okay, first instinct was right, good job self.

“Yeah, think I’m really fucking sad too. That might be the vodka talking though.” 

“Drink some water,” Lucius advised. It couldn't hurt and it would buy them both a second to think.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.  For all this.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” Izzy leaned heavily into Lucius' embrace.

“We all get low sometime. I’m glad you reached out instead of holding it in.” Lucius offered.

“I think I’m a ghost sometimes. Like I’m just drifting, you know?” 

The world dropped out from under Lucius' feet. Anything he might've said was snatched from his tongue.

“You aren’t a ghost,” Izzy said without hesitation. “They’re dead and you’re one of the most alive people, I know.” 

“I am?”

“You  are,” Izzy paused, the way he always did before he dove in deep. Lucius braced himself. “You’re a clever, sharp-tongued little bastard with enough energy for ten people. You love people so quietly. Care too fucking much.”  

And fuck, that was true. Charlie was stealth in the way he cared about people. He had no idea Izzy had noticed that. They'd never actually talked about the kid much. Running along parallel tracks like they did sometimes though, they'd both seen the same things.

“I don’t-” 

“We see it,” Lucius rushed to pick up the thread, to affirm it. “We see you, Charlie. Trying to save everyone’s feelings and not making a scene. Letting your sister take the spotlight. Hiding the hard parts of yourself from your parents.  Trying so hard not to be a burden. I know. I know how it feels. But we see you.” 

“Oh god." And that was pain. It sounded to Lucius exactly like a mug smashed against a floor.

“Yeah, heavy shit,” He said thickly. “And you’re probably too out of it to hear all of it.” 

“I’m sending you an email in the morning,” Izzy took up where Lucius' silence fell. “You’re going to answer it when you wake up. If you don’t, I’m showing up at your fucking door next. Understood?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.” 

It was hard to hang up. Lucius considered leaving the line open, but it was clear after a few more minutes that Charlie had lapsed into a dead sleep.

"Fuck," Izzy groaned.

"Did you know..."

"No. He was normal last time he was here. Texted me last week about something he wanted me to read. I wish I'd asked him something. Anything."

"I don't think he would've said anything anyway," Lucius reached for a tissue, awkwardly because he wasn't letting go of Izzy to do it. "Sounds like whatever happened tonight ripped something off. Opened something up. What are you going to send him?"

"Donna's got a practice group down there that she works with sometimes. Only know because she mentioned going to visit once."

"Oh good, yeah, do that," Lucius sighed. "You came in at the clutch, I don't know if I would've figured out what to say."

"You always know what to say when people are like that," Izzy contended.

"I didn't just then," he admitted even though it was hard.

"Why not?"

"Because I've had that drunk night. Well, I was high as fuck, but yeah. I think I made that phone call even. But no one picked up."

Izzy took Lucius' hand in his. Held on. "Yeah. I didn't even pick up the phone."

"A part of me wants to fly down there like right now."

"Me too. We could."

"Yeah, I'm sure he'd love that. He'll probably wake up furious at himself. Maybe at us."

"Maybe."

They both considered the phone that was still Lucius' other hand for a long minute.

"No," Lucius sighed. "If nothing else, it would alert Stede that something was up and I don't want to go through an elaborate song and dance to throw him off the scent."

"We'll check up on him."

"I think I prefer your other brat's problems more. At least when she fucks up, you can just shoot it," Lucius joked weakly. "And it's over."

"They aren't my brats," Izzy contended. "They're both adults for fuck's sake and we know who brought tonight's problem into the world."

"Ugh. I'm going to have a hard time not blurting this out to him, to be honest. He should know his kid is having a crisis."

"If Charlie found out you told someone, he'd never reach out again," Izzy pointed out.

"No, I know. You're right. Shit. I'm never going to fall asleep."

Izzy squeezed his hand. "So let's not. Go for a walk?"

It'd be cold. Winter had settled hard over the city. The only thing that would be open might be a pharmacy. No where to go really.

"Yeah, okay."

They bundled up and walked into the late night hum of the neighborhood. Izzy kept to Lucius' pace, whatever thoughts he had turned inward. Lucius didn't say anything either for a few blocks. It was only as they waited for the light to turn, a few cabs screaming past warning not to go early, that he said,

"I haven't felt that way for a very long time. For the record."

"Hm?" Izzy glanced up at him, then seemed to process that. "Good. Cause I see you too, pup."

"Yeah, I know," he kissed Izzy's temple, just once, ever so softly. "I see you too."

They didn't sleep. It was a restless uncomfortable night until Charlie replied in the morning, apparently awake and having made an appointment.

"Going to call out," Izzy decided.

"You know what? Me too."

They fell asleep as the rest of the city got around to waking up, Lucius' hand wrapped around Izzy's wrist and his phone in his other hand. Just in case.

[touyaspeach]

Gojo Satoru x afab! Reader

A/N ; This fic was SO much fun!! Written for @cyancherub 's Wheel of Misfortune collab, day 13. The theme was Gojo + Hell + Voyeurism.

Summary ; You are CEO and Archdemon Gojo Satoru's secretary in hell, and you're sick and tired of his salacious antics on company time. In fact, you're the only person in the entire building he hasn't fucked, so what will you do when you walk in on him moaning your name while balls deep in a co-worker? Words ; 4.1k Warnings ; afab reader, demon gojo, hellish imagery, slut shaming, really foul language, I mean it's hell afterall. Vaginal sex, dirty talking, oral (f), man idk what to warn you for I'm sorry. Thanks ; @cyancherub for the collab and ideas, @katonshoko for the banner, @a-shy-blueberry , @alicesfracturedmirror and @c-qcatwrites for beta-reading!

You did not want to go to work today. There were a million reasons why, but the fact that you had an office job in hell… Well, isn’t that enough on it’s own? Your own little slice of hell wasn’t too bad, honestly. You had benefits, paid vacation, weekends off; the works. But you also had an insufferable boss and a myriad of gossiping co-workers. Yeah, it was definitely hell, there’d be no mistaking it.

Steeling your resolve, you sucked a deep breath in between your teeth and strode towards the wrought-iron gated entrance of your building. Your heels clacked loudly on the cobblestone. Above you, the sky swirled in red and orange with great plumes of smoke churning like ominous galaxies, around you a myriad of creatures went about their daily lives.

A gaggle of goblins giggled menacingly as they leapfrogged over each other, their disproportionate feet and tiny bodies causing one to trip, to which the others only laughed harder. An undead minotaur paused to examine his hoof, and pulled out… was that a human tooth? A carriage flew past, heralded by a trio of beefy-looking hellhounds. Screams of unknown origin pervaded the air. Business as usual.

The succubus at the front desk greeted you with a salacious smile and a wink. You exchanged pleasantries as usual. Using your keycard you clocked in, letting the retina scanner confirm it was you. You never got used to feeling another eyeball pressing against your own, but well, that was just how things were done down here. The conventional was unconventional, the horrific and dastardly were ordinary.

You stepped over a stinking pile of entrails to make it to the elevator, the sweet calming sounds of crying and screaming played over the speakers to soothe your nerves. Just as the door started to close, one of your co-workers, a pretty petite demon with massive tits, scurried towards you. She had short, stubby horns protruding from her forehead, and cloven feet accentuated by the rusted color of her skin. She was stunning, but most of your co-workers were. Your boss made sure of that.

Against your better judgement, you held the door for her as she hopped over the rotting guts.

“Thank you so much!” she panted, “I thought I was going to be late! I have a meeting with Gojo today, so I had to make sure I was extra prepared. You know how it goes.”

She chattered at you, pulling out a compact from her bag to fix her hair and make-up on the descent. Oh yes, you knew how it went. It was the same every day. Your boss, Gojo Satoru, CEO, and archdemon, was a notorious playboy. He made sure to hire the sexiest, most vapid employees just so he can get his rocks off. They didn’t mind.

But you did, and not because of your boss’s obscene escapades; but because you’d never gotten a taste of it for yourself. Sure he’d tried, he’d invited you in for one of his “meetings”, and tried to kiss you. But you were new, then, and denied his advances. You were probably the only person in the building that hasn’t cum on your boss’s cock.

The elevator dinged, signaling your arrival to the proper floor, and you stepped out in tandem. The office was typical; separated into cubicles with drab, hellish decor. You passed by the carnivorous, flesh-eating plant for the hundredth time, it snapped lazily at you. The phone at reception rang, the sound of blood gurgling up in someone’s throat. Lights flickered as a wayward soul screeched past you, almost knocking into a different co-worker who snatched it by its tail and swallowed it in one gulp. He let out a disgusting belch after, wrinkling his snout.

“Eugh, they just letting any ol’ sinner in these days?” he spat, his piglike appearance and long tusks curving into a devious smile when he looked at you, “Mornin’ ladies. Heard someone’s got a meeting with the big wig. Have fun, cupcake.”

You scoffed at him, of course, this sort of talk was common, it’s hell. Everyone knows what your boss gets up to, and nobody cares, really. Actually, it’s often a topic of conversation, and though Gojo mostly had a preference for more feminine bodies, he did take on more masculine lovers from time to time. Everyone in your office had the pleasure of going dumb on his dick, except for you.

Walking past the maze of cubicles, you made your way to Gojo’s office, stopping to grab him a bagel with scream cheese spread, and hellfire salmon - his favorite - and a cup of bubbling hot ichor. Coffee didn’t exist here, so to compensate whoever made the hot morning beverage of the day just kind of… brewed whatever. Today was ichor, yesterday was slime, tomorrow could be cum. Who knows?

Using your elbow to nudge the door to his office open, you greeted your boss as warmly as possible. “Good morning, I got your favorite.” Okay, maybe not too warmly. You were pent up and frustrated, after all.

“Ah~ Thank you so much y/n, such a wonderful assistant, waiting on me without even being asked. A perfect little employee,” his voice was lilting and playful, and though he had his back turned, you could hear the cocky smile in it.

“Of course. Would you like me to go over the schedule for today, or shall I start reviewing the reports?”

“Hmmm? I wonder,” he spun around in his high-backed chair, it was made of gross-looking tan leather, about the colour of human skin, and two horns protruded from the top. Your boss was, as always, handsome as ever. The blindfold he wore obscured his eyes, his white hair fluffed atop his head, he also wore a perfectly tailored black business suit with a blue tie. The jacket was unbuttoned, revealing the dark grey shirt beneath and a cocky smirk played on his lips.

Two sloping horns jutted out from his head and curved backward. They were sleek and black, and complemented by the sharp point of his ears.

“Let’s review the schedule first, y/n, then you can be a good girl and do your reports, ‘kay?” When he opened his mouth to smirk, it was as if he was intentionally showing off the sharp fangs behind his lips. They captivated you, and you wondered what it’d feel like to taste them. To run your tongue along them and test just how sharp they were.

“Right,” you said, drawing your eyes away from his face. You sat his breakfast down on his desk and flipped open your planner. “Okay, in an hour you have your meeting with Xan, which should last for about three hours,” you internally rolled your eyes, a generous amount of time for what would transpire in said meeting. You smirked behind your planner at the thought. “After I’ll need your approval on the new employee resumes. Lunch. Then another meeting with Xan, for another three hours, and it looks like you have someone else scheduled for the same time, though I was never given a name?” You looked at him questioningly, but he didn’t offer an explanation so you continued. “A phone call with HR to discuss some new workplace policies comes next, and then you have an hour or two of freedom before the end of the day.”

He studied you carefully, you could tell even through the mask, that his eyes were hungrily raking over you. You hadn’t worn anything unusual, a button-up blouse and pencil skirt, just typical office attire. But he was still a pervert, so of course, he was probably trained on your tits.

You assumed so, anyway.

Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

“Thank you, sweetheart. You’re dismissed. Bring me those reports when you’re finished, my meeting shouldn’t last too long.”

Although you smiled and nodded at him as sweetly as possible, you were scoffing internally. He really was such an ass. So full of himself, insufferable, cocky- You nearly ran into Xan on your way out, you sidestepped as quickly as you could and she shot you a nasty look. As if to say, ‘Don’t get any funny ideas. Today he’s mine.’ As if you’d ever do such a thing.

Stupid, sexy Gojo. Stupid boss. The profanities and name-calling continued internally as you set about the task at hand. You were only a quarter into those damned reports when another co-worker, a curvaceous looking hellhound of a woman whose name you didn’t care to remember, plopped down beside you. She groaned, slumping in the chair.

“Y/n you’re so lucky Gojo hasn’t gotten to you yet,” she whined, “Getting fucked that good and not getting called back sucks so much. I mean, have you heard the stories? He literally made me cum like twelve times, it was ridiculous. And he’s so hot, like all of that is wasted on Xan! You must pity me, y/n, it’s so hard to hear them going at it and only getting to remember how good his cock feels.”

“Yeah, no offense but I really do not care,” you shot back.

“Come on, there’s got to be a reason, right? Why you haven’t been called in for a meeting with him?”

“There is, and it’s none of your business.”

“See, I think it’s ’cause you’re the only one here too stuck up to -”

“Listen, can’t you see I’m trying to get some fucking work done. Can you take those massive fake tits and go be a bimbo somewhere else?”

With a scoff and a nasty look, she left you alone with your reports.

Of course, just as she left you saw something on the current one that would need Gojo’s approval, and it looked too urgent to ignore. So, despite your better judgement, you decided to prove yourself right by barging in on his meeting. Didn’t he say not to worry about it? That it wouldn’t last long?

You paused with your hand on the door, it took you a moment to realize what you were hearing but once the sound filled your ears, your blood froze. Gojo’s meeting was still in progress, that was obvious by the sound of skin slapping and furniture rattling combined with her stupid, slutty moans. But the thing that really got to you, the thing that you almost couldn’t believe, was the pure filth that spilled from your boss’ mouth. Pure filth, directed at you.

“Fuck, y/n, fuck yourself on my cock. Yeah just like that you nasty whore, look at you now. Always playing so hard to get, fucking teasing me, now you’re going stupid on my cock. I know how bad you want me, how much you get off from leading me on, fucking brat. How’s it feel, huh? Fuck!”

What?? What the fuck??? He was… your name… while… It took you a solid minute to process it. Didn’t he hate you? Didn’t he just love to antagonize and tease you?

“God, your pussy feels so good, clenching around me, oh fuck-”

You didn’t believe it. No way it was Gojo in there, fucking your co-worker while moaning for you. You had to know for sure, had to see it for yourself. So, as quietly as you could, you twisted the doorknob and cracked it open.

Sure enough, it was what you imagined. Xan bent over your boss’ desk, face completely fucked out with her stupid tongue hanging out of her stupid mouth, and Gojo going to town behind her. Every thrust rattled his desk, jolted her body, and for a moment you were worried about her seeing you. One look into her eyes told you that her mind was only on the dick that was currently re-arranging her insides.

Why were you so wet? Watching him fuck her but knowing he was thinking of you? Your panties were uncomfortably sticky, at the thought alone and now you were practically dripping. You watched a moment longer, and just as you were about to take your leave, something caught your interest.

Gojo’s face shifted, his head quirked slightly towards you. Fuck, he saw you. You knew it, and it sent even more slick pooling between your legs. His mouth twisted into a smirk, and even though his eyes were obscured by the blindfold you knew his gaze was locked on you.

“I know you fucking want me, y/n,” he groaned, picking up the pace and plowing into her even harder. “I know how bad you want my cock, how bad you want to be here.”

You hated to admit it to yourself, but he was right. You couldn’t deny the ache in your cunt, the months and months of teasing and banter just making the tension worse. You wanted him too, but your pride wouldn’t let you be just another one of his whores.

Would it?

Wouldn’t it?

“Yeah, you do, look at how fucking hungry you are for me. Why don’t you come in here and I can give you what you want?”

He pulled out of Jan or Van or whatever her name was, much to her confusion. When her eyes found you, though, she screamed a string of profanities at you.

“Fucking bitch, what do you think you’re doing ???” She made to cover herself and close the door, but Gojo was quicker. Grabbing her by the wrist, he was rather cruel.

“Get out.” His voice was cold, almost angry as he roughly pulled her up.

You could do nothing but stand, wide-eyed as she was shoved out and you were pulled in. In less than a second, his mouth was on yours, kissing you hotly, parting your lips to swirl his tongue around and taste you. You could fight your urges no longer as you melted into him, kissing him back, running your hands along his abs, down to where a white spattering of hair trailed up from his cock.

He pressed your hands down further as he kissed you, having you wrap your fingers around the length of him and helping you stroke him once, twice, until you understood what he wanted. You pumped at his dick as his tongue laved over your lips, getting spit all over your mouth and chin before he thrust it back into your mouth. You suckled on it, bobbing your head slightly which elicited a deep, throaty moan from him. All the while his own hands explored your body, unbuttoning your blouse, unzipping your skirt; shedding you of all your clothing. It was hot, heavy, and frantic. The culmination of too much sexual tension.

Pride be damned, he felt so fucking good under your touch.

Finally, he pulled back his assault on your mouth, grinning in that mischievous way that suited his pretty face all too well. “I knew you fucking wanted me, god your hands feel so fucking good. I can’t wait to feel that sweet cunt.”

He leaned back to watch you play with his dick, huffing out a sigh of pleasure as he did. He finally had you, after so long of teasing and prodding at you, you finally gave in. And fuck, he was glad you did, because looking at you now all flushed and panting just for him? It was better than his imagination.

“Gojo-” you whined as he slipped a hand between your thighs to rub slow circles on your clothed clit. He wanted to savor this, take his time, make you feel really good. It was an unfamiliar thing to him, normally he was only focused on his own pleasure, but with you it was different. He wanted you to cum, wanted you to feel good even if it meant neglecting himself.

“You’re so wet for me, y/n. How does it feel to have me play with your sweet cunt?”

You hummed, grinding down on his hand while yours continued to pump at his cock, “mmnn more, please. It’s not… not enough…”

He pulled back at your request, and you whimpered at the loss of contact. You didn’t expect him to remove that blindfold; exposing three sets of gorgeous bright blue eyes rimmed with white lashes to match his hair. Six eyes. You didn’t expect him to kneel before you and shuffle in between your legs, pressing his face to your cunt and inhaling deeply while his hands kneaded the plush of your thighs.

“Fuck, you smell so sweet,” he said, looking up at you and licking his lips. Before you could even respond, however, he buried his face back into your core. Moving your panties aside, he licked a long, slow strip up your slit, gathering your essence on his tongue and moaning at your flavor.

He did this a few more times, just enjoying the way the press of his tongue made you shiver, and rewarding you with a quick flick to your clit on every pass. When Gojo felt your hands card through his hair, he latched onto your clit, eliciting a loud cry from you. He suckled on the sensitive pearl, using his tongue to circle it and cause you to moan more.

He pressed one, two fingers into your core, stretching you out for him and scissoring them inside you. You were so wet, your slick dripped down his hand, down his wrist, and he groaned into you. The vibrations caused you to shudder, your knees weak as he continued his assault. After a moment his fingers hit that perfect spot inside of you, combined with his mouth nursing your clit, you were getting dangerously close to the edge.

“G-Gojo I’m-” you whined, pressing yourself harder against the wall to keep yourself standing, “I’m gonna c-cum-”

At your admission, he picked up the pace, curling his fingers more to massage your sweet spot, laving his tongue over your clit harder, suckling with more intensity until you unraveled all over him. He groaned at the way your cunt fluttered around his fingers, at the way your pretty bud pulsed on his tongue with each contraction of your orgasm.

He slowly rode you through it, prolonging your pleasure as much as possible. Just as you thought you’d get a moment to breathe, he was standing, pulling you up by your thighs to pin you between him and the wall.

“Nnggh-Gojo-” you groaned, feeling his hard cock press against your sensitive pussy.

“Satoru.”

“S-Satoru,” you swallowed. Had he ever allowed anyone to call him by his given name? Were you so special that he specifically requested it?

“Gonna fuck your sweet cunt so good, y/n. Oh, Satan, you don’t know how fucking long I’ve wanted this. How many sluts I’ve fucked just imagining it was you? They’re so desperate for my dick they don’t even care when I call out your name, y/n, fuck,” he groaned the last word, rubbing his cock along your folds and coating himself in your slick.

“P-please I need you, Satoru, f-fuck me, please!”

“Yeah? Is that it? Want me to fuck you good and hard and show you what you’ve been missing?”

“Please, I -”

You were interrupted by Satoru plunging deep inside you, all the way up to the hilt. The stretch burned, his fingers weren’t enough to prepare you, but it felt good. Feeling him throb inside you, hearing his breath hitch as he finally got a taste of you, and the low, breathy moan that rattled in his throat was all too good.

“You feel…so much better...than I imagined…” he panted, and you were grateful he hadn’t begun moving yet, allowing you a moment to adjust to his girth. “Fuck,” he groaned again, and slowly started moving his hips. He drew his cock out of you slowly, so painfully slowly, before pressing it back in just as carefully.

“P-please, Satoru… I need more-”

He captured your lips with his once more, but this time the kiss was less sloppy and heated, and more… passionate. You didn’t know the man had it in him to be so tender, but here he was, being careful with you, being gentle with you. And all you wanted, was to fuck him out of your system so that you could move on with your life.

Satoru picked up the pace steadily until he was fucking you hard against the wall. Your knees hooked over his forearms with his hands planted on the wall as he pounded into your sweet spot over and over. Each piston of his hips had you both moaning, groaning into each other’s mouths as you continued to lap at each other’s tongues.

His muscle twisted around yours, applying a delicious amount of pressure, and you returned the favor. Neither of you cared when saliva dribbled down your chins, too lost in the moment and the feeling of finally getting to be with the other. His cock felt perfect, and the rumors must really be true because he knew just the right angle, just the right speed, everything to have you nudging closer to your release.

Your orgasm hit you suddenly, and you jolted with a cry, “C-cumming~!”

You felt Satoru throb inside of you, felt him get so close to the edge as you pulsed around his cock, but before he could release, he pulled out.

“Don’t…” he panted, “don’t wanna cum yet. Fuck. Come here.”

As if you had a choice, he pulled you away from the wall, carrying you to the large, plush chair he normally sat in and plopped down with you in his lap. Leaning back, his eyes raked over your body, unabashed and hungry. He massaged your tits as you lined up again, and sank down on him. His deft fingers tweaked at your nipples, rolling them between thumb and forefinger, drawing a sweet moan from your pretty lips.

“You’re so fucking perfect, y/n,” he all but growled, watching you bounce on his cock like he’d imagined so many times before. This new angle, somehow, was better than before. The head of his dick licking against your cervix, pressing into your sweet spot, dragging along your walls as you fucked yourself on him.

Satoru pulled you down, popping one nipple into his mouth and swirling around it with his tongue. He reached between you and rubbed against your clit with those practiced fingers, while the other hand worked on your other breast. He planted his feet and thrust his hips up, slamming you down onto him in such a way that had you crying out from pleasure. You were going to cum again and fast.

He was too, actually, and you could feel it in the way his pace sputtered, the way his cock seemed to swell inside of you, and it wasn’t long before he let out a low, deep groan against the flesh of your tit. He raked his teeth over the pebbled bud of your nipple before throwing his head back. Gripping your hips, he fucked into you harder, chasing his own release and bringing you over the precipice of yours.

You came, hard, all over his cock again. The feeling of you fluttering around him was too much, and he spilled deep in your cunt with a moan of your name. “Y/n...f-fuck, y-you feel incredible-” he praised, shooting rope after rope of hot, sticky cum into your deepest parts. You collapsed onto his chest, panting, and Satoru wrapped you up in his arms, holding you close in an intimate gesture you were positive none of the others had gotten.

You both stayed like this for a while, reeling, recovering. You could feel his dick softening, feel his seed leaking out and down; but it didn’t beat the way his arms felt around you, the way his chest heaved with each breath, the thrumming of his heart in your ear.

After a long moment, he finally spoke, “You’re amazing. I’ve wanted you for so fucking long, and you just had to play hard to get. Now that I have you, I’m not letting you go. You're mine, do you understand?”

“Wh-what?” you ask, lifting your head to look into those beautiful baby blues.

“I want you, y/n. You’re more than just a quick fuck to me. Let me take you out. Do it properly. There’s a restaurant in the seventh circle that has this amazing centaur burger with imp cheese. I bet you’d love it.”

“Wait, you want... To date me? Me???”

“Yes. If you’ll have me?”

“And you won’t fuck anyone else, right? Like… this is an exclusive thing?”

“Of course, y/n. Don’t you realize I’ve been waiting on you for ages? All of those conquests… just to get your attention? See your reaction? Get you to notice me?”

You were reeling now, for a different reason. “O-okay. Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.”

[ectokelpeigh]

he saw it in a movie once

Danny is overpowered and I believe his greatest weakness is being a dumbass teenager. But he got his powers by fucking around and finding out, and his dumbassery pays off now and then, making him even more powerful.

For instance, I can absolutely imagine him pulling a Westley and going out of his way to build up an immunity to blood blossoms.

I think it'd be an interesting bit of lore if Danny and Vlad can build immunities to natural ghost deterrents. Ghosts are defined by immutability, so they don't have an adaptive immune system. Danny's half-alive and since both sides of him are evidently in stages of rapid development, he's in the best position to pull it off.

Immunity would be super useful for obvious reasons: villains can't use it against him, his parents can't accidentally poison him, and he could even use it against other ghosts in a pinch.

But those very practical reasons for poisoning himself were not on his mind when he went through that painstaking process. They're just bonuses that may not even occur to him until he reaps those benefits.

No, his end goal was always staging a prank where he "accidentally" eats a meal prepared with the blossoms in front of Jazz. He acts completely oblivious when she tries to subtly discourage him from eating it in front of their parents:

Jazz: Hey guys I'm suddenly craving pizza let's order pizza!!!!!!

Danny: But lunch is already on the table? Mom worked hard on it

Jazz: But you're allergic to gluten!!!

Danny: No I'm not?

Jazz goes for broke when Danny's about to take a bite, slapping the food out of his hands just as he's about to take a bite. Danny and their parents look at her like ???? While she's occupied with explaining herself, Danny calmly gathers his food from the floor and takes a big old bite. Might even make an exaggerated munching sound because he can be a shitty little goblin boy

Jazz is blinded by panic and she never got the full blood blossom story in the first place, so doesn't realize that Danny should have been writhing on the floor just being in the flowers' proximity. So when she notices him chewing she thinks "Oh no, I'm too late" and fully goes into shock, and watches in horror as Danny finishes his meal with a smile.

He then volunteers to help his folks in the lab the rest of the day so Jazz can't outright confront/"warn" him that he just ate ghost kryptonite. Instead she hovers around him for hours, wincing if he so much as burps. Jazz finally gets him alone and:

Jazz: Are you okay???

Danny: I guess my stomach feels kind of funny. Actually, I do feel kind of light headed. Maybe I should go lie d—

...and he promptly feigns passing out.

Jazz drops to her knees, tearfully gathers Danny in her arms and calls Sam for help. Sam picks up and hears Jazz say: "Sam, you need to get over here, Danny" before the sound of Danny laughing like a deranged hyena drowns her out. It cuts off with Danny grunting and Sam thinks she hears him whine "Hey, ouch!" before Jazz says into the speaker, "…is going to die, because I'm going to kill him." and hangs up.

Sam texts Jazz "I'm assuming he deserved it so lmk if you want help hiding the body"

stay tuned for the thrilling sequel: ecto-weapons

[realcube]

comfort with the haikyuu!! boys hcs 💝

characters: kenma, bokuto, ushijima, tsukishima, akaashi

thanks to anon for the request (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

ALL AGED UP! (no mature themes though) (i just like the post-timeskip domestic dynamics)

tw// hurt! reader, swearing, mentions of death, fluff, angst if you squint

Kenma Kuzome

bb has cat senses so he can tell when you’re sad

he can also tell bc you do the exact same thing he does when he’s sad, which is cuddle underneath blankets in bed, play animal crossing and blare lo-fi music to conceal your faint sobs

so when he walks into your shared room and notices you wrapped up in blankets on the bed, he does his best to suppress a snicker whicH HE FEELS SO BAD FOR HAVING IN THE FIRST PLACE

like he knows you’re sad but a part of his mind is just like ‘heh, (y/n) burrito.’ like you just look sO FKN CUTE!!

anyway, the first thing he always does when you’re down is approach you on the bed, sneak under the blankets and join to you to become a (y/n) & kenma burrito 

also, he might turn the speaker off depending on how loud the music is lol but if it’s at an okay volume then he’ll just leave it on and vibe with you for a bit as he desperately wracks his brain, trying to come up with something reassuring to say 

you usually comes up with the something basic like, ‘what’s wrong?’ but i mean, you don’t really mind - at least he’s making an effort and you know it must be difficult for him to think of things to say lol

depending on how sad you are, you might just tell him straight-up what happened or you might text him bc you don’t think you’ll be able to choke out an answer without bursting into tears again

then he’ll ask you if you want to be alone and act accordingly 

assuming that you say ‘no’ bc you want his presence, he’ll just recollect on the last time you comforted him while he was down and mimic it tbh

..you always comfort him so well 🥺 and whenever you console him, he always feels so much better so he just thought that maybe if he imitates you, then it’ll work just as well

so he started off by resting his head on your shoulder and whispering kind things in your ear just like you did to him, ‘you know i love you, right?’ , ‘i hope you feel better soon’, ‘do you want me to bring you some food?’

he’ll seriously do everything in his power to make sure that you’re as comfortable as possible 

and he’ll stay as a (y/n) & kenma burrito until you feel better or until the sun rises  ( *^-^)ρ(*╯^╰)

Kōtarō Bokuto

i’ve said this before and i’ll say it again - he’s such an empath and so overdramatic

so when he comes home from work and you don’t run up to the door to give him hugs & kisses- he’s about to burst into tears himself

so he sulks up to your room now IMAGINE HOW SHOCKED HE IS WHEN HE WALKS IN TO SEE YOU CRYING UNDER THE BLANKETS

emo-mode engaged :(

his hair deflates as he pounces on you and wails, ‘(Y/N)! WHY ARE YOU CRYING?! ARE YOU OKAY?! WHO HURT YOU?!’ (ಥ _ ಥ)

and the bitch dives on you while you are under the blanket, essentially scaring and suffocating you 

‘bokuto, get off me!’ you shrieked, wriggling out of his grip and out from under the blanket

 when he notices you had escaped the blanket with tear-stained cheeks, he felt even worse 

he threw himself into your arms, howling, ‘(Y/N)!! I AM SO SORRY!’

at this point all the blood had rushed to your head and you had kinda forgotten that you were sad for a moment or two

‘bo! you should know you’re own strength by now.’ you muttered, rubbing the underneaths off your puffy eyes

‘I KNOW!’ he wailed once more, burying his face into the crook of your neck

you sighed while rubbing his back, unable to supress a slight giggle, ‘bokuto..’ 

there was ages of silence between the two of you before he pulled away to look you in the eyes and asked, ‘(y/n), why were you crying before i got here?’

you’d explain the issue to him and he’d do everything in his power to solve it because the way he sees it, why should he try console you when he can just fix the variable that’s making you sad in the first place?

like, if you were just fired from your job, he’ll go full karen and he will call corporate to demand for your job back if you don’t stop him

or if your loved one died, he’ll become a fkn medium or study resurrection

or if you’re just stressed from exams/tests, he’ll just be like ‘why do you need to go to uni anyway?’

‘so i can get a qualification.’

‘why do you need that?’

‘so i can apply for a job.’

‘why do you need a job?’

‘so i can make money, so i don’t starve.’

‘you can have my money!’

you couldn’t help but chuckle at how much life-experience bokuto had, yet he will still so naïve; honestly, you couldn’t even tell if he was joking or not. ‘what if we break up?-”

“DON’T SAY THAT!” he gasped, instinctively tightening his grip on you

Wakatoshi Ushijima

both you and ushijima’s pride did not allow y’all to cry in front of one another 

if you ever had to cry, you’d just run to the bathroom, lock the door, turn on the tap to drown out the sound of your sobs and just let it all out

and if he ever had to cry, he’d just do it in the shower

but like- you both knew when the other one had been crying because of their puffy, damp eyes but you both mutually agreed to not mention it

i mean, up until now y’all had both been able to flourish in the relationship while dealing with emotions on your own so why bother changing?

and if anything, you both felt more comfortable crying to yourselves

 that was, until today

you had cracked under the pressure of your job - you were simply sitting at your desk in the study room, doing some work then it all just came crashing down

ushijima had just stepped out of the shower in his towel and was currently wandering around the house in search of you, to inform you that he ran out of shampoo so it would be greatly appreciated if you were to add it to the shopping list 

but when he entered the study to see you sitting there by your computer, bawling you eyes out..he froze

like he had to do a whole double-take bc he wasn’t sure if he was seeing this correctly

your face was buried in your hands so you didn’t notice him at first but then you heard him awkwardly clear his throat from the doorway and your neck immediately jerked to look at him

it was quite embarrassing for the both of you, ngl

like he was standing there half-naked, staring into your red eyes in hopes that what he saw was just a hallucination

after what felt like hours of deafening silence, ushijima broke it by muttering under his breath, ‘uh, is everything okay?’

‘everything is fine, toshi.’ you replied, forcing a bright smile onto your face as you went back to typing, ‘did you come down here to tell me somethi--’

‘i can tell that there is something wrong.’ he stated, walking towards you while using one had to hold his towel in place and draping the other over your shoulders to pull you into his chest. ‘do you want to tell me?’

you let out a long sigh, resting your cheek against his chest while still staring at the many tabs you had open on your desktop 

but ushijima quickly fixed that by taking your chin in-between his thumb and index finger, then turning your face to look up at him, 

‘work?’ he hummed his assumption

‘yeah.’ you mumbled, quite surprised at how understanding he was being

but then again, ushijima obviously knows what it feels like to be overworked and burnt out too, so he was able to provide a lot of empathy in that sense

Kei Tsukishima

ok a bit of tsukki slander but i feel like tsukishima would make it worse WEILUBRGBE

wait no well, he doesn’t make it worse but he doesn’t make it better either

like he’ll walk into the living room and see you curled up under a blanket on the couch, lightly sobbing from underneath- and he honestly doesn’t know how to act

this is the first time he’s seen you cry bc usually y’all keep your emotions to yourselves - you’re both v independent like that （￣︶￣)

anyway, mans thinks he can just tease the sadness out of you 🙄

‘awh, is my little couch goblin feeling sad?’ he said shakily, clearly intimidated by your figure lying on the couch, and you could tell he was nervous per his use of the nickname ‘couch goblin’

‘‘TSUKISHIMA, FUCK OFF!’ you barked, hastily wiping away your tears and clinging to blanket to prevent him from pulling it away, as the last thing you wanted him to see was your weary figure just so he could tease you about it 

‘bitch, i live here.’ he hissed, rubbing the back of his neck - feeling rather conflicted

on one hand, you seemed serious when you asked him to leave; plus, the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel uncomfortable by staying when you’re already sad

but on the other hand, he genuinely wanted to help

he’d feel bad if he were to just leave his s/o in tears when he could’ve done something to make you feel better 

‘do you really want me to go?’ he asked and for a change, not a hint of mockery or sarcasm was found in his voice

there were several moments of silence until you mumbled from under your blanket, ‘no.’ then proceeded to lift up your arm to allow him to crawl under the blanket and join you

he did so, pulling you against his chest so you could sob lightly against his cotton shirt while being engulfed by warm darkness

‘what could’ve possibly went wrong to make the evilest blanket demon cry?’

‘evilest blanket demon’ - that was definitely a new one, and you’d be lying if you said a small snicker didn’t escape your mouth at how monotonously he was able to deliver such a unique nickname

and after years of being in a relationship with tsukki, you’ve learned to find comfort in these nicknames considering they were a big part of how he expressed love 

in his vocabulary, ‘you’re so annoying.’ is equal to ‘i love you’

so him calling you an ‘evil blanket demon’ was, in his eyes, the highest and most sincere form of flattery

you eventually tell him what happened that made you sad and he just listens 

feel free to ramble on about anything/everything that’s worried you for the last few months bc he’s all ears 

he figured that other than make you dinner and hug you, that was the best thing he could do to help bc he was far from a romantic who’s good with words 

if he tries to console you verbally it would probably come out like ‘uh, don’t cry - i understand what you’re going through, i think, but like- cry if you want. this must be tough for you, to be honest.’

so he just listens to what you have to say and occasionally inputs a lil’ ‘mhm’ or ‘yeah’

he’s probably the most patient with you so you could stay sad on the couch for the next few weeks, as long as you’re eating the meals he delivers to you and you’re staying healthy, he’ll just let you mope until you feel better tbh

Keiji Akaashi

boyfie material right here

i’m hardly an akaashi simp but he’s probably the best at comforting you while you’re sad tbh

because he’s literally been dealing with bokuto and his emo-mode for god-knows how long so he’s very good with reassuring people😌

also, i just know that this man can detect emotions so well- evEN THROUGH TEXT ISTG

he’d text you the usual ‘goodnight ❤’

and you’ll quickly wipe away your tears that were blurring your vision to reply ‘goodnight 💕’ 

then he’ll deadass text back like ‘i’m coming over. what’s wrong?’

HE JUST KNOWS!! don’t question it bc he doesn’t even have a logical answer lol

anyway, he’ll arrive and immediately begin with the reassurance before you even tell him what’s wrong 

‘you’re coping so well, (y/n).’

‘i’m so proud and i love you so much.’

‘is there anything i can do to make you feel better?’

‘would you like a hug?’

‘you’re beautiful, (y/n). i hope you know that.’

‘do you want me to get you ice-cream?’

a king- 👑

also, you weren’t embarrassed to cry in front of him either bc you had seen him cry before 

plus, y’all both established at the very beginning of the relationship that you’d both try be as honest and open with your emotions as possible

so now, you were both sitting beside each other on your bed while sharing a banana split that akaashi made (you put the sprinkles on though so you basically gave it flavour ✨)

akaashi is definitely the therapist friend to so he gives great advice 

but if you don’t want his advice and you’d prefer him to just listen, then he can do that too 

honestly, he’d do basically anything to make you feel better 🥺

[esbanon]

A list of fluffy & goofy things esb does since he’s not ALWAYS a goblin, just most of the time

Sometimes he surprises me at work with iced coffee and somehow knows my order better than me.

Has surprised me at work when I get out with flowers on a few occasions

One time when we were arguing and I got out of work he WAS OUTSIDE SITTING ON HIS TRUCK WITH A SPEAKER PLSYING S PLAYLIST OF SONGS THAT MADE HIM THINK OF ME BECAUSE I ALWAYS SAID THE BOOMBOX TROPE IS THE PEAK OF ROMANCE

On our first Valentine’s Day he bought Star Wars boxers as “man lingerie” but they ended up not fitting so it was then our designated cum rag

Sometimes he just pulls my head in close to his chest and plays with my hair

I once asked him if he could pick up tampons on his way home, and he showed up with not just tampons, but also like 3 different chocolate bars and a few bags of chips because “I know you crave sweet and salty and you’re indecisive when you’re on your period, so I got options”

One time I was sick so he brought me chicken noodle soup, wrapped me up in a blanket, put on true crime documentaries, and let me fall asleep on his chest

When we shower together he really enjoys washing my hair and loves when I wash his

Always encourages me in whatever I do, including getting my name out there with my art and landing me a spot at a local co-op

Told me that when we started dating, he listened to all the music o told him I liked so that he “could impress me” and wanted to know the things I enjoyed

For Valentine’s Day I got a fucking Darth Vader card

When I first followed him on Instagram the first picture I saw was on him in a crop top captioned “Kylo gone wild”

When we saw our first movie together, he quietly asked me “uh do you want a starburst?” And since then, we always get starburst when we see movies

He saw The Rise of Skywalker before I did, and he took me to see it again, and when THAT SCENE came on, he just looked at me and said “I know” while I fucking sobbed.

Tried making me a ring from scratch. Apartment was very loud with power tools and swearing

“Can I see your boobies please, I’m sad”

Loves to be little spoon even though he’s a gangly giant

[marlasomething]

The Line Is Erased: Day 29 - Liaisons

Hello there! This is the first time I write a RQG fic and it’s going to be…rusty (NO IT’S NOT A PUN). Since I don’t want to be depressing AF and I FUCKING KNOW MYSELF, I am going to choose to write from outsider’s PoV, with a teeny tiny group of characters that just happen to be around on the background.

Also, after writing the first one I realised how much this podcast motivates me to keep saying “yes” to my friends’ campaigns and that is always a good choice for many reasons, so this is homage to all of us, people playing as our always very particular characters and suffering because of dices and masters!

So…that is that.

Here is my contribution for Day 29: Japan + Inventions, creations and crossing the line; prompts given by @the-line-is-erased on Tumblr.

Episode that covers at least one of the prompts relistened to do this: Ep.159 (actually; I just took a couple of details, so this chapter is kind of EASTER EGGS PARTY) Also, just some silly stuff after the overdramatic top of yesterday.

Do forgive me for any possible screw-ups (as well as for my quick tipper, non-native speaker writer).

Allons-y!

You got it, pal. Stealing is one of your things; you will have to like, literally have a superdetective or something watching you.

The sound of a dice filled for a second Saulis’ mind; followed by his own voice on an extremely frustrated tone.

“NAT ONE?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

It wasn’t a superdetectivewhat cost Saulis’ to get free food for everyone from the Flying Noodle Monster (poorly translated into English by Tara), but pure hubris.

He was so certain he couldn’t be caught he didn’t considered for a second that, the gnome apparently sleeping with tainted glasses right behind him might, indeed, be only apparently sleeping and detect him almost immediately.

“Well…shit.”

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

The owners weren’t happy. Actually, they were so unhappy they made the totally of the party go behind their business to decide what to do with those scoundrels (that was, at least, Tara’s translation).

“We will work for you!” Nym suggested, while the rest made a face that left clear their opinion about said accord.

“We don’t need you, nor have the space for it. Unless you have something of extreme value for us…”

Saulis got a brilliant idea.

“Agnes! Your cake preserver!” sometimes, his companion was still childish (things a lack of proper childhood can do to people, WHO WOULD HAVE KNOWN?!), thing that had resulted in her inventing a special device where you can accumulate as many cakes as you want…and they stayed fresh as newly backed.

“But…but…it’s for cakes, not noodles!”

“You sure?”

“Well…I mean…It is technically for all short of foods, but that wasn’t my vision.”

“So, yes?”

She shrugged, sad.

“I guess.”

He turned to the Flying Noodle Monster’s owners.

“So…we have an exclusive invention that will preserve ALL THE FOOD you haven’t sold in perfect state for the following day. Do we have a deal or shall I go on more detail?”

For an instant, the couple froze in place and a dice was heard again.

“DIRTY TWENTY, WE ARE BACK!”

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

By the time they arrived at the door of a hotel to pass the night until their contact appeared the next morning (Nym still complaining about it being, as she had called them, Aphrodite fanperson), Saulis’ touchwas back at its prime, having enough money to rent the suite for the night (it was out of necessity, for the only place they could have stayed other way was what can only be called a well of filth and desperation where, apparently, the Amelia Earhart could be found).

As they entered the room, the groans of the whole middle/small-sized party could be heard from the other side of Hiroshima.

Why was everything so BIG?!

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

Extra notes for flavour: yesterday I had campaign with “OG” Saulis! And…we have kind of…er…enslaved a goblin and I forced my group to name it Grizzop (be all very proud of me pls).

The title of the story is from the song “Liaisons” from A Little Night Music; I’m sorry for repeating composer AGAIN…but…IT STILL HURTS SO VERY MUCH. I promise, tomorrow I’ll change.

As usual, likes/kudos (depending if you are reading this on Tumblr or AO3), feedback and random comments ARE SO HIGHLY APPRECIATED.

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

Also, thanks to the TMA discord channel that posted this prompts! You are lovely, gracias!

Now live on AO3!

Long life and prosperity,

Marla

[theharrowing]

BITTER/SWEET | 14

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Yoongi x Reader

word count: 1.8k

idol au, smut, fluff, angst, slow burn, slash, nsfw, 18+

warnings: explicit sexual content, angst, grief, depression, light fluff

It’s been a week since you last saw Yoongi. It feels like a blur. 

You’ve eaten (sort of), you’ve slept (you’re pretty sure), and you’ve worked (an okay amount), but you can’t really remember much of the time that’s passed. Your brain has been completely clouded.

First was the shock and denial. Constantly checking your phone, wondering if you should just call Yoongi, writing a part in your story about reuniting with him after some time and how much you two connected and missed one another (which he never messaged about, and you wonder if he’s read it yet.)

Next came the pain and guilt. You couldn’t believe how stupid you felt for telling him about your feelings. Your fucking feelings, oh my god, you think, how embarrassing why did I do that?

Then there was anger and bargaining. How dare Yoongi act cold with you after you gave him the attention and tight pussy he desired. He should be grateful to you. You wrote a part in your fanfic about how you no longer needed him anymore because you were sleeping with the female friend in the story, who suspiciously looked and acted a lot like Mari. You hoped that he’d read it and realize that he did want you around and apologize, but he never reached out with thoughts on the chapter.

Today, on Wednesday, it’s depression’s turn. You don’t feel sad or angry anymore; you just feel numb. You’re not responding to Mari’s messages; you’re barely getting work done. Sometimes you blink and realize you’d been staring at the fibers in your carpet for so long that they’ve become one large brown blur. You check your phone periodically to discover hours have gone by all of a sudden.

It’s warm out, so you decide to throw on some slightly decent clothing (that’s still baggy and lazily put together) and leave the house. There’s a new ice cream shop nearby that you would like to try. Maybe ice cream will solve all of life’s problems?

You’re shocked by how bright the sun is as you step outside and flinch for a moment like some goblin who’s been trapped for eons inside a cave. For a moment, you consider retreating back inside where it’s less bright, but you trudge ahead against your better judgment, hoping the sunshine will make you feel happier.

When you get to the ice cream shop, you find that the grand opening also features a Jimin cup sleeve event, so the whole place is crowded with BTS fans in line for their boba drinks. Boy With Luv plays loudly, and you feel suddenly nauseated. 

You skip the line because you’re not there for the event. Although somewhere tucked away in your cold, angry little heart, there’s a part of you that’s excited for AMRYs to come together and celebrate Jimin’s upcoming birthday, you mostly feel bothered by the noise. Music blending with excited voices, along with the reminder of what BTS has come to mean for you, weighs heavily on your heart, so you do what any rational adult would do: you order mint chocolate chip because it’s a flavor that Jimin hates. (Even though he’s done nothing wrong and is probably a wonderful person.)

There are benches nearby, and you sit, eating your ice cream slowly enough that it begins to melt in the cup. You watch birds hop around cutely looking for crumbs and scraps and remember what it feels like to enjoy something, causing a small smile to tug at your lips, which takes you by surprise.

But then his voice rings out over the speakers, echoing towards you as if attacking you. Yoongi’s romantic, thoughtful lyrics make you cringe. You wonder if he has it in him to actually feel for anyone the way he writes. His cold, blank expression repeats in your mind as he holds you at arm’s length in the dusty museum. You’ve had enough of this fucking ice cream.

Thursday, you put on a decent outfit and some makeup and go to work in the office. You’re at risk of not meeting your weekly deadlines, and your couch is starting to make you feel suffocated, so you opt for a change in scenery. 

At the office, Mari seems annoyed with you, so you bring her a caramel macchiato and apologize for not responding to her lately, saying you’ve been feeling under the weather, which isn’t necessarily a lie, and she appears to forgive you. You set up your workstation in her office, using a couch and a small table that’s in there. Her presence is warm and inviting, and you find you’re actually able to get a lot of work done. 

Is today your upswing? Are you finally starting to feel better, feel more like yourself? 

You and Mari make plans to go to dinner together after work. You’re excited to spend some time with someone else and try to get your mind off of everything else for a while. And that’s when your phone buzzes. It’s a message from him.

Your heart sinks, and you feel dizzy. What could he possibly want?

At first, you just put your phone away and ignore it. You’re having a good day; why let him ruin it? But you can’t ignore it, no matter how hard you try.

There’s a message that says, “It’s Hobi, can we meet?”

You sigh in relief. Hoseok has done nothing to upset you, and seeing him may actually make you feel a lot better. 

“I’m working now, but I’m off in an hour,” you respond. “Meet you at the suite?”

There’s a pause that you try to ignore, but it gnaws at you. You feel excited and anxious and annoyed that they have so much control over your emotions.

“Your place?” He responds.

My place? You panic for a moment, not sure if your place is fit for an idol, much less him, to visit. You try not to spiral, reminding yourself that he’s a normal person too, even though you don’t fully believe it, and then send him the address.

At about quarter to five, you’re so antsy you start to pack up and get ready to leave. Mari is a little surprised but reminds you that she’s excited about dinner tonight.

“Oh, uh—I’m actually—” you watch as Mari’s smile fades. 

“Who was texting you?” She asks.

“Who—what? What do you mean?” you stammer as your cheeks begin to feel warm.

Mari’s mouth tightens, and she looks frustrated by how oblivious you’re trying to act.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how your demeanor changed once you started texting earlier. You went from happy and excited to spend time with me to distracted and racking your brain for an excuse to bail.”

You let out a heavy sigh, mouth hanging open. What can you even tell her?

“Look...it’s complicated, and I can’t really talk about it,” you begin.

“Is it about that guy?” Mari’s eyes narrow. She’s referring to Yoongi pulling you up the stairs the night you two were at Hexagon.

“Kind of,” you admit, looking around the room, unable to make eye contact with her. You don’t want to see her get upset, but you also can’t control or steer the conversation beyond simply not telling her the truth.

“Fine,” Mari quietly concedes, “another time, I guess.”

You practically sprint home, nervous as fuck to see Hoseok again. When you get to your apartment building, he’s sitting on the stoop; a bucket hat pulled over his eyes and a black mask covering the part of his face that the hat doesn’t obscure. He’s in a bright, baggy t-shirt and baggy jeans. When you approach, Hoseok looks up, eyes wide and happy, and he stands to pull you into a tight, warm hug. 

Nervous, you let him inside the building, making your way to your apartment. Once inside, Hoseok steps out of his shoes and looks around, the edges of his mouth pointed down as if to say “not bad” as he nods. You roll your eyes at his modesty and grab some soju from the fridge, following him to the couch.

Hoseok watches you, first with a happy expression, but then his mouth turns into a slight frown. He opens his mouth to talk but then sighs and pulls his lips into a tight line, tilting his head, reasoning with himself over what he wants to say. 

“I’ve really missed you,” you finally say. 

You try not to sound or look too sad, but you can tell that your eyes say everything your lips aren’t. Hoseok brings his arm onto the back of the couch, pushing some of your hair behind your shoulder before twirling it around.

“Yoongi is quite literally going to kill me if he finds out I’m here, but I felt like you needed a push to patch things up with him. Frankly, I can’t stand seeing him mope so fucking much.”

You scoff, which takes Hoseok by surprise, his chin turning up and eyes widening.

“Mope? Yoongi?” You say incredulously. “That’s hard to imagine.”

Hoseok doesn’t move or say anything; he just sits and studies you as if there’s clearly been some kind of miscommunication.

You continue, “I mean...he has my number, he can contact me any time he wants! But he made it pretty fucking clear that he has no feelings for me and that he doesn’t want to see me anymore, so I’m not really sure what he’d be moping about.”

Hoseok’s mouth slacks open for a moment, and you can tell that, in his eyes, something has finally clicked.

“Oh fuck, he put up a wall,” Hoseok utters, staring at you wide-eyed.

Your pulse starts to speed up, and you once again feel a little dizzy. Unsure what to say, you grab a soju bottle and open it, emptying it into two glasses and handing one to your guest. You both take long sips before Hoseok continues.

“Yoongi…” Hoseok sighs. “...Yoongi likes to build defenses. He doesn’t like to appear weak and, although deep down he’s a very squishy, romantic, loving guy, he seems to worry a lot that he’s always going to have to leave people behind. To the extent that he never fully allows people to be let in, in the first place, aside from the guys and me. He doesn’t even really have friends outside of BTS.”

You sink into your couch, dazed. That would explain the contract. And how he became so soft and sweet but then pretended not to be bothered that I had ignored him. Because he was bothered. At the club, he seemed pretty bothered. 

You take another long sip of your drink before Hoseok grabs one of your hands in both of his, pulling your attention to him. His demeanor is so soft, so loving, his smile growing.

“We need to take you to him,” Hoseok says. 

You swallow hard, your eyes widening, “Won’t he kill you?”

“Probably!” Hoseok beams, his smile growing wider.

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

beta read by @neoneunnajimin​ 🖤 banner by me

BITTER/SWEET is copyright 2021 Nabi Olive, all rights reserved. let’s be friends on twitter!

[sadaboutniall]

happy halloween! 👻 here’s a quickie little yn x niall fic to celebrate my fave holiday! this song is the vibe, if you want some listening to go along with.

the moon laughs and whispers, ‘tis near Halloween

Unsurprisingly, Halloween is perfectly at home in Edinburgh. The night is dark and damp, a pervasive chill hanging in the air as you and your friends rush  drunkenly along the cobblestone street, rain hitting the backs of your necks, and  warm, golden lamplight from flats above trickling out onto the dark stone. The city is as alive as it always is—alive in a way that feels like a million different lives, like it somehow knows both the past and the future, like it’s holding you close but also hurtling you forward. It feels like tonight is a special night—and, although you have no real reason to think this Halloween will be different from any other Halloween, you let that feeling in, let it settle into your bones and carry you forward toward the party. 

It had been Fiona’s idea, going to the football squad’s Halloween party. Your other friends had championed a pub crawl or a scary movie night at the flat, but Fiona’d heard about the football party and, knowing the keeper she’s been crushing on would surely be there, insisted. And now you’re here, drunk in a witch costume on a dark October eve, your pointed hat barely keeping the rain off your face, orange and brown leaves crunching under the heel of your boots  as you pick up the pace and run toward the party, giggling into the night.

The football house is packed even fuller than you’d imagined it would be, the air thick with the smell of beer and weed and Fiona, dressed as Posh Spice, spots the keeper just milliseconds after your group ducks into the party, disappearing in a flurry of rhinestones. It leaves just three of you—Fleur, Amina, and yourself—standing in the middle of a heaving party, first years entirely out of their element. 

“Drinks?” Fleur, dressed as a zombie bride, asks. 

“Drinks.” Echoes Amina, the antennas on her alien costume bobbing as she nods her head. 

The three of you clasp hands so as not to lose each other and Fleur leads the way, zig zagging through the crowd of goblins and ghouls and strangely sexual Boris Johnson costumes until she finds the kitchen, a dark, damp little room with one, singular coffin shaped window above the sink and no furniture save for a wooden table in the middle of the room, without a single chair. Atop the table sits a literal cauldron, cast iron and all, with a pink liquid gently swaying inside. 

“Ick,” says Amina, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. “Boys.”

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s been in here for a hundred years,” you say, voice low. Something about the room makes you feel like you’ve travelled a million miles away from the party, just on the other side of the door. You can’t hear a thing in here—just the pitter patter of the rain against the window, and the creaking of the floorboards as Fleur steps forward.

“That’s probably true,” she laughs, peering into the cauldron. “I bet none of these lads can cook. They must order Nando’s every night.”

“Probably,” Amina agrees, stepping forward to peer over Fleur’s shoulder. “At least they went through the effort of making a mixed drink, though. I’m far too bloated for a beer.”

“Aye,” Fleur’s Scottish accent thickens when she’s drunk, but it sounds even thicker all of a sudden. “Commitment to the theme as well.”

“It smells lovely,” says Amina, shutting her eyes as she smiles. “Like roses.”

“Really?” Fleur says, as you step deeper into the kitchen and join them around the cauldron. “I reckon it smells like chocolate.”

You lean forward, too, despite yourself. The scent of the drink is intoxicating—neither roses nor chocolate but, you think, the distinct smell of a chilly day by the sea: salt air and a rising tide and it’s more like a memory than a scent, a moment in time, the most peculiar sense of deja vu. Whatever it is, it’s not the kind of smell that should be coming from a mixed drink at a house party. Whatever it is, you don’t want to step away from it.

The three of you—the witch, the bride, and the alien—stand over the cauldron for a long moment, breathing it in. There is no sound beyond the rain outside, no semblance of the party raging beyond the kitchen door. It’s just the three of you, this cold, quiet room, and the strangely comforting feeling that you are, after all, not alone. 

“Are there any cups?” Amina speaks first, glancing up at you, across the table from her. Her brown eyes are glassy, her gaze faraway. 

“Cups,” you echo, a little floaty, your mind still by the seaside. “Right. Let me find some.”

The room’s only cabinets flank the sink and the single window, one on each side. You find the first cabinet empty except for a shimmery spider web and an old looking candle, but the second holds exactly what you’re looking for: three cocktail glasses, set on the shelf in a pretty row, glinting despite the dingy light. Perfect.

“Bingo!” You say, turning back toward your friends. “And only three left anyw—guys?”

The room is empty. 

The cauldron still sits atop the table, its intoxicating smell strong as ever, but your friends are not where you left them, twenty seconds ago, when you turned toward the cabinets. Your friends are not anywhere in sight. 

“Guys?” You call out again, taking one step forward. “You’re so not funny. I found cups.”

Silence.

“Fleur? Amina?” You step forward again, toward the center of the room, toward the drink. “You want a drink, or no?” 

Still, silence—somehow more silent than before. Even the rain sounds like it’s whispering. 

“This is fucking freaky,” you say, one last shot, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. “You guys win, I’m fully freaked out, Happy Halloween.”

Silence. Stillness. A sudden, oppressive need to get out of this room. 

Quick as a cat, you do. 

-- 

When you step back through the door and out into the party, alone, it’s like you were never gone. In fact, it’s a bit like time has stopped—the party is just as packed as it was when you arrived, and you’re pretty sure the same song is still blasting through the speakers. Confused but ignoring it, you start to push your way through the crowd, in search of your friends.

A few steps deeper into the crowd and you spot a sliding back door. It makes perfect sense to you, the idea of Fleur and Amina slipping out into the backyard for some air, so you head straight for it, stepping out into the chilly, dark night. 

The rain has mostly stopped, though the leafy  ground is still damp beneath your feet and the air feels wet, like it could begin again at any moment. Although it’s dark, you can see well enough—the yard is illuminated by a group of jack o’lanterns lined up along the back brick wall, and fairy lights strung between trees, casting a warm, flickering aura—and it’s immediately clear that Amina and Fleur are not out here. In fact, no one is. 

You turn around to head back inside, pulling your phone out of your pocket as you do. And that’s when you walk right into him. 

“Lads, are you—oof. Deo, you eejit—shit, you’re not, I’m so sorry, are you okay?” 

“I—” you step back to collect yourself for a moment, eyes trailing up the hard chest you just stumbled straight into. It’s just a guy—blonde hair, bright blue eyes, thick Irish accent—but there’s something about him that keeps you rooted to your spot. Something about him that feels safer than going back inside. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He rushes, when you don’t answer. I should’ve been looking, I’m so sorry.” 

“No, no,” you manage. “I’m fine. It was my fault anyway, was looking at my phone. Are you okay? You sounded, like, worried?” You don’t know this man, you have no idea what his worried sounds like. But you can’t stop yourself from saying it. 

“Can’t find my mates anywhere,” the stranger says, eyes sweeping the backyard over your head. “It’s like they fucking vanished.”

“I lost my friends too,” you echo, turning to look with him, though you know you’ll only find an empty yard. “I thought they might be out here, but nothing.”

“Two lost souls,” says the stranger, a smile in his voice. When you turn back around he’s pulling at his phone, saying, “I’m just going to text them and tell them I’m out here. They can come find me.”

“I was about to do the same,” you tell him, glancing down at your phone in your hands to shoot off the text. “There are way too many people in there.” 

“Wanna wait it out together?” He looks up from his phone, a smile on his face. It brings out one tiny dimple, and sets your heart moving a little faster. “I’m Niall.” 

“I’m a witch,” you smile back at him and he laughs, blue eyes trailing down your body once. It sends a jolt of something through you, makes you hope the flush creeping up your face isn’t visible in the flickering light. 

“Have you got any powers?” Asks Niall, his eyes moving back up to meet yours. The blue is stunningly bright, even in the darkness. 

“That’s for me to know,” you say, more smoothly than you ever imagined. “And you to find out. What’s your costume?”

“You can’t tell?” He glances down at himself, dressed in double denim with an American flag bandana tied around his neck. “Bruce Springsteen.”

“Right,” you nod, though it wasn’t obvious to you at all. “Course. You need to work on that accent, though.” 

“Do I?” He raises an eyebrow, and adopts a surprisingly good—if over exaggerated—New Jersey accent. “I’m pretty proud of it, honestly. Been convincing people that it’s real all night.”

It’s not all that difficult for you to believe, actually, a bunch of drunk Brits buying into a fake, over the top, American accent without a single question. Instead, you ask him, “is there a tragic backstory, then? To go along with the tragic attempt at an accent?”

Niall laughs, bold and loud into the dark night, and suddenly you realize how entirely unafraid you feel with him—how you’d been on edge since the moment you stepped into the party but now that’s gone, evaporated, replaced, with a warm feeling in your belly and Niall’s infectious laughter. You bring your drink up to your lips and take a sip before you realize yet another thing: you have no memory of filling up your cup before leaving the kitchen. 

Across from you, Niall’s clutching what looks like a pint of Guinness, which is a drink that makes very little sense at a house party. The more you think about it, the less of the night makes sense. You shake your head to push it away, not quite ready to give this up just yet. 

Under the golden, flickering light from the jack o'lanterns,  you study Niall: the way his freckles sprinkle across his thick neck, how his roots are so much darker than the blonde at his tips, the tuft of chest hair peeking out from where his denim shirt is unbuttoned—everything about him leaves you breathless, desperate, longing, attracted to him in a way you’ve never experienced before. You feel, distinctly, that you are both supposed to be here, tonight, alone, together. 

You feel, distinctly, that something went out if its way to make sure this would happen. 

And maybe it’s the drink—the mysterious thing that smells like sea salt to you and roses to Amina—but here, with the wind rising around you and the night settling in, you have the distinct feeling that Niall is on the exact same page. 

“I have the strangest feeling,” Niall says, voice dropping to something like a whisper. Behind him, leaves rustle as the wind blows a strong, measured gust though the garden. “We haven’t met before, have we?”

“I don’t think so,” you can’t look anywhere other than Niall’s eyes. “But I know what you mean.”

Niall nods, taking one step forward to lessen the gap between you. He’s so close you can smell him: warm and musky and soft and something else, too—something that reminds you of salt air and days by the sea. “I just feel like,” he says, and you nod. 

“Me too.”

Far, far away someone calls your name, but you can’t stop looking at Niall, stepping closer and closer to him with every distant shout of your name. The shouting grows louder and louder until it’s impossible to ignore, although Niall doesn’t seem to acknowledge it at all. You open your mouth to ask him if he can hear it too, but before you get the chance something shakes your shoulder, calls your name one more time, and you open your eyes. 

“Jesus,” says Amina, a mixture of relief and concern clouding her features. “You are impossible to wake up.”

“I’m—what?” You sit up in bed, head foggy, limbs heavy. “Fuck, what time is it?”

“Noon,” Amina pulls out her phone to check. “We’re gonna be late for our brunch reservations, that’s why I came to wake you up.”

“Oh,” you rub your eyes, shaking your head to try to bring yourself back down to Earth. “I was having such a vivid dream, sorry.”

“It’s cool, just hurry up.” Amina makes her way to your bedroom door, but pauses before she steps back out into the hallway. “Oh, by the way, Fiona said there’s a Halloween party at the football house tonight and she’s fucking desperate to go since she fancies the keeper. Could be fun, no?” 

-- 

On Halloween night, dressed as a witch, you stand in the backyard of the football house with your friends. The yard is illuminated by jack o’lanterns and fairy lights and Fiona is off snogging the keeper upstairs and you feel warm and safe and happy, despite the autumnal chill in the air. As Fleur tells your small group a story about the weird couple sitting across from you at brunch today, you drop your head back to stare up at the night sky, sprinkled with stars, and the full moon peeking out over the clouds. It feels like you are supposed to be here tonight. You exhale, watching your breath fog with the cold and curl in the air above you. 

“I’m going to refill my drink,” you say, smiling at the small group you’ve been standing with. You can feel something budding between Fleur and the pretty girl she’s been chatting to, dressed as Britney Spears, and you want to give them a moment alone. Fleur flashes you a grateful smile as you walk away.

Back inside, you locate the entirely normal kitchen, bright and airy and crowded, with a coffin-shaped window above the sink, and pull open the fridge to grab a beer from the stock inside. When you shut the door, there’s someone standing on the other side. 

He’s dressed as Bruce Springsteen, double denim and an American flag bandana around his neck. He’s blonde hair with dark roots, and bright blue eyes. He’s staring right at you, with an unmistakable look of recognition on his face. 

“Hi,” he says, stepping forward to lessen the gap between you and him. He smells warm and musky and safe—with a whiff of something like salt air.  “Sorry if this is a bit weird, but I’m Niall. Have we—have we met before?”

####

sources for images: 1, 2, 3

[firemama]

Took a break from original content shit for tonight, and instead focused on this guy. Vanadinite: little absolute creature.

When threatened, will hunch forward like a little creepy goblin and transform hands v big (which isnt necessary, they kinda already got those big hands babie) to fight with. They look and move like a brawler or a boxer, and frankly their an extremely defensive fighter. They look short, with nothing around to compare them to, but they’re actually at least 5′6, possibly taller; the largest he’s ever come out is 7′4, but that’s not the norm. Two short gems = one ‘upsized’ short gem.

Because Trapiche Ruby is naturally very fragile, Vana tends to keep their first right hand closed and inward, to keep the gem safe and out of sight. The nature of keeping the fragile gem out of sight has mislead others into thinking Vana is a single gem, vut they’re definitely a fusion.

They’re usually grinning, smiling, or smirking. This means nothing. They grin threateningly, they grin happily, they grin smugly, they grin hatefully.

Also he’s got fucking freakily flexibly elbows that bend backward, and their back shoulders are also freakily flexible, but cant move in the direction of the forward arm. He can kinda reach his back arms up under his front ones, but only because he can bend his elbows really far, and it’s a strain to do so. His first arms can move with all the range of an average person’s, but his front elbows are just as freakily flexible as the back once and can bend all directions and it’s nauseating tbh.

Fun notes:

The inside of his mouth/mouthes is black, except for his teeth and tongue(s) which are lustrous and shiny.

Their hair floofs threateningly like a cat’s tail.

Vanadinite is an expert at sign language, which is great, cause they often have nonverbal bouts. despite having a grand sum total of 32 digits, Vana does not have any ‘pinky’ fingers.

Vana also likes having black ‘nails’ although sometimes they forget to form them.

Outside of facial features, hair, and the cracks, vana does not ‘personalize’ anything or alter their base form; he’s remakrably simple and no one is sure whether it’s because he’s corrupted and cant or because he just doesnt see fit to.

Vana has never been to the gem homeworld- they were first fused on earth but have mostly existed on mars.

They’re a semi-permafusion, spending equal amounts of time fused as unfused.

I havent actually settled on their color pallete, but Vana will be mostly red, which is the signature color of Vanadinite.

Many humans and quite a few gems call them “vanadite” which is not a gem; it’s the salt formed from using Vanadium-based acids, with Vanadium being the most notable chemical in Vanadinite. Vanadite has become a joking nickname of sorts, to call Vana ‘salty’ or cranky or grouchy.

Vanadinite, or rather, Corrupted Vanadinite, gets their ‘corruption’ from their counterpart, Corrupted Tiger’s Eye. The corruption is from francevillite, and it’s presence in both Tiger and Vana makes them very radioactive, although Vana is less radioactive than Tiger.

Vanadite has a natural alignment with the number 8. 8 fingers, of course. but also his sets of cracks come in sets of 8, as do the extra mouths. his eyes have a total of 8 lens-layers each. He tends to do things in sets of 8, like tap on things 8 times, take 8 steps at a time, or knock 8 times.

Vanadinite’s back arms are notoriously rough; their grip is firm at it’s gentlest, and crushing on average.

Both their mouth, and their “second” mouth which always forms at the throat, have three sets of teeth. These teeth are pointed, but are not expressly sharp, except for the very back row in each; those teeth are thinner, sharper, and jagged looking.

All of vana’s mouthes are capable of biting, breathing, and consuming. Aside from the main and second mouth, the other mouthes are very poor speakers, but can speak, although slurred and gravely. None of the mouthes except for the first and second ones ‘emote’ naturally- they dont smile or grimace on their own, but they can be made to intentionally. Results can vary on how well.

Vana has fond feelings for the human transgender culture. he/him sexless alien says Mood.

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Here’s the next chapter! Hope you enjoy. Also a big thank you to @edward-or-ford, as always, for his invaluable feedback!

Chapter Five: Into the Night

It’s three AM, I’m outside your window. Jump the fence; dad will never know. And then you took control of the radio, turned up all the songs I know. I’m risking everything, and that’s alright with me. - The Summer Set, Passenger Seat

Mabel Caroline Pines, age seventeen, five foot three (and a Virgo, for interested parties) was positively average. As in, she was perfectly fine. Reasonably acceptable. Nothing to gawk at, sure, but certainly not a goblin or in any way repulsive.

Her face was average, her boobs were average, her hair was average, her butt was average. Even her feet were average-sized. There was nothing inherently wrong with Mabel’s appearance. Sure, she’d change the odd thing here and there if given the chance to do so (the length of her eyelashes, for example, or the natural shape of her eyebrows).

Of course, Mabel would never admit such things out loud. How could she? It would ruin the confidence she pretended to have, and that simply wouldn’t do.

To be fair to herself, which she always tried to be, Mabel was quite skilled at creativity-driven tasks. However, no amount of creative proficiency could have prevented the required sleuthing, as well as pre-sleuth planning and timing, that one particular evening required in order to be pulled off.

Mabel didn’t deign to share with Candy and Grenda exactly whom she was meeting (“I’m sneaking out to meet my brother in the dead of night” hardly warrants a forty-five minute shower where she spent the majority of the time shaving parts of her body that didn’t strictly need shaving as they wouldn’t be seen, thirty minutes of blow drying and styling one’s hair, thirty more minutes of makeup application, the nervousness, not to mention the outfit-picking-out process), but she did say she was meeting a boy she might’ve sorta kinda had a teensy bit of a thing for. Her friends knew her well enough to know she was understating her feelings a great deal, of course, but they didn’t pry. Okay, they did, but they didn’t pry too much.

In any case, Mabel was quite pleased with the results of her hour in the bathroom mirror. She’d drenched the ever-loving crap out of her hair in glitter spray as she brushed it, and the hot air of the hair dryer made the spray set in so it didn’t get on Candy’s fingers while she began a partial French braid at the crown of Mabel’s head.

Y’know, the sort of hairstyle that, to the untrained eye, didn’t look like it took a whole lot of time and effort, when in reality, it 100% did.

“Why can’t we use bright red lipstick again, or wing your eyeliner?” Grenda complained.

“Because,” Mabel said emphatically. “If Di-“ Cutting herself off and pressing her lips together tightly, collecting her thoughts. Candy raised a slender eyebrow before Mabel continued. “If he sees winged eyeliner and bright red lipstick, he’ll think something’s up! I don’t want him to know I’m interested!”

“But you want him to look deep into your eyes, and the eyeliner will draw attention to them,” reminded Grenda.

“Yeah, and bright red lipstick will draw attention to your lips, which means he’s more likely to think about kissing you,” agreed Candy.

Mabel sighed and held up a tube of lipstick that was just a few shades darker than her natural lip color.

“The pink will do that same thing without being too obvious about it. If he’s interested, he’ll notice my lips and my boobs, and if he’s not, then, well… then he’s not, I guess.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” Grenda conceded.

Candy was silent for a moment, staring searchingly at Mabel’s face. “Who did you say you were meeting again?”

“I- I didn’t,” Mabel stuttered briefly, covering her discomfort by turning her attention to applying the lipstick. This was just as well, as if she had seen Candy’s highly suspicious expression, she would’ve been even more nervous than she already was, and it should be noted that that was no small amount by any measure.

Perfect. Just the right amount of “LOOK AT ME” vibes from her lips.

Grabbing a bottle of perfume, she sprayed a bit on her wrist, rubbing it against her other one, and then on her neck and under her ears.

“You guys sure this outfit isn’t too much? I don’t want him to think I’m trying to impress him, and the heels, I dunno...”

Both girls shook their heads furiously. “No, it’s perfect! And we already coordinated your makeup and jewelry so no way are we changing it up now!” Grenda exclaimed.

“Mhm,” Candy agreed. “And the heels are perfect! They make your hips sway extra when you walk and they make your butt stuck out a little bit! They’re not even that high, he probably won’t even notice you’re wearing them.”

Right. Nobody wore jeans when they were trying to impress somebody. Well, not when they were being obvious about it, anyway. And Mabel was certainly trying her hardest not to be obvious.

And she was 100% trying to impress Dipper. She wanted Dipper to see her and wish she wasn’t his sister, wish they shared a soulmark. She wanted him to ache so badly for her that it felt like his bones were trying to escape his skin.

She ached for him that way, after all. It was only fair she made him ache for her in return. Even if it was only once, only for a split second.

When Mabel’s phone chimed to signal she’d gotten a text, she snatched it up before either of her friends could sneak a peek at the screen.

I’m outside read Dipper’s text. Then a second one came in with a whoosh from her phone’s speaker. Lights are off so nobody can see my car but I’m here.

Mabel wasn’t sure where her heart was. It might’ve been in her stomach, or perhaps her throat, or maybe even Candy’s basement, but it most definitely was not in her chest.

“He’s here,” Mabel said quietly, standing on shaky legs. God, why had she worn heels? What had she been thinking?

“Are you ready?!” Grenda demanded excitedly.

“Nope,” Mabel squeaked out.

“Yes you are!” Candy said firmly. “You are absolutely ready! You look hot, girl, you’re gonna make him jizz his pants just from looking at you!”

Mabel seriously doubted that, and she would most definitely laugh if it happened. But yeah, it wasn’t gonna happen. Because no matter how much time Mabel spent on making herself look her prettiest, Dipper would only ever see her as his sister.

Still, though. A girl could dream, right?

Mabel has never really considered Candy’s first floor bedroom being an asset before, but it most certainly had become one. Climbing out a window was far easier if that window was on the ground floor.

Still, staring out into the blackness of the cold Oregon night as Candy popped out her window screen and set it to the side, Mabel wondered how she had gotten there. Thirteen minutes before midnight, done up like she was going on a date, about to climb out her friend’s bedroom window and tiptoe through the front yard to secretly meet her twin brother whom she just so happened to be in love with, praying to every deity she’d ever heard of that he hadn’t found his soulmate.

Not yet, she pleaded silently, staring at the outline of his car, just a shade darker than the trees and the night sky, barely visible at all. Let me have him to myself just a little longer.

She wasn’t ready to share him with another girl. She never really would be, but in time, she’d come to accept it. She had to, right? There was no other option. She wanted him to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with her, even if it made her feel like her body was consuming itself from the inside out, she wanted him to be happy.

“Mabel?” Grenda asked cautiously.

“I’m fine,” she assured her friend. She couldn’t mess up her makeup by crying.

Mascara and eyeliner were a bitch to fix.

Bracing herself on the windowsill, she put one jean-clad leg over and out the window, then the other.

Looking back at her friends in the light of Candy’s bedroom one last time, second guessing herself for half a second (she’d never snuck out before, after all), Mabel smiled shakily. Both her friends beamed back at her. Candy leaned down the couple of inches required to be at Mabel’s eye level.

“Knock ‘em dead.”

Grenda nodded enthusiastically. “And tell us everything when you get back!”

Grinning, Mabel hopped out of the window only to immediately realize that heels and frosty grass were not a great mix, and thus struggled to maintain her balance.

“Wait!” Grenda whisper-yelled.

Whipping her head around to look at her friends staring out at her through the window, Mabel smiled as Candy hastily squashed the essentials (phone, lipstick, tampons, breath mints, makeup remover wipes, and a compact mirror) into a purse before shoving it into the hand Grenda had stretched out behind her and was flailing about wildly, signalling to hurry the fuck up, Candy, time is of the essence here before finally tossing it at Mabel, who caught it with minimal fumbling and put it over her shoulder.

“We’ll leave the window unlocked. Let us know if you aren’t gonna come home tonight!” Grenda informed Mabel with an exaggerated wink and closed the window.

Mabel rolled her eyes affectionately and did her very best to hobble over to Dipper’s car with as much dignity as she could muster.

Heels and grass did not mix, and they extra-dextra didn’t mix when the grass was wet and very, very cold.

Reaching the curb, she perched her feet on it, and reached slowly, ever so slowly, towards the handle, and heard the click of the lock being undone from the inside. She couldn’t see in the windows; it was too dark.

The chill of the winter night bit into her fingers as they brushed the silver door handle, and she exhaled as she grasped it, her breath visible in the cold air.

Grasping the handle, Mabel opened the door slowly, and the overhead light in the car switched on automatically.

“Hurry!” Dipper whispered urgently. “Don’t want anyone to see the light.”

Mabel moved to sit in the passenger seat of his car as quickly as she could with the amount of shaking her limbs were doing, and settled in, closing the door behind her.

“Where are we going?” She asked, too afraid to look at him in the dim light of the streetlamp. She’d have to strain her eyes a great deal to see him, anyway.

“The woods. Not far from here. Just… somewhere nobody will see my car and recognize it.”

“Awfully recognizable, are ya now?” She tried to joke, but it came out stilted and awkward. Could he tell how nervous, no, how terrified, she was?

She could almost hear the shrug in his voice as he started the car, not turning the headlights on until they turned a corner.

“I mean… it’s a really small town. I don’t think there’s anybody here whose name I don’t know. So yeah, they all know what my car looks like,” he said it quietly, and it occurred to Mabel just then that he hadn’t turned on any music. The silence was suffocating.

Not knowing what to say, Mabel remained silent for a bazillion years, watching the trees pass them by. It was nothing like California, where the activity never stopped, just changed. It was quiet. Peaceful. Suffocating.

Okay, so it wasn’t actually a bazillion years. More like ten minutes. But hell if it didn’t feel like a bazillion years.

Dipper pulled into a clearing and put the car in park. It wasn’t a road, but it had clearly been driven over many a time.

The light came on again as he switched gears, and he turned the headlights back off. Turning to look at each other, really look at each other, for the first time since that afternoon, they found themselves speechless.

Dipper was, in a word, breathtaking. The soft glow of the overhead light lit the shadows on his face in such a way that his eyes almost seemed to glow, and his hair fell over his forehead in the most adorable way, and his lips were slightly parted and his cheeks were flushed from the cold.

It was warm in the car, but what else could his cheeks be flushed from?

“You look…” he coughed, looking at his lap briefly. “Nice,” he finished weakly.

“Thanks,” she managed to force out. Even a syllable was a struggle. God, how had she never been alone with him before? Why was the atmosphere so incredibly different? She didn’t even feel like herself!

“So… here’s the thing, Mabel…” he trailed off.

“The thing?”

“Yeah, the thing I wanted to talk to you about. Y’know. The thing,” he held his hands out and accentuated the last word with a movement.

“Errr… sorry, no. I don’t know what you’re talking about, bro-bro,” she shook her head. “You literally just left me a ultra-mega cryptic note saying you had to tell me something and that’s it.”

He nodded, ran a hand through his hair, and when he turned his head just so his jawline came into the light and- good god why? Why must the gods torture Mabel thus?

“Right. I guess…” he blinked rapidly, staring determinedly off in the direction of absolutely nothing. “I guess you wouldn’t, huh?”

“Is… is everything okay?” She asked him softly. “It’s gotta be pretty important for you to want a one-on-one meeting like this, so…”

“Yeah, I mean, no… I mean. Ugh. I dunno.” He ran a hand over his face, clearly agonizing over something.

What in the actual ever-loving fuck was going on?

“Dip,” she said, forcing a sternness she definitely didn’t feel into her voice. “What’s going on?”

“Right,” he said with a nod that appeared to be more to himself than to her, and then looked at her. There was something in his eyes. Mabel didn’t know what it was, but whatever was in his gaze, she knew in her very soul that it was the exact opposite of the frost on the grass outside the car.

Not that that made any sense, of course, but that was the only conclusion she could come to without at least forty-five minutes of analysis.

“Right,” he said again. “I guess… I guess it would probably be easier to just… show you, maybe…”

“Uh. Okay?” Mabel blinked. Show her what now?

Dipper held out his arm, palm up, except his fist was clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. His eyes were shut, too, and in much the same way, and then…

And then he took a deep breath, held it, and yanked his sleeve up.

Mabel’s eyes were fixed on the inside of his wrist. Dipper’s soulmark was a shooting star with the outline of a tree in the center.

Exactly like hers.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

How it started vs. how it’s going. 

Bean the night we brought her home vs. just before her two-year anniversary with us (April 11) after we came back from dinner.

She is such a sweet, silly, clever little baby. We’re two years in and still helping her with her reactions to other dogs, people walking by, and getting surprised because birds exist. The ways she’s grown and thrived are hard to describe. We’ve seen our love and acceptance help her grow confident and even in the last few weeks, she’s made huge leaps. 

She adores car rides because they lead to adventures, and she recognizes places that she’s been before and gets extra-excited. If the comic shop people don’t get her a pet while she’s there, she gives them a yip to demand one. She also knows that the Starbucks drive-thru leads to a treat (a pup cup) and will get excitement shakes the moment she spots the speaker.

I just found out the other day that she still cries when crated, which breaks my fucking heart. But she doesn’t chew the bars or the sides and seems to stop crying after about ten minutes, and we definitely noticed she’d snacked on the high-value treat we’d put in there when she’d never appeared to taste anything before, so even that is good progress.

Her toybox is full. Her wardrobe is extensive. She has a bed on the couch (with a heating pad) and a bed in front of the living room closet because it was her old bed, and she tore open and dug out the middle to hide an absolute treasure trove of bones and toys. 

I’ve been considering getting her a fluentpet board to help us figure out why she sits by the closet and stares at us (it tends to be one of several options), but we also fear she’ll figure out how to take over the world. I’m pretty sure that with a cold day and a few treats, she’d learn how to turn on the heating pad by herself. I think that much power may even be too much. 

She is our princess and our goblin, and I am covered in tiny bruises because her quicks are so long you can’t trim her nails for bluntness, and she is perfect.