#i shall continue these tomorrow

[gardenofnoah]

I present you a peridot and underneath is shinso's name on a slip of paper

u clever little witch. how did u know this was the perfect pairing. i adore u

peridot— “i didn’t know someone else’s joy could make me feel so happy.” (shinsou)

.

"what are you looking at?"

your voice snaps him out of his reverie—he blinks and there you are, watching him with mild bemusement.

"you," he reaches forward to poke your cheek, making you huff, "keep talking."

you grin at him and he feels it bodily—warmth spreads in his chest like you've plunged him into boiling water, but it doesn't hurt. he feels a smile of his own stretch across his face as your voice calls to him through the water in his ears. he wants to lean into it—he decides not to refrain, not to cut off this simple pleasure at the tap—and you don't bat an eye when he tucks you under his arm and presses a kiss to your temple.

"but yeah, it was good. like, really, really good. i've never had a meal like that," you let out a wistful sigh, like you're remembering a profoundly sweet memory from childhood—not the lunch you had with a coworker.

"oh!" you jump up from his hold, patting the couch cushions wildly until you find your phone, "we saw ducks! i took a picture because i wanted to show you the babies!"

you shove the phone in his face and sure enough—a mother duck and her gaggle of ducklings paddle around a murky pond on your screen. he watches for a few seconds before his eyes drift up to meet yours. he finds he can't look away, then, because you are beaming, nearly vibrating with some strange delight that he's not privy to.

but god, does he want to be.

his hand wraps around yours and guides the phone back down to the cushion. you cock your head at him, raising an eyebrow.

"you don't like the babies?"

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "i do—thank you for showing me, baby."

he pulls you back into his lap, enamored by the giggle you let out.

"you're awfully touchy today," you tease him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. he hums, tilting his head to kiss the curve of your jaw softly.

"that so?" he mumbles noncommittally against your skin, nuzzling into you like a lazy cat, "just missed you."

"you missed me, Hi?" he can hear the affection in your words and he settles deeper into the crook of your neck—nearly desperate to press closer to the rumble of your voice, "you missed my endless stories?"

hiding his face, he feels bold enough to say the thought that's been bouncing around in his head since you bounded through the door, eager to tell him every detail of your day like you always do.

"i did," he says quietly, arms tightening around your middle, "it makes me happy when you have good days."

you hum, a content little sound, and turn to rest your cheek against his head. your fingers find the purple strands at the base of his neck with practiced ease, and he's not sure he's ever felt like this in his life.

difficult to name at first and seldom felt so freely before you, he recognizes the feeling in his chest as one of joy, unbridled and emboldened in him by your own infectious laugh and animated recount of every tiny detail you gift to him. he knows it now as something of safety—there's no goal to reach and no competition to win in order to feel this. the satisfaction is as innate as breathing. you give it to him so willingly that you've led him to believe he might actually deserve to feel it, if not only for the fact that he is alive and human and sharing the moment with you.

your chest expands against his own with your next breath and he wishes he could climb inside your ribs and live there—surrounded by you and your warmth. but he'd miss the press of your fingertips to the curve of his neck and your wild, fluttering pulse against his lips, and he can't think of a thing he'd give that up for.

his arms tighten around you until you squeak and he presses his smile to your shoulder, nearly delirious with how good it all is.

"i almost forgot to tell you about the dog in the stroller!"

he can't wait to hear about it.

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

How You Turn My World; Chapter 4

You finally find your way into the labyrinth, coming across some new and old faces; both friendly and malicious.

Character; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, reader is getting tired of being stuck here and smelling like a bog

Content Warnings; Swearing, some talk of death, reader passes out

Word Count; 2.2 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

As per usual, don't put my work into AI.

You were finally making some decent progress, what, with not being stuck in some bog and knowing somewhat of where you were going. A vast improvement really! Well, it would be, but unfortunately, you still reeked of rotten eggs and skunk — apparently the bog stench only got worse the longer it stayed on.

“Why did it have to dump me into the swamp,” you huffed, rounding yet another corner. “Like, it could have dumped me beside the water, but, no, no, let’s dump the magicless human right into the putrid bog water! A good guffaw, don’t you think? Ha ha ha HA!”

At least your au de Bog of Eternal Stench kept any would-be assailants away since you hadn’t run into anything (besides a rose bush, ouch) since you started making your way through the labyrinth. So maybe it wasn’t all that bad… damn, maybe your sense of smell was just used to it… hey, if stink helps you not die, then you would gladly stay stinky! Well, bitterly stay stinky is more like it.

“Assholes,” you muttered, rounding another corner. 

But it wasn’t a corner; it was a crossroad. Three paths merged off of the one you were on.

… aren’t labyrinths just one long line? THIS IS A FUCKING MAZE?! You groaned, looking at your possible options which all looked exactly the same.

Decisions, decisions, decisions. Of course nothing is easy here, no no no! Gotta make things difficult now.

The hedge behind you rustled, and you whipped around, getting into a stance where you could either land a pretty good sucker punch to the hedge-stalker or make a mad dash away. But out of the hedge crawled out a small, fuzzy, caterpillar. And back at home you would have thought it was cute, but you learned your lesson from the doors; don’t trust it, or anyone for that matter.

You looked down at the caterpillar, and the caterpillar looked up at you, blinking slowly. 

What are the chances… 

“Do you know a way out,” you asked the caterpillar, crouching down so that you didn’t tower over it.

The caterpillar blinked at you again (apparently caterpillars in the Underground have eyelids, which isn’t the weirdest thing considering everything). “No,” it chirped and continued crawling on its merry way, wherever that may be. “But you’ll find the way.” And it disappeared into the growth of the maze, humming a little tune to itself.

You sighed, and pushed yourself back up, straightening out your shoulders and looking up to the sky. “I’ll find a way,” you breathed, looking up at the cloudless sky which was starting to turn a brilliant amber with the setting sun. “I might want to find a way is more like it.”

You looked back down to the ground, looking at the three paths in front of you. They all look the same, save for the ground making up paths themselves, with the middle and right paths looking well worn with travel. And while they may be well worn, there was a voice at the back of your head that was whispering caution. The left-most path was not as well travelled, with dead vines covering parts of it.

“Hopefully you’re right, little buddy since I could use all the luck I can get.” And you made your way down the path, hoping that it was the correct one and didn’t lead you to your death or some other unpleasant thing.

…

…

Lilia was at the entrance of the labyrinth, in front of the two doors.

“Have you seen a human, about this tall, a bit of a temper, and smelling foul,” he asked the doors.

The doors looked at each other before looking at Lilia. “And what’s it to you,” they said in unison.

Lilia smiled, but it was one of mild annoyance, not joy or amusement. “Royal orders I fear. You wouldn’t want the mistress finding out about you both tampering with a royal matter, would you?” The smile turned cat-like since Lilia had backed them into a corner.

The doors paled, with the blue door speaking up. “No no, sir! We would never dream of such a thing!!! Yes, there was a human, a wretched one at that, horribly rude!”

Lilia hummed, cocking a brow at the door. “I do think wretched is a bit of an overstatement now,” he whispered to himself. “Well, tell me where about they are then. The sooner I can collect them, the better for you lot.”

The red door sighed, “Near the heart of it, they took the left path.”

Left path? Why the left path leads to… Shit. Lilia mentally groaned, knowing that regardless of the path you took, you would end up having to deal with them eventually. “Your cooperation has been noted,” is what he said though, giving the doors both a nod before turning into a bat and flying over the labyrinth, trying to find you before you ran into whoever them was.

“Please be clever enough not to die,” he whispered to no one, hoping that he didn’t have to deliver your body to the Queen.

…

…

The left path brought you to what looked like a forest; with old-growth trees, ferns and moss covering the ground, and a list mist hanging in the air. It was peaceful and beautiful, with the setting sun illuminating the mist without burning it away.

But that would not last, night was fast approaching and you had nothing to protect you this time; no rowan tree to haul your ass up, and no sort of weapon to protect yourself besides the oh-so-lovely smell of the bog to deter something from eating you. You were pretty sure it would also keep away anything that wanted to otherwise snatch you up.

“AH!” Something jumped out from a tree, and you couldn’t fully register what it was since you were also screeching, much like the creature was at you; you with fright, the creature with amusement and joy.

Two other creatures jumped out from behind the trees and startled cackling, jumping, and clapping. Together, they surrounded you, with no way to really escape them without fighting through.

… you really should have read about fae species, since you didn’t know what they exactly were, or how dangerous they were either. 

One pulled you near a pit and lit a fire, cackling in glee and dancing, trying to get you to join them. “Ah come on, human, have some fun! DANCE BABEY!!!!”

But you stayed still as more creatures came out of the shadows, dancing around the fire, giggling, cackling, and pulling a bit at your clothes to prompt you to join them. You didn’t know, cementing your feet down, your eyes watching their movements with caution.

‘Should you dance with the fae, you shall not stop dancing until you exhaust yourself. And once you wake up, you will continue dancing. This cycle will repeat itself until you dance to death.’ 

At least that was what the book said, and so you stayed still, regardless of how much the creatures pulled at you. While it looked like a grand old time, you remained where you were.

“I don’t have time for dancing,” you answered coldly, flinching from pinching fingers. You were also a bit shocked that Eau de Bog of Eternal Stench wasn’t keeping them away. Either, they couldn’t smell, or, they didn’t care that you smelled downright awful. “So this ‘baby’ won’t dance.”

And should I be offended by you calling me ‘baby’ or am I reading too much into it?

The main creature just shrugged and spun its dancing partner around. “Your loss human! More fun for us then! YIPPEE!!!” And it threw something in the fire to where you could feel the heat on your face.

What now? You were just standing there awkwardly as the creatures danced about, singing something that you couldn’t really make out. All you knew was that the heat, noise, and the dizzying dance of them was making your head pound, and throat scream in thirst. You hadn’t drank anything for over a day(?) — no, bog water did not count — and the heat from the fire made the thirst only worse. Shit.

“Ah, you don’t look too… hot there human,” one of the creatures snickered at its own joke at your expense. “Maybe if you dance with us, loosen up and have a bit of fun, then you can have a drink? Hmm? Dancing won’t kill you!” But its failed attempts at covering up its own malicious giggles were more than enough to stand your ground… which was coming at you quite fast since you practically collapsed.

Was it the thirst? The pounding migraine that wanted nothing more than to crawl into some dark hole and hide? Or your exhaustion from making that tiring trek, crawling yourself out of the bog and making the trek again, or the hours you had spent wandering around the maze with no real idea of where you were going? All you really knew was that you were now on the ground with the creatures poking at you to see if you were still alive.

“Aw, man! Are they already dead? That’s no fun!” One of the creatures pouted, raising up your arm, and you let it plop back to the ground. “Come on human! Get up! You’re not a party pooper are you?”

Scre you buddy! Can’t you read the situation?!

You were trying your best to stay quiet, which wasn’t all that hard, since all of your energy was gone. 

“They best not be,” a familiar voice called out.

From your position, you couldn’t see who it was, but you could make out the creatures jumping away from you like you were the hot fire instead of the fire pit. But someone else was approaching until you could make out a pair of shoes in front of your face.

They crouched down beside you, placing their fingers gently at the base of your throat; taking your pulse. “Hmph, playing dead, are we, Beastie?”

That irritating chuckle. The annoying nickname. Those mischievous magenta eyes that now looked at you with curiosity and amusement.

It was him — Mr. Sparkles.

And he had just blown your act of playing possum (well, not really, since you had actually collapsed).

But you didn’t say anything, instead favouring to give him a dirty look. Yet he just shook his head in jest, and proceeded to pick you up and wrap you around his shoulders and neck like some sort of bizarre ermine pelt; better than being carried like a sack of potatoes or the bridal carry you supposed.

“Her majesty sends her regards for not turning or killing her guest,” Lilia offered the creatures. It would be such a waste and pity to see such an entertaining Beastie leave us too soon now. “But do know she won’t take to their condition lightly.”

My condition? I’m not some Victorian child with some unknown illness wreaking havoc on their body you know?! But all that you did was groan and cough. You couldn’t even cough in Mr. Sparkles’ (Lilia’s) face, since you had a lovely view of the moss-covered ground and the fae’s shoes.

He patted the back of your calves, and you would have kicked him if you had more energy, but you didn’t. “Now, we really should be off, since Beastie has… an hour to get out of this maze before they turn into some sort of worm, or a hedge; never know what this old labyrinth will decide on really.” Lilia chuckled at the thought (was it merriment, or was he happy that you weren’t joining the caterpillar you met earlier?).

“No,” you wheezed. “WoRm!”

“See! They said it themself! No worm! How lovely that we are on a similar wavelength, Beastie! Marvellous even!” Lilia exclaimed, and the both of you started levitating off of the ground. “Now, do enjoy your party, Fireys!”

The creatures (Fireys apparently) groaned but got back to their party, dancing around the fire like they didn’t just try to lure you to your death mere minutes before.

“Tsk tsk, Beastie,” Lilia’s tutting brought your attention back to him and you grumbled. “You owe me two favours now, you know. Lucky that I found you… although that part wasn’t hard. I thought you learned your lesson the first time you decided to take a dip into the Bog of Eternal Stench?”

You lightly kicked him, letting your irritation be known, but Lilia just hummed. “Now now, no need to be like that! Do you want to smell like a bog when you meet the mistress? She wouldn’t take kindly to your… unique aroma.”

You hissed out a breath since he decided to pinch at your ear rather harshly — prompting for you to answer. “No,” you whispered hoarsely.

“Also, do read up on that book, since you will want to know about the government and fae species etiquette!”

From a smelly bog and fumbling around a maze for hours on end, to finding yourself being taken to fae high society… was it too late to become some worm in the maze? I think being a worm actually has a better chance of me living.

But sadly, you were saved from an eternity of being a worm. Hopefully, Mr. Sparkles (Lilia) would cover for your blunders a little for when you found yourself in front of ‘the mistress’.

...

...

...

...

To be continued!

~~~~~~~

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @cheezy-moon @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

Link to Masterlist

[benevolenterrancy]

@hereticcryptid I appear to be slowly but surely developing an entire series about how Hensheng and Baxia apparently get fed up with their owners' inability to express their feelings and take matters into their own hands...

[futurelabs]

sad moment is no more.

let's appreciate my new fnaf sims while i crush on them

[hollowflight-propaganda]

Okay, so looking at my notes about Clay, he:

1: Believes himself to be solely responsible for keeping his siblings safe no matter the cost because he's the biggest and oldest (by like 20 seconds mind you)

2: Blames EVERYTHING that goes wrong on himself, to the point where he genuinely holds himself responsible for the deaths of others he has only been a witness for

3: Would rather die then let his loved ones worry about him because That's His Job and He's Fine, He Swears It

4: Was probably the one who got beaten by Kestrel the most as a kid because she was "trying to make that monster come out," and she wouldn't stop until he was unconscious

5: Believed for his whole childhood that there was really a "monstrous" side of his waiting to overtake him, and possibly that it would go after the only people he cares for in the world again

6: Thinks himself to be a failure because he can't be that monster, that he's the weak link in the prophecy, and that he has nothing to offer except HIS OWN LIFE

And one more that is my own speculation, 7: Puts up a front of being nothing but a lovable goof and foodie so that no one will look beyond the surface and realize that he has fears and doubts of his own. Because he's supposed to be the foundation, and he can't crumble on them. Besides, it's not like a monster who's at the center of everything bad that's happened to them deserves love, right?

In conclusion, the lad's due for a breakdown and I'm THIS CLOSE to making him go through it myself.

[enden-k]

sleepy time 🌙

[satans-knitwear]

Smooching youuuu

Treat me ~ Tip me ~ More of me

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

*me reading Gideons wiki page when I started getting invested*: "wow, three wives and also apparently married to Kremy?? The three wives must be backstory and we'll see how the Kremy relationship develops!"

*watching it unfold* "oh. my. god. Kremy, you beautiful bastard

[sembulapeyalneerpol]

someone go check in on annamalai... i need to laugh in his face

[vizishereig]

Chreon Week: Confessions (Day 2)

The TV is quiet, but still loud enough to hear, playing some sort of comedy show that takes place in a police station. Leon watches it with a mix of amusement and longing. Could that have been him if things had gone differently? Hanging out with coworkers, joking with fellow officers, the friendly competition?

He idly wonders if Chris and himself would have seen each other. It’s not improbable, with the other working in the S. T. A. R. S. office. They would’ve crossed paths every once in a while, for sure. Would they have caught each other’s eyes then? Would they have danced around each other for this long, trying to figure out if the other had liked them?

Leon’s brought out of his thoughts by heavy footsteps nearing the couch. He tenses a little, training more than actual fear, turning to see Chris coming towards the couch. The taller male rubs at his eyes blearily, probably having just woken up to find Leon missing from the bed. He rounds the couch, sitting next to Leon, and tilting over to lean heavily on the blonde.

Leon huffs, amused, but shifts, leaning back so he’s laying with Chris atop him, the other’s head on his stomach. The weight is more grounding than constricting, and Leon relaxes easily, the two of them facing the TV. His hands come up to scratch at Chris’s head absentmindedly as they watch the show, causing the male to go almost boneless on top of him. Leon smiles tiredly at that, his heart doing something funny in his chest.

The two of them are quiet for a while, both of them exhausted. It’s Leon who finally breaks the silence, the quiet itching at him, reminding him a bit too much of the silence of the RPD. He doesn’t have much to talk about, so his tired brain picks the first thing he can think of.

“You know,” Leon begins, tongue loose with exhaustion, tone more than little slurred with sleep, “I had a bit of a crush on you, even before I met you. An idealized one, but one nonetheless.”

Leon doesn’t look down, but he can imagine the confusion that probably appears on Chris’s face. It would be quickly washed away by a smile, one that’s either smug or fond. He can feel Chris twisting around to try and look at him, so he looks down.

Brown eyes are looking up at him, and yep. A fond smile decorates the other’s face, curiosity tinting his gaze. Leon looks back at the TV, a bit too tired to be embarrassed about his confession. Hands gently rub circles into his back where they’re circled around him.

  “Yeah?” Chris replies, voice also tired, but more than a little curious. “How come?”

  Leon tips his head back a bit, thinking. Claire had certainly factored into it with how often she’d talk about Chris. When she’s not around her brother, she’s all sweet words and compliments about him. The picture she’d shown him had completed whatever fondness he’d have for the male, as he was rather… well, cute in his younger years.

“It’s Claire’s fault,” Leon finally says, allowing his gaze to stay on the ceiling, tracing patterns with his eyes. There’s a soft laugh, and Chris’s chin settles on his stomach. Leon looks down, and those eyes are still looking at him, still so fond. But they’re also drifting shut. Leon hums softly, turning the TV off and shifting a little. Chris’s eyes open again.

“Time for bed?” he asks, smile still decorating his face. Leon nods, agreeing. Time for bed.

[sleepinglionhearts]

Well, looks like I made it to 27!

A big thank you to my friends and family for supporting me with love and kindness, and a lot of patience. A big thank you as well to all my online buddies, though I know many of us only occasionally chat nowadays. Y'all keep me going. ♡

Let's hope I have many more birthdays to come!

[sinni-ok-sessi]

I LIVED

[nappingmoon]

I see why everyone loves this

[metamagic-adept]

being employed sucks. being unemployed sucks. and just in case those two options aren't enough, there is also a secret third thing called being an independent contractor which combines all the worst parts of being employed with the worst parts of being unemployed to achieve Maximum Suck.

[m1thrun]

its very on brand of me to decide to start berserk while high

[veilkeeper]

oh im fucked im obsessed with them already