#it's fun to write; ngl

[local-ground-apple]

I just wanted to tell you that the Howl’s Moving Castle au with Vil makes me so fucking happy! Words cannot express the amount of excitement I felt when I saw the update! You have done a phenomenal job! Thank you so much!!!!!! <3

Thaaaaaank you so much for your kind words 🥹🥹

You literally made my day !

I'm glad you liked it＼(^^)／＼(^^)／

Have a lovely day/evening/night ! 🍏

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[keyotos]

well aware, you are always mine

summary ⎯ bf headcanons w/ hsr men!!

includes ⎯ dan heng, gepard, blade, sampo, jing yuan

tana's thoughts ⎯ keyotos being active and writing?!!!?!!?!?!

dan heng

⎯ TOTAL acts of service bf. cuts fruit for you, organizes your closet with you, helps you rearrange ur bookshelf. like all of that. he is ur #1 helper in all situations and is probably the most reliable person u know. if ur ever having problems, you always call dan heng bc he always solves them for you

⎯ considerate bf. listens to all ur song recommendations and also your book recommendations. never takes your word with a grain of salt (most of the time)

⎯ not a big fan of shopping trips, but will go with you anyway. he will carry all your bags and help you pick out clothes. AND HE WILL GIVE U ACTUAL FREAKING ADVICE INSTEAD OF BEING LIKE, "it all looks good on you."

⎯ like dan heng will pull up with, "that color washes you out," or, "that does not match your color pallete at all." he's detailed wit it too?? the only reason why he knows all of this is bc he pays attention to you.

you see something you like? let's find it in that color that matches w/ ur fav pants so you can wear it all the time. don't worry, i already found it.

you look dissatisfied? dan heng thinks he knows why: you think it won't look good. oh, he was right? well, he can help you style it in a way for it to look good. you can wear that with the shirt you like so much, with some added jewelry, of course.

⎯ does not spend ANY TIME in his room (but who could rlly blame him). he's always in yours and he's lying down in your bed. he takes the phrase, "make yourself at home," to another level. but i guess he gets a pass bc you literally are his home.

⎯ he's sarcastic asl. since his guard is down with you, there's not really a need to maintain seriousness at all times. his dry and sarcastic humor really comes out when you're around him specifically. dating dan heng would make u a victim of the sassy men apocalypse.

⎯ dan heng is the type of person to stare at you lovingly (like HEART EYES are coming out) while you guys are taking a photo together. and you wouldn't even know until you saw the photo. like picture this: you are over here smiling and being cute or whateva. and then dan heng is there. he's obliviously staring at you: like how the light perfectly bounces off your face and how perfectly your eyes crinkle when you smile.

⎯ when he feels secure around you, he is the definition of lovesick. longing stares from far away (even tho ur dating)? yes. touchy (you make sure to tease him about it)? yes. buries his head in the nape of your neck? duh. like he is the whole package and he can never seem to let you go... like ever. you are constantly stuck in his head and also his body.

gepard

⎯ hilariously bad at taking pictures. like you tell him to get one angle and he gets the exact opposite angle. manages to always catch you off guard in every. single. picture. his excuse for this is, "but you look good in all of them :/"

⎯ when he gets super tired after work, sometimes when he gets home and finishes showering/etc, he just flops onto u. like. literally flops onto you. you're always shocked at first, but you move him into a position where he can comfortably sleep (and hold you) in and then you relax. he always apologizes for it later in the morning and makes sure to shower you in more affection than last night, but you always reassure him that it's fine.

it's only bc u take the time to take equally bad photos of him #payback.

⎯ you have to water his plants for him. we all saw this coming. but on the bright side, that means ur home more often!! and when you greet him on the couch after a long day... like you've never heard a deeper sigh of relief before. doesn't collapse on you like other days (thankfully). you two just spend the night eating dinner on the couch and watching reality tv. sometimes, when you fall asleep on the couch, gepard always brings a blanket from your bedroom and drapes it over you. and then he carries you into bed.

⎯weirdly good at cracking your back for you. like if he wasn't the captain of the silvermane guards, he could very well be a freaking chiropractor. like he knows all the right joints to pop, all the right places to put his hands, and all the right places to press down. and it feels SO GOOD. you've never asked him about it.

⎯ gets you really cute and considerate gifts since he isn't around a lot. sometimes gets lynx to deliver them for him. and they're always paired with your favorite flowers too. all his gifts r things that he remembered you liked/wanted (new shampoo brand, new book pela recommended, new plants).

⎯ still asks if you wanna go out even if you two have been dating long term. like he would text you and be like, "would you like to go out with me for coffee," all formal and wtv, and you would respond like, "gepard we have been dating for five years. you do not need to ask."

he would get all flustered when you would bring it up at the coffee shop. pays for your coffee so you could forget about it (you don't: you tease him endlessly).

⎯ learns other things for you. he's dedicated and loyal to you like how a soldier is dedicated to their general. if you wanted a specific kind of dish, gepard would learn how to create it. if you wanted to learn how to plant certain seeds, gepard would run to the florist (and pela) to ask for many tips. if you spoke a different language, gepard would be running to duolingo.

though there is always his duty, a part of his heart and soul will always belong to you.

blade

⎯ contrary to gepard, takes the BEST FUCKING PHOTOS of you. he should be a professional photographer or something because, all the photos he takes, makes you look like a MODEL. he gets all the angles perfectly right + he always makes sure the lighting looks good. and u look back at all the photos he took and ur jaw is DROPPED

⎯ hates going outside x goes outside 24/7. you're big on exploration and fun while blade wants to lie low. but either way, you two manage to have fun in your own respective ways. blade watches you from a distance (of 1 foot) and only intervenes if he needs to. other than that, you drag him around the entire place. he is not complaining: one stupid and cheeky grin from you, and blade realizes he is an absolute goner.

⎯ a little too supportive. it's a good thing in all aspects except for one: making decisions. this mf is like, "whatever you do, i fully support your decision." BUT THE PROBLEM IS THAT YOU CANNOT MAKE A DECISION. THAT'S WHY UR ASKING HIM.

⎯ this problem comes up very often during shopping trips. where dan heng excels at shopping trips, blade... not so much. blade is the type of bf to say, "everything looks good on you." but not bc he doesn't care enough: he genuinely thinks you look good in everything.

in his mind it's like: how could you think you look bad in that outfit when you are radiating luminosity from every crevice of the room??? does anyone else see that glow coming from you, or was it just him??

⎯ did not have a favorite color until you. he actually didn't have a lot of favorites before he met you. now his favorite color is blue (you like looking at the sky), his favorite scent is peach blossoms (the shampoo you use), and his favorite food is fried rice (it's the only thing you know how to make).

⎯ does ur hair for u. expert in hair care but it's not uncalled for (his only friends⎯not counting you⎯are silverwolf and kafka). you need to braid your hair? blade has already offered before u could even pull up a tutorial. a new cute hairstyle you wanted to try? don't worry, your boyfriend is there to help you part, section, and clip your hair.

⎯ pretends to give off big scary dog energy, in reality he is a small little lapdog. desires your love and affection so often. does not go out without you. grabs things n carries them to u like a cute little dog would. he's very devoted okay?? let him bring u stupid little trinkets and stay by ur side all the time.

⎯ you send him stupid ass memes all the time. one time u sent him one of those stupid 'good night' memes and he threatened to block you (lovingly). but he found that his reactions always make you laugh (and blade wants to keep you happy forever), so he just lets you send them to him atp. most nights, he sends a simple, "good night" text back. but when he wants to tease you, he sends a goodnight meme back.

⎯ those nights, he thinks that he hears your ecstatic giggles from down the hall. you sound so giddy that it makes his heart want to blow up. those are the good nights.

sampo

⎯ bro is mischievous. he leaves little sticky notes for you all around the house and makes it a game for u to find them. they're not even super important too they're just little things like, "i miss you," or, "did u find all the notes???"

⎯ but he knows you get bored easily, so he made those notes so that you could have something to do during the day. his intentions are adorably sweet, but his execution is so. um. A FOR EFFORT!

⎯ most of the stuff he gives you... hate to break it to u but they are usually stolen. if you choose to ignore that, great! most of the things he grabs are usually rare and u have no idea how he gets them. you swear he doesn't leave belobog, but some of the items he gifts you seem a little too... outlandish. but yk, it's the thought that counts!

⎯ manages to distract you from every single task. usually disruptive, but sometimes, very helpful. after an entire day of work, you can always come back home to where sampo is, because he will always find a way to distract you from whatever stress you have on your plate. whether it be cooking you dinner or simply talking you through his day, you always find yourself feeling slightly better around him.

⎯ has a good relationship with your family. yeah this was very unexpected on both ends. your parents love him: they love his humor and his looks and literally are charmed by him. even tho is a CON ARTIST. anyway. sampo loves your parents and messes around with you by calling them as their parental names (mom/dad). you are not amused.

⎯ grabs dinner before he comes back home. always manages to swing by a place you like and he always gets free food (you've gave up trying to question his methods). before, when he brought home food, it was usually a special occasion because he would never be home often. now, it's a common occurrence: he's wanted to be with you more, and now he brings home food every day.

jing yuan

⎯ the xianzhou's nagging king. this is not a good thing. he nags at you for a lot. did you take your allergy meds? did you eat breakfast today or just drink coffee? did you forget to clear out the pencils on your desk? he does it out of endearment. it does not make it less annoying (lies).

⎯ so accustomed to your little routines together that he can do it with his eyes closed. how do you want your tea? easy: he can list it within ten seconds. he can make it with his eyes closed. and he will always make it perfectly too.

⎯ lets you sleep on mimi (you could say you go mimimimi). not even gonna lie, sometimes he wishes he was mimi. you just sleep so peacefully on her, but you refuse to sleep on jing yuan. you make up stupid excuses like, "your bicep is going to be numb by the time we wake up." but that is simply not true (it is).

⎯ favorite times of day are when it's night. okay that didn't make any sense but he really just likes spending the night with you. it's quiet and the world is much less loud, and it feels like being with you redefined the definition of happiness. everything is so much more peaceful, and plus, you were there.

⎯ being a cloud knight general has its negative aspects. so, much like gepard, he would probably also crash into bed with you at night. but this time, he doesn't need you to move him, because he traps you in between his arms every. damn. time. it's like this man cannot fall asleep without you.

⎯ sitting down with him is like a chore. if you two are sitting down, jing yuan likes to grab your legs and move them onto himself, so you two would be closer. this isn't just on the sofa, by the way. armchairs, conference chairs, office chairs. the chairs don't even have to be connected. he'll just find a way to connect you two anyway.

⎯ you are the first person he looks for in a crowded room. in a place full of people, jing yuan's eyes will only scan for you. his height makes it easier to do so btw. but anyway, you are someone of great importance to him. he doesn't want to lose you like how he lost so many. and when he finds you, it's like the sun shines directly on you: it's always a surreal sight when jing yuan sees you, because he always thinks the sun has risen.

⎯ it hasn't. he was always looking at you.

AND GOOD NIGHT. jfc.

[welcometogrouchland]

I understand that literature nerd Jason Todd is kind of overblown in fanon compared to it's actual presence in canon (a few issues during his pre (and post?)crisis Robin tenure that highlight it) BUT consider that I think it's hilarious if the unhinged gun toting criminal has strong opinions on poetry

[thesunisatangerine]

prometeme (promise me)

alexia putellas x streamer!reader

warning/s: nothing, just fluff

a/n in the tags

*first emoji set: grinning face with big eyes and a thumbs up

*second emoji: a thumbs up

You put the controller down, hands shaking, letting out a victorious sigh of relief. 

“Woah, that boss was something else. Jeez, I’m literally shaking, guys. I can’t believe I survived that last hit!” You chuckled, still a little breathless from the adrenaline pumping through you as you looked at the camera. “We nearly died but we pulled through! I’m just going to take a small break ‘cause that was intense!”

You stretched your arms before you grabbed your tumbler of water next to you, allowing your eyes to flit over the windows on your three monitors, ensuring that everything functioned properly for the stream. 

Then as you sipped your water, you spied a rather big influx of comments on one of your chats from the corner of your eyes. It was your Instagram chat that seemed to be in danger of exploding–that fact in and of itself was weird because most of your audience were on Twitch and YouTube. So you frowned, squinting your eyes slightly to see what was happening.

‘why is alexia putellas here?’

‘So…. are we not going to talk about how Alexia Putellas is watching this?’

‘omgggg HI ALEXIAAaA!!!’

‘wait alexia who??’

‘ALEXIA?!!1?!?’

‘FORÇA BARÇA!!!!!!!!’

‘yoooo alexia is here?!?’

‘yall who tf is this alexia???’

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your sockets and you just as nearly spat out the water in your mouth. And sure enough when you scrolled up as subtly as you could, there it was: alexiaputellas joined. What the fuck is she doing?! And as if it wasn’t already bad enough, you saw her comment. 

alexiaputellas: nice 😃👍*

That did nothing but add fuel to the fire because more comments started flooding in, most of them freaked out and confused.

‘guys she just commented!!!!’

‘eyooo look at your chat alexia wants to talk to you!!1!’

‘do you two know each other??’

‘HI ALEXIA!!

‘can somne pls tell me who alexia issss’

‘alexia aren’t you supposed to be training why are you here lol

‘this is so random wtffff’

‘ikr i didnt even know she likes stuff likes this’

And then you spotted the question you dreaded to see: 

‘wait, are you guys dating??!!?!?’ 

Oh, you were so going to kill her for this. But first, you needed to find a way to calm this situation down without arousing further suspicion because if you ignored it, it would definitely just come back to bite the both of you. 

Most of your followers knew that you liked football. You’d mentioned on a number of occasions that Alexia was one of your favorite players so you knew you couldn’t act too dumb but you couldn’t act too familiar, either. You needed to act just excited enough to know that one of your favorite footballers was watching you but not overtly so that it would look unconvincing. Yet still, that wouldn’t answer the question of why Alexia Putellas would be watching a videogame livestream especially when said livestreamer wasn’t someone she followed. Not to mention that the time at where Alexia was supposed to be was–you looked at the clock widget on your monitor that displayed your time and Spain’s–was currently 3 am!

Alexia, you little shit.

Thankfully, you caught sight of a comment on your Twitch chat that gave you a good segue to start addressing this.

“‘Hey, look at your Insta chat,’” you read out before adding, “why? What are you guys up to on there?”

You made a show of moving your mouse. 

“Woah! Okay, why are y’all freaking out?” You squinted your eyes slightly, trying to seem like you were trying to figure out what was happening. Immediately, you were bombarded with responses telling you that Alexia was there.

“‘Alexia Putellas is watching’. Ha, very funny. There’s no way, y’all are just playing me.”

Then another good response popped up for what you said and you read it out loud. “‘She commented something.’ Where?”

You scrolled your mouse profusely, furrowing your brows for effect. Once you found it, you held your breath, widened your eyes slightly and covered your mouth with your hand.

“Holy sh–no, there’s no way… Uh–I don’t know what to–Hi, Alexia! And, thank you?” You put your face in your hands as you let out an embarrassed sound–half-real and partly an act. It wasn’t difficult to imitate a fan when you were one yourself and just because you were dating Alexia that didn’t stop you from fanning over her when she’s on the pitch. 

The chat seemed to calm down and you were thankful that that little play worked. 

Then you added, addressing the chat but you hoped that Alexia would get the clue to not do anything else or better, to leave the live. “This is so weird! I don’t know why she’s on here but Alexia, I hope you enjoy the show!”

To your mortification, Alexia replied in the chat again.

alexiaputellas: don’t worry, i will 👍*

Groaning internally, you watched as the chat exploded again. What did you expect really? You had to admit you played yourself there, you should had known that Alexia would do that. You tried to do damage control but at this point, you just hoped that your followers wouldn’t look into this too much. You made a mental note to talk to Alexia about her not joining any of your streams with her official account. 

“Okay, so I guess we should get this show back on the road, huh?” With that, you picked up the controller and started again. You had about an hour of streaming left and you started counting down the seconds. You only hoped Alexia wouldn’t try anything again.

———

“Thank you to everyone who tuned in tonight! I enjoyed it very much and I hope you did, too! Have a good night–or a good day depending on what time you’re watching this–and I’ll see you guys again in the next stream!”

You waved and directed one last smile at the camera before you disconnected the stream from all your platforms. Then you spent some time tidying up some loose ends before finally shutting everything down. You stretched as you got out of the chair, opened the door of your stream room, and made your way to the living room.

“Did you have fun?” You asked drily, throwing Alexia a dirty look as you crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe of the living room. Alexia laid comfortably down on the couch, a matching pair of grey sweats and shirt on, feet propped up on one end and one arm under her head on the other. She placed her phone down on the coffee table when she heard your voice, looking at you with an innocent look though the cheeky quirk at the corner of her lips said anything but.

“Well, since you asked, I did.” She added, grinning, “you looked so cute flustered like that.”

“You’re unbelievable!” You grumbled as you threw your hands up in exasperation but there was no sting to it. And what did you get in response? The sound of cheerful laughter. It was contagious and the mask on your face cracked, making way for a smile that left your cheeks hurting from how wide it was.

You walked towards the couch and Alexia scooched over, making space for you as she held her hand out the moment you got close enough. 

“Come here. I missed you.” Alexia said in a soft voice, her hazel eyes just as gentle in the low light. She pulled you down so you’d lay against her side, your head on her chest and you sighed contentedly, immediately melting in her tender warmth, her arms strong and steady wrapped around your waist. 

“It’s ony been three hours.”

“That was three hours worth of not having you next to me.” She kissed the top of your head as she muttered the words and you felt your chest ache as if your heart wanted to burst out to reach for hers. Being this close to her, it was the best place in the world. 

You hummed in response, nuzzling your nose against the column of her neck and breathed her in. “You’re such a sweet-talker.”

“Not if it’s true, my love.” Alexia countered without a second thought. Your cheeks and ears warmed and you hid your face in the crook of her neck.

“Alexia, stop!” 

You felt the vibration of her laughter against your cheek. “What? I’m not doing anything!”

“Yes, you are. You’re doing everything right that sometimes it scares me,” you admitted in a whisper. Alexia brought a hand over your cheek and brushed the skin there with her thumb in a soothing manner.

“Who’s the sweet-talker now?” Alexia said teasingly.

“God, you’re so annoying. I don’t know why I love you.”

At that, she laughed again. “You like it when I’m like this. And I love you, too.”

A moment of comfortable silence filled what little space between you. You listened to the steady rhythm of Alexia’s heartbeat beneath your ear as she played with your hair. 

Then you spoke, “just promise me one thing, darling?"

“What?” Alexia hummed.

“Warn me before you do that again.”

She turned to catch your gaze, brilliant mischief twinkled in those hazel eyes, her dimples showed as she said, “that I can’t do.”

“Alexia!”

[fairyhaos]

How To Fucking Write: a guide by fairyhaos

[masterlist]

this post details:

STARTING A STORY

PACING A STORY

hi gays and gals and welcome to "how to fucking write", a post (series) where i talk about how i brainstorm for writing, plan for writing, write the writing, and everything in between. nothing too serious here lmao, but i'm definitely planning on making at least a couple posts on this bc a) it's fun and b) i wanna help! so if you find this useful then pls lmk by reblogging + drop an ask if there are any specific things u want me to give my two cents on ^^

okok and now without further ado,,, let's look at the topics i'll talk about in today's post!

#1 - HOW TO START A STORY.

.. bullet point one : have an idea

the first big thing is that you need an idea. doesn't matter if you're a pantser and don't plan out your writing before you start. that's totally fine! but before you begin, you need at least an idea: maybe it's a vibe, a character personality, a specific journey you want the characters to go on. maybe it's a piece of dialogue. maybe it's the ending- the point you want to end up at after however many thousand words.

whatever it is, it's best to have some inspiration, some idea of what you wanna do. no point in writing if you don't know what you're writing, you know?

(of course, that brings up the issue of Having An Idea in the first place, but finding inspiration to write is a whole other can of worms we can open in another post.)

.. bullet point two : practice

okay, so now you have an idea. how do you put that idea to paper? how should you actually start your story?

it’s all to do with practice.

it’s the most annoying piece of advice in the world, but it helps so much. you just have to write lots and lots and lots, to find the way that works for you. whether you wanna start your stories with pretty scene descriptions, with dialogue, with dramatic one-liners. finding your voice, your style, what’s most comfortable for you, is really really important. and takes practice.

an example, though: for me, i prefer either a line of dialogue, or one-liners that a) help immediately establish a character’s personality or can b) introduce an interesting setting.

[chan + swingset] — one-liner example

[hoshi + silly] — dialogue example 

but of course, everyone’s style is different. so i’d recommend playing around! find a list of one-word prompts and just write a few that inspire you, writing the beginnings. it’s important, also, that you’re having fun, because if you’re already struggling with starting to write, it’ll be even harder if you’re doing it while feeling stressed.

.. bullet point three (mostly just for longer fics)

maybe you don’t find a style, in the end. maybe you’re comfortable with all of them, which is totally fine! but then you look at your writing, and you think, “oh… this isn’t as good as i thought.” 

and it makes you want to give up. what do you do, then? how do you carry on with your start?

just put words to paper. it doesn’t matter if the words are terrible, if you’re making up shit and using placeholders for description words or whatever. just carry on, get to a place you’re happy with, like the end of a scene, or maybe a dialogue exchange you really like.

because now, guess what? you’ve successfully created a first draft.

making first drafts is actually so important. seriously. first drafts allow you to fuck up, allow you to write terribly. they help you fumble and trip your way to the finish line (or at least a rest point) so that you can go back and do better.

even if your first draft is terrible, it’s helped you make your way to a point you’re happy with. now you have a vague idea of what you want, even if the description or characterisation or something is way off. because now, you can edit it, or even scrap it and use only a few words from that draft in your next one. or maybe, if you look back at it, maybe it’s even decent enough for you to use. 

whatever it is, when you first start writing that story, think of it as ‘The Worst Draft’. because it probably won’t be as good as you want it, and it’s okay. just write, with no fears of it being bad, because that’s literally fine. it’s not set in stone. the backspace button exists. after your first draft is made, make another. and another, and another, because i promise, after that first draft, it only gets better from there.

#2 - PACING A STORY.

.. bullet point one : adding things

pacing is always really tricky. however, i do think that slowing a story down is easier than speeding it up, so here we go,,,,

finding out the exact way to slow down a story really depends on what type of story you're writing, but there are a few all-round things you can do which can help pretty much any setting.

if it's a scene with loads of dialogue, and things feel like they're jumping to the end topic too quickly, add descriptions. your readers are blind, writers, and they depend on you to be able to see what's going on. are your characters having a conversation on the street? take a break to describe what they see. are they in a coffee shop? maybe someone comes in with a huge noise, or their coffee arrives at their table. are they hanging in midair with nothing around them? well, describe the actions of the character they're talking to, then.

example: (from my seoksoo fic bc it's the only long fic i'm working on rn)

by adding character descriptions, movement, thoughts, instantly everything seems to have slowed down. it thickens time, allowing you to move at a more leisurely pace.

if it's a scene full of action, you can do the exact same thing. maybe there's a high-tension moment and something significant happens. slow down time there, describe something small in great detail. talk about the thoughts they're having.

and even if it's just an ordinary scene, describing is important. the setting, the characters' actions, their thoughts. it's okay to write too much. then you can delete things which make things feel like they're moving too slowly.

.. bullet point two : delete

not gonna lie, finding out how to speed up the pacing of the story can often be really specifically tailored to the setting of the story.

with stories that have loads of action (spy, apocalypse, etc) i'd recommend adjusting sentence length. you'll want short, punchy sentences, without loads of commas and clauses, but you'll also want to experiment with having those short sentences gradually get longer. it helps with tension and suspense.

it has to be short. running fast. something to elevate fear. quick, but also desperate, before they then spill over each other, picking up pace, all of the thoughts blurring together and going faster, and faster, and faster, and then-

then the penny drops.

people use the metaphor of music a lot, and it really does work that way. it needs to ascend to its climax: gently, cautiously, before sprinting upwards and only describing things like the barest emotions (the fear they feel, the panic, anger, anything) before everything reaches its peak and comes crashing down in a flurry of action descriptions.

but of course, the easiest way to speed up something is to delete. delete swathes of setting description. delete unnecessary dialogue. delete an entire scene and rewrite with only the things you remember (which can help make sure you only have the essentials in your scene, btw. very helpful).

it might take a bit of adjusting, rewriting, moving things around, but ultimately, quickening the pace of the story depends on the way in which you write things. be concise, be dramatic, and don't dawdle.

... and that's it ! if anyone has anything else they want advice on (how to structure, how to write dialogue, how to plan etc) then just shoot me an ask, because i'd love to help however i can :)

tagging: @selenicives who asked for this in the first place hehe ^^

[wisteriagoesvroom]

how each driver would respond to “would you love me if i was a worm” 🪱

(and you actually get turned into a worm)

charles leclerc: gets the whole ferrari team to take turns looking after the worm. there’s a care roster and a motivational talk and everything. you become not charles’s worm but the ferrari worm. he posts a really cool social media story about “my journey looking after the worm.” you are loved, if a bit haphazardly.

max verstappen: “do i have time to keep a worm? probably not. but i will get someone to get you a decent box i guess. sorry if my cats eat you.”

oscar piastri: “no. you’re a worm.”

lando norris: professes his love and says “of course i would, babe”. only to be away so much on holiday or busy on track that you eventually perish in your enclosure

lewis hamilton: yes and will get you the most beautiful box with all sorts of fronds and ferns. he will build you the cutest little jungle gym of mind-enriching worm activities. you will see him about once a year but he will make sure you’re always fed and happy. he will help raise awareness of worms in their ecosystems all over the planet

carlos sainz: actually is very good at keeping the worm/you alive but is thrown for a loop because charles and lewis are all doing exceptionally with their worms. he flushes you down the toilet in a moment of emotional distress

alex albon: doesn’t tell anybody about the worm but will eventually have the longest living worm although everyone will forget this fact.

george russell: holds a drivers meeting about whether it is ethical to keep worms and should they in fact be considered emotional support animals. the vote is split and the outcome is undecided

fernando alonso: makes a tiktok with you “day in a life with my worm”. then leaves you on the side of the road and you roast to death under the sun

lance stroll: begrudgingly looks after you for about a week after which he pawns you off to his sister who is now stuck with his random worm

kevin magnussen: gives the worm to his daughter who uses it for a school project. it’s very cute

nico hulkenburg: people forgot about him so he didn’t even get a worm. he’s not that sad about it.

zhou guanyu: would seem totally neutral about it but end up incorporating a worm design into his track fits and his helmets. his worm helmet goes super viral on weibo.

valtteri bottas: will use you for fishing bait and might be a bit sorry about it.

pierre gasly and esteban ocon: constantly fighting over the same worm. nobody knows that the other has the exact same one. it ends with the alpine TP stepping in and confiscating the worm. the worm somehow gets acquired by mclaren.

yuki tsunoda: he keeps you in a box that is structurally very questionable but yuki somehow finds time on the road to get you the highest quality worm feed and vegetables. you thrive under his gourmand care although he shakes the box way too hard sometimes

daniel ricciardo: changes you immediately for a caterpillar and hopes nobody notices. the caterpillar takes ages to turn into a butterfly and then people are asking bro i thought you got a worm. he gets a caterpillar tattoo.

sergio perez: couldn’t care less. thought you were roadkill stuck on his windshield and squishes you with the windscreen wiper by accident

logan sargeant: WHAT DA FUK IS A WORMMMMM? your worm life ends prematurely when logan accidentally drops your box on the floor. james vowles gets him a new worm and it remains to be seen whether the second worm is better (hopefully it is).

[orphicrose]

The co-host (Alastor x FemReader) V

< >

Summary: You are Alastors Co host in life, perhaps more. But are separated by a sudden death. When you are finally reunited in the under world, it is up to Alastor to figure out why you don’t remember him.

@cannibalcoyote @kahlan170 @sugxryratz

_______________𖤐

It seemed like the broadcasts had ended their torment over the pentagram. Remaining completely silent for almost a week now. Y/n had noticed this too, thinking that maybe he was being genuine. They had kept their meetups public, for her safety and peace of mind. Mainly at coffee shops around her warehouse. They adventured a little further today, to cannibal town. Only agreeing because it was nearby to a place she had to meet her boss that day. 

"So, your boss is quite a well known sin?" He asked, lifting his dark coffee to his lips and bowing the steam off the surface. She nodded, sipping at hers. "How did that come about?" 

She shrugged in return "Guess I accidentally sold my soul" She said, sarcasm clawing at her tone. He hummed, unsatisfied with his answer. "Do you like your job?" He was grasping at straws now. The question tickled her, unable to contain her laughter. 

"Do i come across as a particularly content individual?" She chuckled. Wiping an invisible tear from her eye. "I work against my will. If it was up to me I'd... I don't know, write. Or broadcast the news." He saw a light in her, like the light he saw all those years ago. She is still in there. 

She looked down at her watch, gasping and standing abruptly. His ears twitched as the chair screeched backwards against the concrete., and looked at her waiting for an answer to the deviant behavior. "I was supposed to meet him at the abandoned office block in five minutes" She struggles to put her coat on, one of the arms of it being inside out. He watched her struggle, amused, leaning on his hands. "What you looking at?" she huffs. 

"Need a little assistance?" 

"I can put a coat on!" She bites back. He shrugs, clicking his fingers and dragging both of them into their shadows on the ground. Reappearing outside the abandoned building. "I could have done that" Y/n rolls her eyes, shoving the rest of her arm into the sleeve. 

"I'm aware, but I want to see this oh so powerful being" He adjusted the tie atop his ironed suit. "How do I look?"

She turns to look at him, stress showing in the veins on their forehead. "You're not coming to a meeting with me. If you want me to trust you, leave. Please" Her face softened to a more desperate pleading expression. Making him submissive to her, and agreeing. "I will wait out here for you, darling" He smiled, receiving a smile back as she begins moving towards the door with nothing more to say. 

Satan enjoyed quieter areas, giving him more space to think. Less people to deal with was an ideal world for him. He went to seat himself on an old chair, before it gave out. Nearly ending with him on the floor. Glad no one was there to see that, he dusted himself off and resorted to leaning on his staff instead. The door creaked open before him, dust circulating the room like air flow.

"You're on time. Interesting..." His voice rumbled through the room, stirring old dirt, making the ceiling drop old paint onto the floor. She shut the door behind her, not moving an inch towards him. "Your numbers dropped for a while. I see they are being picked back up. You may have just saved your soul"

"What soul" She mumbled under her breath "What?" "Nothing!"

He stood up straight, adjusting his posture, and striding towards the demon. "Don't let it happen again" His presence hovered above her, eyes scared to be taken off his. "I can't replace you as easily as every other soul, but that doesn't mean that i won't" A hand fell to her chin, his calloused fingers pulling at her face to move closer to him.

Just outside the room stood Alastor. Listening in, It might be important, he thought. 

"Don't let me down, or I'll remind you of all the reasons of why you wiped your own memory" His lips spoke next to her ear, finishing his sentence with a hollow laugh. "I will be back in a month" and with that, his body melted away to the bone until there was nothing left. He had left her in the discomfort of her own skin, alone, almost fragile. She felt as if she could follow him into the ground and flow away forever. But that wasn't the case. Whatever she had forgotten was obviously bad, since she erased her own memory. So the last thing she wanted was to be haunted by them all over again. 

Alastor, on the other side of the wall, struggled to maintain a smile. Wide eyes like he had been stabbed in the back multiple times. She erased her own memory? Of him? Perhaps she found out what he was and couldn't bare the thought of seeing him again. His heart ached. 

"Alastor" A startled voice came from the door frame "I thought you said you'd stay outside" Y/n sounded almost angry, too exhausted to portray any emotion other than fatigue. He stared at her blanky, still showing a face of hurt. His smile wanting to drop, but looking at if there was rope physically holding it up. 

"I'm... sorry" He mumbled, static dropping from his voice completely. "I will see you some other time."

He vanished. Leaving her, once again, alone. Truly alone this time. "Alastor?" Y/n questioned. Genuinely calling out for him. What did he hear that upset him that much. He looked hurt. She never thought she'd see that emotion in his eyes before. 

Days passed, no site of him. She had seen him everyday for weeks now. A few days, she even stayed out late in sketchy alley ways. Hoping he might show to scare her. She missed him, but she wouldn't admit it. She even thought she saw him in the corner of her eye on countless occasions. Some part of her was screaming to trust him, and the overlord in her was telling her to keep a look out. 

He will show up eventually, she thought, he's just busy with cannibal stuff. 

In a glaring radio tower on the other side of the pentagram, Alastor stared at the rotting city below him. Feet kicked up on the sound board in front of him, a coffee in his hands, pondering. He convinced himself that he should stay away, but he missed y/n oh so much. It was difficult. He had sent his shadow to watch over her, make sure no one was giving her any grief. 

"So, is this your murder chamber?" That familiar voice came from behind him, sounding very concerned. He almost spun off his chair, whipping his head to see her. 

"How did you find me?"

"I wish i could say it was my amazing detective skills, but i had help" She shrugged, looking at the moving shadow that was connected at his feet once more, giving his owner a sheepish grin. Alastor tutted, shaking his head. "I wanted to know why you ran away? I haven't seen you in days"

He bit his tongue, struggling to think of the right thing to say.

"My apologies, Miss l/n" He started off.  "I have very conflicted feelings, i suppose. I guess you could say that... I'm worried that who I was in life scared off someone very dear to me." He tried to laugh, but it turned into more of a whimper of distress. 

She stood awkwardly with hands behind their back for a second, but as he spoke, y/n found themselves moving closer to him. Looking at him with sad eyes. "Did something I say-"

"I just had a moment, darling, I'm fine." He cut her off, exaggerating his smile to sway her questions. He turned in his seat, facing the large window overlooking hell. 

"If they truly loved you..." Y/n moved closer, standing just behind his seat. "I'm sure they could get over it. No one is perfect" her hand creeped onto his shoulder, sharing the same view with him. 

"You think so?" His heart dropped for a second, as if she was confessing her love for him. He could only dream that was the case. 

"I do"

"Thank you, Y/n"

[iamnotokaythx]

just an idea:

reader “loses” miguel’s engagement ring, so he resorts to tattooing it on your finger so you can never pretend you’re not his 🥰

it could look so cool too with a red/blue/black design yknow?

anon i like the way your brain thinks. lowkey wanna do a pt2 where reader’s escaped him and is trying to cover up the tattoo to get rid of all evidence of him

cw: needles, tattooing, established relationship, reader has never gotten a tattoo/is a little afraid, yandere!miguel, gn reader, its all lowercase

—

“miguel, don’t you think this is a little bit much?” you ask, fidgeting with your soon-to-be inked finger.

“well, you lost the ring. this’ll make it to where you always have it on.” he replies with an innocent smile.

“i mean, we could look for it. and then we could put it on a chain?”

“true, but metal rusts. i’ve paid good money for a tattoo artist already. no whining.”

you decide to give up; it’s not like miguel is easy to sway when he’s set in something. the car pulls up to a parking spot in front of a cute mom and pop’s shop. miguel would have done it himself, but he has too shaky of hands and wasn’t certified—only the best for his darling.

the shop smelled like insence. you were led into a small room where a heavily inked person was sterilizing their needle. they turned back to you and waved you forward. “hi, are you mx. o’hara? appointment for 2:00.” they asked to be sure.

“soon to be.” you murmured, noticing how miguel grinned and stood up a little straighter as the artist referred to you as his spouse.

you sat on the chair and miguel offered his hand. post-eyeroll, you grabbed his hand anyways.

“i’m afraid of needles.” you warn the artist.

“it’s alright! many people are.” they promise you. “so low long have you been together? oh, and do you have wedding plans?” they ask over the whirring of the gun. they roll their chair to get right beside you, causing miguel to bristle a little bit.

“we’ve been together a couple years. our wedding’s planned for 2 months from now. they just keep losing their ring, and i like reminding everyone that they’re exclusive to me. we belong with each other.” miguel didn’t let you speak, too eager to inform even this random person that you are his and he is yours.

the tattooist glances up after miguel’s slightly creepy rant and laughs hollowly. “understood. well, you definitely do love them.”

“of course i do.” he snapped, earning a light hit from you.

“miguel. it was a compliment.” you scold him. he rolls his eyes. you squeeze his hand in anticipation as the gun touches down onto your ring finger.

“sorry.“ he muttered unapologetically.

-

on the car ride home, he held your hand in his and gazed intently the ring around your finger.

“it’s a little… vibrant.” he criticized, the hues being brighter than he envisioned. “the reds especially.”

“it’ll look more faded once it heals.”

“oh. good. not too faded though, right? i mean, it’s gonna be visible.”

“yeah. it’s a tattoo, miguel.” you remind him.

“ah. right.” he murmurs, still mesmerized by the ink. “do you think that artist was flirting with you? they were really close to you.”

“no, i don’t think they were flirting. they were hired to tattoo me.”

“right, right.”

“what’s your plan for after the wedding? get this one removed and then tattoo the wedding ring on?”

“…”

“that was sarcasm. and the tattoo was uncomfortable, i don’t want it zapped off just to replace it.”

“don’t lose your ring, then.” he flashed a cocky smile.

[yeyinde]

YES the smoking kink is developing... im asthmatic but im also a whore so id give anything to sit on price's lap while he smokes his cigar. idk if you do smuts BUT mmmm imagine c*ckw*rming him, sitting all nice and pretty for him, him calling you a good [insert nickname here] or "sweet little pet, behaving so well for me" abdvsvdhisb my brain is short-circuiting there is only daddy price thots

"Good girl—," it's a coarse purr slurred around the end of his cigar, billowing with satisfaction. Dark, rich. The euphonious praise makes you shiver. "—bein' so good for me, ain't you, mm?"

⇾word count: 2,2k

⇾warnings: cockwarming, mentions of smut; dom!Price; breeding kink; feelings resolution (kinda)

⇾notes: i'm back on my soft Price agenda.

There is a dull throb in your body—the twinge of a low-grade fever—that simmers in your marrow. You feel like a massive contusion: worn and sore, tender. It’s not entirely dissimilar to an elastic band pulled too far, stretched too taut; it slips, skin smarting where it strikes. The burn makes you mewl into the soft, damp heat pressed beneath your cheek. The rich scent of oakmoss and cedar fills your nose, settling heavily in your lungs. 

You find comfort in the charred sycamore and sweat that trickle down your throat. 

Lashes flutter in a futile effort to blink away the milky cobwebs that spool over your eyes and shroud the world in moondust, but each blink feels like an offering to Hypnos. It keeps you in that equinox of sleep and wakefulness: a borderland between two states. 

You blink again, lashes connecting like a lock and key. An anchor. 

It feels like a battle to open them, but you do when the land beneath you ripples. Rumbles. The movements of tectonic plates; the aftershocks jar you into cognisance. 

Your heavy eyes lift. The world is condensed into a blurry varicoloured smear of wry burnt umber curls, blotchy peach and pink flesh dusted with topaz freckles, and the hazy edge of a white collar.  

It takes you a moment to shake off the tendrils of Hypno's grip, and then you’re back—back, but not quite. You exist in a hazy realm of understanding. A strange purgatory where you last remember searing heat, and pressure, and—

Being battered by the thick of his cock, wrenched around like a rag doll as he planted his feet on the floor, and canted his hips into your quivering body. It is all a murky bog of bliss and euphoria. Gentle words. The grind of him digging into the plug of your womb, the searing heat when his mouth latched onto your pulse point. The molten bloom in your cunt when he came, filling you up. 

Resting your head on his chest—eyes mercury and head fuzzy; somnolence leaking over you like slow-rolling molasses. Just for a minute, you slurred out, basking in that liquid pleasure that spooled inside you. Just a minute. 

It all lingers in a gossamer of pleasure that bleeds over your thoughts.

And now:

Cognisance returns in a slow drizzle of familiarity. 

Rough skin grazing yours. Thumb brushing the aching knob of your hips where he dug his fingers into the soft give of your flesh, rutting into you like a man starved. The deep, even breaths that crackle in your ear; the rise and fall of his chest. The warmth of his body. The heavy scent of him permeates around you—amber, cured spruce wood, burning tobacco leaves, and smoke. 

The sizzle of burning tobacco leaves. Charred ashes. The scent of his cigar clots in the humid air.

Your head pounds from the explosion of endorphins that ripped through each synapse until they were liquid, and brimming with bliss; your body buzzing as each and every nerve pulsed with the deluge of dopamine. The crash of it leaves you feeling windswept, and conquered. 

A low hum resounds through your chest, the echo of it reverberating through your ribcage. The hand slides from your hips, resting heavily on the small of your back. Coarse hair ticking your nose. The rustle of paper sounds somewhere in the distance—clearer, now, that the world has stopped spinning. 

An elastic band stretches, and stretches, and—

Pressure. Tacky warmth. A fullness that perches on the equilibrium of familiar and foreign.

—snaps back. 

You mewl at the liquid fire in your veins, and the too-full feeling inside of you. 

"Shush, shush." His beard grazes your cheek when he lowers his chin to your ear, voice thick and full of smoke, drenched in nicotine. "Easy, love. Sleepin' beauty back with me, eh?"

You huff into his neck, throat thick with his taste and barren of words. Bone dry, your tongue slips out, drags over your kiss-bruised lips, accidentally catching the iodine on his skin. Balmy sweat. The sea in autumn. You press your mouth to his pulse, feverish for the familiar taste, and eager for more. Teeth scrape across his skin, suckling in the ambrosiac tang of him until it floods your mouth.

He rumbles again, a throaty trill that makes your core throb. Another inhale around his cigar; a crutch, you think, to stem the want.

Price pulls it away, arm brushing over your back. You can see the smoke rise out of the corner of your eye. It's clutched between his thumb and forefinger, dangling over the armrest.

"Start that again, and I'll end up throwin' my back out." He husks, warm hand dragging up the length of your spine until he cups the back of your leaden head. "Ain't as young as I was." 

The heat of his voice, the way the smoky roll makes your belly flutter, brings awareness to that strange sensation inside of you. Your sore muscles clench around the thick of it— 

"Fuckin' hell—!" His head falls back, tipping against the back of the seat. The groan that slips out is stretched taut and frayed. 

Your thighs flex, shifting. You feel the sticky mess pooling in his lap, glueing the coarse hair dusting over his thighs to the back of your legs, under your ass. It leaks out around the plug of his softening cock. 

He's still inside of you. 

It ricochets through you, rippling down your spine. 

The sensation of it sits in a strange haze of pleasure; it feels good to have him inside you like this, but without the normal movement, the grind of him against your walls—brassbound, thick—it feels foreign. Different. A dip into too much. The pressure of him sitting there, still stretching your walls taut, makes you keen in your throat. 

"Ah—John—"

“I got you,” he says, etching small circles over your spine, head tilting to nuzzle his chin over your crown. Soothing. Calming. "I want you like this," he murmurs, throat clicking when he swallows. "Want you sat on my cock—just like this—while I finish up here. Can you do that for me?"

You huff, breath pluming over the skin of his neck until goosebumps form. It's strange, and too much, and—

"It's okay," he rasps, cock thickening with each of your exploratory wiggles. His hand slides down your back, settling you with a soft noise. "Easy, now. Just take it, yeah? Keep me inside of you like this. All my cum inside of your cunt."

He burrows his head into your neck, beard scratching over your raw skin. It makes you moan, makes you flutter around him, pulsing like a heartbeat. His words are nirvana in your veins; a bludgeon to your core.

"Might even take hold, eh? Filled you up—nice and deep—and now it's gonna stay here, mm? Gonna—fuck—gonna get you—"

He bites the word off with a growl when you moan, muscles spasming around him. More cum leaks out of the tight seal.

He groans again. A purr imbued with smoke. "You want that, don't you? Want to be good for me, mm? Just like this."

You swallow down the briny taste of him on your tongue, lashes fluttering. Heat pools in your belly. 

Just like this. Just like—

You’ve never considered keeping him inside of you after he was finished, sat pretty and fucked stupid on his cock, but it ignites a fever under your skin. There is something intimate about it that makes your heart prickle, and your breath quicken. You shift, burrowing deeper into his hold. It's easy to find comfort on his lap, in his arms. You exhale deeply through your nose, breath ghosting through the coarse scruff on his neck. 

It's a strange feeling being completely bare, stuffed to the brim with him. Your thighs are tacky from his spend slowly leaking out around the bulk of him as he moves in his chair, finding his own comfort. 

His gaze slides to you when he brings the cigar to his mouth, eyes pitched low and liquid in the soft, jaundiced light of the lamp on his desk, waiting. The spark of ochre, bright vermillion, as he inhales catches in the sapphire pools. Magna in shades of blue. Mercury congeals on the rim.

He looks good with a cigar dangling from his teeth.

"Alright?" He murmurs around the thick of it, soft and velour—eyes brimming with something thick, syrupy sweet. 

It surprises you sometimes that this man who's often nursing tea to soothe the rawness in his throat after howling himself mute on the battlefield can speak so gingerly. Growling whispers; pinched commands barked out in rasps are one thing, but this—

Soft curls of smoke seep into the aether. Mild and molten. Liquid fire.

The fact that this adamantine man speaks to you, only you, in abated whispers, as if he's softening himself, scourging the grit from his throat after years of screaming himself raw, sneaking his father's cigars in his youth, and down glasses of scotch as if it was water makes something rear within you. 

It clots inside your pericardium: a mass of affection, cloying and full. 

He wants this. You can see it in the dichotomy of blue that fixes itself on you, firm and unyielding. He wants it, but he won't take it. He won't make you stay here if you don't want to. You feel him inside of you, and the contrast juxtaposition between earlier when he was seated just as deep, in this very position, to now, when the room is bathed in ochre, and thick with the scent of sex and sweat and stale tobacco, is worlds apart. Different. But—

It's somehow more intimate than when he'd sat over his knee, and slapped the cheeks of your ass until it was bright red and blistering. Or when he perched you on the edge of his desk, growling out commands when you adjusted, trying to stem the sting when you sat, and buried his face between your thighs, drenching his beard in your slick. 

Him, inside of you like this feels—

Natural. Domestic. 

You flush, heart thudding as the bloom of—

Affection. And something else, something you bite into pieces, chewing between your molars until it's ground down into ash, masticated before it can be spoken aloud. Unutterable words not meant for the brisk and brutal physicality of your relationship, and yet. 

It's there. Lingering. 

Your head swims. You drop your forehead to his chest, greedily soaking in the warmth that bleeds through his still-damp shirt. His heart thuds in your ear, crown pressed beneath his chin when you turn. 

Price waits for a moment, eyes still burrowing down at you, searching for any flicker of discomfort. Always the dutiful leader even when he's buried to the hilt inside of you. At your soft, breathy sigh, he turns away from you. Clears his throat of the smoke, thumb cresting over the knobs on your spine. 

"Good girl—," it's a coarse purr slurred around the end of his cigar, billowing with satisfaction. Dark, rich. The euphonious praise makes you shiver. "—bein' so good for me, ain't you, mm?"

"Yes," it's tremulous, brittle. The breathy whisper makes his pulse quicken. His nostrils flare. His brows tick, waiting. Expectant. And you flush, words thick and soporific when you utter them:

"Yes, daddy."

He groans, throbbing inside of you. The cigar wobbles, teetering dangerously between his lax mouth. He rights it, biting into it with a snarl. "Bloody hell…" 

He doesn't act on it. His eyes crest, lidded and full of smouldering want, but he lets it rest, lets the flame simmer. It's not about that right now. Not yet. Not when there is a small fell of paperwork on the desk behind you, and sleep beckons you, spits poison in the crest of your eyes, glossy and lachrymose until your eyes grow fuzzy, thick with exhaustion. 

His weighted gaze lifts when you melt in his embrace, settled, secure. Just where he wants you. Needs you. 

Price reaches for the paper, trading it for the cigar. His gaze oscillates between the report in his hands—unspeakable evils in underbellies unknown—and the soft way you muzzle into his chest. You can feel his eyes on you. A pendulum. It makes you smile, heart singing. 

When he eases in his seat, eyes drifting back to his work, low hum and murmurs falling from his lips as he loses himself in the ugliness of the world, you press your lips to the tender beat of his pulse and whisper those unutterable words into the smoke-drenched warmth of his chest. 

His breath catches, a shallow exhale. His hand stills. Body tenses. 

Your lashes flutter when you open your eyes, meeting his liquid gaze.

His shoulders sag. You hear the rising crescendo of his heart when he presses his lips to your crown. He clears his throat again. His thumb brushes your spine, slower this time. Reverent.

Charred, husking words, the colour smoke seeping from the end of his lit cigar, spill from his lips, tender, softer, than ever before. 

[apolloskazoo]

THE LAST OF US JOEL & ELLIE TEXTPOSTS

because I got bored

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @disasterbuckdiaz @tizniz @jesuisici33 💖

more of the cheating fic bc I'm loving the scene with Hen and Buck is being sooo messy and sooo oblivious and I'm having so much fun lmao - also, I gave myself a deadline for posting the first chapter whether I finish the whole fic by then or not (I hope I do lol 🤞) so this is gonna be my main focus for now haha (unless inspiration takes me somewhere else)

prev snippet

___

“Do you love Eddie?”

“Of course I love Eddie.” Buck huffs. It’s the most obvious thing in the world. Eddie and Christopher are his world. The only thing is… “I’m just not sure if I’m in love with him.” 

“Then why the hell did you cheat?” she asks, exasperated, and so done with Buck. If Buck was her, he’d just kick himself out, to be honest. “You and Eddie clearly have something, and you felt enough for him to cheat on your girlfriend. Don’t kid yourself that you can just go on after this like nothing happened, with either of them. The best thing you can do now is to come clean to Taylor, and probably break up.” 

“Well, you cheated too, and you and Karen figured it out.” he blurts out, and immediately regrets it when Hen’s eyes darken dangerously. Okay, this is when he’d kick himself out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No offense,” Hen says slowly, quietly, through clenched teeth, tone icy, and it’s almost worse than if she’d yell at him, “but you and Taylor are nowhere near me and Karen. You don’t even love her, and clearly you don’t regret cheating that much, since you did it twice. It’s an entirely different situation, so do not bring me and my wife into this.” 

“I know, sorry, that was out of line.” Buck says quietly, feeling small under Hen’s gaze.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @transbuck @911onabc @housewifebuck @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @puppyboybuckley @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @hoodie-buck @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @steadfastsaturnsrings @giddyupbuck @dangerpronebuddie @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @exhuastedpigeon @diazsdimples @fortheloveofbuddie @theotherbuckley @911-on-abc @daffi-990

[thenyxsky]

Can I request a Dottore x reader fic where reader says that they’ve contracted ligma and he genuinely ask “what is ligma?” ?

DUDE IM ON THE FLOOR LMAOOOO

I DON’T USUALLY WRITE CRACK BUT U KNOW WHAT . anon i like ur style so. here u go! if u ever see this then i hope u enjoy!!! this is set when dottore’s still a student at the akademiya i hope u don’t mind 😭 <333 

SPOILERS: Dottore’s real name (heavily implied by interactibles across Sumeru)

“Zandik!”

Your lover startles, gloved hand snapping away from the Khaenri’ahn machine sample he was about to begin tinkering with. His jaw clenches, irritation rushing over him, because every time he tells you not to interrupt him while he’s working, and still you continue to do so. Do you test him on purpose? Do you want him to snap?

(Do you not know of the horrible temper he possesses and how badly he wishes to keep it away from you, a person who chose to love him despite the repercussions—disapproving looks from Akademiya staff and students because of him, snide comments about your character because of him, dozens of relationships lost because of him—a person undeserving of the sharp words that will leave his lips when he does lose control?)

Zandik’s lips part, a request for you to ‘leave him be so he can focus’ already on the tip of his tongue. Hopefully this time, you will listen, he thinks, fingers tightening ’round the wrench in his hand. Hopefully this time, you will get it. Hopefully this time, you’ll stay away. 

When you rush into the room however, clothes wrinkled and red in the face, his mouth snaps shut and he sets the tool down immediately.

Your name comes out in a breath as you come to a stop in front of him, his hands hovering over your sides. “What happened? Are you alright? Why are you—why are you in such a rush? Is everything okay?”

“Zandik,” you start, eyes locked with his—then immediately fall into a coughing fit. You fan at your face, bent at the knees. “Sorry—sorry—just give it a moment—”

“Why’re you in such a rush?” he means to ask in a worried tone, but it comes out in a snap instead. He winces. You ignore it. “What’s going on?”

A finger raises above your hunched form. “One moment please. Just”—you cough again, wave him away when he steps forward—“one. Give it a second.”

He gives it a second. He gives it two seconds. You’re still coughing up your lungs by the fifth second. Zandik decides enough is enough and moves for the glass of water on his table, but you put up your hand again, give one last pathetic wheeze, then clear your throat and straighten up.

“I should join you on your runs,” is the first thing you say.

He rolls his eyes. “Why were you in such a hurry?”

You blink at him, unresponsive for at least three moments, then drop your shoulders. You look almost defeated, he thinks with a frown. He doesn’t like it when you’re sad—defeated. The same thing, really. Point is: why do you look like that?

“Zandik,” you say for the third time. “I was just at the healer’s—”

He frowns. “Sadiki?”

“Who else? But yes, so I was just—”

“Why were you at Sadiki’s? [Name], are you hurt? You look fine. Are you sick? What’s going on?”

“Zandik, he says I’ve contracted something.”

His heart drops into his stomach. No. “What? But it’s—it’s nothing serious though, right? You’re not going to—it’s not terminal?”

You bite your lip and duck your head away from his sight, hands twisting together.

“He says…” You pause, and he tenses, preparing himself. “Sadiki says I’ve contracted ligma.”

Zandik's frown deepens. Ligma? He’s never—is it terminal?

“What is that?” he asks. “Is it terminal? I’ve never heard of it, but if it is—is there any cure? I’ll find a cure. I’ll make you a cure, I swear—[Name], is it terminal?”

Your shoulders are shaking, face still turned away from him. Are you crying? No—but that would mean—

“Zandik,” you say shakily, and he takes your shoulders in his hands so he can pull you into a hug, “ligma balls.”

Ligma balls? He frowns. Ligma—ligma balls.

Ligma balls.

It hits him.

Ligma balls.

He forces you into his arms, turns you, and finally sees your face. It’s pinched. Scrunched up. 

In laughter.

You’re not crying. You’re laughing. Your shoulders are shaking because you’re laughing.

He shoves you away.

“Zandik,” you laugh, keeling over, “lovely—”

“Don’t lovely me,” he snaps. You laugh harder. “You—you fucking—”

“My sweetest darling—”

“Fuck you, [Name]!”

“Any time,” you only just manage to say between wheezes. He goes beet fucking red.

“Get out of my damn room!”

[svftloving]

o(≧▽≦)o yandere! twins with a healer darling (headcanons)

warning! yandere themes (obvs), obsesive behavior (not much, really) small mention of implied! self harm in aether's part, reader is implied to not know of their obsessive thoughts/has stockholm syndrome, if you feel like anything else i should add, just comment! <3

,, aether

this boy is absolutely swooning, he is completely, wholly, and utterly in love with you. he's literally obsessed. he's honestly never loved anyone more (besides his sister and paimon, of course. but that's familial.) and vows to protect you with his life.

these headcanons take place as if you were traveling along with the traveler, so expect to be healing aether alot. the guy is pretty reckless, especially when it comes to protecting you and keeping you safe. so expect to be bandaging/healing him whenever he returns from doing commissions or whatever quest he went on. he'll return with straight up bruises and cuts covering his whole body with a exhausted smile on his face, collapsing in your arms as paimon frets worriedly about him to you.

if you're wondering, yes, he does get hurt (more) on purpose. more injuries means more attention from you is aether's mindset! even if aether doesn't end up getting damaged from any fights he encounters, than he'll somehow find a way to get injured. just don't mention why his sword is so bloody after coming back with cuts on his form after doing a commission that didn't involve the use of violence...

after patching the weary male up, he likes to lay in your arms as you fix his slightly knotted hair due to his adventures, a small smirk hidden from your vision as he buries himself deeper into your neck. he just loves his darling so much! <3

,, lumine

don't think lumine would act any different than her brother's reaction, because she's completely in love with you as well. she might do a better job at hiding it, but it's pretty easy to catch the gentle look in her eyes whenever she thinks you aren't looking as you patch her up...

these headcanons take place as if you were traveling along with the traveler, so expect to be healing lumine alot. unlike her brother, lumine usually takes you along when she goes to quest/commissions as she can't stand a second without you by her side! of course, she won't take you to extremely dangerous ones, but just expect to be by her side on most her outings.

unfortunately, a downside to this is that she's completely focused on keeping you safe. paimon can get plummeted by a hillichurl for all she cares (/j), but if even the slightest hint that a slime is coming towards you, she doesn't give a damn whatever's happening or in her way. she immediately dashing towards and protecting you with all she got ♡

yeah, maybe she got injured in the process, but who cares? as long as her angel of a darling is safe and sound, she couldn't care less if she now has bruises and a few cuts on her form.

she likes when you fret over her, anyway. plus, she gets to relax in your arms as you praise her for protecting you. she just loves being your knight in shining armor... ♡( ◡‿◡ )

[greybugg1864]

Thinkin about how Ingo is the only warden who used pokeballs.

[otaku553]

My brother recently got into Demon Slayer so I wanted to make a kny oc for him since I did it before with both me and my sister and never got around to my brother :)

But I started by refreshing my own design because wow?? It’s been 4 years since I first made my kny insert character and a lot of things are now outdated! Not to mention my art has improved a lot, I hope. More details under the cut!

Meet Ebisu Koharu: youngest of the Ebisu family and physically the weakest. They only barely passed Final Selection by hiding for the entire week and surviving off tips from their older siblings. Nonetheless, they still want to contribute, which is why they hold onto a thick, leather bound book that records every demon they’ve ever met in precise detail, with labeled diagrams and scribbled calculations in the margins of different strengths and weaknesses.

After spending a few years on the job, and properly seeing their data contribute to the successes of other demon slayers, they’ve come a bit more into their own as a competent researcher and fighter, though they still do tend to request paired missions with friends and family to act more as a support role rather than a fighter.

The Ebisu family is one of scholars. The eldest daughter Kaoru is a doctor, and the eldest son Shougen is a chemist. By nature, fighting is not necessarily their strong suit, which is why their family breathing style and techniques are all poison-assisted. Of the three, Koharu is the weakest and most averse to combat— they wield a short half-length blade, with more of a smooth ceremonial hilt and sheath than any practical weapon.