#laughter challenge

[shesmore-shoebill]

god me too

[metamorphicmuse]

"I swear he just makes me laugh some days."

[lexidafree]

Mermay 🧜‍♀️ Day 20 - Clown 🤡

[jclolz22]

juliana. she/her. eighteen (somehow that was allowed). gleek. cryin in da club (metaphorically). latina/white (me when conquistadors). literal midwest princess. college student aka full-time stressed. INFP. if tashi duncan has no fans, look for my body!!!

this is not necessarily an 18+ blog, but i may reblog posts that are MDNI and/or make one that is MDNI so those will simply be the exceptions.

can you tell i love paramore?

link(s): c.ai ✧.* ; requests are open!

^request form^

c.ai last updated: jun. 4

arcane, bridgerton, challengers, gilmore girls, glee, grey's anatomy, mamma mia!, marvel, new girl, patrick dempsey, pedro pascal, pitch perfect trilogy, shawn hatosy, the bear, the pitt, thunderbolts, twilight, yellowjackets, young sheldon, & wicked.

all my bots are written with the intention of having a fem!user, unless stated otherwise. also, i will not make bots of real people. just a personal preference :)

i do not consent to any of my work (bots, fics, etc.) being copied, translated, etc.

dms: open; asks: open

taken emoji anons

masterlist (coming soon!)

will be updating this as i (possibly) become more interesting <3

🎾🥇

[carpaltunnelofgirllove]

can i come over and stare at you like this

[astracora]

A Mandated Holiday Break - Chapter 7

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc (poly lads)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1554

Written: 22nd December 2024

Notes: Post-relationship Sylus/MC-centric but poly LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Masterlist AO3

He's been relegated to picking up supplies. You'd thrust a list at him that morning, and he'd almost seen a tail behind you, flicking and curling like a question mark.

It isn't the first time you've had him wrapped around your finger, requesting his assistance. Normally you only ask when you're sick, desperate for supplies and he's available. (He'll always be available.)

Still, this time you've handed him a list for crafts, shoved him from his own base, and you peppered his face in kisses before he can even respond or argue. 

Not that he would, but he wishes you would at least come shopping with him. He's found himself enjoying the domesticity of you puttering around aisles while he pushes a trolley. If he takes his eyes off you, you'll steal the trolley and go skidding down an empty aisle.

Which is how he stands now, in the living room of his base, hands full of arts and crafts supplies, while he stares at a tree he doesn't remember buying.

It's twinkling with lights half done, but otherwise it bears no decoration. The twins are balancing on each other's shoulders trying to throw the multicoloured flashing lights up towards the top of it. You're there underneath, ready to catch them if them.

He's pretty sure someone's going to end up with a broken bone. (Which he does not want to explain to the doctor.)

With a flick of his finger, black and red swirling mist quickly remove lights from hands and twist them around the top of the tree. Gently, and carefully.

He's only slightly smug, smirk in full, when you turn to him in surprise. He's even more smug when your face instantly warms, eyes twinkling at him.

If he were really a crow, his feathers would poof up and he'd preen. Instead he wipes his hand on his shirt collar and extends the bags he's holding, "For you, kitten."

Your whirlwind of activity rushes over, the twins wobbling before they manage to detangle themselves, grabbing at the bag and pulling them to the floor. Separating things out.

He watches absently, but you're focused and tapping on your chin as you think, so he abandons you to your considerations to make himself useful. Warm drinks in hand before he returns to you.

Sylus finds you showing the twins how to fold and make ornaments with coloured paper. He hesitates at the door, if you had wanted ornaments, why did you not just ask for them? He could have ordered any number. Any colour. Anything you wanted.

He's again unsettled by a strange uncomfortable dissatisfaction, you do not make it easy to provide for you. To satisfy every desire. He wonders how you became someone who holds them so close to the chest, scared to want, all over again. He offers hot chocolate to the twins, and frothed coffee to you, (the smell never gets better), before sitting next to you on the floor, cross legged and curious.

You look over and grin, and for a second he sees ears tilting forwards in mischief, pupils blown and ready to pounce. "We didn't have a lot growing up, so me and Caleb would make ornaments for the tree with Gran. The twins wanted to try..." there's a question there that you want to ask but you can't quite... get the words out.

He can read you well enough to know the hesitation, and he leans in, voice low, fingers brushing your cheek, "Show me."

Sylus prides himself on learning, he's good at picking up skills, but he cannot be said to be creative. He is, however, good at following steps. He does, however, enjoy trying.

It's not a new skill that will be useful for anything other than moments like this, but truthfully if he only ever learned skills for moments like this, he'd be a happier fiend than he has any right to.

The twins decide to get pens and decorate the shapes he folds, while you sit nearby fretting over a new challenge. He finds himself looking over and peering but you catch him and point at his hands in an unspoken order. Focus.

He chuckles, only you would dare to order him about, and only you would gain his obedience as he follows your orders.

As they end up with a pile of... he's not sure he'd call anything he and the twins have made art, the fish would surely have something to say if he tried, he already dreads the upcoming conversation, but you're thrilled and excited as you come over to look. Picking up paper baubles and stars that the twins have drawn silly faces on.

There's a happy flush to Luke and Kieran's face as you wholeheartedly approve, and he swallows a lump in his throat that he doesn't really understand. Yet he wants to cry, he thinks, and he's not really sure why. Or what caused it.

He doesn't linger, doesn't have time, as you're pushing him towards the tree, "You get the top, Luke, middle, Kieran, bottom." Then you're running off.

He's starting to think the holidays are a little too much trouble... (Warm, vibrant, comforting.) That lilting voice that sounds like yours again.

Your soul is always so noisy, he muses, warmed and placated.

They're almost done when you come back, this time you're not as energetic. There's waves coming off you, nerves and anxiety rippling under skin. He pauses, where he's about to hang a star, and looks down  at you. As soon as he does you swallow, shoving a cardboard box into his arms.

Not a box? It has numbers on it?

"We-" you swallow past the nerves and push on. Ever ready to fight a monster. Even if the monster is yourself, "also used to make calendars for each other. It's late, so it's only twelve days." He catches your hand before it scratches at your arm, smoothing his thumb over your fingers and then rubbing circles into your palm. He blinks down at the thing, and sees today. He drops the star he's holding unceremoniously and presses the little cardboard flap open.

The calendar is decorated with a picture of a crow surrounded by presents. He remembers the fish encouraging your artistic pursuits, and while he's not sure if it's good, he never seems to be sure if it's good... he knows he likes it.

Inside is a hand wrapped chocolate and a small note.

Day one - A reminder that I love you, and appreciate you always, thank you Sylus.

You're still fidgeting, and at this point the twins have peeked their heads over to stare at his bounty. The longer he stares, the more he realises he has to speak, has to respond but his throat feels closed and his chest is so tight. It hurts. It hurts.

"If it's stupid you don't have to-"

He drops his calendar and he presses you into his chest. He's sure if he were better practiced in his emotions he'd cry. Instead he just encompasses you in his body, squeezing and holding and drowning in you. He nips at your cheek, hand squeezing your face, he wants to bite and chew and claw and scratch.

He can't understand and he doesn't want to hurt, but he breathes you in. Relieved he has no tail to betray him, wagging furiously. You're giggling at his reaction, trying to pull away from his rough handling, calling his name out like knives in his heart, and he finally kisses you. Over and over and over. Tasting his name on your lips and your love in his heart.

Then he startles, pulling away quickly to see that thankfully the twins had caught his gift, the note and the chocolate. Placing it on the side. They're giving him a look like he's a fool, he might be, because he has an evol that can move things for him. Instead his foolish body betrayed him.

"Hunter! Do we get one?" Luke calls, pouting, and you keep a hold on Sylus' hand. Grounding him as he looks at your note over and over, pressing your thumb into his wrist, and smoothing his rapid uneven heartbeat there.

Still you extend a makeshift calendar to the twins, one each, identical except for the names. He can tell that you'd been careful to match every line. "Of course."

He absently notes that you've left four more on the side. The fish, the doctor, the prince and an untouched one for your family. The note is finally placed in his pocket, right over his heart, where he knows he'll keep it until it's worn and unreadable. Not that it matters, because he'll remember it always.

As you watch him smooth his fingers over it, you laugh, "You know there's eleven more days of those right?" Your nerves are still simmering, he can tell, but you're thrilled for his reaction and eased with his earnestness and joy. He lets your words settle and then darts to the calendar on the side, he hears the twins opening theirs but barely cares.

You panic when you realise he's going to just tear the thing open for more of your feelings recorded in pretty stationary paper, before you throw yourself at his back, "Sylus! No! They're for other days!"

[aq2003]

omfg . radio play version of much ado with david as benedick from 2001

[wafflesrisa]

C2 Challenge: Carlos catching Charles blatantly cheating

[harrycosmo]

Zendaya and the exercise ball.

[irishhorse-blog]

BTS ARMY 30-day challenge: bias laughing

[notsofrozt]

Fear

Fear.

A sensation that paralyses you, dries your mouth, chills your bones and blood, and revolts your insides. A warning of impending danger, a way the body prepares you to fight or flee.

Macaque felt fear many times, it's part of being alive.

The first time was so long ago that the memory was blurred at the edges, like an old photo. He remembered his tail wagging, sweaty hands and ears twitching as he lured Wukong onto the beach. There, under the tree on the shore, he made his feelings clear with awkward words and eyes that refused to look the other in the face.

The fear crawling inside him vanished with a bright smile from his now partner.

The second time he had felt the paralysis, unable to move to prevent his beloved from giving himself up to save their lives. Fear for the fate of his mate burned that moment into his mind.

This eventually faded as well. The harsh words under the mountain shattered it.

The third time fear guided his every action. The fear of losing his mate to a group of people who hurt him; the fear of seeing him change, driven by pain; the fear of having the person who lit up his life, who made his heart beat, taken away from him. That fear made him act, lash out, blinded and hurt.

That fear was supposed to fade with Wukong's hand in his, both of them walking away from the monk and that mission.

He didn't realise how wrong he was until the fourth time. The last time.

There are many things that people mistake for fear. Hardly anyone has ever felt genuine fear. There was a fundamental difference from anything he had experienced before, a bitter taste at once familiar and totally foreign. Macaque thought he felt it, but now he knew better.

The first time it had been plain nerves, with a touch of anticipation. The hope was there too, a sweet taste waiting to fill his palate.

The second time it was angst. Deep down he knew that it was impossible to kill Wukong, and that whatever punishment it was, it would eventually be overcome. Defeat and the uncertainty of being at the Jade Emperor's mercy only amplified that feeling.

The third time it was just sheer desperation.

What had run through his body were variants of fear. More opaque versions or different hues. Mere shadows trying to mimic the real feeling.

The fourth time began with defeat. In the world where they lived, there was only one fate for those who dared to face the Monkey King and lost.

The red and gold staff descended unavoidably towards his face, certain and lethal; the soft eyes of the person he had so long considered a friend, a comrade, a lover, now cold and devoid of their former warmth. Nor a spark of regret or doubt could be seen in them.

His body froze and his blood chilled, unable to process the brutal inevitability. As everything slowly went black, Macaque had only one thought.

He had been so, so foolish.

[metamorphicmuse]

Rooftop Mischief - "Kyle, you're a fool!"

[wikitpowers]

my sister is so funny like i tried to write “two” the other day on text but it autocorrected to “twp” and she was fully like what? the wicked powers? i fear i may have done this to her

[frostbitebakery]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).

I got taggled by @alamogirl80 💜 (HE’LL DO.)

Last line was a help line for the dagger grip to make it kind of-ish look-ish like-ish Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. Excuse the rest of the mess. We’re in the clean-up stage.

No pressure tackles go, first of all, anyone who wants to show off their WIP. This game is supposed to bring us in our plights and complaining over WIPs closer together.

I’m not tagging @elwenyere bc you’ve got enough going on with the WIP poll.

But you, @meebles, are fair game *-*

Now let us consult the list of potential victims.

No pressure tagging: @oathkeeperoxas @tired-bshocked @snowywinterevenings @wanderingjedihistorian @hawthornsword @bitter-chocolate-stars

[mildmayfoxe]

had a really lovely day where i went with my visiting california friends on a day trip to western mass to visit their college town and various associated areas incl. asparagus ice cream from a working dairy farm (pic)

and then went to another friends house for dinner and had a very incredible time drinking wine and playing card games on their balcony and screaming with laughter and got just drunk enough to spend my walk home pretending i was in a music video for all the songs that came up on my sun's out playlist in the middle of the street because it's 1am on friday and nobody's outside. the ice cream was actually really good btw