#thank you so much for the prompt <3

[heyitsyav]

"We dancing now, Barnes?" "Aren't we always?"

for @livingincolorsagain

[ravendruid]

word: sleepy pairing: pickle & string bean

From this prompt.

It’s one of those rare summer nights where there’s a breeze light enough to cool down the body from the day’s heat. Although the night is still young, and Pike still has all of her watch ahead of her, she is slowly unbuckling the belts of her armor, ever so carefully as not to accidentally drop it and wake up her friends with the clatter of the metal. In another universe, someone bites their lip as they roll a die to check if Pike is successful in her endeavor.

Pike drops the silver breastplate on the ground in front of her, stretching her torso as tall as she can – which is not much for a gnome of her stature – sighing in relief as the breeze passes through the soft fabric of her damp undertunic. Plate armor by itself is already bad enough, it’s heavy and constricts her movements, but in the summer, it’s a million times worse as it traps the heat inside. On a regular day, Pike would have gladly taken off her armor by now, trading it for a set of fresh, clean clothes after a nice cooling shower. However, it was not a regular day, and Pike had no access to clean water to shower unless she wanted to wake up Keyleth and ask the druid to provide clean water. In hindsight, maybe that wouldn’t have been a bad idea. Perhaps the other girls would also enjoy a cold shower after sweating all day.

The pants go next after making sure Scanlan is deeply asleep in his bedroll, and Pike bends and twists, stretching her small legs. The boots are easy and fast, and soon, she is wearing nothing but her undergarments, allowing the breeze to cool off her fiery skin. Pike is not ashamed of her nakedness. She has been traveling with this group for so long, so many years on the road, sharing rooms and sleeping out in the open together. They all have shared baths too, either in the form of warm public spas or the cold rivers they cross. That is why she’s not worried when there’s movement ahead as a dark-haired head moves away from the redhead druid sleeping at its side. 

“Can’t sleep?” Pike asks him, sitting criss-cross with her back against a particularly gnarly trunk. Vax combs a hand through his hair, the colorful beads somehow silent as they clink on each other, and he sits by her side with a groan, stretching his legs in front of him. 

“It’s too damn hot.” He complains with a smirk. She’s too damn hot, he doesn’t say. 

They sit in silence for a while and even sitting down, Pike’s head reaches no higher than Vax’s shoulder, so she has to turn her entire body sideways and up to see his face. Vax is staring at the open sky above them, and Pike is sure the twinkling light of the stars is reflected in his dark eyes, although she can’t see it. 

“I forgot how beautiful the night sky can be,” He whispers, just barely loud enough for her to hear.

“I know. We became too comfortable in Scanlan’s mansion.”

“Pickle?”

“Yes, string bean?” Pike smiles to the sky at the term of endearment.

“Will you keep an eye on them?” Vax’s voice is low and sorrowful, and Pike’s heart clenches in her chest.

“I won’t have to.” 

“We don’t know that, and they will need you, Pickle.” Vax turns, bending his body slightly so he can look into her blue eyes. There is sadness in his expression, but at the same time, there is comfort and resignation. Vax knows he will have to leave them one day, he doesn’t know when or why, but he can feel it within his bones ever since he took that deal. “You are a light in our lives. You bring us all such joy, and when–”

“If.” She corrects him.

“If I go, I want to know they will not be alone.”

Pike looks at the other two women lying on the other side of the clearing. Keyleth’s soft breaths puff a string of red hair out of her face, but she looks calm and relaxed. Not far from her, Vex buries her head in Percy’s neck, her braid falling to his chest. 

“Not just them,” Vax follows the gnome’s gaze with a pang in his heart as his eyes fall on his girlfriend and sister. “All of them.”

“I promise,” She tries to convey as much honesty and reassurance.

Percy’s guilt for not being able to do something about the deal, for being responsible for Vex’s death in the first place, is something Pike knows will take the front seat in his heart if Vax has to leave them. Scanlan, who so often tries to hide his feelings behind jokes and music, will do just that, and Pike has to make sure he knows that it’s okay to feel things, to share his real emotions, and not hide them. Grog, their mighty Goliath whose heart is made of cotton candy, will be the hardest one to convince that no, we cannot follow Vax this time. He has to go on his own. Of course, Vex will have Percy to lean on and help pick up the pieces of her broken heart, but she will still try to be there for her friend when her guilt forbids her from going to him. Pike knows she will suffer and that her heart will break, but she takes solace in knowing that helping her friends through it will help her as well. It’s Keyleth she worries about the most. Keyleth, who is destined to live longer than history, will watch her friends die before the first signs of wrinkles show on her face. Pike doesn’t know what to do, how to be her light and guide her through that darkness, but she will try, and she will do her best for as long as she lives. 

“Can I do your hair?” Vax breaks the silence. Pike assents and moves to sit between his legs in a position familiar to both.

Vax undoes her braid softly, combing his fingers through her hair to rid it of knots, and Pike’s shoulders relax. He parts her hair in two and slowly starts twisting one side, creating a bun above her ear and tying it with a piece of leather. He repeats on the other side, and by the time he’s done, Pike’s lids are heavy with sleep.

“I’m getting sleepy,” She mumbles, letting her head fall to one side.

“Go lay down, Pickle. I’ll take the watch.”

Pike gives Vax a quick hug, trying to pour into it all of the affection that she has for her friend and reassurance that everything will be okay.

As Vax looks up to the night sky, now just him and the shadows of night, a light breeze flicks his hair, and a feeling of comfort and certainty fills his heart. He will have to go one day, but now he knows that they will not be alone, they will be taken care of, although it hurts to know he won’t be the one caring for them, and he says a silent thankful prayer to Serenrae for bringing the gnome into their lives.

[erwinsvow]

an idea… rafe and shy reader having sex for the first time

everything's overwhelming with rafe, but this is particularly so. you thought you were completely ready for it, from the way you had handled everything else so well. in fact, rafe was the one taking things at the slowest pace possible, trying to make sure he didn’t pressure you into something you weren’t ready for.

you didn’t like it—thought he was trying to be something he’s not. he’s gentle with you but never like this, never to this extent. it must be a big deal then, sleeping with rafe, giving him your virginity, you finally decide, if he’s acting so differently about it.

in fact, you think you’ve been ready to give it up since you first started dating him. rafe brings it out of you, coaxes a different side of you out with gentle words and soft touches. you’re going mad over it. you can’t count the amount of times you’ve crawled into his lap at any given opportunity, anywhere the two of you are alone—his truck, the couch in your living room and at tannyhill, the hidden booth at the country club. you’re begging for it, not sure how much more obvious you can get.

you finally decide tonight’s the night—following a nice dinner with the two of you. you had spent extra long getting dressed up, a pretty white lingerie set on underneath your blue dress, all done up for rafe. finally back at tannyhill, entire body vibrating and tingling with excitement, you don’t wait another moment, crawling into rafe’s lap and kissing him hard. you take off your dress and rafe stops just for a second to take in how forward you’re being.

“hey,” he finally breathes against your lips, pulling away. “c’mon, you’re not ready for this.” 

“yes i am!” you whine, impatient and horny, feeling rafe get hard underneath you. you want him to be able to do all the things you know he wants to do, want them done to you. “i am, i am-” and you lean back to kiss him, ending up pinned underneath him before long.

he knows you’re not, but he plays along. you’re so wet already he doesn’t have to do much, but he makes you cum all over his fingers anyways, hoping it’ll satiate you.

“please, rafe,” you moan against his mouth, pushing in for another needy kiss. “wan’ it inside. please.” and he does know you, knows everything about you, but even he can’t resist when you say things like that.

you watch with big eyes while he lines himself up with your wet hole, hovering over you. you think you’re so ready, that three of rafe’s fingers inside you should be comparable to what you’re about to feel, that you’re more than prepared. your eyes squeeze shut when rafe pushes inside, all the air leaving your lungs. you try to moan out but it’s more of a gasp than anything else, one that rafe swallows into a kiss. 

your eyes get watery—it’s just habit. it hurts, too, because rafe is so much bigger than you expected. you bite your cheek, looking up at rafe through teary eyes and clasping a hand over your mouth—you don’t want to admit that he was right. 

“c’mon kid, give it up. y’not ready for this, i know you,” rafe says, leaning in close to your ear to whisper it quietly. he’s not even half-way inside you.

“i-i can take it,” you hiccup. you hate disappointing rafe.

and it’s not that he doesn’t want to—he does, desperately so, wants to fuck you within an inch of your sanity every time you walk into a room and look at him with your shy eyes and sweet smile. he wants to break you, wants you cumming on his dick until there’s nothing left in your head, no shyness left in your heart. but he wants it when you’re ready for it, not like this.

it only takes another minute, you finally admit you’re not ready, and rafe pulls out of you. you feel like crying, terribly sad and dejected, wishing you could just be normal for rafe for once, be what he wants. 

“stop,” he says, wiping away a stray tear. his arm rests over your stomach, trying to get you to lighten up. “when you’re ready for it, i’ll fuck you until you can’t think. s’just not today, kid.”

you finally agree when he says that, getting over it because you know without a doubt in your mind—rafe knows you better than you know yourself.

[obsessedwithstarwars]

Jazz gets death threats working at Arkham Asylum. She thinks they’re hilarious. I mean, it’s hard not to laugh when you’re technically considered Queen Mother of The Infinite Realms. In her mind, the notes are basically telling her to go home and hug her brother/child.

The Batfam are growing increasingly concerned and confused as to why she doesn’t take these threats seriously.

[apassingbird]

“You have to be quiet or they’ll hear you” Buck/Eddie

"You have to-" Eddie says between kisses, or at least tries to, unable to let his mouth stray too far away from Buck's, their lips brushing as he continues, "Buck, you need to be quiet, or they'll hear us."

"Yeah, no," Buck closes the small distance between them again, capturing Eddie's lips with his and pushing him up against the wall. He tries not to gloat when a small moan escapes Eddie's lips, swallows it eagerly instead. "I don't think I'm the problem here."

They're tucked away in a secluded corner of the firestation, out of sight but most likely not out of hearing distance, if someone were to walk by. Which, hopefully, nobody does, since they're still clocked in and making out on company time is most likely not the best smartest thing to do if they want to stay out of trouble. But the thing is, they're two weeks into... dating or- or being boyfriends. Honestly, Buck isn't really sure what they're calling it just yet, but it's new, is all. New and exciting, and just for them.

They had kissed in the dim light of Eddie's kitchen a fortnight ago, a punctuation of a whispered conversation filled with words they had never dared to say out loud before. Later, tangled up in Eddie's bed, loose limbed and sated, they'd agreed to keep it on the low for the time being. To give themselves space to figure out what it all meant, to enjoy this newly discovered aspect of them. It had been easier said than done, though. It was almost as if, once Buck knew what it felt like to kiss and touch Eddie without restraints, he had become incapable of going more than a few minutes without it. From what he could tell, Eddie was experiencing the same thing. This wasn't the first time they'd snuck away for a few stolen kisses.

"Besides," Buck says, kissing the corner of Eddie's mouth before making his way down towards his neck. "You were the one who dragged me in here."

"I know," Eddie sighs, hands flexing on Buck's waist, his head falling back against the wall with a soft thud, granting Buck more access. "Already regretting it."

Buck rolls his eyes at that before biting down gently on the soft skin on Eddie's neck, mindful of not making any lasting marks. Eddie doesn't moan this time, clearly trying to keep the noise down, but he does whimper. A small thing that goes straight to Buck's dick, which- definitely not the right time for that. He presses one last open-mouthed kiss to Eddie's neck before leaning back to look at Eddie.

"No," Buck says, licking his lips as he takes in Eddie's hooded eyes and flushed cheeks. "You don't."

Eddie hums, lips pursed as he lets his hand wander from Buck's waist, dragging them up and over his chest. He pauses there for a moment, the palm of his hand laying flat against Buck's heart, a soft smile playing on his lips. Then, he lets his hands slide upwards, cradling Buck's face, his right thumb brushing against Buck's bottom lip.

"No," Eddie agrees eventually, pulling Buck's face back down towards him. Buck, of course, goes willingly. "I really don't."

[numbuh424]

@nearsbday : DAY 8 - "THE WORLD"

The world is too heavy Too big for my shoulders Come take the weight off me now. I'm like a kid who just won't let it go Twisting and turning the colors in rows I'm so intent to find out what it is This is my Rubik's Cube I know I can figure it out.

Based on my favorite song that reminds me of Near, "Rubik's Cube" by Athlete. Happy birthday, Near! 💙🧩🎉💐

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Old Men(tor) Big Naturals

(for @3luecactuz)

[kinardgo]

Jee having fun with her uncles Buck & Tommy!

Maybe Buck feeling a little 🥰😍 watching Tommy being in 'competent dad mode', even though he's not ready for their own 😂

okay this is everything actually if season 8 doesn't give us tommy playing with jee and buck noticably ovulating across the room i will riot

bucktommy / rated g / mild warning for non serious accidental injury to a child

-

"-and take a nice, deep breath for me. This is going to sting a little, okay?"

It takes a few seconds for Buck's brain to come back online as he re-enters his apartment. It's been a quiet day so far, as quiet as any day off looking after his curious, hyperactive niece can be. They'd watched some TV, leaving some irritating cartoon pop song ingrained in his head, probably for the next week at least. Had some lunch. Afterwards, Jee-Yun had proclaimed her desire for ice cream with all the certainty of a biblical saint. Buck, a little soft hearted from an easy day surrounded by people he loves, agreed to go to the shop in search of some.

Maybe it's lulled him into a false sense of security, because he stares at the scene in his kitchen with a blank expression for a full three seconds before he galvanizes into action.

Jee's up on the kitchen counter, a little teary eyed, her bottom lip wobbling, blood trickling down her skinny calf.

"Woah, woah, hey," he says, rushing to Tommy's side, where he's crouched in front of the counter, "What happened?"

"Someone," he says, eyeing the slightly sheepish looking girl, "decided to ignore me when I said running full pelt around the place would end in tears."

"I'm sorry, Tommy," Jee says, her voice shaking.

"It's okay, chica. You're not in trouble. Tripped over the rug," he adds lowly to Buck, "Limbs everywhere, slid five feet, the whole ten yards."

Now he's a little closer up, he can see that. Her knee is all scraped up, a messy graze, but nothing deep. There's a little mark on her elbow, but no blood. Kids bounce, Hen once told him. Buck kinda wishes Jee would stop trying to test that theory out on him though.

"Now, stay nice and still while I get this cleaned up, okay sweetheart?" Tommy eases, turning his attention back to Jee, the full effect of his Cool And Unphased Firefighter Pilot shtick aimed at a tiny little person who doesn't even have a fully developed concept of consequence yet. It feels unfair. Buck's a whole ass adult and it's enough to make him spacy, "Do you know what this is?"

Jee looks from the antibacterial wipe in his hand, to Buck, and back to Tommy nervously, "No."

"This is a special kind of cloth that can get all the yucky stuff out of your cut, get it nice and clean."

"Like soap?"

"Kinda like soap, yeah," he nods, smiling, "It's gonna hurt a little bit, but that's how you know it's working. Ready?"

She nods, hands fisting in the skirt of her pink dress anxiously. Tommy swipes over the graze of her cut quickly and gently, efficient but effective.

"Brave girl, Jee," Buck murmers, rubbing a hand soothingly up her arm.

"Yes, she is," Tommy agrees, "Now, I'm going to put a plaster on this. Hold still for me-" She holds herself dutifully, solid like a rock, as Tommy smooths the dressing over the knee. It's probably overkill, but Buck knows that the power of belief in healing is almost as important as the actual healing bit.

"You did so good, Jee," Buck says, straightening up to plant a kiss in her hair. She giggles, grasping at him with her pudgy hands, "And so did you," he says, kissing him on the cheek. Jee shrieks with laughter the way she always does when Buck dares to show any kind of affection to anyone but her.

"Now, you," Tommy says, sweeping Jee off the counter, "Get settled on the couch, because it looks like your Uncle Evan got some cookie dough vanilla that's got your name all over it, kid."

Jee's face splits with a grin so wide it looks like it might hurt, then throws her arms around Tommy's neck, burrowing her face in his shoulder with a happy little sound, "Thank you, Uncle Tommy," The words are muffled into the collar of his shirt, but Tommy clearly hears loud and clear if the way his face scrunches up in delight is any indication.

Something heavy and dense swoops straight through the middle of Buck's core, through his chest and out through his stomach. Too much, too fast, too soon. Tommy gives Jee a final squeeze, swaying her a little so her tiny legs flop around, giggling happily until he puts her back down.

Jee cuddles up with a pillow on the couch, something that looks like elves on an acid trip playing on the TV while Tommy washes his hands and puts the first aid kit back in the cupboard and Buck gets three bowls of cookie dough ready for a good ol' fashioned sugar binge.

"She adores you."

Tommy looks up, even as Buck keeps his eyes resolutely on the ice cream.

"She's got a big heart," he says fondly, before adding, "Must be a Buckley family trait."

"She's a good kid," Buck grins, turning to look over at Jee, hugging one of the sofa cusions to her chest, so big against her that she can rest her chin on it.

"Yeah. Do you want kids?"

The ice cream scoop skids across the counter out of Buck's hand when he jerks in surprise.

Tommy laughs quietly, ducking his head to kiss his shoulder, "Not right now, Evan. Just... curious. You're good with her."

"So are you," he fires back. He knows he's being stupid, that he's acting defensive, and he doesn't even know what about. Jesus, he sucks when someone catches him off guard, "Do you want kids?"

It doesn't look like it bothers Tommy, who just grins like he knows better than to take Buck's knee-jerk panic personally. Probably because he does.

"Yeah. One day."

Buck can't help smiling back, "Yeah. One day."

They all squeeze onto the couch, Jee tucked in between them with enough sugar shovelling into her mouth for Maddie to have reasonable justification to murder him later. It's probably not how he would have described his ideal afternoon, but he can't find fault in it.

[gingermaple]

i am once again drawing grian in cute outfits - specifically these shoes as suggested by @definitelynotshouting

[loviatarsluv-old]

If you’re still taking writing prompts, may I request Halsin comforting the reader who gets bad anxiety about going to sleep?

ahhh this is so sweet and definitely something I think about constantly, imagine curling up in Halsin’s lap and him holding you and comforting you im going to scream!!!!!!!!

ty for this prompt, I needed it 😭

Halsin x gn!reader/tav 🩷

rating: sfw (very soft and fluffy and sweet)

Sleep has never come very easily to you. And the few times it did, it was restless - filled from start to finish with nightmares that always inevitably woke you up in the middle of the night, clutching onto your bedroll, chest heaving and eyes streaked with tears.

You’d been able to hide it from the others for the most part, but Halsin noticed a few nights ago while on night watch, when you lurched out of your bedroll, silently sobbing. He watched you as you tried to calm yourself, burying your head in your hands and curling your knees to your chest. He wanted so badly to comfort you then, but he didn’t wish to make you uncomfortable in his efforts. So he silently watched you until you finally settled back into your bedroll, and your eyes closed once again for the night.

The next night, you noticed he’d been lingering close to you all evening, periodically asking you if you needed any help with anything, even offering you a cup of the tea that he’d brewed, bringing it to you with a warm smile that made your heart skip a beat.

He towers over you as you sit on a log next to the campfire, watching the flames lick at the night air and the smoke swirl and try to find shapes in it. You almost gawk at his size and stature, despite having already spent a considerable amount of time with him - you’d think you’d be used to it by now.

You smiled and took the cup gratefully, your fingers brushing against his as you took it from him.

“Thank you.”

His smile softens, and he brings a hand up to brush a lock of hair behind your ear.

“No need. It should help you sleep, we must take all the rest we can before morning.” He says, resting his hand on your cheek - his warm palms feel like a beam of sunlight.

Your face falls.

“Y-yeah. Right.” You reply, your voice meek and small as your eyes fall to the cup in your hands, staring at your reflection in the tea.

Halsin notices your demeanor shift, his brows softening as he kneels in front of you.

He holds your chin between his thumb and his index finger, guiding your face up so your eyes meet.

“What is troubling you? Is there anything I can do to help you?” He asks, his expression outwardly calm but his light eyes flicker with concern.

Your body tenses, and you feel your eyes start to sting with tears that you can’t shed. You shake your head, and force another weak smile.

“I’m okay, really. Nothing dire or important. Thank you.”

You feel a tightness in your chest - you wanted so badly to talk to someone about this, you knew that you likely needed to, but for some reason the words just wouldn’t come out, the taste of them bitter on your tongue. It wasn’t out of fear of Halsin judging you, as you knew he was the last person in the realm that would judge you for such a thing or probably most things. He had a true heart of gold.

Part of you just wanted to preserve the image of you that he had in his mind - strong and fearless and unbreakable. It was unbecoming of a leader to be wrecked over something as simple as nightmares.

“It is important to me, if it is important enough for you to lose sleep over. But, if you are not ready to talk about it, I shall be here when you are ready.” He says simply, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes and savor his touch, still feeling his lips burning on your skin even after he pulls away.

He turns to walk away, and you grab his arm to stop him.

“Halsin?”

He turns, his scarred face glowing in the orange light of the fire, his eyes reflecting the flames. “Yes, my heart?”

“I’m so happy you joined us. Thank you.”

His eyes soften more than you’ve ever seen, almost resembling those of a puppy whose just been adopted.

“As am I.”

You give his arm a gentle squeeze before letting go, and watch him lumber back to his own tent, sitting just outside of it and fixing his gaze back on you. He watched you as if he were ready to leap in front of an arrow for you, as if he were ready to fight to the death for you. Your cheeks heat under his stare, and you look back down at your tea.

Just drink it. You need to sleep. He made it for you, just drink it.

You take a big sip, the warm liquid heating you as it goes down your throat and it tastes of chamomile and honey. You smile, as you remember Halsin telling you of his sweet tooth, and how you teased him about being a bear that loves honey.

The tea helps you ease your nerves just enough to finally let yourself feel tired enough to seek your bedroll and lay down, slowly drifting off to sleep.

You only sleep for a few hours, every second of it plagued by your usual nightmares - flashes of bloody battles and mind flayers and everyone you care for either hurt or dying. Just as an arrow hits you in your dream, you wake with a start, lurching out of your bedroll, gasping and clawing at your blanket.

Your eyes burn with previously unshed tears, now falling in a full torrential downpour. You bring your knees to your chest and just sob, unable to control or care about your volume as every sob racks through your body like a tidal wave.

You don’t notice Halsin approaching you before you feel his arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his lap, cradling you and shushing you until your breathing calms.

“S-sorry…” you sob into his chest, gripping the fabric of his nightclothes for dear life.

He shakes his head, then rests his chin on the top of your head.

“Do not apologize. You are not made of steel. You are made of flesh and blood, and a beating heart. You are made to feel.”

You sigh, your shoulders still shaking and your hands and voice trembling as you speak. “I’m just so exhausted… and I can’t even find respite in sleeping.”

He tightens his arms around you, tilting his head so that his cheek presses to your scalp. “Would it help to have someone to keep you company? I can stay here beside you, if you desire.”

You nod, your breathing finally slows and your body starts to settle. “Please.”

He scoots aside into your bedroll with you as you cling to him, refusing to let him go and let go of the bliss that is being enveloped in his embrace. He grabs your blanket, pulling it so that it covers you, tucking it in between the two of you so it’ll stay.

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, his large hands gently rubbing your arm and leg.

You nod, and snuggle into his chest.

“Could you talk to me? Like… tell me a story, or something,”

You don’t see it but you can feel the smile radiating off of him as he lets out a contented breath, then places a kiss to the top of your head.

“Of course.”

He begins to tell you of his time with Thaniel all those centuries ago, of their adventures in the forest and describing the serenity of being wrapped in nature’s embrace. He tells you of the times he was in wild shape and got mistaken by other bears as a true bear, and how he acquired the large scar on his face. You listen to the steady beat of his heart and the gentle rumbling in his chest as he speaks and it’s infinitely more effective than even a lullaby is to lull a baby to sleep.

Your eyes slowly close and you drift back to sleep, this time, rather than horrific nightmares, you dream of a calm and peaceful clearing, the wet grass tickling your bare feet as you walk - and you see him, waiting near the water, hand outstretched and beckoning you. You smile in your sleep.

He looks down at you, watching you as you slumber, his heart pounding as he runs his thumb along your cheek. He would cherish this moment of seeing you in pure bliss, and cherish the thought of him having given it to you. He’d give you the moon and the stars if he could, he thinks.

god I am unwell I love him so much halsin snuggles would fix me I think

[prince-liest]

You probably have a million requests considering you’re a fantastic writer so feel free to ignore this one whhsjajshjaks, but I think it would be cute if Alastor somehow temporarily got his human body back in the 666-verse through Hotel Shenanigans, and Vox spends the entire time losing his mind over how Al is now a full head shorter than him and with less of his sharp edges (and sharp teeth lmao). No sex happens because Alastor isn’t as durable in his human body but they do spend time together, possibly reminiscing over Alastor’s life while alive

I do have a solid number, but I'm really enjoying reading all of them! <3 I def won't get to every request, but I appreciate the slew of adorable and creative ideas, it's exactly what I needed Especially since a lot of them are 666-oriented, haha, I've been wanting to make a little post-credit scenes oneshot collection for 666 for a while but just never gotten sufficiently inspired, and this has been perfect.

That said, I did take your idea slightly to the left, because there's nothing like a fluffy concept with, "But what if, also, Alastor had a panic attack about it?" sprinkled on top. unu

Snippet from the WIP:

[lexiluxray]

your rendition of sycamore is scrumptious, I eat it up every time

Fhfhfhf thaaaanksss I hope I'll keep feeding you well 🧡🧡🧡

As I'm not immune to compliment on my artstyle on a character I adore, I feel the absolute need to draw said character MORE each time I'll receive an ask about it u_u

[erwinsvow]

no but like imagine kook!reader coming to save jj at the midsummer like a ‘princess in shining amour’ and jj’s not only relishing in it, topper and kelce are peeved but rafe is seething seeing his girl friend with her arm wrapped around jj’s bicep, gently pulling him away from his little ambush of the blond pogue.

"why is it always like this? why can't you guys behave for once? are you not embarrassed? i'm ashamed on your behalf," you lecture, standing in between jj and your three idiotic best friends.

it seemed nothing ever changed with them, no matter how much they insisted they would stop giving pogues a hard time and just act normal for once.

you were angry, rightfully so, since there was nothing you hated more than when rafe took out his anger on jj, just because the two of you were friends, just because you didn't despise jj the way he did.

but why would you? your other girl friends always bought weed from him, and he was always sweet and charming and funny. he hadn't done anything to incite rafe's anger besides talk to you, and you were sick of dealing with it. after all, if rafe didn't have the nerve to just ask you out, you weren't gonna deal with his possessive crap.

you progress into cursing them out, smacking top's arm when he tries to interrupt, keep an arm on jj's chest to push him away when rafe gets him riled up again.

"please, just stop, rafe, you're being such a dick-"

"yeah rafe, c'mon, listen to your girl here. thanks for the save, princess, i mean your little friends here are out for my hide-" jj starts, holding the hand on his chest and taking it into his own, and rafe lunges towards him again.

"shut up, fuckin' pogue, don't touch her-"

"seriously, get it together. god." you finish finally, turning back to apologize to jj again. he's bleeding from his lip, a huge bruise on his face. you think your friends did this, turning back to shoot them one last dirty look. "do you need ice, jj? i can go get some."

"sure thing. thanks princess." you wrap your hand around jj, leading him away back towards the bar. jj turns back around to say something else but you lean in close, whispering something in his ear that makes the blond smile. he wraps his arm around your shoulder, hand on your exposed skin, bringing you into a hug while walking out.

"he's got some fucking nerve," topper starts, fixing his tie and staring back at rafe for his reaction.

"what the hell was that? now she's friends with maybank?" kelce asks, but rafe ignores them both, talking mostly to himself.

"friends? with maybank? over my dead fuckin' body. yeah, i'll fuckin' see about that."

[pixelatedraindrops]

Happy Birthday Yuma! ☔️💜💧

Yuma Month: Day 22: Birthday 🎂

I wasn’t quite sure what to draw for his birthday. I thought of doing something similar to my birthday art for Makoto where I drew 2 different versions of him together.

So here’s the two yumas and the two shinigamis (before and after) I hope this is enough ;w;

Normal pic in case this one is too eye-straining

[jaggededges123]

a little bit of tridentariicest for @dmsr-art 🥰

“I can still eat you, like this, look—as many times as you want, baby.”

“Ianthe, not funny,” Corona wails, piteously, but she doesn’t even try to stop you as your bloodstained hands tug at her white trousers with the golden trim—you leave the royal purple jacket, for now. “You have his eyes, and you could have had mine!”

“Who cares about Babs,” you soothe, taking in the buttery-golden curls that appear as you pull her trousers and underwear off one leg over her boot, leaving it hanging as you settle between her thick, gorgeous thighs. “Don’t mention him, dear—you need to stay with me, and not as a myriad-long battery.”

You reach out with your fingers, which feel like they are buzzing with the energy of a thousand thanergic stars, and you touch her, sliding your fingers gently down her slit. She spreads her legs wider for you, obliging and sweet even as she cries. She’s wet.

Of course she’s wet, she’s her and you’re you. Even in her upset, there was really no other outcome.

“Sister,” she cries, and again your heart half-breaks because if only she was capable of understanding. You usually understand each other, when she is capable of it, but her brain is not on the same level as yours. This would be easier if it were. “I can’t believe you. We could have been—forever—”

“Shhhh,” you hush. “I need you, darling Corona. Don’t mention it again.”

And you dive in as she gives a pathetic “Is that even true?” that gets cut through with a moan, because she really cannot help it.

You know every inch of her juicy pussy, each out-of-the-way sensitive spot, and the motions she likes a partner to take with their tongue. You knew it first before anyone else, and you still know it best. No one can ever take that away from you—you will always know your older twin sister better than anyone else, love her more than anyone else, do what it takes to keep her more than anyone else.

As you lap at with her with your tongue, making circles around that flushed, pretty clit and pressing your nose into her pubic hair, you take two fingers soaked in his blood and press them inside her. She hiccups loudly, and her hand comes to grip at your limp pale strands of hair, which is more than encouraging. It’s working.

You crook your fingers and worry them along the front wall of her channel, and you take her clit to task with the point of your tongue. You consider, for a moment, adjusting the shape of that fleshy protrusion of your mouth moment by moment to show her how focused you are on her pleasure and how skillful a genius you are. It used to be a little hard, doing that—it wouldn’t be hard for you now, the marvel you are.

“Ianthe! Oh, I need you!” she shrieks, her hand gripping in your hair so hard that you can feel some of the follicles letting go—and immediately repairing themselves.

She comes too fast in the end, to make changing the shape of your tongue worth it—a slut for your mouth or your fingers or whatever else you use on her, that’s what she is. You know the moment she falls apart because you can thanergically sense her heartbeat stutter and then race, the cry of her every muscle. It makes you throb deep in your core, hotter than you’ve ever felt in your life.

Her purple-clothed chest starts heaving as she squeezes down on your fingers and trembles on your tongue, and you’re confident for a second that you’ve successfully distracted her from whatever silly romantic fantasies she’s concocted that mask the grim reality and terrible awesomeness of the Lyctoral process. Perhaps she understands now, in that dim, pretty head of hers, that if you were to take her then you wouldn’t have her anymore.

But then an even more hysterical sob breaks on her lips, not quite the sexy kind, and you know that she may never understand it.

You sigh.

[lost-in-fandoms]

¹⁷⁾ a carabiner heavy with keys❤️

hello friend, I want you to know that this prompt stumped me for quite a while, I just didn't know how to spin it? I started thinking about keys -> doors -> many doors, and I had a zookeeper AU in my brain, but also a college student x security guard AU kind of thing, but in the end I went for this. I did take some liberties on the carabiner part.

Max is being guided towards the last row of cells when they bring him in.

He's being held up by two guards, one more behind them carrying an extra torch, head hanging low like he's not fully aware, curls drooping in front of his face in a disheveled mess.

"Ah, yes," the warden says with a smirk, stepping over to open one of the closed doors, "our little thief!"

The cell is dark and damp, with a hole in the middle of the floor and a wooden slab against the wall as a bed, and even from where he's standing in the corridor, Max can feel how oppressive the small space is, air heavy and stale.

The guards throw the man in without much care, ignoring the way he slumps on the floor, unmoving, but the warden chuckles, coming closer to poke him with the tip of his boot.

"Not so smug now, are you?" he taunts.

Max forces himself not to react as he pokes the thief again, trying to keep his face as impassible as the other guards, watching as the guy tries to twist away, moaning pathetically.

"Who is he?" he asks, voice flat and uninterested. His fingers are tightly closed around the ring of keys the warden had passed him earlier, a copy of the one hanging from his belt.

"Just a rat, sneaking around the castle's treasury for far too long." The warden crouches down, grabbing the man's hair and pulling it back, revealing his bruised face. "The guys had a bit of fun, it seems."

The thief opens one swollen eye to look up at him, and for a second Max thinks his face is twisting in pain, but then realises he's smiling, all blood-stained teeth.

"Touching is 5 gold pieces, sweetheart," he rasps out, before spitting at the warden.

Max can't help but flinch when the guy's head hits the floor, but he steels himself for the kick he sees coming, forcing himself to not look away, even as the poor man coughs and gasps on the floor.

"Vermin," the warden grunts, hitting him again for good measure, before finally stepping away. "Hope you've had your taste of fresh air, because this is the last you're going to get."

The thief doesn't answer, curling up more tightly on the floor, his gasps the last thing Max hears before the door closes with a heavy thud.

--

Max walks down the corridor, trying to remind himself that he has every right to be here, and it would be more suspicious if he sneaked around, The keys jingle at his waist, and the sound itself is enough to make him feel vaguely nauseous, especially as he hears the sounds from inside the cells die down as he walks by, replaced by terrified silence.

Despite his intentions, his steps grow quieter as he walks deeper into the prison, approaching the last rows, and by the time he's in front of the thief's cell his breathing is almost inaudible too, the clinking of his keys the only sound announcing his presence.

He takes a breath before opening the door, checking the end of the corridor just in case someone decided to take a stroll down this way before the actual guards change. It's not illegal what he's doing, not yet at least, but technically he's not supposed to open this door, the meager food they've been throwing being passed through the hatch at the bottom.

The first click of the lock sounds too loud in the quiet corridor, but Max ignores the nerves twisting his stomach and keeps turning the key, pulling the door open as quietly as possible.

The first thing that hits him is the smell. The stale, damp air, now smells even worse, after days of a human being living in it, and he almost has to take a step back, feeling it like a punch in his chest. After that, he sees the thief, a shadow tucked away in one corner.

The sight is enough to make him forget about the smell as he rushes forward, tucking his keys in his pocket to make them less noisy, crouching down in front of him, relieved by the movement of his shoulders.

"Daniel," he whispers, reaching out to touch but worried he'll accidentally scare him, or worse, hurt him. "Daniel, come on, look at me."

"You're late."

Max feels like a weight has been lifted from his chest hearing Daniel's voice, even if dry and raspy, and he almost laughs with it, finally leaning all the way in to touch his shoulders, helping him sit up.

"I'm sorry," he says, even if he had no real way of getting their work done more quickly. "I have water for you, and a piggyback ride out."

Max is glad he prepared himself before walking in, because it takes all his self-control to not gasp when Daniel finally looks up. The bruises he had seen a few days earlier are now purple and green, the dried blood still caking his cheekbone now a flaky brown, his cheeks sunken and pale.

"Don't look at me like that, I haven't had my beauty sleep," Daniel jokes, voice cracking into a cough by the end of the sentence.

"I hate you," Max says, because saying I love you so much it felt like I was dying when I was watching them throw you in here feels a bit too much at the moment. What he does instead is take out the small flask of water from his pocket, helping Daniel drink, fingers almost tingling where he's touching his skin.

"You got them right?" Daniel asks as soon as he's done, looking slightly better than before.

Max nods, patting the pocket on his chest, under his cloak, where he had hidden the documents he had retrieved from where Daniel had stashed them away. Daniel getting beat up hadn't been in the plans though, and Max is eager to get him out of there as soon as possible.

"Come on, it's not long until the watch changes."

He helps Daniel stand up, then climb on his back, leaving his hands free, just in case.

"I'm going to give you so much food," he tells him, feeling how much lighter Daniel has become in just a few days.

"You better."

Max closes the door of the cell behind them, taking a moment to wrap the keys up in an handkerchief before putting them back in his pocket. He knows that there's no way to make it seem like he's not smuggling Daniel out, so he's not taking any chances of the damned keys betraying them when he's trying to be quiet. Then he takes a deep breath, makes sure Daniel is secure on his back, and starts making his way to safety.