#thanks for all the love bb

[vakariaan]

♫ it's in his kiss ♫

[clownsuu]

Beeble :)))

gASP THE LIL G U Y

[gunsatthaphan]

in other news Kid-Nap was confirmed as a BL and now the obnoxious ON stans are protesting on the streets I-- 💀

[hallenanyall]

what its all about.

[imthursdaysyme]

arwen spotted at the club and who are they if they don’t pose when a cameras in front of them

[bberetd]

for @pinkcreamypeach, since you did art of my lovely Apricot and your kids, here’s my take on your Mareach kids with Appy! 🥹

Can’t forget Lusia of course 🤭

you can see all of their lore here!

[duskandcobalt]

wip wednesday 💕

Hello, hello! I’m back with a little snippet of the next chapter of Everywhere, Everything.

I’m so fixated on getting this right and I’m hoping to spend some quality time with this chapter this weekend so that I can get it out to you soon xx

“Hi.” Her voice was barely a squeak, nervous and high and Azriel couldn’t stand it. Hated this awkwardness between them. Hated that she felt any level of unease around him.

“Trouble sleeping?” He raised an eyebrow, offering her a slow, sleepy smile that he hoped would work to put her at ease.

He fought the urge to reach out and touch her, to place a hand on the back of her neck and slide his thumb around the knot he knew he’d find there. He resisted the temptation to tuck her hair behind her ear so he could see her face without it being half hidden in shadows.

“Yeah,” Elain nodded. “Couldn’t get the fan to work and I need…”

“The white noise,” Azriel finished for her, a wave of satisfaction flowing through him at the first upward tilt of her lips and the subtle drop of her shoulders, at least a fraction of the tension she held within herself melting away into the night.

“What about you?” Elain asked, her gaze still focused straight ahead. “Trouble sleeping?”

“Something like that,” He replied, fighting to keep the grimace off his face when he thought about the real reason he was up so late. “At least it’s worked in my favour this time.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means that I’ve been trying to get a minute alone with you for two days now.”

[fatuismooches]

so i had this conversation with my friend about dottore and fragile!reader and i just wanna share it to you because like, your account has a lot of fragile!reader and i enjoy them a lot :3 sorry not sorry btw lmao, you're the one who started the fragile!reader agenda and i live for the angst. i had this music in my mind while writing this (just imagine it matches the ending i put lmao). have a good day/night :3

cw: yeah so reader dies lol, pure angst

-

my friend said "what if dottore knows how to play the piano" and quickly it went to dottore and reader playing duets together. dottore being the pianist and reader being the violinist.

throughout their lives, when dottore isn't too busy or too tired, you would play a duet together, because it's one of your ways to bond. since you were young, you've played the violin. it was your passion, a piece of art you have dedicated yourself to. dottore wanted to be part of that, so he meticulously learned how to play the piano, just for you.

the music you play always resonated deeply in your hearts. sometimes, you'd pick up your violin and play whatever comes to your mind, each note you play with your bow purely improvised, and dottore would stop whatever he was doing and go to his piano. he would tap his foot along with the imaginary tempo you've created, humming along with your tune, before straightening his back and let his fingers dance along the keys.

it was beautiful, majestic. music that has bonded two people so strong and will continue to unite the souls that play the music endlessly with their instruments.

but alas, not all love stories end happily.

your back, shoulders, arms, and fingers have grown weak. the callouses that graced your fingertips, scars that you were so proud of, has long faded, returning to the smooth, and unblemished surface of your skin. you could barely remember how to properly hold your beloved bow, nor lift your violin. the weight was too heavy for you now.

it was only as if it was yesterday when he saw you so lively and happy, smiling so tenderly as you sway your body to the rhythm he has set with his piano. the way you'd oh so passionately move your fingers across the fingerboard, the slight tilt of your head onto the chin rest as you close your eyes to feel the music throughout your mind and soul.

and yet it has been years since you've held your violin. it could only bring you unbearable pain once you lay your eyes on your most prized possession.

he has taken care of your violin in your stead. he waxed the bow, tuned the strings and polished it, keeping it pristine, as if it's owner still adored their beloved instrument.

he could cure you. he most certainly will. he will bring back the joy you once had in life before you were forever trapped in the confines of your room. chained to the bed that you have known almost a huge fraction of your withering life.

he continued to play for you. to let his fingers gloss over the keys of his dearest piano, the play tunes that you once loved so much, to see the sparkle of joy in your eyes. and yet when you smile at him when he finishes a piece he knew was your favorite, he could only see sadness. miserable and gnawing sadness that only worsened whatever godforsaken sickness you had.

he could cure you. he will make a cure, no matter how long it will take. but you're now begging him for a duet. to play together like you once had. normally, dottore would've been delighted seeing the spark of love you had with music light up once more, but all he felt was dread.

it wasn't passion, nor joy, nor love that he could see in your eyes. it was only resignation.

was it a sign? that you were ready to pass on? but he could cure you! he will cure you! you just have to be patient, please. he's begging you to just lay down and let him work. let him make a cure. let him help you- he cannot lose the one thing that has given him life. the one person who has loved him more than the universe ever had...

but you begged him. pleaded him. you cried and pulled on his coat, you caressed and cooed at his skin, you kissed and whispered sweet nothing in his ears. you persuaded him. reassured him. comforted him.

he knew.

you knew.

so he handed you your precious violin. he helped you hold your violin like you used to, to position your fingers on the bow. you lay your head onto the chin rest, and bear the pain of the hard wood against your fragile skin.

dottore walks towards his piano, slow and steady. he didn't want to keep you waiting, it would be rude of him. but he couldn't help it. he was in denial. he wanted to walk outside your room and never return, to smash his piano to just keep him from playing that dreaded duet you wanted to play in hopes that you'd wait for the cure instead of accepting your death so easily.

but he couldn't say no to you. oh, how easy for you, a weak, dying, fragile person, having so much power against il dottore, the 2nd of the fatui harbingers.

and so he sat down, lifted the lid of the keyboard, and hesitantly hovers his fingers on the keys.

your voice, so faint and raspy, but so gentle and warm.

"one, two, three, and-"

you were horrible at the violin. it was a given since you're too weak to even properly hold it, and you haven't had practice since you've gotten sick. the scratching of the hairs against the metallic strings ground your ears, and the notes weren't even in tune with the piece. but you managed to follow through with dottore's rhythm, the tap of his foot at each beat serving as your metronome to keep up, no matter how your music sounded in contrast with his.

his eyes were only focused on his fingers. he dared not to look at you. if he did, he will lose all his control. each hitched breath you had, he could hear. each groan of pain, each silent curse, each hiss, each sob, he could hear them. but he pretended that he didn't. that it was just another simple duet that you've always done together. that perhaps tomorrow, you'll nag him to stop working so hard and play this piece you've been dying to play.

dottore's fingers continued to press on the keys, each note bringing nothing but grief into his heart. he pretended not to hear your gasps, the faint 'i love you's and the shattering, horrifying, sound of your violin falling onto the cold tiled floor. he pretends he doesn't hear it all. only his music, your music.

he could hear your perfect pitch, somewhere deep into his memories, each drag of the bow, up and down the strings, then the playful staccato as you poke your tongue at him.

he played the piece until the very end. he ignored the burning in his eyes. the bile rising up his throat. the trembling of his fingers. the quivering of his bottom lip.

his fingers were slipping (he could hear you playing your violin like you used to), he was messing up. he was pressing the wrong keys, and he was growing frustrated, blinking away the blurriness of his eyes.

(he wishes, he prays, that after this piece, you'd be smiling at him)

then, he slams his hands against the keyboard, a vile, heart-wrenching scream leaving his lips. the piece has turned into a disaster. chaos. despair. he wanted to destroy his piano. he wanted to destroy everything. he wanted to destroy himself.

but you wouldn't want that, won't you?

he straightened his back, fingers back onto the keys where he left off, as he chocked back a sob. he dared not to look at you. not yet, not after he finished the duet like you wanted to.

soft, gentle tunes reverberated throughout your cold, and empty room. full of love, devotion, grief, melancholy, and anguish, but dottore played and played. his music sounding like it once had when you were near his side, playing along his tune.

it was the first ever duet you've played together. a piece that was so dear to his heart. he was grateful that you chose it to be your last.

and just like the piece, it started with the violin, and ended with the piano.

OH MY GOSH NOT YOU DROPPING THIS MASTERPIECE ON ME AND LEAVING?? IM TEARING UP WTF YOU AND YOUR FRIEND ATE😭😭😭

One would think that the Doctor wouldn’t be interested in the arts and such, but it was the opposite, mostly thanks to you. He may be a scientist obsessed with his research, but even someone like him could appreciate a honed talent, especially one by his own lover. Admiring your skill he too took it upon himself to teach himself an instrument, first to understand your grind, and second to be able to match with you. It was amusing at first to see him try to play in sync with your violin, but as time went on, you two sounded absolutely wonderful. Both of you heavily enjoyed it. Especially Dottore. It felt as though he could say things without actually verbally saying things. Many times he failed at expressing himself with words but he felt as if you could understand him this way instead.

But then came your illness. The one that rendered you unable to do many things, made you unable to play your beloved violin again. You fought it at first, refusing to give up your favorite thing, but to no avail. No longer did you have the health or energy to even hold it, much less play it, sending a great blow to your soul. And Dottore realized it immediately. No longer would you smile that one particular smile, one that said much more than words could, one that showed your utmost emotion and happiness. No longer did your eyes hold that certain glint, the one that held such a fondness for your craft, and for him, when you played together. No longer could you saunter over to him after an especially satisfying duet.

At the beginning of your illness, you would hover over him and carefully watch as he took care of your instrument. After all it was hard for you to let go of it and give someone else the responsibility. But as the years went by with only a downward progression in your illness, you succumbed to it and simply let your lover handle it. If you saw it now you’d probably have a break down. And he did. He took care of it just as well as you would have. He would never disappoint you.

But everything would end out fine, Dottore told himself. He shall cure you, and the first thing you would do together is play a duet once again. And then you could take care of your own instrument again like you used to and he could see the lovely smile return to your face. It would end out right in the end, he was the genius doctor after all. That’s what he tells himself, but he finds himself saying that a lot more these days. Because these days are the days when despite him playing the songs you love so much, the pretend smiles are all you can smile and the light does not reach your eyes. You pretend you are okay but he’s not stupid, you are far from okay. The sickness wasn’t the only thing eating you up inside.

And it all boils over one day, when he sees that look in your eye. The one that he wanted to convince himself was just an illusion, that surely you were just playing a prank on him, because no, there’s no way you could feel that way right? Why would you want to give up? He can do it, he can do anything - he can build Gods with no effort and create things beyond the human imagination - just let him continue to work on this. He’ll work until the world ends if he has to, hell even if another war comes and goes, if Teyvat is rebuilt again, just believe in him like you always used to since back then, as his assistant, as his fellow scholar, as his lover, as his one and only.

Zandik feels panic, something that only seems to pop up with you. The first time was when you suddenly collapsed in front of him, and he just found out about the illness. The other times were related to your various health scares as well. And this time… it seems like it would be the last. Because he can’t say no to your request, not while you’re clinging onto him showing the most raw emotion you have in days. He doesn’t want to do it. He doesn’t want to play his final duet with you. But alas, the world had never been kind to him.

When the Doctor has something to do, he gets it done. He doesn't waste time, as he has far more important things to do. But this wasn't the Doctor, or Dottore. This was Zandik. The same Zandik who promised you all those years ago to cure you, who swore one day you would suffer no longer. He’s lived for ages, but for some reason giving you your violin with that defeated expression on your face feels so much longer than a few seconds. It feels like ages when he slowly helps you adjust your violin the right way. It feels like ages as he walks over to take a seat at the piano. It feels like ages when his hands open the lid, and settle over the keys. He debates trying to convince you once again, but deep down he knows there’s nothing he can do. You were the only one who could ever win in an argument against him anyway. Everything was over. The least he could do, was to fulfill your last wish.

You knew you did not sound good. Your posture was all off, it sounded more like a horrible screeching than the lovely tune that you once produced all those years ago, you were panting and aching just at the mere act but you persisted, following your lover’s lead. He didn’t look at you, and you knew why, and you couldn’t help but get choked up too. It was surprising to see how much Zandik was alerted to your pain. He saw pain and inflicted pain on others every day but when it came to you, he hated it. He hated it so much that he knew if he looked at you, he would lose his mind. But he focused on the black and white keys in front of him.

The sound of the music is not enough to block his ears from hearing your apologetic whispers and final words of love, nor your violin falling to the floor with a terrible sound. Zandik keeps going regardless. It’s okay, he thinks, as he plays the lovely sounds you once made from many years ago. You’re still playing right besides him. You’re still going, so he shall as well. Then he realizes that a liquid is staining the keys and messing him up. And then he genuinely can’t remember the last time he cried, if he’s cried at all. He thinks it may have been as a child, shunned and alone. But even though it’s such a foreign thing for him it doesn’t surprise him. Nor does the unpleasant racket from the keys surprise him either.

He wonders if you’ll forgive him for the terrible performance he put on. He wonders if you’ll forgive him for failing you. Forgiveness, he almost laughs cruelly. Forgiveness. Something he never sought or cared about. He nearly destroys the piano with his bare hands but finds a tiny bit of control left in him, one created just for you. You’d want him to continue. And almost unnaturally he returns to his keys with the utmost concentration. For you. The final song. The final duet. The final everything.

Zandik always liked playing music with you for the things he could not express physically or verbally. He wondered if you could understand his final message, too. Even if you weren’t here anymore.

Oh no... the music really ties it all together... crying and screaming man omg 😭 IT JUST KEPT GETTING SADDER AND SADDER THIS IS AMAZING- BRO I DONT EVEN HAVE MUCH TO ADD- THIS HAS TO BE THE BEST ANGST DOTTORE PIECE IVE EVER READ.

I love the way you wrote his emotions here, him trying to hold it back but ultimately failing in the end because you really meant that much to him. You really portrayed how much he loved reader so well! I love that sm. It makes me wonder if he would keep the piano, since it's one of his core memories with you but it also brings him an indescribable amount of pain... Same with your violin. I think he would probably lock them up and never go into the room again because seeing them again would send him into a rage of sadness and anger.

Welp, I went through the five stages of grief with this😭🚶‍♀️Thank you for this absolute meal omg

[mushiewrites]

Sleepy Experiments

It is officially lee!George week! :D I'm so excited I finally got to do something like this - I've had this idea since @fluffallamaful did an incredible lee!Dream MONTH last June, and truthfully I've wanted to do this since last August but....better late than never, right? 😇 I also wanna just thank @awkwardtickleetoo for helping me with everything - prompts, ideas, proof reading, etc. Cal is literally there for me always and Im so grateful for him, he truly is my lil knight ):

day 1 - soft tickles / prompts found here!

(lee!George / ler!Dream : 3.8K words)

“Dream! Stohop!” George was met with yet another poke to his side, jerking his body to the left to escape Dream’s finger. He let out a sigh in fake frustration, fully aware that Dream was bound to become bored as they’d been attempting to nap with no success for a little while now. George had almost drifted to sleep multiple times, but every single time he did, he was met with a poke from the restless blonde boy.

“George! I cahan’t!” The elder couldn’t help but giggle at the mocking as Dream leaned his cheek against his right palm, elbow propped onto the bed beside him while he wiggled his free pointer finger in the air in front of George’s face to tease him. The brunette quickly swatted it away, making Dream let out a huff of amused air through his nose before making a move to poke George again. “Just a little!”

“Nohoho! Leave mehehe alone!” 

“Come on, Georgie, please? I promise I’ll be reaaaaally gentle. And maybe it’ll help me sleep!” Dream stuck out his bottom lip as far as it would go as he held out his words, the pout matching the puppy dog eyes he was using to melt the Brit. George let his head fall back onto the pillow beneath him, letting out a groan and bringing his right arm up to cover his eyes to prevent him from seeing how closely Dream was focusing on him. 

“I- I mean- why? Just- …ugh, fine.” George winced when Dream let out a squeal of excitement, dropping his arm back against the blankets and cracking an eye open to see Dream quickly push himself into a kneeling position beside him. “You have to be so gentle though, Dream! I mean it! One wrong move and you’re done.”

“I promise to be so gentle!” The blonde smiled at the warning, tapping George’s thigh twice before continuing. “Do you mind turning over for me, George?” 

George felt his cheeks fill with warmth, nodding his head with a quiet whine as he adjusted himself to lay on his tummy. He felt the familiar weight of the younger boy settling on the back of his thighs, jumping slightly when Dream hooked two fingers under his shirt and began revealing the pale skin beneath it. He felt goosebumps spread across the expanse of his back as the cool air blanketed every inch of it, making him squirm slightly with a shiver and growling at Dream when he giggled at the involuntary movement. 

“Do you really have to lift my shirt up for this?” His voice was more high pitched than he expected it to be and swallowed thickly, looking over his shoulder at Dream and coughing slightly to adjust it back to the normal tone. “I mean, it seems a bit excessive.” 

Dream let out a scoff at the passive protest, tilting his head slightly to the right when he saw the tips of George’s ears turning a light pink. He chuckled as he continued to slowly drag the black T-shirt up until it was sitting just below the bottom of his shoulder blades. George felt the fabric glide lightly across his skin when Dream released his grip, making him squirm briefly at the soft tickly feeling. 

“Oh George, if that bothered you, how are you gonna handle the actual tickles?” Dream cooed, smiling as the smaller boy began to squirm a little more at the thought of the soft tickles that awaited him. Dream swiped a pointer finger just below both his shoulder blades and chuckled when the smaller boy screeched, pushing his face into the pillow and muffling a nervous giggle that he couldn’t keep in any longer.

“Wahatch it! I can stop this right now, you know!” George threatened as he adjusted his arms, folding them underneath the pillow before laying his head back down against the soft fabric. 

“What?! No! Please don’t!” The tone of his voice sent a small dagger into George’s chest, melting him instantly. He knew that Dream was fully joking, but the fake hurt in the younger’s voice made George want to let Dream tickle him forever.

“I…I won’t,” He sighed in defeat. “Just…be careful, okay?” 

George was met with a small chuckle in response, giggling himself when he felt Dream’s fingers touch down just under his shoulder blades and wiggle lightly against the warm skin there. He twisted his fists up into the pillowcase, squeezing the fabric between his fingers in an attempt to keep his arms raised.

Dream continued to softly skitter his fingers over George’s back, spreading his hands further apart to trail up and down the sides of his spine. He arched into the bed as Dream’s right pointer finger traced back up his spine and between his shoulder blades, giggling harder and kicking his feet against the covers a few times to relieve some of the tickly energy that was coursing through his body.

“You’re cute when you’re all squirmy like this.” The blonde stated, no teasing tone to be found in his voice. This only further proved to fluster George as his face grew hotter, making him turn to fully bury his face into the pillow. 

“Shuhut up!” George’s giggles were quickly morphed to cackles as Dream used both pointer fingers to walk under his shirt, scratching lightly at the sides of his armpits and following George whichever way he twisted. 

“It’s the truth! What am I supposed to do, lie to you?” Dream giggled from his spot on George’s thighs, flattening his palms and dragging them slowly down before spidering his fingers along the boy’s lower back. The brunette jumped in surprise at the sudden tickling, giggling harder and visibly struggling more and more the longer Dream focused there.

“Ahaha, please! I- Dreheheam! Gehehentle, plehease!” 

“Thihis is gentle! I’m not sure I could get any more gentle if I tried!” Despite his rebuttal, Dream pressed his palms down again into the pink skin of George’s lower back and began rubbing to help soothe the tingly feeling. 

“Thahahank you!” George’s laughter was slowly calming down, the pitch raised into tiny squeaks but becoming less frequent as the time passed. Dream felt his own cheeks filling with heat at the reply, rarely experiencing that level of politeness from the Brit. He leaned his body slightly to the left  to look at George, feeling his stomach fill with butterflies at how wide his smile was, and how happy he looked with his eyes squeezed and nose scrunched. 

“Anything for you, my little prince.” He was met with a high pitched whine followed by chirpy giggles, making Dream’s tiny grin grow into a full blown toothy grin.

After sitting back on George’s thighs again, adjusting himself to balance comfortably, Dream used his pointer and middle fingers from both hands and slowly walked them up George’s back, pressing in and wiggling slightly as they continued their journey from his lower back to just under his shoulder blades once more.

“I didn’t realize how sensitive your back was, Georgie. And here I am, just thinking I was the only one cursed with this weakness!” He continued to speak as he made little swirls with his fingers on the sides of George’s back, careful to not tickle too much over his back ribs in fear of disturbing the smaller boy’s state of sleepy bliss he was caught in. “I hope you know I’ll remember this.” 

“Whahahatever!” The brunette exclaimed, wiggling slightly as the soft tickling continued under his shirt and around his shoulder blades. He scrunched his shoulders up as high as they would go, shaking his head back and forth as tickly circles were drawn around the sensitive bones of his upper back, hugging the pillow as tightly as he could as a source of comfort.

The younger boy hummed in response, a smile clear in the tone as he removed his hands from under the shirt and made his way back down to the dimples of George’s back, tracing and skittering all ten of his fingers as he went. As much as he loved the sound of George’s cackling, squealing and giggling, he didn’t want to tire the boy out too soon. After another minute of gentle tickles around the sides of his lower back, Dream flattened his palms again and began to rub the entirety of George’s back, helping to calm him and work him through the giggles that continued to pour from him. 

Dream eventually made his way to George’s shoulders, helping relax them back down from being pressed up against his ears. He used his hands to squeeze the muscles there every few seconds, giving George a gentle massage as his giggles slowly dissolved. The blonde noticed how small George looked beneath him, his hands completely engulfing his shoulders and making Dream let out a chuckle at how tiny he actually was. George let out a contented sigh, ignoring the giggle and turning his head to lay his cheek on the blankets comfortably, closing his eyes just moments later. George could feel himself drifting off to sleep when suddenly his eyes shot open, Dream’s hands having moved closer to his neck and sending a horribly tickly sensation to his nerves. 

“Wait, whahat?! Nohoho!” The elder scrunched his shoulders up and attempted to block the sensitive muscle where his shoulders and base of his neck met, clearly surprised at how much it affected him. 

“Awh, what’s wrong, sweetheart, does someone have a sensitive neck?” 

“You knohohow I do!” 

The brunette buried his head into the blankets below him once again as he let out a squeal, feeling Dream’s fingers walking up the sides of his neck until he was directly under his ears on both sides. He began to gently flutter his fingers in the hypersensitive area, giggling to himself when George’s laughter rose in pitch until it was nothing but bright chirps and loud squeaks. 

“Listen to you, George! You’re like a little bird!” The older boy groaned through his giggles at the comment, not knowing whether to take it as a compliment or an insult. He didn’t have much time to dwell on that though as a tiny raspberry was suddenly placed below his right ear, making him screech and attempt to bring up his shoulder again. Unfortunately for George, Dream’s chin blocked it and another small raspberry was placed in the same spot. 

“NAHAHA P-PLEHEASE! G-Gehehentle, Dream!” 

The skitters against his skin turned into gentle rubs, taming George’s giggles almost instantly and allowing him to relax back into the touch.

“I know, I know. I just can’t help myself, George. You’re too cute when you get all scrunchy.” Dream giggled at his own words as he watched George melt into the blankets beneath him. He moved his pointer fingers to swipe at the shell of George’s ear to hear him squeal again before rubbing the ghost tickles out immediately after the action. 

“W-Well, you’re ahahan idiot!” 

“Maybe, but I’m your idiot. So that makes up for it, right?” 

George could hear the smirk in Dream’s voice and refused to answer out of spite, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing the stupid remark had made me smile, too. After a few more minutes of Dream soothingly rubbing over George’s shoulders, he tapped on the smaller boy’s back a few times to get his attention. 

“Is it okay if you turn onto your back for me? I wanna try something else.” The blonde was met with a small whine in response, but lifted himself slightly off of George’s thighs when Dream felt him begin to turn over anyway. Dream’s grin only grew when George flashed him a death glare, watching as he flopped himself down onto his back with an eye roll. 

“There. Happy?” 

Dream raised an eyebrow at the question as he looked George’s torso up and down, shaking his head slightly in disapproval as he lowered himself back onto George’s thighs. His eyes were glued to George’s shirt, which had fallen back down to cover his tummy as the smaller boy maneuvered himself just seconds before.

“I would be, but you messed up your shirt! Now I have to pull it up again.” Dream sighed in feigned annoyance. He made sure to meet George’s gaze as he slowly began to push his shirt up once again, this time stopping at the middle of his ribs and dragging his fingers down his sides once he was satisfied with the amount of tummy exposed. The brunette writhed with a high pitched giggle at the tracing on his sides, bringing his hands up to hide his face out of embarrassment. 

Dream slowly skittered his fingers lightly over George’s lower tummy, feeling the smaller boy squirm a little more than he had been as he kicked his feet pathetically against the bed behind him. The blonde used his pointer fingers to continue to trace up and down the sides of George’s tummy, listening to the many different types of giggles it produced while George continued to squirm. The elder did his best to try and allow the tickling, stopping his hands every time they moved from his face to try and grab Dream’s hands on instinct. 

“Do you know you scrunch your nose sometimes when you laugh?” Dream commented nonchalantly, making the blush from George’s cheeks spread to the tips of his ears and down the front of his neck. 

“I dohohn’t!” 

“And you blush like crazy. Right now you’re like a little rose, your cheeks are so red! It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen! My little blushy baby.”

“SHUT UHUHP!” George removed his hands from the safety of his own face and lunged forward, trying his best to clamp them over Dream’s mouth but squealing when his wrists were scooped up into one of the blonde’s big hands instead. 

“Oh, you want me to tickle your palms? You could’ve just asked, gorgeous!” Dream brought his chin down and began to lightly drag his beard over George’s palms, making him break out into bright cackles as he threw his head back. 

“N-Nahaha please! Nohohot there!” 

Dream knew that George had extremely sensitive palms, but also knew they worked incredibly well as melt spots when done correctly. Dream continued to slowly drag his chin back and forth over George’s hands until he felt the small fingers relax against his own cheeks, smiling and letting George press his fingers into them as he giggled along with the elder. 

“Dreheheam!” 

The blonde could tell that George was getting embarrassed, giggling quietly as he watched him squeeze his eyes shut while he attempted to hide his face into one of his shoulders. Dream decided to take pity on him, smile wide as he pulled back slightly to stop the tickling. 

“Okahay, okay. I guess I’m done experimenting....” Dream spoke with fake disappointment as moved his chin from its place hovering over George’s hands, holding them in his own and using both of thumbs to rub against George’s to help calm him. 

“Thahahank God.” He dropped his head back down against the pillow as he closed his eyes with a contented sigh, intending on allowing the rest of the giggles to run their course while he attempted to relax again. Dream raised an eyebrow at that, taking it as a small challenge and smirking when a new plan formed in his head.

“But actually, you know what? Maybe not!” Dream spoke suddenly, fingers releasing George’s hands and allowing both of his own to fall down to rest on the tops of his thighs.

“Wahahait, why?!” George felt a slight panic at the idea of more tickles after everything he’d already been put through, bringing his hands back to himself and crossing both arms over his torso for protection.

“I just realized I never got your poor little feet! How could I forget them, they need just as much attention as the rest of you, don’t they?”

“What?! Nohoho! We- We’re supposed tohoho be nahahapping!” George was quick to protest, launching his hands forward and gripping onto Dream’s wrists as tight as he could to keep him in place. Dream’s grin grew wider at that reaction, getting the desired results and deciding to continue the teasing.

“I could even do that thing you like so much!” Dream flashed him a smile as he ignored George’s words, only interested in continuing the topic he had introduced. George knew by asking he would only get more flustered, but he was too curious and too stubborn to allow Dream to get away with gatekeeping whatever thought he was currently having at his own expense. 

“...What thing…?” He was hesitant, his voice wavering when the question finally spilled out moments later. The blonde giggled brightly at that, pulling at his arms a little to feel that George still had a tight grasp on them.

“Well,” Dream began to explain, shrugging his shoulders as he thought for a moment before continuing. “You know that thing. The shoe thing! The one where I take one off and leave one on?”

“Dre- NMM HMM?!” George opened his mouth to speak, but Dream was quick to break out of the smaller boy’s grip, placing a hand over his mouth to muffle the protests as he continued. 

“To be gentle, of course! Not for any other reason. And then I’d take the one sock off, too. And I’d leave the other foot alone, still protected. Isn’t that nice of me, only focusing on one foot instead of two?”

George let go of the wrist he still was holding and grabbed the hand over his mouth, pulling it off and flinging it away from himself as far as Dream would let it go. He quickly brought his arms up and flung them over his face once again as he felt his cheeks grow hotter by the second. George was shaking his head quickly, not saying anything verbally out of fear his voice would sound small and weak from how flustered he was.

“You can relax, I’m just teasing. That’s a little too intense for you for it to be considered gentle, isn’t it, sweetheart? You’re just too ticklish and too flustered, huh?” 

“What?! Dream, just- whahatever, shut up!” George whined behind his arms, letting out a small hiccup in surprise when Dream gripped his elbows and lowered his arms to reveal his face. He opened his eyes and was met with bright green ones staring back, rolling his own and pushing at Dream’s chest to move him back slightly.

“Alrihight, angel, I’m done tormenting you…for now.” The blonde adjusted himself from straddling George’s thighs to kneeling next to him again, this time pressing his knees against George’s side in an attempt to stay connected. 

“More like forever.” George made a move to sit up as he mumbled under his breath, pushing himself up onto his elbows only to fall back against the bed suddenly when he felt rapid squeezes digging into his inner thighs. He let out a wail and thrashed around frantically, his legs kicking out and arms flailing in every direction. 

“NAHAHAHA! D-DREHEHEHEAM NOHOHO!” One of George’s hands gripped tightly into the comforter below him, pulling at it and trying his best to keep his arms to himself in an attempt to save himself from slapping Dream and making the tickling far worse than it already was.

The pinching stopped as quickly as it had started, allowing George to take in deep gulps of air as he continued to laugh himself silly. He pressed his knees together as he turned to the left side, curling in on himself and bringing a hand down to wedge between his inner thighs in an attempt to tame the ghost tickles that were still flowing throughout his legs. His free hand was covering the side of his face that was visible to Dream, attempting to keep the blonde from seeing George’s rapidly growing blush.

“I’m sorry, but I had to! You were getting cocky with me,” The blonde giggled, stretching his left arm out and placing it on the smaller boy’s arm and rubbing it soothingly to try and help calm his nerves. He let out a bright giggle when George jolted at the sudden touch, clearly anticipating more tickles. Dream moved his hand up George’s arm and into the older boy’s hair, gently ruffling it. “But it was only for a second! I promise I’m done now, baby.”

“Ohohonly a second?! It’s my thighs, Dreheheam! You know how they are!” George rolled his eyes as he moved his hand to reveal his face, barely meeting Dream’s gaze. He felt a chill run down his spine as soon as the words passed his lips, noticing the flame they ignited in Dream’s eyes as he stared down at him with a smirk.

“Oh yeah? Do I know how they are, Georgie?” The brunette squirmed at the words, moving to cover his face once again to hide himself from Dream.

“Yes!” George spat back in annoyance, feeling his face heat up once again at the teasing tone in the younger boy’s voice. George felt the bed dip and suddenly he felt lips against the shell of his ear, barely grazing it and causing him to yelp. He made a move to cover the spot with his hand instead, but Dream had anticipated this and was quick to lightly grip George’s wrist, keeping it where it was against his blushy cheek.

“Hmmm…maybe I do. But don’t worry! We can explore that another day, just to make sure I really know,” Dream purred into his ear, making George let out a high pitched whine from the sudden closeness of the blonde. “Preferably on a day where I’m feeling particularly cruel. Does that sound good, kitten?”

Dream released his grip on the tiny wrist in his hand, chuckling when the brunette scrambled to sit up while the blonde made a move to crawl to the edge of the bed. George could do nothing but watch with wide eyes as the younger boy stood up, making his way towards the door with a mischievous look on his face; like he was immediately planning George’s demise. 

“W-What about our nap?” 

“How could I possibly sleep now when I have, like, ten different ideas on how to absolutely wreck you floating around in my head? I’ll nap later.” Dream turned around one last time to flash him a teasy smile before exiting the bedroom and disappearing down the hallway, leaving George bright faced and breathless, anxiously sitting with the many questions that swirled through his mind of what Dream could possibly do to further tear him into ticklish little shreds.

[inkyajax]

I love the idea of daddy Sunday pampering you, choosing your clothes for you, only the best for his baby, and helping you get dressed while you are to sleepy, to follow him around to his social events, perched on his arm like a good girl. It makes me giddy!!

ooooh yes yes yes!!! i completely agree hehe <3 because the thing about sunday is that he absolutely would pamper the everliving heck outta you. as a(n ethical/philosophical) hedonist, sunday believes in, loves, and cherishes the finer things in life—all of life’s little pleasures, materialistic or otherwise. a dominant caregiver role is so perfect for him, since having complete control over you and being in a position to take care of you—to manage your happiness, to make sure you are in the absolute best conditions and positions that you possibly can be—alleviates a ton of his anxiety and makes him feel validated and valuable.

he loves being able to dress you up like his own personal doll every morning, and it’s even better when you’re giggling and telling him that the outfit he has curated for the day is so pretty, Daddy and you love it so much, Daddy and it makes you feel like a princess, Daddy! <3 see? he’s murmuring to you as he smooths silk down your body, palms tender and careful, as if he’s dealing with the most precious porcelain. Daddy always knows best.

and it’s true; Daddy does always know best. Daddy consciously takes into account both yours and his personal preferences when it comes to your clothing and accessories, ensuring that you are both always happy with the outcome. Daddy is perfect at composing beautiful outfits that only add to the piece of art you already are, accentuating your natural features. and this is excellent, because you are his favourite accessory—the one thing he never leaves the house without, the one thing he absolutely needs on his person at all times, both hands tucked snuggly in the crook of his bent elbow, pressed to his ribs or overlayed with his free hand, his fingers curling over your own.

you are an instant, natural, pure anti-anxiety, your mere presence grounding him, your touch tethering him to your peace, keeping his heart calm and his head clear, bathed in your everlasting light and love. your soul, irrevocably intertwined with his own, empowers and uplifts him, and he draws strength and stability from it. he always matches his outfits to your own, so the two of you look like a flawless pair, a pristine set, incomplete without the other. it’s a subtle claim of ownership, a nonverbal message to anyone who lays eyes upon you—you are his, he is yours, together you create one whole.

[spider-stark]

WHOOPS sat down to start editing my aeron/amos fic and accidentally started another benji fic?

crazy

[jeongtokkie]

come on let's get it we are your boo seok soon

[daimyosprincess]

Announcement 🎉

I'm excited to announce that I'll be posting my first ever fic, Ex Libris, next Friday, May 5!!

A multi-part AU set in our world, Ex Libris begins when you, a librarian in the university library, meet the new Mandalorian studies professor, Boba Fett. Sparks fly and passions soar, but just what all does Professor Fett have in store for you?

Check out a preview of Part I: Foreword below the cut, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Comments and feedback are appreciated and welcome, and if you would like to be tagged in future updates, please fill out my taglist form.

Many thanks to the WONDERFUL @rexxdjarin and @choaticninjawitch for all your support and encouragement in my writing journey 💖 so many talented creators have inspired me with their amazing works and I'm honored to be able to join them. Please support creators, foster fandom and create the community we want with comments and reblogs.

EX LIBRIS

—Professor!Boba Fett x F!Librarian!Reader

—Summary: You want to add your story to Professor Boba Fett’s personal collection.

—Rating: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—Series Tags & Warnings: [chapter-specific tags will have additional warnings] second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, age gap (reader is mid-twenties, Boba is late forties), dom/sub power dynamics, bdsm elements, reader described as having hair, alcohol consumption by reader and others

The university library is dead—classes aren’t in session and things are slow. The afternoon summer sun streams through the building’s tall windows, illuminating the dust motes that dance in the golden light. The faint rustle of papers turning is the only sound filling the idle air other than you and your coworker’s chatting at the circulation desk. 

“No, I’m telling you there’s no good guys to date here. They’re all either emotionally unavailable or terrible in bed… or both,” your friend Selena gripes. She’s exasperated by the most recent of her flings ghosting her after their last hookup. 

Swirling your iced coffee, you roll your eyes. “Well maybe you need to expand your dating pool, there’s more out there than just twenty-something guys who spend all their time in the gym.” You grin knowingly at your friend—she definitely has a type.

She throws an elbow at you. “Hey! Not all of us are into girls and men old enough to be our dads! Speaking of which…” she cuts off, wiggling her perfect eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice calls from behind your back, “is there a librarian I can speak to about reserving my course materials?” The voice’s vowels lilt and come together like sand being molded by an ocean wave, powerful yet graceful—it’s a voice that could warm you in sunny, shallow waters or drown you in a raging storm.

All but choking on your coffee, you spin to face the front desk. Standing on the other side of the counter is the most handsome man you think you’ve ever seen: copper skin, white teeth, and dark eyes stand atop a crisp linen shirt rolled up to reveal thick, strong forearms. Pale, silvered scars crisscross his skin, glinting in the light, making him look equally dangerous and enticing, like a trap baited with everything you’ve ever wanted.

Shit, he could get me in a lot of trouble… and I’d let him. You clear your throat, doing your best to recover with at least some of your dignity intact—a difficult task when the absolute god of a man before you just heard that you’re definitely into men his age. 

Selena, however, beats you to an answer. “Yes, sir, that would be my coworker here,” she answers in a sing-song voice, “she’s more than happy to help you with anything you need.” You shoot her a dirty look as she flounces away back to her desk in the back, her attitude completely unapologetic.

Being the flirt you are, you did fully intend to hit on this handsome professor, but that’s not the point. Rallying your thoughts, you flash him a dazzling smile. “Yes, I certainly am,” you confirm. “What can I do for you, professor…?” Your voice trails off in anticipation of his response, and you catch the dark gleam in his coffee-colored eyes. 

“Fett, Boba Fett. Professor of Mandalorian studies,” he answers smoothly, his rich timbre confident and unphased by you and Selena’s antics.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, professor,” you respond, matching his blithe tone. You introduce yourself with your name and title as the research materials librarian.

He smirks, flicking his eyes over your frame in a casual, yet interested, way. “I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.” When his eyes meet yours again, they flicker with amber fire, bright and tempting.

You let his compliment hang in the sunlit air between you for a moment, gauging whether he too felt the electric connection buzzing between you two. Judging by the glint in his eye and quirk of his lips, he did.

Game on. “Well, usually faculty submit their materials for purchase and reservation at the end of the previous school year or at the beginning of the summer session,” you inform him with an overly patronizing tone. “But I suppose I can make an exception for you since you’re being so polite.” You end your statement with a wink, inviting him in to test the waters.  

Taking your hint, he leans his muscled arms on the high lip of the desk, bringing himself closer into your space. “You’re too kind. Things have been a little difficult since I’m new to the school and wasn’t in the country until last week… and I’d really appreciate your help, princess.” The pet name rolls off his tongue like spiced honey, hot and sweet.

Your brows arch up and you run your tongue over teeth behind your lips as you consider the handsome professor. Most men you meet are either too intimidated or too stupid to give you a fair fight, but this Boba Fett… he might just be the one. Without saying much, he’s said it all: true power doesn’t need to be defended because it speaks for itself. His innate confidence makes your stomach tighten and your blood run hot—this is going to be even more fun than you first thought. “Why don’t you come into my office and I can see what all I can do for you, Professor Fett,” you offer with a flirty smile.

“Please,” he entreats with a saccharine smile, “call me Boba.”

[monkee-mobile]

will never get over that at some point the monkees decided that they could just ask each other for platonic kisses and it’s become so commonplace that micky just assumes Davy is asking him for a kiss when they’re talking about the band kiss.

and this was written by michael fucking nesmith.

[theyellowhue]

Do you ever think how Prapai refused to believe that Sky played him??? Because he knew that for all of Sky's sneers and glares, Sky was never cruel enough to play with people's feelings.

Thank the heavens that Prapai was smart enough to see through Sky's lies.

Some people have different opinions about the diary scene but i think it was a narrative turning point for their story. For all intents and purposes, that scene was needed. If they didnt have an adorable meet-cute, the least they could have is a solid foundation for their relationship. Prapai gets to finally know that Sky is equally in love with him as Prapai is with Sky and Sky gets his insecurities about their relationship trampled and thrown in the trash because Prapai loves him

[monsterroonio]

so if roo is bi and genderfluid... how do the others identify?

GREAT QUESTION ANON!!!! (Also very relevant considering the recent events in the fandom)

This is how I see my skeles! I assume you meant these skeles, although I do draw and do asks for others, these are my main ones. The only one who isn't gender funky is Edge, and honestly I might change that. I had some ideas for them before this ask, but this is an excuse to put it on my blog somewhere lol. Pretty much since I re-entered the fandom I've head cannoned Red to be trans masc and bi, but the others I kinda flip flop on my hcs for them. Enjoy!!!!