#writing drabble instead of working

[breach-doll]

my pilot overslept...

"...Seraphim! Seraphim, this is Pulsar! Come in immediately!" Pulsar paced frantically, hand to her headset, in the "command building", a run-down adobe structure with rain steadily dripping into the buckets placed at the most inconvenient possible spots on the stone tile floor. She kicked one, and it toppled sideways, sloshing water over the floor and some desk jockey's boots. She ignored his glare.

They'd been supposed to intercept 3 minutes ago, and it wasn't like regions of ramshackle villages like this had any dedicated defensive measures. The local council just paid mercs like Pulsar's team to patrol around and hoped they scared off raiders or were lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. Pulsar wasn't feeling real lucky right at that moment. "Private Seraphim, so help me God if you don't-" Finally, FINALLY, her radio crackled, and a groggy voice muttered, "Hey, boss, morning, chill the fuck out or something. What are we working with here, anyway..." "It's a few dozen shard drones, again, 60 klicks south-south-east, whoever's camped out in the canyons is still trying to catch us off guard. Which is apparently working, by the way? Do you want to explain why you weren't up on time?" "Hey, Pulsar, just, like, relax or something. Remember last night? You were all, Oh, let's just watch some TV and cuddle, and then you ended up begging me to fuck your brains out. You were plenty laid back after that." "I did not - " "That kind of exercise tires a girl out, ya know." "Private, this is an open channel - " "Private, you don't outrank me anyway, so just be a good girl and calm the fuck down." Right as Pulsar was about to scream into her headset, an indistinct tremor went through the air, followed by a slight rumbling under Pulsar's feet, and another, quieter voice joined the radio, "Torque here - excuse me misses, apologies for interrupting, but Seraphim's all ready for takeoff - antigrav just kicked in and jets are about to redline. Standard cocktail, Pulsar? Anything nearby on radar?" "Seraphim, you're cleared for takeoff." As the roar of jet engines filled the air, Pulsar smiled, "And, Torque - give her double. Pulsar out."

[fandomfloozy]

nsfw mdni

watching jason todd work on his motorcycle be like...

jason: what?

y/n: just lookin'

jason: you look like you got something to say

y/n: [shakes head] mm-mm

jason: you sure?

y/n: ...well...

jason: tell me

y/n: mmmm... no, it's too embarrassing

jason: pfft. you? embarrassed?

y/n: perish the thought

jason: so lay it on me

y/n: oh, i'll lay something on you

jason: babe...

y/n: jaybird, i don't mean to be crass but--

jason: sweetheart, just spit it out--

y/n: i wanna suck your dick so bad

jason: ...

jason: /////// jesus christ...

~°•*~

A/N: something about a man all greased up and sweaty while working on machinery uwu

[ruinix]

Quinn actively losing his shit because you're sucking his dick

Lovely anon, wherever you are, I hope you’re eating well…I humbly present you what you asked… 🫣maybe…I’ve gone off the rails. I guess it's time for Q to get blown. [side note: I have taken ‘actively’ to my fave words. I liked it, a bit too much especially after seeing your ask. 🤣]

Payback

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Oral sex (m receiving) / Blowjob, Hair tugging, Choking (on dick) / gagging, slight Overstimulation (m), reiterating the ask: Quinn is LOSING it 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↔️

Count: 2161 words | Masterlist | Taglist

You’re kidding. You’ve got to be kidding him. Quinn shudders as you crawl from his lap, nudging his thighs to spread. You perch right there, panting with your lips slightly parted. You’re making him lose his mind.

He can’t focus on the game he has on the TV. Not with you gazing at him while sitting on your knees. Not with you just resting your cheek against his thigh. Not with your silence and your tantalizing desire for him. Not when your tongue darts out and licks your lower lip as your eyes slowly track down his face, his chest, his abdomen, his crotch.

His dick twitches at your attention. You notice it, smirking and looking so smug. Seriously. Is this a test? Are you testing him? He’s going to fail. He knows it.

Where the fuck did this come from?

Quinn is not sure.

You two were just watching game replays, leaning against each other. When you complained that you were bored, extremely bored that you were smooshing his face with your hands, Quinn let you take the rein of the other TV. No need for him to watch multiple games when the Love of his life was bored. It takes you ten minutes to settle on one Netflix show which Quinn also watched—half-watched, he still got hockey plays to analyze—with you.

After an episode, you were on his lap, legs tightly pressed against his waist, arms wrapped around his nape, head resting on his shoulder. Quinn was just half-lying and half-sitting. He’s just extremely relaxed with your weight on him, with your skin underneath his hands which he slipped in after you settled, with your heat comforting his soul.

It was just you two basking on each other’s company. It was just a simple lazy day. It was supposed to be.

Then suddenly, you parted from him. He thought you would just get water or a snack—you like snacks. But no. You slipped down him, made yourself all too comfy between his legs. You’re seducing him like a minx. Like a mermaid drawing in sailors into the water. But you’re not singing—you don’t have to, no. You’re just…staring at him, panting so subtly and your eyes extremely hooded. Those are more than enough to seduce him.

“You should watch your game,” you mutter.

‘How will I do that?’ is what he wanted to ask, because literally how.

You lift a brow at him as if to say, ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’

You’re taunting him, aren’t you? There’s no way you’re not. It’s working. His cock aches. He wants nothing else but to fuck your pussy. You’re probably wet. Not probably. He bet you are. Especially now that your eyebrows meet, your teeth dig into your lower lip, subtly shifting on your knees.

Oh, he knows you so well. He knows he can just kiss you and you’ll fold and forget whatever evil plan you’re brewing. He can—

“Quinn,” you scold, pouting which means you’re begging.

You are begging him. That’s a privilege Quinn wants to never lose.

He clears his throat, trying to ease the tension enveloping his whole body. It’s so hard to resist because he really wants to kiss you now. He needs a kiss. Just a kiss. One small peck. Or your tongue against his—

Releasing a sigh, exercising restraint, he forces his body to relax and look at the screen. Instead of analyzing every play—imagining what to evade, how to get the puck, how to score—like he did before, he sees nothing. Just fucking mush of blur on ice. Nothing makes sense anymore because of you.

He's so hyperaware of how you nuzzle your cheek against his thigh. So aware of your tiny compliment of how his sweatpants are the softest—probably plotting to take it for your own. So aware of the kiss you press right fucking there—over his pants yet he still feels it like it’s your lips on his skin. Of your delicate fingers running over his shins. Over his knee. Over his thighs. So aware that you’re up, coming closer, thumbs rubbing circles on his inner thighs.

He can feel everything you do.

And he can’t do shit.

Not yet at least.

Quinn grips the armrest and the nearby pillow. His knuckles turn white. He swallows the knot in his throat, gritting his fucking teeth when you graze his cock, then you grab it over his pants.

“Fuck,” he grunts. He looks up to the ceiling, stopping the urge to thrust into your hand. Meeting your eyes, he pleads, “My Love, what do you need?”

He needs answers. He needs you to say what the fuck you want from him because he’s going to come from the anticipation itself.  He needs your words, so he can at least control himself.

“I want to suck your cock, Quinn,” you say so breathlessly, so beautifully, so innocently like you’re just asking for sweets when you’re already lying on the bed and ready to sleep. “Please?”

Holy shit.

“Anything you want,” he nearly stumbles over his words. His heart is lurching so hard in his chest as you smile at him.

So pretty. Your eyes are gleaming with excitement. No way. Really? Quinn might faint if you don’t stop looking so adorable just because he said yes.

“Then take your pants off already, handsome.”

Quinn follows, barely able to throw it behind him because you’re on him, pressing kisses on his thighs. Your tongue darting out as you lick and kiss and suck on his skin. One thigh after another. Back and forth. Trailing up. Leaving your marks. You’re turning him into mush. He’s so hard that pre-cum dribbles down his length.

“You smell so good, Quinn,” you mutter against his skin. For every kiss, you say, “I love you.”

He’s burning. Every breath against his skin. Every touch. Every lick. All of them leaves a trail of fire that shoots right to his dick. He’s so hard. So hard that all he can do is lay back, forearm covering his face, locking his body down. If he doesn’t, he’ll be pouncing on you.

You don’t want that for fuck’s sake. You want to suck him off. You’ll get that. Sure. But why do you need to worship his body like he does with yours…

Realization dawns on Quinn.

You’re worshiping him.

His heart is racing like he has been running mile after mile after mile. Like warhorse destined to run to its death because its heart would not handle the exhaustion of the run that it was ordered to, of the run that will be its last. However, death doesn’t await Quinn. No. What awaits him is you. Just you. Especially you.

So, he watches you, panting, rasping, “I love you.”

“I know,” you chuckle. “You can touch me, Quinn. You know what I like.”

You don’t even let him reply or process what you said. You simply lick his fucking tip, tongue flattening over his slit, taking his pre-cum.

The growl that escapes him is downright animalistic.

He wants this to last but he doubts it, because as you ran your tongue from his base to his tip, he’s already seeing stars.

You’re a savage. Cruel. So cruel. You’re just giving him kitten licks now. What the fuck? He thought you wanted to suck him. Are you playing with him? He can’t play games right now.

Tangling his fingers with your hair, tugging at it impatiently so you’ll look at him, Quinn tries his best to meet your eyes, but you persist with your torture. When you trace once fucking vein with your slippery tongue, he has physically pull you back. He’s going to come.

“That’s mean,” you whine. “Don’t get in my way, Quinn.”

“I’m gonna come,” he grunts, flinching when your hand pushes up his shirt, flattening over his abdomen. “Stop teasing me, my Love.”

Quinn’s basically whimpering. He’s aware you haven’t even started yet. He’s acting like this is the first time. It’s not. You really did shake him up with this unprovoked torture. Out of fucking nowhere.

“Oh?” You grin, moaning when he tugs on your hair again. “You want me to stop?”

You can’t stop. He’ll explode. It will hurt. He’s already hurting. Why the fuck did he pull you away? Oh right, he’ll come if he didn’t.

“No,” he says too quickly, voice quivering.  He lets go of your hair, holding his shirt for you. He begs, “Don’t stop.”

You finally start, sucking around his crown, greedily taking every drop of his weeping cock. Your eyes are closed yet Quinn feel as though you are gazing down at him from your throne. His Queen. His Love.

The way you’re focusing on him, moaning for every suck, is taking him out. It’s like you’re savoring him. Oh, fuck. You are.

You’re taking him so well.

You feel so good.

He can’t think straight. Not when you take half of his dick, creating a delicious suction that has his eyes groaning and moaning helplessly. Not when he feels your tongue flattening on his sensitive underside. Not when he can feel the vibrations of your moans. Not when you suddenly open your eyes to see what you’re doing to him. Not when your hand wraps around the rest of him that you couldn’t reach yet. Not when you made him put one foot between your legs so you can hump him.

You’re so wet that you’re soaking through your little shorts.

You’re gonna kill him.

Now, you’ve done it. When you bob down his length, taking more of him, he just thrusts into your heated mouth. His hand is over your head, pulling down much harsher, hitting the back of your throat.

He’s desperate for more.

The sounds of you gagging on him make him mutter a ‘sorry’. But he doesn’t mean it at all. You are teasing him so fucking much and taking your sweet time.  Both of you know that.

He starts using your beautiful lips, your mouth, your throat.

“Fuck,” he pants, shaking his head to clear it but he can’t.

He really can’t.

Good. Perfect. You feel so amazing around him.

He can’t help chasing after the pleasure of fucking your sweet mouth.

You look so pristine doing so. Sure, your cheeks are red and tear-stained, but—shamefully—he likes seeing you all ruffle up for him. Your hair is so messy in his grip. You’re drooling around him. Your nails dig into his thighs now—no longer teasing his member, because you can’t when he’s using you like this. Your hips messily roll, trying to match his rhythm, chasing you high desperately like him.

You’re so pretty. How can you be so beautiful? On your knees, yet he feels like he is on his knees for you. Always doing your bidding. Always receiving your grace. Your permission.

He’s so lucky.

“My Love,” Quinn grits, vision spotting at the edges. He warns, “Close.”

You up your ante. Your tongue swirls against his underside. The vibrations from your hums.

“Mmmfuck,” Quinn groans.

He can’t help but force you down, pushing his cock deeper as he spills hot cum down your throat. Spurt after spurt. He swears he blacks out for a brief second because you are sucking and gulping whatever he gives you.

He tries to get you off, give you your whole airway, but hell, you keep on going, going, and going. Not letting him get fully soft.

No. Seriously. Are you trying to kill him? It’s like you’re sucking all his soul, making him sag against the couch, blood pumping harder. He swears he hears you sob—which sends torturous vibration all over his fucking body, not just his cock—like you’re disappointed he can’t give you more cum.

He needs at least a couple of seconds to rest and get his shit together.

Your eyes meet his as you finally let his sensitive cock out with an obscene pop. With a pout, lips glistening with drool, you mutter, “More?”

That made him fucking hard.

Fine.

Fuck a couple of seconds.

If his World want his cum, you will, but this arrangement won’t do. It’s not fair. You can have your fill, and he can’t? The simple thought of just coming alone makes his heart ache. Like something’s missing after just had one of most intense orgasm—which is always the latest orgasm he has with you—in his life. He’s not used to this.

He needs to taste you on his tongue.

He would rather eat you out for hours, but you want this.

So, Quinn will just compromise. Good thing that you’re already fucking horny humping his foot. He’ll just persuade you to a different position where he can feast on you as well. By the way you shuddered, resting your head over his thigh, it won’t be a hard proposition to sell.

-> Next (Part 2: Fifteen)

[acekindaneat]

Serirei Week !!

Day 3: firsts/love languages

Reigen finds himself speechless (rare occasion)

continuation below but it's written form !! ↓↓

Serizawa gave him a slight nod, his face unreadable but tense. He gently directed Reigen towards the couches and sat him down. Wordlessly sitting beside him, he opened the first aid kit and rummaged through it.

Reigen watches in cautious silence, eyeing his coworker's rigid movements. The cloth he used to temporarily cover the large scratch left by the spirit was starting to itch. He slowly untied the knot with his uninjured hand and peeled off the blood-soaked makeshift bandage. It was drying off, but it still looked terrible. Four large gashes across his forearm, it almost looks like a scratch from a big cat.

Serizawa shifting closer brought Reigen's attention back to him. Their eyes met for a second before Serizawa looked down at his arm with a wince. Guilt evident on his face as he wet a towel with water and started to wipe off the blood with the lightest touch he could manage. Reigen swallowed the lump in his throat, the tense silence was getting to him so he spoke up.

"This could be part of your training, you know." He lightly joked, shrugging with his unoccupied shoulder. "It's important to know first aid, especially in our line of work." Serizawa's eyebrows furrowed as a frown formed on his face, but didn't take his eyes off his work, nor did he say anything back. As soon as the blood that smeared was gone, he grabbed the disinfectant and a cotton ball.

It was gonna sting, Reigen already knew that, but he still felt his heart flutter when Serizawa glanced up at him with a sorry look and muttered, "This might sting..."

Reigen didn't miss the way Serizawa was holding his hand with his free hand. He didn't miss the way his thumb was soothing the back of his palm with light strokes. He didn't miss the way he could feel the warmth radiating off of Serizawa's body just from how close they were sitting. Reigen felt himself gulp, not sure if it was in preparation for the pain, or to force himself back to retain his composure.

He let out a small hiss and a wince, before letting it dissipate quickly upon seeing Serizawa's face look more like a kicked puppy. He knows the man felt guilty for not arriving quick enough to prevent the spirit from hurting Reigen further. It wasn't his fault though. He can't blame Serizawa, not when he looked this sorry.

Gentle, flitting hands finally wrapped the wound in a bandage and secured it carefully. When it was done, Serizawa didn't move away, but instead let his hand rest on the wrapped arm, slowly rubbing his thumb against it like it would help heal the wound faster. It might, Reigen could hope. He could hope that this moment lasts. He looked up at Serizawa with a soft look, hoping that his message came across. Please.

Serizawa looked up at Reigen's eyes with the same level of fondness. Despite what he feels, it still scares Reigen, to see someone look at him like that. He's scared of seeing it often that he'll get attached to it, attached to the fondness, attached to feeling loved.

He almost felt himself jump when Serizawa gently held his hand up and pressed Reigen's palm against his lips with closed eyes. It's like his heart stopped, his breath hitching as he inhaled sharply.

This seemed to wake Serizawa from whatever trance he was in and pulled away, his face flushed red. His gaze landed everywhere except Reigen's as he cleared his throat and gathered up the used cotton balls and the bloodied washcloth. "I'll, uhm, throw these away. I'll grab some ice for your neck.. and make you some green tea in a bit..." He paused, sparing Reigen a glance and assessing his state.

"I'm glad you're okay, Reigen.." Serizawa spoke again, then escaped to the restroom to clean his hands off. Reigen sat there staring at his palm, dumbfounded and speechless.

[golden-afternoon]

Hi this sucks but idc rn. My entire brain is owned by beloved Kaedehara Kazuha at the moment and I wrote this in a fugue state of oh my god he's coming soon everyone stay calm the banner is coming!! Anyway, enjoy my nonsense and may all you Kazuha wanters be Kazuha havers!!

Warnings - completely unedited brainrot to paper, blood, bloody kisses, what the fuck why are they making out he could die

Knock knock knock.

The soft sound jolts you from your current reading. What? Last you checked you hadn't been expecting any visitors and especially not so late in the evening. Either way, you carefully place the bookmark in the place you had been and set aside the book on the table in favor of heading towards the door.

“One moment!” You call out to whoever was on the other side, undoing the lock before opening the door. “Hello…?”

In the fading purple light of dusk, you freeze in place at the sight of the man at your door. He looks beyond worse for wear with his cherry red eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and his snow white hair loose around his shoulders, looking messy and with more streaks of red than you are used to. His clothes are disheveled and worst of all, the blood on his face running in rivulets down from his nose, mouth and past his hairline. How much of it was his own and how much was from whatever unfortunate soul dared to cross him was unclear, but no matter what it sent alarm bells ringing in your head.

“Kazuha?! What-” You began to speak in worry, hands outstretched to gently reach for him to bring the wounded man inside, but he cuts your words short without a single word of his own.

One step forward and his arms were around you faster than you could process; one hand around your waist to draw you near to him and the other tangled in your hair, cradling the back of your head to keep you in place. Before you knew it, you were tasting iron, the unfamiliar flavor sending a shiver down your spine. Soft lips press to yours in a gentle, yet fervent manner, his whole body seeming to sink against you as he does, leaving you reeling and trying to stabilize you both as his fingers curl tighter into you, clinging to you like you would disappear. You had half a mind to protest, both from his clearly injured state taking priority and from the unfamiliar taste of blood seeping into your mouth, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. With a sigh, you gave in, kissing back in equal measure, your arms wrapping more gently around him than his hold on you was as you were unsure where and how severely hurt he was. The last thing you'd want would be to make it worse.

As he felt your arms wrap around him, his lips curled up into a smile against your own mouth, the simple action seeming to spur him on. He took another step forward, the action forcing you to stumble back a little. He kept going, silently goading you further into your home without ever once letting up on the intensity of the kiss, even managing to close the door behind you before bringing his hand right back to your waist in an instant.

Your head is spinning, heart racing, struggling to process it all when he deepens the kiss further, sliding his tongue along yours with practiced ease that makes your heart ache with want. Iron spreads across your tongue and for a moment it scares you, but the soft groan he makes as your taste floods his senses is enough to silence any such feelings. And if you were honest with yourself, something about his blood in your mouth was unlocking something deep within you to be dealt with later.

Ever so slowly, and far too soon, Kazuha began to pull away, his tired eyes opening to gaze at you with a small smile, his lips now smeared red as though it were merely red lipstick smudging from the heated kiss. Even in his messy state he looked absolutely ethereal, leaving you unable to tear your eyes away.

His one hand slides from your hair to gently cradle your face in his palm, his gaze slowly lowering to your own lips. In silence, he brushes his thumb along your bottom lip, gently pulling at the soft flesh with interest. You can feel your cheeks burn more as you realize after all that, you were likely covered in it too. As he always does, he notices your unspoken realization and he laughs softly, the sound coming out even more quietly than usual as he lifts his gaze to meet yours once more.

“Come now, don't be shy,” He murmurs, and you can hear the slight rasp in his voice. The wandering samurai pauses to lean close to press a quick, tender little kiss to your stained lips once more, pulling away with the softest of smiles. “I hope you don't mind my sudden appearance like this. It's just that… after storms and trials, I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather come home to.”

[lazorbeanz]

Late Night

Unbreakable Bond

Headcanons #3

🧡 During the times when he’s not busy or on missions, Tails has volunteered to help other kids in his area with their homework, especially maths. (one could say he’s a tutor lol) and they all love him (they’ve given him the name ‘the Fun Enstein,’ though Tails wonders if Sonic has been whispering in their ears), because he somehow manages to turn boring, stressful homework, with all its mountain load of impossible tasks, into a fun investigation, as he eagerly dives into the problem with them, breaking it up and solving it piece by piece until they can put those pieces together and get a complete answer. But it’s not just his teaching methods as to why they love him so much, but how he presents the task in front of them. He makes it not just a question on a page anymore, but rather an important mission, a thrilling adventure in their minds. He displays it to them in a way that will not only get their thinking caps on, but also make them just as excited to solve them, as tough as it may appear, because Tails wants them to know that every problem must and always has a solution…and that learning can be fun if you make it! The energy and enthusiasm he has radiates onto those while teaching, his giddiness and excitement over what they’re tryna solve spreads to them, realising that it can be fun, because he makes it look fun and easy and possible. He doesn’t push them or expect them to know right off the bat, if they have questions, he stops and listens, and will get them to use their “thinking caps,” providing small hints or information he gives out to see if they can solve it themselves. If they’re stuck or confused on something, he will go through it over and over, simplifying and carefully explaining it until they understand (he’s already used to doing that with a certain blue hedgehog)

Sometimes he will get so caught up in their work, he ends up doing a problem or 2 all by himself. He can’t help it though, it’s just out of instinct.

Many parents have come to Tails with questions as to why or how he is so good at what he does.

“When you love something with a burning passion…something that brings you so much joy, you will naturally have the ability to teach others, because you will end up finding joy in teaching them, and might just so happens to spread that joy to those you teach.” He replies

Because to him, this is his passion..this is the thing that brought him that joy. This was something that once brought him nothing but a series of bullying and mockery from his peers, now brings him a series of praise and compliments from those around him. This is the something that he can share to help others, whether it be to save the world, or to save a kid from failing their math class.

Whenever Tails thinks back on when people would bully him with names such as “Mr. know-It-All,” he shrugs…they were right, because being a genius means you know it ALL. And if there’s one thing he knows…

Is that he loves being a STEM nerd :)

💙 Sonic, for the life of him, cannot stay still for too long, and that makes sense..i mean he’s the fastest thing alive for crying out loud…he doesn’t stop moving. Even if it’s just a leg rapidly bobbing up and down, or finger tapping on a surface, or…the fidgeting…oh the dreaded fidgeting!!

And Tails completely understands his reasons for this behaviour…he knows his brother almost, if not, better than he knows himself sometimes, but BOY does it really begin to grind his gears when he begins to subconsciously start fiddling with something of Tails’ when he’s in the lab with him, or if they were eating out, he would pick up the cutlery and twirl it around in his fingers. Even if he has no item to hold Into, he will start tugging at the ends of his gloves. It’s like he has to hold or touch something…anything he can get his hands on.

Tails can’t complain too much though, as he also tends to do the same thing, but it’s almost as if Sonic’s is twice as annoying because it’s twice as frequent to happen. He’s even bought him an unruly amount of fidget spinners, all for them to have their fair share of tasting plaster, due to Sonic spinning them so fast, they’d spin right out his fingers, and straight through a wall.

So after multiple repairs and half tempted to remove the entire wall, he scratched that idea, leaving him sitting at his desk, finger tapping the surface in deep thought…finger tapping..oh no how he was doing it too! But that’s when he got the lightbulb, and began to use all that tapping energy in his fingers into rapidly typing on his keyboard.

~

Tails walks into Sonic’s bedroom, where he was sitting on his bed and to no surprise, fidgeting. He plonks down beside him, and hands him a tablet.

“I think you’ll enjoy it.” Was all he said, before getting up and making his exit.

Sonic stared at the tablet perplexed for a short moment before picking it up and looking at the screen, all he saw was a square button that said Start. He tapped it, and before he knew it, music began to play and multiple squares were appearing on the screen increasingly fast, but he managed to hit them before it was too late..if that was the game, he thought.

What was this Tails had just bestowed upon him? Soon enough he began to fall into the swing of things, hitting and swiping the split second a square would appear. He even changed the difficulty because it was too easy. This game…was just so…satisfying. His fingers have never felt so relieved. Even the music was catchy too. So he sat there for the rest of the day tapping away to the beat.

~

Tails was humming away as he tinkered about on his latest project. He then shot a side-eye to see his older brother, standing by his desk with the tablet he’d given him earlier. He looked up to face him, and when he did Sonic tossed the tablet at him. Looking down at it, Tails noticed there was a finger sized crack in the screen. He looked up at the hedgehog wide eyed. “How did you-”

“Fix it.” Sonic said, turned around and left.

Well I guess he enjoyed it then…

s/o to @mbrine for the inspo of these 2 hcs ☝️

🧡 Tails used to earn pocket money from Sonic for the little things he’d achieve when tagging along on his adventures, or if he was being a good boy and sonic decided to treat him.

Now, it’s Sonic earning pocket money from Tails…

Tails (mildy unenthusiastic): congratulations Sonic, you managed to put your laundry in the machine…here’s $1.50

💙 Sonic is fairly good at Tap and Irish dancing *cough cough happy feet sonic edition HACCK-*

🧡 Sonic takes pictures of funny or weird things and makes memes out of them to send to Tails

💙 Sonic and Tails are stargazing and Sonic points out a star.

“That’s a bright one.”

“That’s Sirius, also known as the Dog Star. It’s the brightest star in our night sky. Its name literally means “glowing” in Greek. Sirius has a high luminosity in comparison to other stars, and has a mass twice of that which the sun has. In fact, if you were to place Sirius next to the Sun, it would outshine the sun more than 20 times over…”

Hold up- HOW DOES HE KNOW THE STAR EXACTLY…NAME N EVERYTHING?

Sonic doesn’t even bother to fact check him as he’s probably right. All he’s thinking about now is whether his little brother has an IQ of 300 or 3000…

🧡 Sonic and Tails have a special handshake, and I mean a gumball and Darwin kinda handshake lmao

[missholloween]

Something something curtwen drabble🥺🥺 possibly🥺🥺

I will never say no to curtwen 🫡🫡🫡

I was debating between something more cute and fluffy for the holidays or something angsty, but ansgt won (thank my partner). This was loosely inspired by Eat Your Young by Hozier <3

The light in the facility was dim, barely enough for Curt to see the end of his legs. He didn’t remember how he got there, or why he was tied to a beaten-up chair. He also didn’t remember much of his week, or the week before. If his temple hadn’t been bleeding, Curt would have thought this was simply another one of his nightmares.

Once his eyes accustomed themselves to the light, and his survival instincts had awoken from a four-year slumber, Curt started to notice things around him: there were bloodstains old and new on the floor, mere centimeters away from him; there was a table full of tools Curt knew far too well to call anything but torture equipment. However, all the details slipped out of his mind when he crossed eyes with another man.

The first thing Curt noticed were his eyes. At first, he thought his mind was once again playing with him: there was a thirst, a hunger he only thought animals could show. When he noticed Curt had awakened, he smiled with crooked and sharp teeth. The spy quickly realized that he was in a predator’s din, and there was nothing he could do to get out.

“Have you ever been to a gala, Mega?” said the man, as he moved his fingers through the different tools at his desk.

Curt tried to speak, only to discover that his throat was as dry as his eyes had been for months. How much time had he been down there?

“The drinks, the suits… A spectacle of lights and frivolity that only the crème de la crème of society could enjoy. Them, and of course, their little lap dogs.”

After some thought, the man picked a knife. It wasn’t the finest at the table, and it didn’t seem the deadliest. However, Curt didn’t take long to see it was the sharpest. Whoever his captor was, he had given it a good use.

“They love to exhibit them around, show their tricks every now and again so that others know how powerful they are.” The man continued, getting closer and closer to Curt.

The former spy tried to flee, to lose the string that had burned itself into his wrists. However, Curt quickly learned he didn’t have the strength, not even to turn his head away from the man who was now mere millimeters away from him.

“Everyone loves pets… As long as they are obedient,”

A cut on his cheek. It only scratched his skin.

“… unless they bite…”

A cut in his arm. The remains of Curt’s shirt absorbed most of his blood.

”… or until they fail.”

The knife was aimed at his neck. However, the cut was in his clavicle. Curt felt his body burn.

The other man’s eyes were ignited with a rage that didn’t fit his face. His factions were too collected, his mouth moved as if disconnected to his body. If Curt could only think with clarity, he would’ve seen a mask.

However, all his strength was used to ask a simple question.

“Why… Why are you doing this?”

His torturer kneeled near him, almost caressing his face with a knife now bathed in his blood. “Oh, this isn’t personal, Curt. Believe me when I say it wasn’t for them either.”

[mixtapedoh]

actually you can go with seungmo + winter falls too. i think he's more of a winter falls girlie than lino. actually anything with winter falls 😭🙏

you knew what you were doing when you paired seungmo with my favorite skz ballad,,,,,,, your support and your mind will never go underappreciated in this house ♡♡♡♡♡

ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɴᴏᴡ ꜰᴀʟʟꜱ (ᴡᴇ ꜰᴀʟʟ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ)

☄. *. ⋆

pairing: kim seungmin x reader (not endgame) genre: angst, reminiscing word count: ~1k warnings: heartbreak, mentions of blood (metaphor and imagery), all thoughts no plot (sometimes fanfiction is about VIBES and VERSE, not cohesive story telling), gratuitous sneaking in and bastardization of song lyrics

olive's notes: you know know i had to go full tumblr for the title of this fic. song lyric titles (with something in parenthesis) how i love you, how i have missed you, how you changed the very synaptic pathways in my brain ♡. nothing will ever be as influential as you ♡.

consider my mini writing event ?

It wasn't the weather that made you think of him.

No, because that would be all too cliche — tidy and neat — something easy to anticipate and, perhaps, simple to avoid.

In a way, you could blame it on the snow: the soft, fluffy flakes too carefree to be cold, spinning on the barely there wind, a graceful pirouette to a gentle, almost forgotten landing. It was beautiful — the first snowfall of the year — and because it's arrival was so benign (unexpected and mild, creeping into the edges of the day until it's whispered chill tickled your skin and it's gossamer flakes were delicately kissing your head), you had no warning against the flood of memory it would bring in it's wake.

It was the couple on the end of the street that reminded you, though, if we're to be fair to the elements and truthful in the story we tell.

Two figures at the furthest distance from your current standing, hand in hand, startled as they walked out of a shop and into sudden snowfall. The leftmost of the two, seemingly more ecstatic than their loving counterpart, stuck out their tongue, angling their head skyward, and after a moment, laughed in delight, or some approximation of it. They turned to their partner, kissed them on either cheek, and then took off their jacket to place around the other's shoulders. Perhaps there was an exchange of half-hearted argument, but the moment ended with the two of them walking off, one double-braced against the building cold, the other habitually turning their palms to the clemency of snow — as though the moment was pure and this weather something to be held.

Snowflakes fell of your cheeks. If you were to be asked, they were to be blamed for any wetness, there.

Memories come in waves, and they are a vengeful and needy sea: demanding to be realized, sure in the devastation they bear. But how long is it before an experience crystalizes into memory? What is the minimum amount of time that needs to occur before that passage is significant and longing for someone can turn into missing them?

You weren't quite sure if it could be called missing him: this gnawing, guilty feeling accompanying your thoughts of Seungmin.

Once, the two of you had been friends so close, no one could talk about either of you without mentioning the other. His footsteps always following yours, your voice a necessary addition to any of his statements. So close your names spilled into the other, so present there was a space carved in the both of you for the other to reside in. Side by side or in tandem, there were always two.

And there were two, that night, when your warmth was carbonated with a fizz of intimacy and bubbles of desperation. You confessed to the secret of loving him and he worshiped that attachment with his lips. Again and again, a mantra that intensified to the fervency of song.

I love you, love you, love you.

And how many times did you say that before the sentiment set to rot, and the permanence of that phrase became something of the past?

I loved you, loved you, loved you.

Again, snow fell on your cheeks, pulling you just far enough out of your mired thoughts, to remind you to finish your walk to that lonesome, quiet destination called home.

You had Seungmin for longer than you held him, and the feeling of his voice in your mind was more resonant that the touch of his lips on yours. Evocative, cohesive, tenacious — something you couldn't yet unstick from the crevices of your thoughts.

Seungmin beside you, Seungmin whispering into the shell of your ear, Seungmin placing his love in the spot where your neck met your shoulders, the crook of your grin, the place above your heart.

But the wind blew, the novelty faded, the movie ended and you were stuck in the credits where words became meaningless and effort was forgotten in the aftermath of spectacle.

The ease corroded, the bitterness spilled, past tense slipped into the habit of your speech until all the tenderness between you was finished and gone by.

I loved you, and it wasn't his words or yours, but something set on the table for the both of you to consume. A sentiment on which you both engorged and drank dry.

Everything had changed, and yet you were somehow still the same. Seungmin had been so clearly and undoubtedly part of you — you carved out his place inside you alongside him! You hollowed out a space for him, and he for you — and yet with the absence of him, should there not have been something desperate and bloody for you to fix? You had searched and pleaded and clawed at the edges of you to find that void so you might set it to rights, but it evaded you, still.

I loved you.

Perhaps it had already healed over.

Perhaps it had never been.

But still, that unfound cavity ached in you. It was filled with the sound of his voice, and the phrases in his diary he'd let you read and you held to committed memory — it was shaped like the palm of his hand when it cradled you, and it contorted to the essence of his grin.

Would it have been different, had you never said anything all that time ago, and instead chose to keep those feelings in a bottle, only to be uncorked should Seungmin, himself, had fallen first and told you so? Maybe you could have kept that bottle of spirits in the most hidden parts of you, and, on nights when your yearning sharpened to the point of a knife, drank from them ��� an alcohol of illusion — just enough to get by? Maybe he would have found the bottle, and smashed it to ruin, or maybe he would have loosen it and get the both of you drunk off your own delight.

You would have liked it, perhaps, had he been the one to fall.

Maybe then he would stare at the innocence of snowfall and mix the feeling of it's melt with salty tears.

(ʇɹɐdɐ llɐɟ ǝʍ) sllɐɟ ʍous ǝɥʇ 'uıɐɓ∀

☄. *. ⋆

blog home

[sisterdivinium]

Now is the time to place your bets on whether or not this hyper self-indulgent doctor superion Vampire the Masquerade AU fic will or won't get to 100 handwritten pages...

[caycanteven]

Hi! Been noticing that @/majorpatheticcas had been tagging you for your boi Balsam, and think his pretty adorbs. Wanted to ask him of his thoughts about Cas/Kas?

Yeah of course! I'm sure he wouldn't mind...maybe, haha.

...Hm? Wha' 'm I doin'?

Need you to reply to this ask for me.

...

...why ya makin' me do it?

It is literally for you, Bal. Just...answer the damn ask, they waited patiently for a response.

Not my business.

Balsam!

Huff. Fine, fine.

So, Cas. Yeah, 've been hanging out with them a bit. Real sweet thing, honestly. Real kind, patient too. Don' often find a lot of patient people with me, so I take it as a gift ya know? Hopin' they always have a good day so they smile, ya know, all that mushy stuff, heh heh...

I like to play with their hair a lot, really. 's real soft, fun to braid. You'd think a big guy like me don' know how, but ya learn lots of shit in the underground where 'm from. I'm still gettin' used to all the "kindness" shit but it's been...nice, I guess.

Lex helps a lot, and I like that she helps me in talkin' to people stuff. Wouldn' of met Cas without her really. Happy to have both of them to lov--hang out with. Yeah.--can you take this shit back now...

Dude hit post before I could tag, smh. Anyway, @majorpatheticcas I think he likes ya~ lol!

[oldbutchdanielcraig]

don’t mind me i need to bitch and moan about my writing again to work some things out

opened up my dm yuri draft and was like ohhhh goodddd i hate this which is sad because i don’t want to hate it. i want to love it like my baby. basically it started as a conceptual think but then i started writing scenes and THEN i discussed the concepts with my buddy sam which gave me the inspiration to write more scenes and so now it’s like conceptual at the beginning and then a normal fanfic for the rest. so it goes super tonally off kilter. so i tried to fix that and then i started making my own lore inconsistent. fucked up. so now i’ve got inconsistent lore i need to decide on and a like combo narrative and conceptual fic. would love to blend them together somehow but i don’t know. unless i just inject the conceptual parts in-between. not sure though. not sure. do you guys have any fanfics that are written in a ~different~ style i could emulate for this. send recs

[xawkward-ariesx]

Every time I have motivation to write, instead of working on fics that desperately need attention, it's like 'what if I started something new?'

[luvuomi]

goodness i have never felt so seen by a character .. i think im going to enjoy this show a lot ^w^

[queer-omens-in-the-archives]

to care enough to carry on

Relationship: Mello/Near Rating: T Chapters: 1/1 Words: 300 (triple drabble) Series: sweet atonement (prequel & companion piece to pretender)

While Mello is unquestionably real, in the throes of Near's denial he is not. Most of their life passes him by, in a blur, in the dreamlike state of having been granted (a second) full existence without the self-awareness that being alive (again) usually brings.

Tags: Post-Canon, Dissociation, Depersonalization, Multiplicity/Plurality, Near's Mello Introject, (and thorough denial thereof on Near's part), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Dead Mello | Mihael Keehl, (introject!Mello is alive technically but it's complicated)

[read on AO3]

[good-beanswrites]

Could you write a drabble for Mikoto and Shidou plus Blood? This request miiight be inspired by the fact that Mikoto mentions his body hurting a lot but doesn't seem to be receiving any medical treatment, either because Mahiru and Fuuta take priority or because there's no obvious cause, and therefore cure, to his pain...

👀👀👀 Thank you, this is such a good combo ough!! It's so interesting how much focus the others get when it comes to physical health, since Mikoto has clearly complained of his condition :( It looks like Milgram is trying to push the idea that he's completely oblivious to his alters, but I spun it where he's aware, just deep in denial. So have some Mikoto angst to get us hyped for Double!

Mikoto should be grateful. He was lucky. That’s what he kept repeating to himself. He had both of his eyes intact. Both his arms. He was strong enough to walk around freely. He wasn’t on the verge of death, or collapse. Thus, he should be grateful no one was offering him any help, because it meant he didn’t need it. He repeated it again. Maybe this time he would believe it.

With a groan, his body rolled out of bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up actually feeling rested. Everything ached. His muscles tightened with soreness. His throat felt as raw as his knuckles, though he hadn’t been using either. He had no desire to lift his arms over his head, or twist around too much, so he didn’t change out of yesterday’s uniform. Maybe the belts and buckles had made it difficult to sleep. The theory wasn’t a convincing one, but dwelling on things like that had never gotten him anywhere.

He ran his fingers once through his hair, combing out a bit of the mess. Looking in a mirror was the last thing he needed. He made his way to the dining hall. 

The others trickled in for breakfast. His appetite, at least, hadn’t suffered. He hardly noticed the others giving him wide-eyed stares. What were they expecting? Of course he was looking worse for wear, given the circumstances. He ignored them, glad to focus on the hot meal before him.

A hand weighed heavy on his shoulder.

“Mikoto,” Shidou’s voice may have remained calm, but it was urgent. “Do you need some help?”

“Huh?” He shrugged his hand away, offering a weak smile. “I’m fine! Oh, I think Kazui was saving a seat for you over there, if you --”

“-- How about we go to my cell for a moment? Or yours, if that would be more comfortable.”

What was everyone’s problem this morning? Mikoto did his best to keep his voice pleasant. “Really, man, I’m good.” 

Shidou’s expression remained unmoving. Very carefully, he informed him, “you’re bleeding. Pretty badly by the look of it. You’re coming with me.” 

Mikoto blinked. He looked over his shoulder, following Shidou’s gaze. The back of his uniform was torn across the center. A significant splotch of blood seeped into the material, growing even larger as he shifted to see it. 

“...Oh…” 

Back in Shidou’s cell, sad to have left his breakfast plate behind, he slumped into a chair. Shidou gathered together some supplies. As always, he got right to the point. “What happened?”

“I… I’m not sure. I don’t remember anything from last night. I don’t remember most nights, recently. I know that sounds crazy, but…”

“It’s fine. I have definitely heard crazier.” He smiled, something gentle and reassuring. As usual, there was something hidden behind his eyes. It was as if he already knew what Mikoto was up to late at night that earned him so much soreness the following days. He didn’t offer an explanation, though. Mikoto didn’t press him for one.

He winced as he was helped out of his uniform. Removing his shirt revealed the mysterious gash. Shidou’s eyes widened at the array of scratches and scars. Some were fresh, but most originated long before Milgram. Though he didn’t ask, Mikoto answered.

“I’m pretty clumsy, huh?” Maybe this time he would believe it. 

Shidou was kind enough to pretend to. “Here, allow me…”

Shidou got to work cleaning and dressing the injuries. Mikoto closed his eyes. Even though the disinfectant stung, and sometimes those gloved fingers pressed a little two hard, it felt nice to have things patched up. 

“Is there anything else going on? Are you feeling pain anywhere else?”

Mikoto could have laughed. He didn’t. “I’m just sore. And my head’s been killing me, but I’m used to migraines. Perks of the verdict, I’m sure.”

Shidou hummed in thought. 

“Thanks, by the way. I’ll try to be more careful.” Not that he had much choice in the matter, it seemed. But he’d do his best. 

Shidou kept his face straight, but there were traces of pain in his voice. “I will too. I’m sorry, Mikoto. If I had known… I’ve been distracted lately, but I should have paid closer attention.”

“It’s fine,” he flashed a grin. “I know the others are pretty fucked up. And I’m not dying or anything. I’m lucky, you know?”

“I wouldn’t say so. Doctors don’t only treat the dying.”

Mikoto frowned. 

It didn’t take much longer to finish treatment. Shidou gave him a few instructions about the bandages, then offered him a clean shirt. “You’re good to go. I’ll be checking in more often, now. I’ll see if I can find something for your head.” 

“Thanks. Really.”

He returned Mikoto’s torn uniform. “You should talk to Es about getting a new one. Until then, you’ll want to clean this with --”

Mikoto waved a dismissive hand, heading out of the cell. “Don’t worry, I know how to wash blood out of my clothes. Er, that sounds bad. I’m just a clutz, yeah? The blood’s always been my own.”

Maybe this time he would believe it.

[appalachianapologies]

[random drabble to get you through the day]

“I was able to hack her stuff pretty easily.”

“That didn’t take long.” 

Riley sends Mac a look. “I’m sorry, have we met? Riley Davis, hacker extraordinaire.”

Rolling his eyes, Mac replies, “You know what I mean. What’d you find?”

“The usual. For a double or triple or quadruple—or whatever type of agent she is—Nikki doesn’t encrypt her files as much as she should. I’ve already sent the juicy stuff to Patty.”

“Nice.” Giving a nod, Mac pulls a spare wheeled chair toward Riley’s desk and sits down. “What’re you doing now, then?”

“Oh, just having some fun.”

“Should I ask?”

“Probably not, but I’ll tell you anyway.”

With a poorly contained smile, Mac says, “Go for it.”

“After getting the goods out of her laptop, I hacked into her phone. Weakest wifi password in the history of ever, by the way.”

“Noted.”

“And she’s been listening to Spotify for the past three or so hours, so if I were to guess, she’s probably doing some other task while listening to music in the background.”

Mac gives another nod, still not exactly sure where this is going.

“So, like I said, I decided to have a little fun, and I wrote up some quick code this morning before you and Jack got here.”

“Code for what?”

“Basically,” Riley starts, “I made it so randomly in the middle of her songs, Spotify will pause itself.”

“Is that… it?”

“Yep.”

“Riley, what the fuck?”

Turning her head away from the monitor, she looks at Mac. “What, I can’t have some fun? When I wasn’t doing hacktivist stuff, this is basically all I’d do.”

A stuttered laugh escapes Mac before he can stop it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this side of you.”

“She’s been dormant for a while,” Riley confirms, “but I think it’s time I bring that part of me back.”