#y’all better enjoy this

[jambread23]

Back to the start

[1driedpersimmon]

.

Together as… One!

[akkivee]

My Generation: Buster Bros!!! Drama Track TL

sorry for the wait!!!! come get y’all’s bb drama fresh off the presses!!! three months late lol!!!!! tl’s in the link!!!

[wanderinthedeep]

*bounce*

[theswedishpajas]

I don’t think I ever posted this but he’s here now about a week late 🦇✨✨✨

[wispscribbles]

When I finish my ghoap Christmas oneshot that I started way back in start December, and have been struggling with since, then it’s over for you fools 🎅

[skykiuwu]

Niffty’s roach puppet show!! Arson edition

Higher quality here

[ccherrybloom]

Ashtrays & Antihistamines Pt. 1

oc, m, hayfever, wc: 2.8k

Part 2

CW: foul language and allusions to gay sex lol

~~

a.n. + summary: i don't think i've ever posted a snzfic on this blog, but there's a first for everything, right? featuring my lovely little ocs and their stupid dumb little band. i don't normally write them in snzcerions, but...every now and again i can’t help myself and one slips through the cracks lol. This particular one centers around my absolute shithead of an Irishman, Peter, as he deals with a hayfever flare up for the first time in like…twenty years, lol. of course, ever the lucky one, this begins to happen during the band’s first mini-tour. Cue shenanigans. I hope you all enjoy!

~~

“hH’RRSHhiue!” Peter fell into himself with a harsh sneeze, the band’s rundown van jerking sporadically with its driver’s sudden movement. “Goddamnit!”

“Bless.” Geoff offered lazily from the passenger seat as he turned a page of his book, unbothered by the vehicle’s erratic veer. “That’s like the tenth one since we’ve left Dublin.” The bassist pointed out, shooting the guitarist a pointed look from the corner of his eye. “You alright?”

“Fuckin’ hayfever,” Peter answered as he scrubbed his palm aggressively against the underside of his nose, careful not to put too much pressure against his nose rings. He followed it up with a drawn-out sniffle. “I’m fine. Christ.”

“I don’t remember ya being like this before,” Maurice quipped from the back of the van, leaning forward to join in on the conversation. “I mean hell, ya lived in Dublin fer how many years…?”

“Longer than you, Frenchie.” Peter retorted as he thrust a tattooed hand backwards to try and shove the singer away. Maurice easily dodged with a laugh, swatting at Peter’s hand as Geoff instinctively reached out to steady the van as it began to swerve again. “You can piss right off.”

“Look, I’m just sayin’, yer born and bred Irish — who knew all it took was a few months in London for yer own country to turn on ya.”

“I said piss off.”

“Who gives a shit!” Chris suddenly interjected as he pulled his headphones from his ears, a curly lock of the drummer’s dark hair falling between his eyes. “Just keep your bloody eyes on the road! I dunno ‘bout you lot, but I’d like to get there in one piece.”

Maurice backed off with a snicker, hands up in surrender as Peter quickly flipped Chris off in the rear view mirror before returning his full attention to the road.

After Peter and Maurice had both left Dublin for London a few months shy of one another, the four men began to pour almost all of their free time into their passion project, The Undergrounds. Much to their genuine surprise, people seemed to really enjoy their band’s sound and performances, so much so in fact that they’d hit a point where pubs across the UK were beginning to reach out to them, asking the group to come play for their open mic nights, with some even offering payment. With the requests getting further and further away from their homebase in London, the band finally decided to bite the bullet and buy themselves some transportation, namely their shithole of a van lovingly referred to as Van Halen. Despite its old clunkiness, it really did do the trick, and allowed the men to head across the border on their first ever ‘Let’s-Not-Call-It-A-Tour’ Tour. Realistically, with two of the four members being from (or as close to ‘from’ as one could be, in Maurice’s case) Ireland, the band had picked up quite a bit of traction across the small country with the men getting many open mic night requests which they normally had to turn down, much to Peter’s dismay.

At least until now, that is.

Peter had noticed something was off after their show in Dublin the night prior. At first he just assumed he strained his voice singing backup vocals — a product of over-excitement from getting to play in his old stomping grounds. But by morning the scratchiness in his throat lingered and was now accompanied by faint itchiness in his nose that forewarned him of worse yet to come. 

By the time the men packed up their gear and filed into the van late that afternoon, the unwelcoming prickle that had been festering in his nose demanded more attention, and his eyes began to itch in a maddening way that he hadn’t experienced since he was a kid back in Belfast. Initially he tried to ignore it, chalking it up as a residual reaction to dust from the old pub, or that it had been awhile since Van Halen had gotten a good clean. But as time slowly passed on their nearly three hour drive to Cork, and the itchiness in his sinuses progressed into full-blown sneezing, the reality of the situation began to dawn on him. He was immediately thrust back to Belfast, memories of summers spent constantly sneezing thanks to the fields near his old home, his eyes watering, his nose running, each summer spent absolutely miserable. He hadn’t had a hayfever flare-up in years, thinking it was something he had thankfully outgrown once his mum had moved them to Dublin, but yet here it was, back to rear its ugly head once more all these years later. The familiar lush scents of the countryside that used to conjure such vivid memories of home were now turning every intake of breath the guitarist took into a gamble. 

The itchiness in Peter’s nose only seemed to increase in urgency as Van Halen bumped its way through the Irish countryside. The landscape blurred past the windows, a mix of greens and greys under a sky that threatened rain.

“Nearly there.” Geoff hummed, taking a peek at the map app on his phone. “About another twenty or so.”

“Thank fuck.” Peter grumbled with a sniffle, his eyes squinting past the relentless itchiness. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and pulled his glasses up slightly before slamming his wrist into one eye and scrubbing hard.

“I think we could all do with a pint,” Maurice chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. “Especially you, Peter.” He added, gently poking the man’s shoulder.

Peter managed a weak chuckle in response, his wrist still pressed hard into the corner of his eye. 

“Just keep it steady Pete, yeah?” Chris leaned himself forward and rested his elbows onto his knees, eyes scanning the road ahead. “Not much longer and you can go ahead and drown yourself in whatever local brew you fancy.”

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but the van hit a particularly bumpy patch of road, jolting everyone inside. Instead he just swore under his breath, turning his full focus back towards the road as Cork began to appear on the horizon.

“There she is.” Geoff whistled, pointing ahead. “Welcome to Cork, lads.”

Peter managed to manoeuvre Van Halen expertly through the narrow streets of Cork despite battling his allergic reaction, the van’s tires crunching over cobblestone as he pulled them into the parking lot of their dingy motel.

“Home sweet home.” Maurice hummed as he clapped a hand onto Peter’s shoulder, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the other two members filed out. “At least fer the next few days.”

Peter leaned back into the driver’s seat and let his eyes drift closed as he exhaled deeply, shutting off the engine. He only cracked an eye back open when he felt Maurice give his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You alright?” The singer asked, his voice low and expression soft.

“I’m grand, Mur.” Peter grumbled, his voice heavy with sarcasm. The real truth of the matter was that he was miserable, itchy, and absolutely dying for a cigarette — not that he cared to say any of that out loud. 

The guitarist pulled off his glasses to give his watery eyes another scrub before continuing. “Just got a fierce bad dose of this nonsense…This shite best be all said and done before our show or I’ll–hh! hH’ITSHHhiue!”

“See, but that’s what we don’t wantcha doin’, actually.” The blonde teased as he patted the guitarist’s shoulder before the other quickly slapped it away as if he were swatting a mosquito.

“You fuck right off, Murry.” Peter sniffled hard, dragging the backside of his hand beneath his nose. “Just get yer shit and get goin’.”

Maurice did as he was told and hopped out of the van with Peter not far behind as the pair hurriedly began to help the others unload. With the sky steadily darkening the four moved quickly, eager to avoid the potential rain. Luckily the unloading and reloading of Van Halen had become more and more familiar with each passing gig, and it didn’t take them long to have all the necessities laid out beside the van, ready to go.

The motel itself was a shabby vintage looking two-story building, its neon sign flickering with an almost uncertain intermittence as if it were clinging onto its last shred of life.

Maurice and Geoff took the lead, carrying the group’s heavier equipment while Chris and Peter followed suit with their four bags. They bustled their way to the reception desk where they were met with a disinterested looking clerk who simply handed them a single worn key with a faded plastic tag attached.

“Yer in room 107.” He mumbled, barely looking up from his magazine.

“Cheers, mate.” Geoff scoffed as he shot the others an exasperated look and snatched the key. He led the group down the dimly lit hallway, their feet dragging against a carpet that had clearly seen better days. When they reached their room Geoff wasted no time unlocking the door and shoving it open, revealing a tightly packed space with two queen beds, a small television, and a bathroom that looked like it hadn’t been updated in at least two decades.

“Alright, how we doin’ this?” Chris asked as he tossed the bags he had onto the closest bed.

“By drawing straws, of course.” Geoff instructed as he pulled a set of straws he had prepared earlier out of his pocket. “Shortest straw shares with the other shortest straw.”

The others agreed on this being fair enough and drew their straws, quickly comparing them.

“Well, it’s you and me, innit?” Chris said as he held up his short straw next to Peter’s. He gave the other a playful nudge and smirked. “Just don’t go tryin’ nuffin, yeah?”

Peter sniffled thickly and shoved Chris away before pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, careful to avoid the rings, and itched it aggressively. “I got enough of ya the first time.” He moved from rubbing his nose to scrubbing his eyes, trying to ignore the way Maurice bristled at the mention of their one-off fling. “Won’t be doin’ that again.” Chris flipped him off and called him a wanker, but he went ahead and ignored that too.

“Hey, Pete,” Geoff called out as he tossed his bag onto the other bed. “Why don’t you take a shower? Might help clear up a bit of that hayfever.”

Peter, who’s eyes had started to glaze over, did his best to nod in the ginger’s general direction. “That’s the best ideee-hha I’ve heard all d—hh! hhUH’DITSHhhiuew! ‘IGKSHhhiueww!” He doubled over hard into cupped hands, his entire body tensing violently with each sneeze before he groaned thickly against his palms. “—all damn day.” He finished on an exhale, voice cracking. “-snf- Jaysus…”

“Bless you.” Geoff offered, a twinge of sympathy in his voice. “You know you really ought to—”

“G’way outta that.” Peter interjected with a dismissive wave of his hand as he trudged his way to the bathroom, eyes half-lidded. “Last thing I need is yer bloody mother hennin’, Geoffrey.” He added before pulling the door closed behind him. 

Flicking the light switch, Peter had to wait a full second before the dull fluorescents sputtered to life, illuminating the unsightly bathroom as he dragged his feet towards the shower. The tiles were cracked and the floor was splotchy, but he didn’t care, he just wanted some relief. 

The pipes whined in protest as he turned on the taps before water began to sputter out from the shower head. The water pressure seemed abysmal at best, and Peter cursed to himself as he leaned his weight against the sink, waiting for the water to warm. As steam steadily started filling the small space, he could feel the tightness in his sinuses ease up slightly, making his nose run. The liquid caught on his septum ring and trailed rapidly down towards his upper lip. Blowing out an annoyed breath, the guitarist took a second to wipe his nose haphazardly against his sleeve before stripping and stepping into the tub, letting the warm water cascade over him with an appreciative sigh.

Outside of the bathroom Geoff and Maurice were seated on each side of their shared bed as they sorted through their bags.

“Think he’ll live?” Maurice asked as he pulled out his plastic toiletry bag, setting it to the side.

Geoff gave a small shrug in return, glancing towards the bathroom door. “I reckon it could go either way with that dumb git.”

Maurice snorted at this, but his knit brow betrayed his feigned air of nonchalance. “Just hope the shower helps, I s’ppose. Don’t think we can really afford to have him down fer the count.”

Chris, already sprawled out on the other bed, headphones back on, piped up. “Eh, he’ll be alright. Just needs to wash off whatever’s settin’ ‘im off. It’s no big, yeah? You French people are wound too tight.”

Maurice rolled his eyes at this but chose to ignore the drummer’s comment. “I just don’t want anythin’ to screw this up for us.” He murmured as his eyes fell onto the bathroom door. “That’s all.”

“hh-Hh! hH’dDZTShiueww!” Peter sneezed loudly and openly, his head snapping downwards as the shower’s stream continued to steadily pelt against his tattooed back. He blinked hard, eyes bleary as the need to sneeze lingered in his nose like an unwelcome houseguest. Instinctively he brought up a hand to hover over the lower half of his face as his breathing began to come out in shuddering, shallow gasps. “hah…Ha’TdSHhhiuew!” This one bent him double and he swore immediately afterwards, more than a little frustrated as he blew his nose harshly into his hand. Had his hayfever always been this maddening? He couldn’t remember. It had been a long time since he’d had a flare-up, probably pushing two decades at least. The thought that it had come back now during the band’s first tour just pissed him off further.

Sighing, Peter turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, reaching out for one of the worn threadbare towels from the hotel rack. He dried himself off quickly before wrapping the towel dangerously loose around his waist – the only member who had yet to see his dick was Geoffrey, and the guitarist couldn’t give less of a shit if today was the day that changed.

Wiping a hand across the fogged bathroom mirror, Peter allowed himself a moment to peer at his reflection as he dragged a hand through his damp, dark hair and threw on his glasses. His green eyes were still red-rimmed and watery, his nose and cheeks were decorated with a soft dusting of pink…he looked pathetic, but at least the shower was helping him breathe a little easier.

Residual steam billowed out into the cooler room as Peter made his way out of the bathroom, catching the eye of Maurice.

“Peter,” The singer looked up from his bag and offered the dark-haired man a small smile, taking in the other’s lean frame. “How ye fairin’?” 

“Bit better, I’d say.” Peter hummed, though a small sniffle still escaped him as he wandered over to his bag, making Maurice frown.

“Reckon you’re up for a drink?” Geoff asked, not looking up from his phone. “We were thinking of checking out this pub nearby. Interested?”

Peter mulled it over for a moment, turning his back on the others before dropping his towel and pulling on a pair of boxer-briefs. “Yeah, g’wan then.” He finally affirmed, clearing his throat against a fist as he fished an old t-shirt from his bag. “Pint’ll do me some good.”

“Are ya sure?” The singer asked, chewing on his lip nervously as Peter wiggled into a pair of jeans. “If yer not feelin’ up for it–”

“Sod off, Maurice, will you?” Chris suddenly retaliated as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Actin’ like you’re his bloody mum or somefin’ just cos you’re shaggin’. Prat.”

Peter couldn’t help but snort as Maurice glared daggers at Chris, his face turning a delightful shade of crimson. The fact that he and Maurice slept together on occasion wasn’t exactly a secret – their initial one-night stand was how the two had met in the first place, after all – but it wasn’t something that was often discussed amongst the group. Peter personally didn’t care, but Maurice clearly did.

“You don’t see me actin’ like a bloody bellend even though I’ve also sucked his–”

“Ça commence à bien faire!” Maurice shot up suddenly from the bed, cutting Chris off as his native tongue spilled rapidly from his mouth. “Fer the love of God, no more, thank you!” 

The singer hurriedly made a beeline for the hotel room door, grabbing his coat as he rushed past the others, his face absolutely aghast as the others snickered. “Just…hurry up, then! Christ, I need a feckin’ drink…”

“I think we all do.” Geoff huffed as Maurice stepped into the hall. “C’mon, lads. Let’s go.”

[ike-mcswains-mortician]

glenn has a psa for everyone!! :D

(song: seatbelts! by ninja sex party)

(if the quality is bad shhhh no it isn’t❤️)

[rumoredtoexist]

You are powerful Abram. But you are easily malleable under a vampire's influence. They are dangerous and manipulative and never worth fighting for. Heed my warnings child, go back now.

[greatyme]

Short cover of the chorus of tomorrow by ford arun from the incredible moonlight chicken (as requested by @troubled-mind, hope u like it!!) on the harp by yours truly hehe

[rhynrnmph]

ELIA WEEK DAY1: Elia and her children

Headcanons I've been keeping in my heart about our PrincessDianaElia:

artist @the-lady-raerae <3

The first weeks she was weakened and exhausted for no reason

Her bizarre cravings were a dead giveaway

Elia when told she was expecting immidately told Ashara to send the word to all of Dorne!

She actually cried of joy and was extra careful about what she ate

She would read as soon as she could when she knew she was pregnant

When she felt Rhaenys kick the frst time she was overjoyed. This specific moment made all her pain worth it.

She hoped her child would be healthy (That was her biggest fear)

The delivery was the most intense pain she ever felt

Once she held Rhaenys for the first time she was overwhelmed and happy to know the babe was healthy

She wouldn’t let her go so bad Rhaenys got quickly used to being constantly carried

Rhaenys never had milk mothers. Elia was so happy about her daughter she'd INSIST to feed her herself and actually adored those moments

Elia would talk to Rhaenys like she her best friend, gossiping and chatting away FOR HOURS

Elias ladies in waiting were constantly having their eyes on the babe whenever Elia was away for xyz

After Aerys said nasty shit about Rhaenys at her introduction at court she told Rhaegar she NEVER wishes to be left alone with him. It’s Dragonstone or Dorne for her and her child

The amount of love and care Queen Rhaella showed to her granddaughter salvaged her good family’s reputation to her eyes

Rhaella confided she had always wanted a daughter, it was bittersweet

In fact Queen Rhaella and Princess Elia had mutual respect and care for each other

After this humiliation Elia made sure to have no Aerys patriots around her blood

Security and guardsmen were ordered to be very careful about who wanted to see her daughter

Once she was announced to be carrying Aegon she felt terrified

That period was the worst and only got worser

Rhaegar was already speaking of a third child when she couldn’t obviously carry no more

She was found of her young husband but frustrated of his lack of realism

The King was getting more erratic and mad

The wood attack and the court having obvious stands on Rhaegars succession to the throne

The Kings attitude towards her allowed micro aggressions to flourish at court about her and her children

This she avoided to bring them in that environment as much as possible

When Rhaegar passed her and gave the garland of roses to Lady Lyanna time stopped for her

Funnily enough she felt nothing however her family was livid

Only once she felt eyes on her did she sense something was amiss

In the carriage on the way back she felt numb and eerily calm

She returned to Dragonstone the same evening thinking on the next moves to secure her children’s rights

What would it mean for her bloodline and their claim of the throne

Rhaegar sent for her to return, to explain. She had no interest to return and told him to return to his family once he’s finished there

Both Rhaenys and Aegon would quiet down and soothe when she’d read to them

Her favourite lullabies would be sung in hushed tones

Elia had great aspirations for her children and was already looking into a stable future for both

Elia got familiar with High Valyrian because of Rhaegar

Rhaenys has proven to be Oberyns niece

A turbulent baby leaving chaos everywhere she went

But she was adorable so she got a pass

Aegon was quiet fussy and had a birds appetite

Unsettling his mother a bit that her health got through him

But maesters would constantly reassure her that he was a healthy boy

Elia would teach Rhaenys affirmations and repeat them every morning and night like a prayer

Because this is what her own mother did for her

Rhaenys hated her hair being done by anyone else but her mother (and elia was lowkey proud of this privilege)

Balerion was Rhaegars last gift to his daughter

Princess Rhaenys was a daddy’s girl

As a ritual Elia Rhaegar and Rhaenys used to watch the sun set on the Narrow Sea

While Rhaegar would explain to his daughter the history of Aegon and his sisters Queen Rhaenys and Queen Visenya

Rhaenys is a history nerd too

Father and daughter would also sing together sometimes Elia watched foundly from the doorframe

All her ladies in waiting were her pillars and allies

All their children would play together with the little Princess

Though Ashara Dayne was the favourite aunt and she felt her absence the most once alone in Kingslanding

Her last letter to Ashara was to warn her that Aegon had indigo eyes and that she had won their bet

Ashara received it too late…

Elia Aegon and Rhaenys remains rest in the Watergardens in Dorne

[0kayblue]

Hiiiii! I'm typically a v happy n upbeat person but lately I've just been not feeling like myself. I'm always trying to make people laugh and it's always made me so happy when ppl even express that I light up a room :')) But I guess I feel like I haven't been that light for a bit, and I've just been in my head and I just feel like I've been burdening people or maybe I talk too much and it's just been making me really sad. And I feel bad for venting to people so I've just been handling everything on my own aaaaa. I was wondering if you could create an angst to fluff scenario with leon given the information I gave if possible :')? Happy ending ofcofc!! And if you are to write this ask, if you could include some kind of climax where the reader is breaking down (bc I'm a very emotional person n I'm v sensitive n cry super easily) Pls don't be shy to make it as long as you'd like! I love your work sm 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 and I hope you're doing well!

Light 

You are working on getting everything settled to move in with Leon when your parents pop by short notice things start to head south. They always had a knack for making things go from bad to worse.

Main Character Relations: Leon Kennedy x reader (romantic) 

Word Count: 3k (a little over)

Angst with comfort, borderline abusive behavior, complicated family relations, panic attack, happy ending 

A/N: Hey, anon! I hope you are doing better these days. Just know that you are loved and cared for. I appreciate you and I hope that whatever you are going through leaves you stronger than you were before. If you ever want to just vent, do not hesitate to message me. I may not be able to respond right away (or if you even want me too) or at all, but if you need to get it out. Get it out.  Please be easy on yourself and reach out to those you trust or authorities if it gets too bad. 

With that being said I thank you for your request and I hope that this suffices. I don’t think this is the best thing I've ever written, but it has its moments. Enjoy! 

You sat in the bathroom on the verge of tears with your face in your hands. Your tailbone starts to ache from sitting on the side of the tub, the harsh unforgiving acrylic leaving you with no support. You sniffed before finally standing up and moving in front of the mirror. Staring blankly at your reflection. 

Don’t. Cry. 

You scolded yourself as you looked in the mirror, your eyes slightly red and puffy. 

Stay. Strong. 

Taking a deep shaky breath you flushed the toilet before turning on the sink. Trying your best to pull it together as you splash some cool water on your face. 

You’re fine. You’re always fine. Now go back out there and be what you need to be. 

Your thoughts are harsh and cruel towards yourself as you turn off the faucet and dry your hands before you press on your cheeks, trying to wipe off the excess drops of water. This little worm of self doubt wiggling its way in your ear before you take a deep shaky breath. Plastering on a smile you leave the bathroom. 

You stop for a short moment before entering the living room, biting your inner lip, fixing your smile to something that felt more natural, and walking back to your former spot. Your ears perk as you pay attention, trying to place the room's conversation before sitting back down on your spot on the couch. 

“So, what do you do for work, Leon?” Your mom asks your boyfriend, a coldness to her words. 

“Sorry.” You murmur under your breath, “I told you, he’s head of security.” 

“I know what you’ve said,” your mother glared at you and you try not to wince under her gaze like you did as a child, “I just want him to explain it to me is all.” 

“What is there to explain exactly?” You're defensive, you're on edge, and Leon can more than just see it. His hand finds your thigh and his thumb ghosts over the denim fabric of your jeans. 

“There really isn’t much to explain.” He laughed trying to break the tension up, “I handle security for a warehouse up state. Make sure guards are properly trained, know how to deescalate a situation, stuff like that.”

“Interesting. How’d you fall into a job like that?” Your dad asks and Leon directs his attention back to your father.

Leon meeting your parents wasn’t your brilliant idea. You actually didn’t want him anywhere near them for a multitude of reasons, but your sibling let it slip to your mother that you were moving and it just snowballed from there. Your mother immediately jumped on your case and your father refused to look you in the eyes once he found out a romantic interest was involved. 

Of course none of this helped your current anxious state. The last few days have been more than just rough on you mentally and physically. With Leon being gone, packing, work, and your antidepressants losing their sparkle, you were in bad shape. 

“It just happened, I guess. The police academy didn’t want me and I had to go somewhere.” Leon laughed as he lied. He barely got through the front door before you were shoving a false backstory down his throat. It confused him and this wasn’t how he wanted to do this. He wanted to be honest and direct with your family about his life because someday he wanted to make your family his family. Things were more than just off to a bumpy start as your dad forced out a laugh.

“What made you guys want to drop by?” You ask, trying to relieve Leon of the hot seat. You felt bad for the current situation you put him in, if only he had run a little late. 

“We were out and about and wanted to see if you still were in the place, although I must say it looks better a little bare.” Your mom says as she flips open one of the boxes you had sitting on the coffee table, “You would think to tell your parents you were moving up state with a man you barely know.” Three months, you had told them that you had been dating Leon for only three months.

“I was going to tell you.” You got up, shutting the box and moving it away from her prying eyes. Leon’s concern for you doesn’t go unnoticed as his eyes remain glued to you; watching you bite your tongue in discomfort under the unrelenting gaze of your mother. 

“When?” Your dad asks. He didn’t seem mad, just heart broken. At a loss for words trying to figure out what moment you stopped confiding in him about your life. 

It was about middle school when it happened, when he told you that it was all in your head. That there wasn’t a thing wrong with you because you knew how to light up a room. You knew how to make people feel comfortable, you knew how to make them laugh; and no one who knew how to shine could suffer like the rest. 

“When I got settled. When I figured it out.” 

“When would that have been? When this fantasy of yours doesn’t work out and he leaves you?” Your mom spits before looking at Leon with little remorse, “I’m sorry son, no offense, but I don’t know you.” 

“Mom!” You yelled at her with your patience wearing incredibly thin, “You are not going to come here and start insulting my boyfriend.” 

“She’s just saying what we are all thinking,” your father defends her and it takes everything in you to not roll your eyes. “You’ve said you’ve only known him for three months, Christ, you’re probably lying. You’ve always kept secrets from us.” He was right, but you had your reasons. That didn’t make you feel any less bad about it, but still. You didn’t trust them for a reason and maintained a relationship with them out of guilt. 

“We just think it’s ridiculous that we are the last to know. We are your parents. We raised you. We took care of you; fed you, clothed you, kept a roof over your head. We deserve to know about your whereabouts with some man!” His voice rising and beginning to boom with anger; an anger you thought you had escaped. Your legs shake slightly as Leon stands up, shielding you from your fathers betrayed eyes. Seeing you in a flight or fight response triggering something in him. 

“We just want what’s best for you and I don’t think this is what’s best for you.” Your mom follows up causing your eyes to shift from your dad to your mom, tears welling in your eyes. 

“How do you know, huh? Not like you ever truly cared about anything I wanted.” 

“That is not true.”

“Not once have you called and asked me a damn thing with any true merit.”

“How could we? You are always hiding! Responding to everything with ‘fine’ or locking the damn door before we even knocked.” Your dad scolded you, wondering what happened to all those years he told you to stand your ground. Did those lessons fall on deaf ears or were you just up against something you couldn’t bring yourself to fight anymore?

“Because you don’t give a damn about anything serious in my life! God forbid you focus on how I feel instead of how you feel.”

“That is not-!” Leon raises a firm hand unable to stop himself. Unable to watch this unfold for much longer. He silenced the argument while your father was ready to push. It was an odd sight to see your father cower in his old age, knowing he didn’t stand a chance against Leon. Your heart pounds in your chest, afraid for Leon regardless of watching your dad back down. 

“I’m going to have to stop you, Sir. I think it’s best if you listen to your daughter and leave.” It wasn’t exactly a threat, more of a warning. 

“We need to have this conversation.” 

“I agree, but not today. Not now.” It took a lot for Leon to not call this the ambush that it was. He was still talking to your father, someone he still felt like he had to impress regardless of the current circumstances. 

“If we don’t talk about it today we aren’t bailing you out when this doesn’t work.” Leon’s hands ball into fist and you almost break but Leon beats you to the punch, “Sir, I am certain that if you utter another word like that I will see to it that she will never have to say another word to you again.”

Your parents look at you and you try to hold eye contact with them, but fail as you focus on the wood grain of the floor.  

Your father scoffs in disbelief, “That’s how it is? You’re letting someone else speak for you?” Your father asks in disbelief. He just shakes his head at your lack of a response and walks to and out the front door. 

“I hope you’re happy, you’ve broken his heart, (Y/N).” Your mother said, looking at you one last time with a familiar glare that made you feel guilty for just existing. 

You hear the door slam as you let out a heavy sigh, wiping the few tears that managed to escape away from your face. No one knew how to get to you like your parents did. Leon turns to you softening as he goes to reach for you, but you step back. 

“It’s okay. I’m fine. Let’s just get these boxes sorted.” Your voice flat as you turned back to the box your mother was once prying in. “Th-This one looks like a mix of t-shirts and coffee mugs.” You try not to stutter as you feel his hand on the small of your back. 

“Hey.” He soothes and where you find comfort in his touch you reject him as you pick up the box. You move quickly and set the box on the ground near the boxes you planned on taking to his place, soon to be your shared place, if you didn’t fuck it up. You took a deep breath as you tried to talk down that voice in your head that said your parents were right. 

“I’m- uh- going to check the bedroom for anything else. I’ll be right back.” You moved quickly, nearly sprinting down the hall. 

You felt terrible. You felt like a villain. 

Leon didn’t deserve a villian, he deserved rest. He had just gotten back from a mission to be greeted with this. A complete and utter wreck. He left one fight to come back to another and you felt absolutely responsible. 

Finally finding solace in your now empty room as you carefully shut the door behind you. You manage to walk to the center of the room on wobbly legs. Your chest aching as your fingers tangled themselves in your hair. Every single negative thought you had and every single self destructive feeling bubbles to the surface. Unable to contain it any longer. The air becomes thin as your pulse starts to race and a sharp gasp escapes through your dry lips. 

“(Y/N)?” Leon calls for you desperately, forgoing knocking on the door and just entering. Your eyes lock with his and you try to breathe; try to bring yourself to say something to keep him from overthinking the sight of you absolutely breaking in front of him. The words are lodged in your throat though as he looks at you with complete compassion. Your tears finally spill over as your knees give out and you start to fall to them. Taking in an ugly breath as your lungs tighten and Leon’s hands find your arms, guiding you carefully to the floor. 

You had failed. You had broken. You weren’t strong enough. 

You sobbed as you tried to hide behind your hands as the room felt like it was closing in. Leon was a mess as he scrambled for your attention, “Hey, (Y/N), look at me. I need you to look at me.” His hands firmly run up and down your arms as he tries to find your eyes. Trying to make you look at him, trying to tell you that you aren’t alone. 

You felt his warmth leave you and you squeezed your eyes shut as you brought your knees to your chest unable to place yourself in reality. All you knew was that his warmth was gone and you had convinced yourself he was gone. He wasn’t, he just moved his hands from your arms to your face; forcing you to look at him as you opened your eyes. “Breathe. I need you to breathe.” His words barely reach you, but they do as you nod. “With me, okay? In.” 

You take a deep breath in, following his instruction. 

“Out.” You let out and he repeats, “In.” You continue to follow as he coaches you through the process three more times. Your body is not shaking with as much intensity as your chest starts to relax. Your ribs are no longer burning as the air in the room is no longer thick, making it easy to swallow. Your chest rises and falls with your lungs as the tears slow, but continue to flow. 

“I-I’m sorry.” You get out as your hand finds his chest for support as you begin to unfold yourself. 

“Don’t. You have nothing to apologize for. Not a damn thing.” Leon says, fighting every urge in his body to pull you into his embrace. You sniff as he wipes tears from your red hot cheeks. “Where are you?” He asks, trying to distract you and get you grounded.

“My place.” You answer. 

“What do you taste?” 

“Salt.” 

“What do you see?” 

“You.” He can’t help but smile at your answer. One hand lets go of your face to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Can I hold you?” 

‘You still want to? I’m snotty.’ Was what entered your head and it was supposed to leave your lips with a smirk and you were supposed to let out a light laugh, but it’s not what came out. 

“Please.” A simple ‘please’ was all you could muster as your arms wrapped around his neck while he pulled you to his chest. Laying your head against his chest you could hear the beating of his heart. Gentle thumps that help you keep track of time as you start to register that you’re in control of your breathing. Leon takes a deep breath, his own worries settling as you relax against his chest. 

“My love.” He mutters into your hair while he rubs your back. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He’s been worried about you since he got back, the subtle things you did telling him you weren’t alright. How you distanced yourself in conversation and weren’t as quick witted as usual. He knew that this episode wasn’t all because of your parents, he knew you typically knew how to handle your own against them. 

Letting them roll off your back because it wasn’t worth fighting with them when they’d just make it all your fault anyway. 

“N-no.” Your breath hitching in your throat, unsure, “Give me a minute. Please.” Finally feeling your limbs ache from the stress as the stiffness in your form starts to ease. 

“Take your time, just stay with me. Breathe.” You closed your eyes and despite all of this, you smiled. His warmth enveloping you in comfort as you felt whole. You nodded, continuing to breathe. 

“I’m afraid I’ve lost it.” You joked and he just shook his head before placing a firm kiss on your temple. Sniffing you rubbed your nose on your sleeve as you settled into the calmness of your thoughts quieting. 

“No, you’re alright. I’ve got you.” He assures you as your heart breaks slightly. “You’ve just had a rough couple of days. You’ll be back on your feet in no time, you’re too stubborn to stay down.” You laughed slightly and his grip on you tightened. His heart burns at the sound of your laughter and his shoulders relax. He was scared there for a minute that he’d never hear your laughter again. 

“I love you.” It falls from your lips softly as you look at him. In times like these he was the light in the dark and he shined ten times brighter than you ever could. He’d argue with you a thousand times over about it though and tell you that you were crazy for even thinking he could outshine you. 

You found Leon in one of the darkest times of his life, he was an absolute wreck. He felt so much that he felt nothing at all. All his positive attributes drained from him slowly, as he started giving up on the world completely. He could’ve sworn he was a goner until one day in the darkness of a crummy bar he saw this light. He saw you mingling amongst strangers, making them laugh, making them comfortable. A lantern burning with a light that he would happily stay blinded by just as long as he could feel the warmth that radiated off of you. 

“I love you more.” His palm found the smoothness of your cheek as his thumb ghosted over your cheek bone. Examining your tired glassy eyes and the way your brows furrowed in exhaustion as he saw you try to place where he was. He sends you a warm smile before his lips find yours in a chaste safe kiss. Regretfully parting from you he speaks again, “What do you say we call it a day and head home? I’ll run you a bath and you can say as little or as much as you want. Deal?” You nod and as you go to push him away from you so you could stand he only holds you tighter. An arm resting under the bend of your knees while his other arm firmly holds you against him. You nearly squeal as he stands with no trouble as he savors the feeling of you clinging to his t-shirt. 

“I can walk, y’know.” 

“I know, but you don’t need to. I’d carry you everywhere if you let me.” You rolled your eyes while you laughed at this dork. A triumphant smile on his face, “Let’s get you home, light of mine.”

“I know, but you don’t need to. I’d carry you everywhere if you let me.” You rolled your eyes while you laughed at this dork. A triumphant smile on his face, “Let’s get you home, little light.”

[bleue-flora]

‘Techno pinches the bridge of his nose. “Come on, Dream. Stop it!… That’s not cool, bro. Why you gotta take out all your frustration on my fancy teacups? I know you’re just mad that you don’t have a house, but bro we can go build you one. We can—we can even make it out of something better than dirt, alright?”’

Ta da! I made some art for the collaborative work, Crow’s Nest, we essentially wrote in a month, which is by far, my most diverse in content and longest fic. Thought it needed some like cool title art, since it’s basically the length of a book lol. (See below for symbolism and stuff)

- it’s kind of a combination of some main elements and themes from the fic: Steve (clearly the main character lol XD), tea, the broken teacups, Techno’s house… the stained floor

- the green tea cup represents Dream and well his broken state after prison, while the pink tinted glue represents Techno helping Dream heal and putting him back together.

- and obviously, a crow for the title and poem the chapters are named after.

- and despite my efforts, Tumblr has kinda ruined my quality, so here’s a zoomed in picture of the tea tag I made, which has the title of the fic and our names on it. :)

[white-winter-hymnals]

🌴 The Sk8 fam as bootleg t-shirts 🌴

Langa:

Reki:

Cherry:

Joe:

Miya:

Shadow:

Adam:

Tadashi:

[kamilah-is-queen]

Sub Kamilah - Pt II.

Author’s Note: Hey everybody! I know I’ve taken a HUGE gap from writing fics/answering requests and being a part of the Kamilah fandom and so I’d like to extend my deepest apologies. I’m not going to give excuses, but the good news is I’ll be posting way more often than I did a few years ago. I hope the Kamilah fan base hasn’t dwindled too much, we’ve got to stick together and keep up the content!

P.S. What better way to get back into the hang of writing than with a highly sought after part 2 of g!p Kamilah. It’s VERY VERY SMUTTY, and there is no cut… so be warned!

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Amy Parker)

Warning: HOT HOT HOT SMUT!

Tags: @ta-sayeed, @kamilahtopme, @nydeiri, @rhonda-sayeed, @helpconfusedpersonhere, @millasayeed, @vonda-be-real, @livvynka, @queenkamilah, @leenasayeed, @skylarkxxyy, @choicesgrp, @ilove-kamilah-sayeed, @justavampirefan, @iamsimpforpoppy, @friendlybuddy

(Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list or have a fic request :)

Did you really think night one was over that fast? Ha, foolish mortal, this couple is far more vigorous and desire driven than you realize.

I still inside Amy, humming deeply into her back as I unloaded my seed deep inside her womb, my arms entangled around her body as she groaned into the silky pillows.

Her body revealed what her words couldn’t, the pleasure insurmountable and overwhelming as her body shuddered with each drop of cum I filled her with.

When I finished, I gripped her love handle and slowly pulled out, a soft squelch sound as cum flooded out of her wet folds, her folds visibly throbbing at the lack of attention.

She turned her head to gaze at me with her infamous doe eyes, silently pleading for more. To be manhandled and thrown around like a rag doll, fucked and breeded like a dog in heat, mercilessly.

That’s what her true desires were, her eyes, the key to that secret, spilling away all its treasures.

“Please…” Her voice raspy and high pitched, “more Kamilah. I need you, I want you all night long. I don’t want you to leave my pussy for a second, not even if it’s gaping wide and overflowing with your cum my love. Make love to me all night, and into the morning.”

I nuzzled the crook of her shoulder, effortlessly flipping her onto her back, my pupils blown as I gazed into her enchanting orbs. “Is that an order, or a request?” I playfully teased, grinning in my signature fashion that left her breathless.

Her arms looped around the back of my neck, not before she began stroking my tip against her clit. “An order of the highest rank, from your sovereign. Don’t upset me my warrior, not on our first night as married couple together.”

She inhaled sharply as I pushed into her, her hand guiding me in slowly as it was my turn to exhale deeply. “You’re such a bossy boo, you know that?” Winking, I began rolling my hips into a steady rhythm, my 11 inches spreading her already cum soaked walls further.

With a cheeky grin, she replied. “This is what you signed up for, no receipts accept-“

I pushed my complete length into her, my tip edging her cervix open as she cried out my name into the crisp Egyptian night. “Shhh, let me love you now. Let us make our family together.”

She gripped onto my shoulders for life, nodding rapidly and groaning as I began to pound, deep and relentlessly. “Oh my goddd, yessss…”

I could feel the tension between us mounting, almost at the breaking point as time seemed to slow and we began to quicken.

Her nails ripped deep cuts into my back, her cries of my name echoing throughout our villa and into the night sky full of pure pleasure and bliss.

“Amy, Amy I can’t hold on much longer…” My breaths were heavy as I howled in the pleasure/pain of her passionate grip, refusing to let me go or let there be any room for space between us.

My back arched as the cuts opened, a faint trickle of blood running down my back as I fucked Amy faster and faster and harder and deeper and whatever words can describe this moment of utter love.

It was too much. Her warm folds squeezed my cock without mercy, persistently throbbing, pleading for more cum. Her squeals and screams of my name echoing through my ear, her fingers clinging deep into my muscles…

It awakened an animal inside.

My eyes peaked blood red, my body taking control of itself, overriding my self control. Our bodies, our hips were clashing together in a bruising force, the slapping of our skins echoing for miles.

I saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing, except red. The warm, thick, succulent red blood that was pumping frantically inside her veins, the adrenaline flowing through the liquid honey, her fear and excitement coursing throughout her body as she too, became overstimulated.

Before she could blink, my fangs sank deep into her neck, piercing the jugular vein, my hot mouth already prepared for the warm ooze that would follow.

That’s when I heard the scream.

The gut wrenching, ear piercing, stomach twisting scream Amy’s body forced out, a scream of utter overexcitement, overexertion and overstimulation.

“KAMILAHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Her body thrashed in all directions, desperate to be relieved of the stimulation. Her body innately forced me away as she panicked, unable to breathe or think properly.

Her cum squirted everywhere, and when I say everywhere, I’m not lying. She soaked my legs and abs, the bedsheets and floor, even managing to spray the glass sliding doors too.

She couldn’t handle me anymore, her body was resisting in sheer pleasure at it all, yet I couldn’t stop. I tried to, the voice in my head screaming to stop and make sure she’s alright. But… I couldn’t. I wasn’t in control of myself anymore, I had unlocked the deepest and most darkest box of desires stored within, and I was certainly too high on its path to go back.