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alliechick · 2 years

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Calamity(ish) Xie Lian and Wu Ming Beauty and the Beast(ish) au.

Wu Ming has escaped into the woods, injured and on the run. Persecuted because of his blood red eye. The woods are said to be haunted, so nobody dares follow him in. He gets lost and collapses, succumbing to his injuries.

When we wakes up, he’s in a grand bedroom, tucked into a large bed while a fire burns in the hearth. He’s been bandaged up and put into clean clothes. He sits up.

A figure in white funeral robes and wearing a laughing crying mask sits before the fire.

“You’ll stay here until your injuries heal, then I will escort you back to your village,” he says without turning around.

“I have nothing waiting for me there,” Wu Ming replies. He doesn’t even have a proper name.

The figure in white pauses.

“Then you may stay here, as long as you desire.”

“What may I call you?” he asks.

The man pauses.

“Your Highness.”

Then he leaves.

The next morning, breakfast is waiting for him. It’s finer than anything he’s ever eaten. In the wardrobe, there are beautiful robes, in all colors with fine embroidery. He finds the plainest one, black.

When he leaves the room, he quickly realizes he’s in a palace. An empty palace.

He finds a library, full of books he can’t read, a throne room with a broken throne, and finally an armory and training ground. That’s where finally finds his host.

Wu Ming watches, as the figure in white practices forms. His movements are steady and sure. Wu Ming has never properly learned to fight, not beyond the tussles he got into in the village.

“Are you going to watch or will you spar with me?” the man asks.

So Wu Ming joins in on the field and is quickly tossed to the ground. The man is strong.

“You show promise,” he said.

“Will you train me?” Wu Ming asks.

And the man agrees.

The next few weeks, Wu Ming spends more and more time with His Highness. He teaches Wu Ming martial forms, how to spar. He says he has a natural affinity to the saber and Wu Ming beams with pride.

His Highness spends time in the library. Wu Ming asks for paper and ink. He can’t write, but he’s always had an inclination for art. He draws His Highness as he reads. Over and over again until he gets it right. His Highness never looks and makes not comment on his drawing.

When His Highness learns he can’t read or write, he begins to teach him. Wu Ming learns quickly, though his handwriting leaves much to be desired. He tears through books, soaking up knowledge that he’d never been fed before.

His Highness always wears his mask, always wears white. Wu Ming in turn, always keeps his right eye covered. Eventually an eyepatch is left in his room, so he stops wrapping his face in bandages. They never talk about it.

As they spend more time together, His Highness changes. His cold demeanor warms. He speaks softly and with kindness. He even laughs. They begin to spend every hour together.

Wu Ming is happier than he’s ever been.

Until one morning he can’t find His Highness. He’s not waiting in the banquet hall, to watch Wu Ming eat his breakfast. He’s not in the training grounds, he’s not in the library.

Something is wrong.

He searches room by room, until he finds what must be His Highness’s chambers. He’s collapsed on the floor.

“Don’t come near me!” He says.

Wu Ming stops before he can get too close.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m succumbing to it now,” His Highness replies. “My time is up.”

“Please let me help!” he begs.

“There’s nothing you can do.”

Then Wu Ming is told a story. A story of a beloved teenaged prince, who believed in the goodness of people, that spoke of happiness through tribulation. A prince who drew the ire of a sorcerer who cursed him, so that all would scorn the prince. That none would love him.

A disease, one that would ravage his body and leave him ugly. One that he would eventually succumb to, unless someone could love him despite it.

Wu Ming had never seen His Highness’s face. But nothing could make him stop loving him.

He approaches his prince, who for the first time is without his mask. His face is scarred, scarred with human faces. Human face disease.

“Now you see,” His Highness says with resignation.

Wu Ming kneels beside him, the reaches up to his own face and removes the eyepatch.

“Now you also see,” he said.

“You’re beautiful,” His Highness replies.

“You are too,” Wu Ming says.

Then he leans down and kisses him.

The world suddenly bursts into light.

When it’s gone, the prince’s face his clear. He sits up, hands touching the smooth skin of his face. Tears run down his face.

His Highness turns to Wu Ming.

“You saved me,” he gasps.

“I love you,” Wu Ming replies.

They kiss again and when His Highness pulls back, he speaks.

“Call me Xie Lian.”

#hualian #tgcf #an idea I toyed with writing as a fic #but decided against it #but still wanted to share the au!#my fic

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i-like-books-and-women · 2 months

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Oh the crippling reality of small fandom means if I wanna read the fic I'm probs gonna have to write it

#guys this is hard #ive got too many ideas #and not enough idea juice to cook with #like ive got a smut fic with a premise ive been toying with since fucking november but im like scared of writing it cause i dont wanna suck?#and then the engagement fic based on that post darcy made #and then like half baked ideas that are so half baked theyre basically just dough #but like #i wanna just read stuff about my boys #but ive read like all of them more than once #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writer #fanfiction writer #ao3

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screams-in-writing · 2 months

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This starts out reading as a more horror-esque story, before Mr. Puzzles is found to just be bad at personal space and that phasing into one’s home is frowned upon (I think this is even longer than the other one I posted. I am having fun).

Your roommates were at their respective family homes, which left you all alone during a raging thunderstorm. A storm that lit the house with flashes of intermittent lightning, rain coming down like a deluge, as if threatening to flood the very streets around the home.

In addition, the power had gone out not ten minutes ago, leaving you in the dark to hold onto a flashlight one of your roommates had stored in a kitchen drawer. It wasn’t the brightest shine, either, the path of the beam flickering itself, as if the battery were close to dying out. The subsequent dark of the house following the power outage, despite the light said flashlight produced, made you become acutely away of the ambient noises around you.

The basement door was ignored; you’d seen enough horror movies and games to avoid going down there like the plague. Even if you were all alone in the house, you were not going to let your mind get away from you by going to check out the electrical panel.

There was a slight thumping sound from the dining room, like someone had tripped.

Nope.

You went in the opposite direction of the noise, and began to carefully go up the stairs, an unnerving feeling of being watched settling in. The flashlight died not even three steps up. Propelled by spike of alarm that there could be someone behind you now that it was dark, you blindly raced up the stairs. Panic shot through you when you could have sworn you heard steps swiftly following up after you.

Nope. Nope nope nope.

The hallway wasn’t completely dark, thanks to a window from another room nearby that was open, allowing a vague outline to your closed bedroom door.

Telling yourself you’d checked all the doors and windows before your roommates had left for the weekend, you slam your bedroom door open. Without missing a beat, you stumble to your bed and hid under the covers of the bed like you could keep yourself hidden from whatever you thought could have followed you upstairs.

Creaking noises.

Someone was walking?

No, that was just the siding of the house being hit with the sheets rain.

A shuffling noise.

Just the rain pelting the windows.

A thump sounded in the brief silence.

That…had came from underneath your bed.

You peer out from beneath the blanket to warily peer over the side of the bed. You were met with a sheepish expression with a multi-colored smile on a tv screen staring up at you.

“Hello, my-“

In a panic, because how could there be a television on under your bed, you abruptly tossed the blanket over the tv screen. In a burst of frenzied terror, you dropped down onto the tv on your knees with a thump, making a garbling noise emit from beneath you. Further terror seized you when a pair of arms reached out from beneath the bed to upend you. Scrambling to get to your feet, you are halted by a hand seizing one of your arms. With a scream of fear you’re pulled backward into a solid chest, arms around your waist as someone held you.

A voice cut through the cacophony of rain and thunder, saying your name.

Confused, you still for just a moment, noticing the glow in the room that came from behind you. It illuminated a pair of legs on either side of you, which boxed in your upright if curled up form. A pair of familiar legs in gray pants with puzzle patterns on it, ending with black and white dress shoes. Confusion rose as you glanced down and found arms covered in a white dress shirt, gloved hands twitching when your hands settled over them.

“Mr. Puzzles?”

“The one and only!” Said with gusto, if in an out of breath way.

Right.

You’d essentially landed your knees into his face, hard.

Wait.

“Why are you in my house?” You felt Mr. Puzzles’ hands fidget under yours.

“Would you believe it is because I have nowhere else to go, when I am not at work with you or our…co-workers?” It sounded like Mr. Puzzles still wasn’t married to the idea that he needed to work with a team to get a show up and running. Possibly because it wasn’t the kind of show he was used to, in that it was podcast being taped or just audio, depending on the current money situation.

“And this brings you into my house, how?”

“…I remember where it was because it was the first place I appeared? And I wasn’t sure if a hotel would…let me in? Or if I let myself in, someone might be…very, very confused.” Mr. Puzzles offered, almost sheepishly. “And so…i may be able to do an eensy-weeny little thing-”

“Which is?” You cut in, before the man could go off on a tangent.

“…I used the old box tv still plugged into the basement and replaced it with myself before the power went out?”

So there was something to fear in the basement, though Mr. Puzzles was less terrifying than an actual burglar that might cause you harm. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t weird and rather intruding for this tv-headed man to just let himself into your and your roommates’ house.

“I take it that isn’t…done as much here, as where I’m from?” Mr. Puzzles asked into the silence, amid the storm raging on.

“No, it’s not.”

“I see.”

An awkward silence reigned briefly.

“I could go to the basement and wait for the power to turn on, if my presence is truly troubling.” That sounded like it had come through gritted teeth; impressive, for someone with a screen for a face. Like he wanted to be in the company of someone but also acknowledging, reluctantly, that being in the home of an acquaintance-almost-friend without notice or approval wasn’t the best thing to happen.

“Why did you show up to begin with. Apart from not having a place to go?” You finally clue into leaning against the man and swiftly pull away, which Mr. Puzzles quickly allowed for as he rested against a nearby wall.

“Oh, right.” Gloved fingers fidget; Mr. Puzzles suddenly looked embarrassed, screen shifting as a frown appeared, droplets of sweat shown on one upper area of the screen. “I asked for everyone’s phone numbers, to stay in touch, you see. I must admit, I was so caught up in the idea of being involved in a show again-“ In a quieter, deeper grumbling tone, “Yet not even a host of it.”

You stare at the man, who quickly ‘cleared’ his throat and continued on.

“Not that I’m not grateful for another chance.”Mr. Puzzles’ voice became clear and upbeat once more. “Why, the very thought held me in a chokehold of inspiration and it wasn’t until the end of the work day that I realized I’d forgotten to ask for your number.”

It was such an absurd thing that you had to laugh, which made Mr. Puzzles’ face shift to one as well as a laugh track mixed with his own.

“You do know you could have waited until tomorrow.” You said. “The storm is supposed to be gone by the morning.”

“You dont know why?” Mr. Puzzles reached out to grasp one of your hands.

Personal space, much?

“I wanted to thank my dear rescuer, who not only didn’t dump my prone head into a dumpster-“ Mr. Puzzles shuddered in apparent revulsion over the very idea. “But you also found me a place I could use a rather free rein of my creative expression at while getting back on my feet!”

“Free rein, meaning putting two of my arguing co-workers into your television head land or whatever while people thought they’d gone missing?” You ask dubiously as you take your hand back, though Mr. Puzzles had let go already to wave the hand dismissively.

“Schematics. One must make sacrifices for a good television show.”

“You sent one of them to therapy.” You deadpanned.

“To be fair, that fellow appeared to already be in need of such survives.” Mr. Puzzles shrugged in apparent indifference.

“Pot calling the kettle black.”

“I’m offended.” The man placed a hand over his chest, Mr. Puzzles’ screen face switching to a picture of a sat wet cat. “No one in this world could possibly handle the amount of therapy I would require, so I’m afraid coping will just have to be enough.”

“At least you’re honest about it.”

“I do try my best.” Cheerful and insincere. This man had a screw loose somewhere in that tv head of his.

A bright flash of lightning followed by a deafening rumble that shook the house.

You practically flung yourself at the nearest object for comfort, which happened to be Mr. Puzzles, who seemed confused by the sudden death-cling you held him in versus the conversation suddenly being interrupted.

“Not a fan of storms?” Mr. Puzzles asked eventually.

“What do you think?”

“…would you like me to play something for you?” Mr. Puzzles questioned in a softer tone than before.

“Like what?” You whispered.

“Well, that depends.” Mr. Puzzles tilted his head. “Would you want to watch or listen?”

“Listen.” You decided after a brief moment of thought.

“Any requests?”

Genuine. Curious.

“Nah, surprise me.”

A mistake, that.

If you hadn’t been in need of holding something alive and breathing for reassurance (how did Mr. Puzzles manage that, with his head being what it was) you might have tried to uselessly to smother the man with a pillow.

The asshole was playing a recording of the fitness gram pacer test, apparently quite happy to return the hug, as touch-starved and friendless as Mr. Puzzles made himself appear. But Mr. Puzzles redeemed himself some time later when he eventually switched over to a channel playing orchestral music that was loud enough that it dulled the noise of the storm, but not loud enough that you missed sound of something else.

With your head leaning against his chest, you heard the thumping of a heart. This man’s body was a confusing mess; a tv for a head, yet his body gave in the way a human’s did, but at times, you wondered if he was robotic. And if that was the case, were you hearing an actual heartbeat, or just the sound of one to make this impromptu holding one another for comfort in the dark less unnerving?

A thought to pursue another day.

#I typed this up on my lunch break so again phone typing mistakes possible #smg4 mr puzzles x reader #would take place earlier in the fic idea in toying with #punches the wall #this man’s got me in a creative chokehold have more writings

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kanene-yaaay · 3 months

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He started it!

Kanene's notes: I think my brain is no longer able to grasp what a 'quick, small fic' is kjhgfdfghjjhgvjhgf somebody this was supposed to be just a small drabble but the cuteness broke me. Somebody save me from the Dogday brain rot please somebody save me...

But anyway! Can't say when I will be able to post again, college just started and so my days are going to be very full :') Still! Hope you all like this!

Warnings: Plenty of raspberries, nibbles and teasy nicknames. Around 3,500 words. Ticklish!Dogday and Ler!Reader. Other than that, nothing, this is pure tooth-rooting fluff. Rip da boi. Also! Once again, I'm obsessed w Felix's writing style where the dialogues and narration are mingled together so all the hugs and thank you's to her :D

[~*~]

Dogday had started it.

Of course it was him. Just like a ray of sunshine, your own personal star, shining and chasing the dark shadows away, he did and now there was no other way this could’ve played out.

“A-angel, please!” His voice glitched, getting lower at the end of his plea, however immediately growing higher again as giggles began filling the space, crackling and buzzing in both despair and delight. “Think about what you’re about to do!”

You hummed and smiled at his squeal, fond and sweet and absolutely devilishly as you remembered how this entire game began.

Every single corner of this factory was dangerous. Even so, there were hostile places where any kind of sound, whisper or even a poorly suppressed gasp could attract the worst kind of attention and immediately break in pieces the fragile peace that warily followed you and Dogday in your path. At the time, you both had been walking through one of these areas for far too long, bathed by complete silence, careful to keep your steps silent and with an alerted kind of tension clinging to your form with each passing second.

That was when, for some reason, Dogday decided that enough was enough. It was his moment to shine.

Where even did the idea come from? Has he been bored?

“You just seemed so stressed!” His tail was wagging so much you could feel the wind it created hitting your legs. An involuntary coo left your mouth at the playful, a tad proud glint in his eyes, which only made his smile bigger and loopier. He tried to tug his hands away to hide his face. Needless to say, it was an unsuccessful attempt. “No, no, no! Don’t!”

Anyway, it had been confusing at first. When the giant sentient toy turned in your direction, making fingerguns with his paws and pretending to be firing at something, you immediately spun around in a quick and swift movement, grabpack and firing hand ready to attack pointing in the same direction as him, eyes searching for the danger he was gesturing.

… Stopping to think, he did almost laugh at you that moment, didn’t he? You bet that if you both didn’t have to conceal any and every sound his crackles would’ve rang free and joyfully across the whole factory.

You took an exaggerated deep breath and blew slowly in a faux disappointment, feeling his muscles under you tense and shake with barely concealed titters, a tiny protesting half whine and half plea flying around, his torso squirming.

(Away or closer to the sensations? Both of you knew the answer very well.)

Tsk. You hummed again, only to hear that adorable squeal once more. It took everything to not let him go and dig, to listen those high pitched squeals over and over again and see how many of them you could collect, letting them dance in harmony with his glitching laughter and rumbling chuckles until happiness and joy were the only thing filling his mind and actions, until his smile were wide enough to light up the dark pathway ahead and each tiny, almost imperceptive wiggle, scribble or twitch of your fingers was followed by the lovely, lovely melody of his tickly delight, prompting more and more expectant titters and pleas without you even having to lay a single finger on him.

But the game couldn’t be over so soon. And it was quite fun to see how much giggles you could get even though you weren’t actually doing anything.

(Yet.)

So you pushed down the adoring smile that tried (again) to take over your features and let it morph into a sad expression, slowly shaking your head in a fake disappointment.

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Such a good friend and he almost laughed at you like that… After everything you both have been through, after all the fights and the talks, the hugs and the vents… You see how that is.

“P-please! Angel, just, please!”

No. Nuh-uh. You went back to your previous position, shoving your face in that soft fur. Don’t start with the sugarily sweet nicknames. You were brooding. Moping. Sad. Devastated. Betrayed. In absolute and total pain. There was no angel available right now, please return later.

His only answer was a series of even more glitched squeaks and titters growing stronger and giddier at any second with your silliness, especially when his body involuntarily jumped, already in alert for any attack and still not doing anything to scramble away.

That could be your fault, but in your humble opinion, it wasn’t very clear. Okay, maybe he couldn’t just bring himself to stop and stand still when you kept using every opportunity to nuzzle and mumble on his belly non stop, easily following his torso and quivering stomach around as he wiggled and squirmed in the same place, trying with all his might to not lose himself already with all the ticklish shocks that bolted across his entire midriff with such a simple action. Words (and teases) continue to fall like waves from your lips.

Maybe he just had been bitten by an awful ticklybug! Who would know?

“There is no tick-” Dogday gasped and snickered when you blew air against his fur again, freezing for a second in preparation for a raspberry that didn’t come. Realizing that, he let his head fall on the floor and trashed even more. He tugged his arms again, playfully growling when you kept your hold firm on them and wiggling even more as he turned to stare back at you, a funny kind of energy and antecipation racing each other in his nerves. “There is no ticklebug! It’s you!!”

Oh well.

A pity.

Anyway. Back to the story. That had been how everything began. He later explained his idea for the game, when you were able to exchange words again. From that moment, in total random occasions, one of you would make a gesture in the other’s direction and they would have to quickly react to it. In the most silly and unexpected way, preferentially, as long as you didn’t make any sound while at that.

See, Dogday? No sound.

He yapped in protest, letting out a single surprised, an offended yelp at the accusation. “We don’t need to be quiet here. You’re just teasing me!” Dogday’s hands fell to his sides, no longer trying to pry you away, shoulders shaking with every giggle and eyes watching your every action with joy and expectation.

You keep going.

The playful exchange became a habit between you two at this point, even filling the moments you didn’t exactly need to be quiet. It was a nice way to interact when there were no more words, memories or promises to be exchanged. That is why Dogday didn’t even bat an eye at you when you called his attention by innocently offering both of your hands in his direction, tail lightly wagging as he immediately placed his own paws on yours, a fun, tiny grin appearing on his previously serious and protective expression when you intertwined your fingers.

Which quickly morphed to a wide stare when you locked your grip and jumped on him, bringing both of you to the ground.

So, yeah, Dogday was the one who started it. And now he was trying to shoot his shot again, pulling out the saddest, sweetest puppy eyes in your direction.

“Angeel, please. Mercy!”

Awww.

(That was a bit adorable, you couldn’t lie. It kind of melted your heart. Just a tiny, little bit.)

(Ok. A lot.)

But that was the thing, Dogday, you were being merciful already. Because if your hands were free, you would give him the entire special attack. You would just claw and knead on that cute, truly adorable tummy, taking some precious time to give your attention to his sides and all the scribbles and scratches to his ribs, being sure to go and tickle aaaall of his favorite, ticklish spots over and over and over again, for as long as he wanted.

Wouldn’t that be nice? And, of course, during this your hands would be very, very busy, so he would have to keep his arms nice and snug out of the way. But he could do this for you, right? Even if he was laughing and squirming and crackling his heart out, not even pretending to not love every single moment of this game, or that he wanted it to be over any moment soon.

“Eek! Wait, wait!”

You grinned. See? That was what not being merciful would be. But, stopping to think, those are not bad ideas at all. He really couldn’t stop getting any more adorable, could he?

“Sweetheart!” He squeaked and shook his head, partially in a way to disperse all the restless energy taking over his body and partially in a hopeless attempt to make his big ears cover his flaming face.

Oh.

(It was quite endearing, actually, how he didn’t exactly blush. His smile would get wobblier and the light in his eyes fuzzy and lightly trembling all while he couldn’t decided if he tried to hide his face or kept staring at you with a gaze so full of complete trust, an excited desperation conquering all his features… Honestly it was just as crystal clear as if his face got completely taken over by a strong shade of red, truly.)

Your entire demeanor softened. That nickname was a new one.

(You wouldn’t mind listening to it being giggled out like this again in the future.)

You decided to return the favor.

Yes, gigglebug?

For a piece of time, Dogday froze with wide eyes and a slight ‘bzzz’ sound escaped from his voicebox. Then his squirming grew anew, no longer being able to look at your soft gaze and trying to press his dazzling, gigantic smile on his shoulders, now with his entire body bouncing with barely suppressed snickers.

His tail hit the floor with an endless and quick pace of ‘thump thumpthumpthump’. The confusion in your expression immediately gave place to a wicked smirk.

Hm.

Gigglebug?

He jolted with a yelp.

Silly giggly gigglebug?

Dogday snorts and tries to pry his hands away from yours with a bit more energy than before. Still, his efforts were still half heartedly at best. In turn you just hold them a bit tighter, thumbs lightly rubbing the back of his paws as your tipped your head to the side, - not unlike he himself watched you from time to time - chasing his gaze and maybe or maybe not giving his belly a tiny - so quick and small that it was over in less a blink - nibble until he turned back to watch you with wide fuzzy eyes.

Nope. No hiding that beautiful smile, huh?

His ears perked a little bit and his wide eyes captured yours for a moment, then jumped to your kind hands, your amused, playful glare, his defenseless belly, his captured paws, your suspecting eyes and, eventually, your eyes again.

Then, without breaking contant, he shut his mouth, firmly pressing his lips in a tight line as he lowered his head to his shoulder, successfully hiding, indeed, that beautiful smile.

Ah.

You see how that is.

Dogdayy ~

He let out a muffled giggle, only pressing his face even more on his shoulder, turning away from you.

Well, since he was insisting so much…

You discreetly adjusted your position, took a deep breath and immediately attacked his lower belly.

His entire torso spasmed, almost throwing you out of him with the sudden move, a loud peal of laughter instantly filling the air as the horrible, awfully ticklish vibrations fuelled his trashing, the raspberry spreading across every single of his nerves, leaving each and every one of them tingling and buzzing.

Another deep breath. Another long, long raspberry and a crackling squeal was ripped from his voicebox, more and more following suit as you chased every sensitive path of fur non stop, not losing a single opportunity to shake your head to increase the sensations, giggling a bit at how that never failed to glitch his words and bring more squeaks to the lovely melody of his laughter.

You spared a couple of tiny raspberries for his sides, literally feeling how they made him arch his back. That only gave you even more access to plenty of sensitive, ticklish spots that you were more than happy to latch on and tickle as if the future safety of the entire world depended on sending him to a total madness and increasing your collection of “cute-sounds-that-Dogday-does”.

You experimentally began nibbling that spot that connected his back and side, right below his belt, if you were not mistaken this would…

Snorts took over the giant toy and in a blink his back immediately clued back on the floor, torso trying and failing in curling into a defensive ball. The new round of raspberries vibrated across his side and teased his entire ribcage, tickling each bone and nerve.

Dogday tried to muffle his reactions on his shoulder, but with each nibble, each raspberry, tease and nuzzle he felt his mind getting more and more overpowered by the realization that it tickled. It tickled so, so, so much and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not when his face seemed to be set aflame and his entire body kept getting closer and closer from giving up completely from his squirms and wiggles to let himself succumb to the joyful, insane, funny and fun sensation. Not when his angel kept looking at him with so much amusement and fondness that only succeeded to make him feel even more ticklish and the fact that his giggles weren’t the only ones filling the room made him feel extra silly and made his heart melt with delight. When he was able to just laugh and squeal his heart out, carefree and loud and happy.

How could anyone blame him, then, when he saw with the corner of his eyes you lift your head and so he decided to push his luck more, continuing to hide his big, gigantic, loopy smile.

Ohoho.

So, your dear gigglebug was trying to keep all those sweet reactions away from you, even after you worked so hard for every single one of them? Now, that really wasn’t fair, was it?

You gave him a break, no longer tickling him. Still, having your voice so close made his torso instinctively try to wiggle away, which in itself seemed to only re-alight all the reminiscent tingling on his skin, making the tickly sensation it go back to buzz and dance on his nerves, increasing the phantom tickles, each passing second and taunting word making them feel worse than before. All of this only kept Dogday stuck into an infinite sea of unstoppable, hysterical titters and snickers.

Do you think this is fair at all, gigglebug?

He shook his head and stopped, then nodded and then shook it again, giving you a glimpse of shiny eyes for a second before it disappeared once more on his fur.

Well, you think this isn’t fair at all. But that is fine. You both can stay here all day long if needed, as long it takes until you get to see that beautiful blushy face and dazzling smile. Yep. That sounds like a good, no, perfect idea! He would love this, right? To keep giggling and laughing and squealing here while being tickled silly forever and ever?

“Sweheheart!”

Oh! You wonder who said that! It sounded like your dear friend Dogday, but it couldn’t be him, right? No, not really. He was too busy hiding away from his best friend, as it seems.

Aw, that was a pity, truly. He was such a kind, awesome presence in your life. With a personality able to brighten everyone’s life and a trustful companion that was incredibly kind and strong. Always ready to help without a second thought or a blink of an eye, to give a hand, a comforting hug or a remark that would bring you straight to reality.

Besides, he was kind of cute, too. Like a sweet, excited puppy. He had this loud, booming laughter that, when you got him laughing for long enough, started to descend into a series of crackles that never failed to make him snort and bounce around in joy until his voice box began to glitch in the most endearing and funny way.

“No more teasing! No more!” Dogday’s titters grew to hysterical high pitched giggles and he scrunched up his neck, trying to best to curl up and disappear as more and more heat spread across his face. His tail would make a hole into the factory’s ground at this rate.

See? It was the most adorably adorable thing, honestly.

Actually…

You adjusted yourself again and his bubbly giggles developed to chuckles, paws tugging from your grip once again. He knew very well what that tune of yours meant.

You kind of missed listening to his laughter…

And so, with a swift move you freed your hands, fastly shoving them on Dogday’s armpits before he could even react.

Without wasting a single second, you digged.

A shriek took over every other sound in the place. And then other as you pushed your face right in the middle of his tummy, nibbling and pressing raspberries on it without mercy all while your fingers scratched, scribbled and drummed on his pits with no abandon, nimble fingers dancing on the spot for a few minutes before jumping to other one, to prevent him to get used to the sensation.

Dogday just fell limply on the floor, his shoulders, torso and belly shook with the force of his laughter, and his arms kept jumping from hiding his face to cluing on his sides in a futile attempt to stop the wiggling from worming their way, once more, to his ribs or neck. Each snort, squeal, yelp, snicker, crackle and every other sound swirled freely in the air, especially when a raspberry found a new sensitive spot that even he didn’t know about - since when his collarbone was so ticklish? - and focused all their attention there until all his cute and fun reactions slowed to a string of bubbly, hysterical giggles and his friend went on the look for another sweet tickle spot.

His neck, ribs, armpits, stomach, even his own ears had not been safe from the playful attack. A few pieces of time passed until it slowed to an incredible, horrible kind of soft tickling that led to a series of tittering sniggers to spill from his lips and to a beginning of tears to gather in the corner of his eyes.

At this point, his paws came and gently rested on your hands, engulfing them completely, glimmering eyes finding yours as the light scribbling instinctively squirm lazily from one side to other.

You stopped, entire form melting, the playful smirk plastered on your features losing the sharpness of its corners as a proud fondness took over. You freed one hand to caress the fur of his head, chuckling with drops of amusement and care when he closed his eyes and all his muscles relaxed completely at that, his tail now going back and forth in a tired but content wag. He nuzzled your hand.

There is it. My beautiful smile.

He groaned, pulling his ears until they covered his face. “Angel… You’re ruthless.”

Hey, it’s not teasing if it’s true!

Another groan. He muttered something under his breath but didn’t shy away from your touch.

The silence fell like a soft blanket on you, bringing to that dark, horrible place a feeling of safety and care that used to be just a pointless, futile dream, before.

(This was nice. Safe.)

Suddenly, two paws flew like a blur of movement in your direction and you felt your entire world tumble and turn upside down.

You blinked and as your eyes focused, only to find a giant sentient toy who resembled a dog and slowly became your trustful companionship on the last days (hours?) in this factory. Someone you knew that would be right by your side and fight for your safety almost as much as you fought for his.

Although, by the way his mischievous gaze found yours and big arms embraced you in a firm, but still gentle, hug, you must admit you weren’t feeling that safe anymore.

…Dogday?

“No. You’re in friend hug jail. Paying for your friend crimes. You can’t get out.”

You snorted. Glad that you had the sense to start that playful game in the safe area you and Dogday had been clearing and taking care for some time since the ‘You Got To Be a Human and Rest’ episode.

Getting comfortable, you let out a relaxed sigh, snuggling closer, letting your hand softly run on his back in a soft, nice rhythm, not taking too long to feel him melting under the caring touch.

Well, you may be in jail, but your consciousness was clear.

Dogday had started it.

#Ticklish!Dogday #Lee!Dogday #Ler!Reader #Ler!Player #poppy playtime tickles #poppy playtime tickling #Kanene's fic #Kanene's fanfic #DOGDAY IS A DEAR HE DESERVES TO LAUGH AND BE SILLY AND PLAYFUL AND HAPPY OK I COULDN'T HELP IT #I like to imagine that Dogday is all giggles and half pleas and protesting babbles and giddy snickers until he actually gets tickled #then he just let everything else go and start laughing non stop without a single care in the world #if i had a nickel everytime I had to be careful while describing raspberries and nibbles w a character that had trauma related to being-#well-#nibbled on but not in a tickly fun way. I would have two nickels. Which isn't a lot. But it's weird that happened twice...#lkjhgfghjkolploijuh anyway!! hope you all have a nice week! take care <3 #xreader #they are both incredibly silly you honor #I was writing another fic where reader and dogday find his own small smiling critter toy version and befriend it but this one will be super #-long and time is scarse so I decided to finish this playful idea here first and then try to write the other when I can #Let's see how that plays out :D

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teecupangel · 5 months

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Submitted by @ma-du

Dog Desmond again, but this time of this exact size.

Just a tiny little unhinged man, shaking in pure rage bc his legs are SHORT, dammit, and he has to run after Altair, who's now a GODDAM GIANT WHO DOESN'T LOOK DOWN!

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Additions by teecup:

Altaïr knew he was being followed.

It was an unfamiliar feeling.

Whenever he felt it, he had always taken the steps to find out whoever was following him.

But this time…

No matter how fast he turned or hide in one of the darker alleyways to find out who was following him…

He never could.

The feeling persisted as he walked the crowded market of Acre as part of the informant’s request to help him find information about a secret auction that supposedly sold smuggled goods from crusader lands. From what the informant could find out, the auction was supposed to be in control of a third party that had no real ties to the ruler of Acre at the moment. The informant needed more than that though so the Rafiq could make the right decision of either allying with these smugglers or requesting Al Mualim permission to take their operation down.

The marketplace was said to have customers of theirs and an auction was to be held soon so the informant requested Altaïr to walk around and listen to other people’s conversations on the off-chance there would be anything that can point them to the direction of the auction’s location. The informant, on the other hand, would sneak to a known customer and snoop around. It was the more dangerous of the two tasks, as the known customer was a high ranking member of the guards.

Altaïr was sure the informant picked that one because it would be easier to finish than wandering aimlessly hoping to find some sort of clue.

Altaïr had also been preoccupied trying to find out how the person tailing him was able to evade him, even when he uses his Sights, that he wasn’t paying that much attention to anything else.

There was nothing in his Sights which meant whoever this person was, they weren’t acting any different than the crowd around him.

Or…

Altaïr didn’t have enough information for his Sights to see what his eyes could not.

It was annoying, reminding Altaïr of his training, trying to get his Sight to work and see a brother attacking him while they spar as red instead of blue.

Be reminded that his partner back then was Abbas only made Altaïr more annoyed than he already was.

That was when he heard a man yelp behind him and he immediately turned around. The man was groaning at the broken wooden box he had dropped and let out a cry when he saw that the fruits inside had been damaged. He talked of a large rat that he had to evade or he would step on it and some of the other people looked at their feet to see if there really was a large rat.

Altaïr glanced down as well, mostly because he was curious and…

A small black furry creature was running towards him and slammed into his leg. It began to paw at his leg as it let out sounds that reminded Altaïr of a puppy.

Its entire body was trembling and it stared at Altaïr with glowing golden eyes.

And Altaïr felt it again.

The feeling of being watched.

That was why he couldn’t find whoever was tailing him.

It had been this pup.

But… why?

Altaïr felt eyes on him, different from the feeling of the puppy watching him, and realized that some of the people have realized that the large rat was now trying to climb his leg. He grabbed the puppy by the scruff of his neck, making the puppy yelp. Altaïr growled and changed the way he held it, letting the puppy flop on his palm on his belly while he quickly left the marketplace.

When he returned to the meeting place, the informant was already there and told him that he found the location. He thanked Altaïr for trying to help (even if he did nothing in the end) and gave him the information he had on Altaïr’s target, all the while staring at the small pup in Altaïr’s hand.

It would be a bit later when Altaïr finally washed the puppy that he’ll find out that the puppy wasn’t black but actually white.

#submission #Desmond is turned on something subgenre #I think that the dog on the vivdeo is a baby poodle toy #asmr dog bath #desmond is a baby poodle toy #maybe?#desmond is turned into an animal subgenre #desmond is turned into a creature subgenre #assassin's creed #desmond miles #altaïr ibn la'ahad #fic idea: assassin's creed #teecup writes/has a plot

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andorerso · 2 years

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REBELCAPTAIN as Midnights Tracks (insp.)

Happy birthday Cait!! 🎂🥳🎉 @antifandor

#swedit #rogue one #rogueoneedit #rebelcaptain #therebelcaptainnetwork #dailyrebelcaptain #starwarsblr #thestarwarsdaily #starwarsfilms #starwarshub #swcreators #starwarsedit #antifandor #*gifs #*rebelcaptain #*300 #so i was toying around with a couple of ideas #i had a fic idea too but tragically not enough time to write it #but then i saw that set and i immediately kneeeeeew #i hope you like it!!#the cassian one is my favorite ngl #kinda iconic of him #also the reason i didn't do the elevator line from labyrinth is bc you already did it #and i cannot for the life of me color the elevator scene 😭#i also thought about doing 'when you aim at the devil make sure you don't miss' with cassian shooting krennic #but i wanted only one cassian and one jyn only #and i decided on vigilante sh*t instead for him #AND ALSO i was so indecisive about putting on that broken mirror overlay on the first gif #but i thought it'd be a nice feature idk #anyway HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

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non-un-topo · 25 days

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Just got a wave of affection for my horse OCs... as in, the random horses that appear in my fics

#they are all my babies actually #bushra buonamico metrodora vinh logi iss luna and solis. babies.#can't wait to come up with more lol #sorry i talk about my fics so much lol i've got nothing else going for me atm #i've been toying with the idea of writing a little more around tangerine & roc. like maybe a prequel or sequel or something #i just love that story and i feel like i wasn't done with it #i HAVE written a 'deleted scene' so maybe i'll post that hmm...? it needs all the context though.#takes place during act 3 when yusuf goes to see erasyl. it's just andromache and quynh talking and taking care of nicolo while he sleeps #ends with him waking up just before yusuf comes back. andromache and quynh are old marrieds.#that's it that's the fic in a bottle #maybe i just really want to write something that takes place in central asia okAAYYYY

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onboardsorasora · 10 months

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Writing Prompt

You press your gun against the back of a man walking down an alley “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you and rob your corpse.” He replies “I have no reason that would satisfy you but if you take my life, you must take on my unfinished business. The bucket list is in my pocket.”

this spiraled lol 1700 words

So like Daniel’s been having a tough few years; a downward spiral of his life that lead him to this point. He didn’t want to kill this guy but he’s the only witness to him killing some other guy. A killing that will have disastrous consequences for him if he’s caught.

So, he kills him and takes the bucket list from his pocket along with any cash he had and a ring with a horseshoe on it. The bucket list only had one item on it ‘tell Max I love him’.

What the fuck?

Daniel searches the guy’s pockets again because well, that’s vague as fuck? Who is Max? Why is a declaration of love a bucket list item? This all felt very problematic all of a sudden.

He found a small handgun in the guy’s other pocket and that just raised way more questions than answers and well, Daniel’s gotten himself into more fucked up situations before, hasn’t he?

So he disposes of both bodies, continuing his night the way he had intended originally– just with an addition.

Hes sitting in his flat in the early morning hours looking at the ‘list’.

Tell Max I love him

Who the fuck was Max?

Does it have to be a specific Max? Can he just find the first Max he came across and do the deed?

Because let’s be real; Daniel knew that the moment he killed the guy he accepted the quest. It was either have a witness or accept a fucking deathbed quest and well….he couldn’t have a witness.

“Some direction would be really helpful.” He muttered into the quiet of his space before throwing the piece of paper on his coffee table and going to sleep. He’ll deal with that later. After he’s checked in and gotten everything else sorted.

It was two days later when he was smoking on his balcony that he felt a tug in his chest. He stumbles out of his flat and down the stairs, the tugging was insistent and he knew this was the fucking quest that he couldn’t stop thinking about. He didn’t even get to put on shoes or whatever. He’s standing at the curb looking around when he hears a chorus of laughs; there were some guys walking down the street jostling each other and clearly having a grand time.

“Max you dickhead.” One said, and the blonde of the group laughed harder.

So that was Max, well best to get this shit over with.

Daniel stumbled towards the group, trying to ignore how warm and not clean the sidewalk was. Also trying to ignore how he knew he probably looked fairly homeless in his ratty shorts and a stained oversized tee. But again– the quest curse thing didn’t really give him an opportunity.

They’re looking at him weirdly–because of course they are. But Daniel walks confidently up to ‘Max’. He’s cute; bright blue eyes, wide lips, square face.

“Max?” Daniel asks – just to be sure. The blonde nods, his friends look extra weirded out. Because, of course they do.

“Ok good. Max I—” Daniel stops. Coughs. His eyes narrow and he clears his throat. That was weird.

He tries again. “Max I—” He makes a strangled noise and closes his mouth.

“Are you ok?” Max asked.

Daniel clears his throat again, “yeah, I just…sorry.” He mutters.

“Max we should go.” One of his friends insist and drags Max away from a stuttering Daniel.

What the fuck was that?

Daniel stumbles back to his home and grabs up the annoying piece of paper and looks at it from all angles like he’s been doing for the past two days. The only words on it remained Tell Max I love him

Well he just fucking tried

He threw himself onto his couch and well what the fuck does he do now?

So he goes about his life, because what else is he supposed to do? And his chest aches sometimes. He eventually realizes that that means Max is nearby. He doesn’t do anything with that information at first; determined to just…ignore the quest. Since it refused his fucking straightforward way of doing things.

He still works for his boss, Christian, but he’s been trying to like…not. He doesn’t want to kill people for hire anymore– he didn’t in the first place. And then since he killed that quest guy he’d been feeling like maybe he strayed too far, y’know?

So he started taking some classes at the university nearby. It's not much and it's subsidised anyway so he can do it part time or whatever. He dropped out when he was 20. He’s like 28 now so– it's fine.

His chest has been hurting him consistently now, its like a dull ache. Daniel sees him a bunch; Max. with his friends across campus when Daniel’s hustling to his evening class or leaving because he has to meet with Christian.

It's fine.

They end up having a class together, if Max recognises him, he doesn’t let on. Things continue on like that. Daniel’s doing less and less work for Christian, and going to more and more classes. He calls his mom more now because, well– he's been feeling like less of a failure recently.

He also can’t stop thinking about Max.

Tell Max I love him

Like was he even gonna complete this quest? He’s already tried the once. And he spent a lot of time saying “Max I love you.” in his flat to know he can fucking say the words. He doesn’t even know why the quest stopped him in the fucking first place.

Life fucking goes on.

They get a group project to end the semester and of course he gets paired with Max.

Tell Max I love him

“Uh, hi.” Max is awkward around him, so that means he remembers him. Daniel isn’t sure if that's a good or bad thing yet.

“Hey. Uhm…sorry about– yeah.” Daniel apologises because well, it was weird.

They end up spending a bunch of time together, Daniel is doing even less jobs for Christian because he can’t really get away to kill people when he has to also not fuck up his or Max’s grade.

And well, he likes spending time with Max. He’s fun. He’s sweet. And they have a blast together, laughing at everything. Daniel sometimes spends time with Max’s friends, the ones who he had to promise he wasn’t homeless or weird.

Its fun when he doesn’t have to cut himself off from people. When he can just….be himself.

So the semester is over and they’re still hanging out. Max comes over sometimes to watch movies and to like get out of the dorms. They hang around and learn more about each other and and. Max is amazing. He’s fucking beautiful and kind and fuck.

Tell Max I love him

So Daniel’s now crushing. Wonders if he should try to complete the quest again. His chest has been hurting him a while now, so much so that he rubs it unconsciously and people ask about it and he says it's fine. Because it's fine.

He doesn’t bother with the quest anymore because he doesn’t know what will happen when he does. Will he still be able to spend time with Max? Will he have to like leave?

The internet is shit at giving him information on what happens after you complete a quest. It’s like no one is allowed to speak about it. And thats fucking frustrating.

So that's that. He just….won’t.

They’re hanging out on Daniel’s balcony when

“Hey so. I have this family thing this weekend, could you maybe come with me?” Max is hesitant to ask and Daniel’s never heard him like this really. So he agrees before he even knows anymore information.

The weekend comes and Daniel pries more from Max while theyre on the way; “well, my father. We’re estranged, but he’s been missing for a while and my family wanted to hold like a— how do you say it? A memorial? A vigil? And I don’t want to go alone. The guys don’t really…like get it.”

And Daniel’s blood runs cold.

Tell Max I love him

Well, Fuck.

So they go to the vigil and Daniel sees all these pictures of Max’s dad and its the same witness guy he killed. The fucking bucket list quest guy. Fuck.

He killed Max’s father.

Tell Max I love him

He turns to Max quickly. He’d been silent the entire evening as people hugged him. Daniel was introduced to Max’s mom, sister, aunt, nephews. He felt sick.

Tell Max I love him

So he pulls Max aside. Like, ready to confess. And Max just— breaks down. Daniel hugs him close and lets him cry on his shoulder. And Max is sobbing and saying how much he misses his dad even though things hadn’t always been good and he’s so happy for Daniel to be here to support him.

And Daniel thinks, well maybe the quest was to literally tell Max that his dad loves him. So he goes to try, then stops because…what’s gonna happen when the quest is over?

He still doesn’t fucking know.

So he says nothing, just holds Max close and whispers reassurances and supports him.

More time passes and well, Daniel can’t deny the pull he feels to Max. He’s been crushing on him for so long now its just a part of his being now. He loves Max. He knows it. Its fucked up, but the quest brought them together.

He’d completely cut ties with Christian. He’s been going to classes full time now. His parents send him money so he can keep his place. Which is good because Max kinda sorta maybe moved in?

Not officially, but he’s there all the time now and the guys come over to see them and not just Daniel.

They’re laying on the couch together, some show is on. And Max is talking about maybe wanting to get cats in the future. And Daniel is so in love, he’d do whatever Max wants. If he wants cats, fuck it…he can learn to like them.

Max crawls on top of him, smiling that crinkly smile that Daniel loves so so so much. And…well it just slips out really.

“Max, I love you.”

Max’s face goes slack with shock and Daniel tenses beneath him. But before Max has an opportunity to literally do or say anything. Daniel’s vision whites out.

Daniel wakes up in his bed, his alarm is going off.

“Fuck.” He scrambles out and puts on some clothes, he had a meeting with Christian this morning and he was fucking late. He pulls on some clothes and just goes.

Life goes on.

#toying with the idea that he eventually finds the paper #and is like 'who the fuck is Max'#then maybe remembers Max and their life and the quest #and then tries to I guess get Max back in his life?#writing prompt #my almost fic i guess #I did post and delete this to give it its own post #maxiel #max/daniel

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totallynotasecretwonderland · 6 months

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me, trying to write my two main whips that i’ve been working on for over a year now:

me, 12k into an au that struck me with literal lightning:

#whhhhyyyyyy do i do this #i blame it on the devotion #i got into one piece #best decision ever #but also horrible #it’s taking over my life #i used to have like 3 fixations #and now it’s all the silly little pirate show that makes you cry #AND THEN #then i FUCKED UP #AND GOT INTO ZOLU #zolu #my love #AND NOW INSTEAD OF MY BOOK OR MY FICS #IM WRITING A FUCKING FUTURE/KIDNAPPED/RELIGIOUS SOUL BOND BULLSHIT #AHHHHHH #HOW DID IT GET TO OVER 10k???#i was just toying with the idea #it grabbed me by the ankle n shit :(

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lime1991 · 1 year

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lol

#south park #butters stotch #stan marsh #my art #artists on tumblr #sketches #tw child abuse #tw stephen stotch fr #sorry ive been toying with the idea of writing a fic abt butters having DID because i believe in my heart that he does #there was a whole episode that made fun of the idea of him having DID but like he totally could have DID

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jiminrings · 2 months

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#HOUSTON.... WE MADE IT!!!!!!!#remember how i was toying around the idea of writing an alien fic wayyyyyyy back during 478 i think .#n i told u guys that i have this draft jus laying around in my notes for years now bc i kept getting stuck .#PROBLEM SOLVED!!!! 😊😊😊😊#posting the alien au feat. jungkook tonight on patreon as a lithmus test!!!! <3 #if it goes well then it'll make a tumblr debut <3

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ghost-proofbaby · 3 months

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i want you to know that i keep getting this biker couple's tik toks on my fyp and every time i see one i melt into the floor because its so 24 hours eddie and reader AND I MISS 24 HOURS EDDIE SO BAD AND I ESPECIALLY MISS WHEN THEY WATCHED HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON

STOP DON'T MAKE ME THINK ABOUT THEM WHEN I'M TRYING TO WRITE FOR MAROON DON'T DO THIS TO ME DON'T-

#sighs and opens up the google doc folder of all the one off things i've written about them and left unfinished #you're going to make me do it aren't you?#i'm going to have to write them again aren't i?#i also get biker's tik toks and just EVAPORATE because IT'S SO THEEEEMMMMMM waaaah #does it haunt you guys to know how much “beyond the hours” content i have that just... sits there?#y'all don't know what they've been up to but i do #and there was even a planned sequel i toyed with before the series blew up blew up #just refuse to write it until i finish mordor and maroon #and now the astarion fic #but i had another idea for them that was funny as fuck #but also i love leaving their ending as is #thank u ily <3 #24 hours

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brzatto · 10 months

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i remember distinctly at some point i promised myself i would finish blue chicago moon before my birthday (lmfao) and now it is my birthday .. and unfortunately it’s been weeks since i’ve touched a google doc in general much less that fic but to celebrate i’m posting an excerpt from a later part in the fic i’ve had written out for a while now. enjoy ^_^

They’re laying in bed together, after, the way that’s become more casual as of late, more natural; they take turns taking drags from the same cigarette.

Carmy’s telling some story, “And then Pete—”

Richie interrupts him with an exaggerated scoff, rolling his eyes, and Carmy smacks him on the shoulder with the back of his hand. “I know, I know, stop it—but Pete’s not bad. Really. He can be cool, sometimes, like actually cool—”

Richie groans, rolling away from Carmy, except the bed’s too small for him to go anywhere, so he really just turns onto his other side—Carmy rolls after him, propping himself onto his elbows so he can wrestle Richie onto his back, stubbornly crossing his arms over Richie’s chest and leaning his weight onto him to keep him there; he reaches over to crush the rest of the cigarette into the ashtray. “I’m serious, Pete’s not that bad, and maybe if you’d actually give him a chance or opened up to him a bit more Sugar wouldn’t hate you as much—”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault that Sugar hates me? When have I ever given a shit about what she thinks?” Richie gripes, and Carmy rolls his eyes.

“She doesn’t actually, you know. You just have a tendency of being a complete and utter piece of shit—”

“What, is she still fuckin’ mad at me for that one time—”

“You mean when you said women shouldn’t run for office,” Carmy interrupts him flatly.

“That was a fucking joke! And it was, like, twelve years ago! I love women in office! I fuckin’ voted for Hillary in 2016—” he ignores when Carmy snorts in his face, incredulous, “—and maybe if she actually had a sense of humor sometimes she wouldn’t have ended up marrying that goddamn fucking narc. Has the personality of fuckin’ wet tissue paper. You know how many times he’s tried inviting me over for a fuckin’ family barbecue or some shit like that? Like I’m the one who actually needs an invitation. Probably just trying to trick me into making friendship bracelets with him while watching Paw Patrol or some other fuckin’ propaganda—”

Richie’s rant continues, and it’s so ridiculous that Carmy can’t help the genuine laughter that bubbles out of him at the mental image of it, ducking his face into his arms to hide his smile; except Richie’s caught on and started laughing, too, chest rumbling beneath Carmy’s weight, and it honestly surprises him, how at ease he feels. Naked under the covers, lying on top of Richie of all people, and he’s actually laughing.

Carmy doesn’t really use the word happy to describe how he feels because he thinks it’s too loaded, too precarious, too complex. He doesn’t want to say he’s happy because the notion is difficult for him to pinpoint, and even when he does it usually doesn’t last too long anyways—but he feels… light. All of his usual heaviness absent for once. He feels good.

When he brings his face back up he finds Richie already looking at him, focused on his face, the trace of a smile still present in the curve of his lips, and Carmy can’t tell what the emotion in his eyes is but it looks a little bit like—marvel. It’s the same way Marcus looks at the pages he’d printed out of Carmy’s cookbook, carefully and lovingly taped onto the wall of his station, the fascination of discovering something new, of resonating with it; and Carmy doesn’t know what to do with that.

But then Richie’s eyes fall a bit, fixing themselves on a specific part of his face—Richie’s hand comes up to cup it, nothing unusual by now, but Carmy’s overcome by the warmth he still feels in his chest at the touch, this simple intimacy. Richie’s palm is familiar and calloused around his cheek, and it makes Carmy want to lean into it.

“What’s this from?” Richie murmurs questioningly, running the pad of his thumb gently down the skin of his cheek, just below his right eye, and it takes a moment for Carmy to realize he’s talking about his scar. “Fall into a barbecue again?”

Carmy huffs, half amused. “No. No, uh… it’s stupid. Happened while I was drunk, years ago. Back in New York, when I first left.”

Richie raises his eyebrows at that. “What, you actually got into a fuckin’ fight? I mean, sounds dope, but having a sick ass battle scar on your face isn’t really in character for you, no offense.”

Carmy rolls his eyes. “No, it wasn’t a fight—I… was drinking, and it was kind of just something I did, in the very beginning, I guess. In my downtime, by myself in my apartment because it wasn’t like I had any friends or anything better to do, and it was just supposed to be a way to keep myself occupied. Get me to fall asleep faster, if anything, so I wouldn’t fucking lie awake in bed all night thinking about shit. Except that time it backfired on me, because I got—” Carmy breathes out through his nose, an almost amused, self-deprecating laugh, “So drunk, and all I could think about was—Mikey.

“And I was just so fucking upset. I felt hurt, you know. Had been hurt for the whole past year, and I’d deleted Mikey’s number off my phone months ago so I wouldn’t do anything monumentally fucking stupid like call him while I was drunk or something. And I think I was just… fed up, at that point. I was so fuckin’ angry, at Mikey, at myself, at everyone that I just… kind of had this meltdown. Nearly trashed my whole fuckin’ apartment. Was breaking shit, throwing shit around, and when it was over I found myself in my bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror for the longest time. And I hated what I saw, because it didn’t feel like me. I never felt like myself back then. Didn’t know who I was supposed to be without Mikey and Sugar and everybody else around, and I hated that about me.

“And eventually all I could think about was—” Carmy cuts himself off, thinking about the words. How to say them. “How much I needed… a change. How much I wanted to. But I think I took that a little too literally, or maybe I just wasn’t fucking thinking at all, because I just… slammed my face into the mirror, as hard as I could. Like I was in a fuckin’ movie or something, you know. And there was all this fuckin’ glass, blood everywhere, my face totally fucked, all that shit. It was a mess. I could barely fucking see.”

Richie watches him recount the story with quiet intensity, and even though Carmy doesn’t look back at him he can feel Richie’s eyes on his face, gaze intent. But it doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable, or awkward, or exposed, the way having someone’s undivided attention usually makes him feel. In the moment, he simply just feels listened to. Richie’s watching him, but Carmy doesn’t feel watched; just seen.

“So what happened after? Just bled out all over your fuckin’ floor?”

Carmy huffs. “No, I, uh… had to take myself to the hospital. It was, like, three in the morning. Got four stitches out of it, and still showed up to work the next day.”

He’s expecting Richie to make fun of him, honestly. And why wouldn’t he? He thinks it might just be because of the good mood he’s in, but Carmy’s surprised to find that he doesn’t feel any residual bitterness recalling the memory. Thinks if he were anybody else he’d laugh at himself, too.

Richie doesn’t make fun of him, though. “That might actually be the most hardcore shit you’ve ever told me.” Richie sniffs. “Almost as hardcore as walking off a stab wound, anyways. You’re getting there.”

Carmy actually laughs, the memory of it amusing now that it’s all behind him. It seems fucking ridiculous, looking back on it now. It’s only been a few months, but it feels like a lifetime ago; when he tries to think about it now, he feels like a spectator of his own life, watching the events unfold from someone else's perspective, or like standing from the outside and looking in. He gets that feeling a lot, Carmy thinks.

“You know, I never actually asked you about that. Were you good? Like, was the wound deep, or…”

“Gee, thanks for the concern. Not like it happened, like, six fuckin’ months ago. Glad to know I mean so much to you.”

“Shut up and just tell me. And you probably really did fucking deserve it.”

Richie scoffs. “Couldn’t fucking tell you. Hurt like a goddamn bitch when it happened, though. Got Ebra to patch me up. Couldn’t sit right for a couple weeks, but it was whatever.” He sniffs. “At least it was somewhere people don’t see it. Not sure if that’ll make for a cool scar story in the future.”

“What, like mine was?”

“Nah, yours is just depressing. Do me a favor—next time somebody asks, just tell them you got it in a bar fight like a normal person.” Richie says, and then after a pause, “That why you don’t drink?”

It’s this question that finally makes Carmy feel embarrassed for some reason, glancing up at the ceiling. “Something like that.”

“Damn. And I thought Mikey was the one who was fucked up.”

Carmy laughs a little again, in spite of everything, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well. Guess it runs through the fuckin’ family.”

“They call you guys the Bears for a reason,” Richie says simply. But he still has his hand on Carmy’s face, running his thumb over his scar absentmindedly, like trying to soothe away pain that hasn’t been there for years. It’s a subtle sort of intimacy, quiet and tender. It’s Richie’s touch and not the recollection that makes Carmy’s chest prickle, and he wonders briefly if this is something he ever did with Mikey: lying in the dark, listening to each others’ stories, touching without thinking about it.

He wonders if this is how Richie treats those he cares the most about, or maybe if he’s just gotten close enough to be able to experience this side of him. If this is what it’s like to be Richie’s best friend, to trust someone wholeheartedly, sharing moments that are quiet and intimate and vulnerable.

“Alright,” Richie continues, making Carmy glance up. “Your turn.”

Carmy looks at him quizzically. “My turn for what?”

“Ask me something. Nothing off limits, everything on the table. You shared something about yourself so it’s only natural for me to do the same.”

Carmy frowns a little at this, if only because the notion is strange to him. It’s not like he’s never been open and honest with Richie before—in fact, those moments have been occurring more often than he’d honestly like to admit—but it feels different, this way. To be given the opportunity, no holds barred, because usually Carmy refrains from ever prying too deep; not just with Richie, but with everybody.

He rolls off Richie’s chest back onto the bed, lying on his side with his head propped in his hand as he considers. Richie is surprisingly patient for once, offering him the silence to think, and the whole thing honestly just makes Carmy flustered.

“Is there…” Carmy starts uncertainly, hesitating, but continues when Richie turns to him, expectant. “Is there a reason why you keep your ring?”

Richie stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending, before glancing down at the golden wedding band on his finger, like he’d forgotten that it was there, like he didn’t even know he was wearing it. Then his expression twists, incredulous, like he can’t believe that out of all the things Carmy could’ve possibly asked him about it’s his goddamn wedding ring.

“Why, does it make you jealous or something?” Richie teases him. “Does it make you feel like you’re my mistress?”

Carmy’s face turns hot, but he tells himself it’s out of annoyance rather than embarrassment. “You know what? Forget I asked.”

Richie chuckles, running his knuckles over Carmy’s side placatingly. “Nah, nah, I’m kidding. Uh… if I’m being honest, it’s, like, a distraction. Something for me to worry with. I stopped wearing it after me and Tiff split, but I started wearing it again after Mikey. I dunno. I guess after he died it felt like… nothing was right. Just everything gone to complete shit, and the ring just felt familiar. Like, having it there reminded me of this time in my life where I kind of, sort of had things together, and I guess I just wanted to feel that way again somehow, even if in reality it’s the complete fuckin’ opposite.”

Carmy nods slowly. In a sense, he thinks he gets it. Clinging onto that sense of familiarity; needing the illusion of stability in his life. He understands him.

#this is also to celebrate the blue moon on the 30th!!! that felt way too coincidental :/#btw sorry if the formatting makes it hard to read i wanted to condense it since it is a bit of a longer excerpt #some of my personal hcs coming to light here… i wrote this way wayyy before s2 came out and it’s still subject to some inevitable tweaking #as i continue to write and edit and piece things together. but this was inspired by a jaw interview where he talks about the scar on his #face. i just thought it was so in character for carmy so i toyed with the idea a little bit to make it fit into his life #this also happens much muuuch later in the fic… i’d post something closer to where i left off in ch2 but as of right now!#it is not written. <3 #anyways i hope at least someone can enjoy this.. thanks for all of your patience mwah #my txt #carmy x richie #carmrich

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