#be free little ficlet...
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There’s this scent that Geralt can’t stop noticing. It’s something like cardamon and cloves, and it hangs in the air around Jaskier no matter the season.
Sometimes, when they’re bedded down by the fire and there’s a crisp chill in the air, Geralt will get a whiff of it and he’ll feel this almost overwhelming urge to pull Jaskier close to him and breathe it in.
He doesn’t, obviously.
But he does shuffle himself a little closer, quiet and subtle, and waits to see if Jaskier will roll back a fraction until they’re almost touching. When that happens, Geralt allows himself to put an arm around Jaskier and inch closer and bury his face in the nape of Jaskier’s neck where the clove scent is strongest, and he’ll inhale deeply and feel a distinct kind of calm descend.
–
Jaskier gestures wildly as he talks, throwing his arms around expressively, and Geralt doesn’t follow his words but he does follow his movements, the way Jaskier flicks his wrist dismissively when he describes someone’s stupidity and brings a hand to his chest when describing something heartfelt.
When he moves, the scent shimmers like heat in the air around him, vibrant and almost tangible.
–
Emotions have their own scents, like the hot sparking scent of fear or the cosy sweetgrass smell of comfort. When Jaskier is in a bad mood his scent is overlaid with an acrid odor like burnt bread and when he’s preening in front of an audience it gets spicy and spiked with high notes of pepper.
But always, in the background, that cardamon and cloves, the backdrop of their life together.
It’s hard then for Geralt to know whether the emotions are coming from him or from Jaskier. Smelling an emotion is the same as feeling it, isn’t it? It’s often not clear to him who a feeling belongs to and where it originates. Perhaps it doesn’t matter.
Perhaps it’s enough to be among that scent and to experience it. Perhaps that’s what it is to be with someone else – to make their experiences a part of your own.
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let’s hear it for the shacker boyfriends
mini collab with @strangersatellites !!!
the inspiration:
#gin and her big beautiful brain#she told me her little ficlet idea and i HAD to jump on it#my sorority background wouldn’t let me not#eddie as the frat president’s bf???#living so free in my brain#eddie munson#eddie munson fanart#steddie#steddie fic#i draw things#ames x gin
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"Love isn't a thing," Billy scoffs and it's like he's putting his hand right around Steve's throat. "Grow up, Harrington."
Steve shakes his head, his breath still taken away. He tries to inhale, but he's choking. He said it too early, he's too much, he fucked up.
"You'll get over it," Billy says, not looking at Steve. He makes an absent gesture at himself. "There's nothing to love here."
Finally, Steve finds his voice again. He's still strangled, but even now he can't let Billy believe this. He can't let Billy say these things about himself. He can't let Billy think like this.
"I love you," he repeats. "I don't wanna get over it."
Billy just glares at him, a line on his forehead, like he can't figure Steve out.
"Steve," he says, his voice cracking. For the first time, he sounds unsure, like he's a child that got lost. Steve's heart skips a beat. "I'm not… good for you."
Steve sees it, then. Billy doesn’t talk much about home. Only once he said something about his mother who just left him behind. Behind with a man that's supposed to be a father but only knows violence and anger.
"You're right," Steve says. Billy seems to shrink a little.
"Loving you is hard," Steve continues. He cups Billy's face with his hands, plants a kiss on his nose. "But it's worth it. You're worth it."
Billy shakes, eyes red. "Don't say that," he begs, the kid that got left behind. "Steve, don't."
"You're worth it," Steve says again. "I love you. Even when it hurts."
"Shit." Billy sniffs.
"I'll say it until you believe me," Steve threatens - or promises.
"That will take a while," Billy mumbles.
"That's okay." Steve kisses him. Billy kisses back.
#hello i offer free hurt and a little comfort#harringrove#billy x steve#billy hargrove#harringrove ficlet#steve x billy
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Q!SLIME HEADCANONS N’ SHORT STORIES!!
(These are all the headcanons I use in my current fic and will probably use for my future fics, in case you’re curious!! :))
So, first, I don’t think Charlie is any bit human at all. I think he’s full, pure-bred slime with a Core that gives him sentience. The Core is a heart shaped, made of enchanted ruby and plated in gold around the edges.
During the time he was a God in the SCU (Slimecicle Cinematic Universe) he had three (That’s an incredibly long story that I may actually write one day so this is all you get for now). Now, he’s been reincarnated with one, sentient ever since. However, he’s full slime, nothing human about him. Without the Core, he’d just be straight slime. He’s probably one of the—if not just the only—sentient Slimes there is.
His skin scars because when he’s hurt enough, he needs to get more slime to repair himself. The slime isn’t his, however, so it doesn’t match his body completely for a while while it blends together.
Another type of scarring that can happen to him would be dehydration cracks. If he loses enough water, his slime will crack in a lightning-strike type pattern. It takes a while for those to go away as well, just because they need time to fill in.
Yes, he has bones, but he doesn’t need them. He has them because they make it so that he can keep his shape. When he was Gegg, he’d keep some but give the rest to Quackity for safe keeping.
“Where’s my left arm?” Charlie asked, digging through the bag Quackity kept on him.
The other only shuffled his foot back and forth, mumbling gently. He bit his lip as he spoke. “I needed food, man.”
“So?”
“So all I had was seeds and currently unused bones.”
A beat of silence, before a slow, creaking head turn.
“You used my bones for bone meal.” His voice was flat and his lips were pinched. “Are you deadass?”
“Just kill another skeleton man! I needed food!”
Charlie threw up the melty stub where his left arm should’ve been, waving it back and forth and dripping goo all over the ground.
“Do you know how fucking hard it is to find intact skeletons that will fit perfectly with the one that I currently have?! And that have five fingers?!”
Quackity rolled his eyes, shrinking in on himself. “Uh...No..?”
Charlie smushed slime into his face and laughed at his dramatic screaming. “It is incredibly fucking hard!”
Charlie keeps bones on him most of the time, in case he breaks the ones he’s got. Sometimes they take a minute to get used to, some of them too big or too long or too small, but it happens nonetheless. It’s also the reason he takes any fall damage ever. Without the bones, he wouldn’t take any fall damage. Those bones also determine his general height. If he wanted to be taller, he could find/construct a taller skeleton and get more slime.
Slimes are naturally acidic at a certain level at all times. However, with prompting, his level of acidity will rise. Prompting can look like danger, or threats. It can also be emotional, with extreme rage or sadness, the works.
“Oh no, not today fucker!” Mariana screamed as Slime tried to step outside during another argument. His skin dripped from the agitation but Mariana couldn’t care less.
Slime attempted to brush past him, breath heavy. “I’ll be right back,” He mumbled, "I need to go.”
He stepped to the left, Mariana doing the same.
Then, to the right, where she followed once again.
“Move your ass, I need to go now.”
“Hell no, you will stay and we will talk this out.”
Slime shoved past her, briskly rushing for the door. Mariana, wings twitching in agitation, whipped around and grabbed his wrist.
He smelled the burning before he felt it.
Before the white, lava hot seer hit his senses.
She nearly cried out in pain, staggering backward and scraping her skin against the hardwood as she fell. Scrambling into the wall, she groaned in agony and grasped the wrist of the suffering palm.
“Fuck- oh, fuck!”
Slime was right in front of him, suddenly, knelt with fear in his eyes. “Fuck, I am so sorry, I can’t control it I swear, I would never do that shit on purpose—” He rambled as Mariana writhed, swearing in shock and pain.
Her vision swam as she sobbed.
“I swear, I-I can’t… control it.”
He’s burnt a few holes in the floors before.
All in his slime, there are acid glands everywhere.
Because he’s got acid literally built into his system, the bones he’s got tend to break down after a while. Depending on how emotional or just how much he purposely activates his acid secretion, they could last from anywhere around two weeks to a month, usually. That’s what the skeleton in his basement is for, an extra set of bones.
Slime’s are the closest things to aquatic creatures without actually being aquatic. Being naturally drawn and attracted to moist environments, he can’t breathe underwater, but he doesn’t actually need to breathe so I guess it doesn’t matter. When swimming, he creates fins to help. The only reason he drowns is because he takes in too much water and becomes so liquidy that he just… dies, I dunno LMAOO
Being generally docile creatures, living either underground or in swamps, most Slimes have shit eyesight. They mostly rely on vibrations in the ground and auditory sensory input. Great hearing, terrible sight. Slimes are also ambush predators! They’re slow, but they’ll eat anything. If looking for meat, they’ll hide under the soil and wait for the vibrations of something with four legs.
“And where’s Charlie? I wanted to talk to him.” Phil asked as he stepped outside. “He said he’d be here.”
Roier, Cellbit, and himself had all been in Mariana’s house for a while now—Phil being there under the assumption that Charlie would be there.
Mariana shrugged and glanced around. “Ehh, somewhere.”
Then Juanaflippa sprinted forward and stopped on the open ground, jumping up and down. Her tiny feet pattered the ground as she skipped in circles around the open area. Bobby tilted his head in response before Richas yanked him towards the
Phil looked to Mariana for a look of mild amusement to say it was normal, or a look of confusion to make him feel like he wasn’t going insane because—even for Flippa—this wasn’t exactly typical from his perspective.
To Phil’s surprise, however, he stepped a bit forward and began to rhythmically tap his heel against the soil.
“Fuck-!” His heart found itself in his feet as something squeezed tight around his ankle, holding firm as he jumped away. He grabbed for a weapon as a light green hand pulled further from the ground.
A wrist, an arm, a… a goo monster.
A goo monster holding a suspiciously familiar pair of glasses.
“...Charlie?!”
His body tied itself back together, becoming more and more recognizable. They stared at each other for a minute.
“I swear I was aiming for Roier.”
Charlie, because of the core, has much better morphing and shape shifting abilities than normal Slimes. With enough observation he could literally be anyone. He’d looked at Juanaflippa so much that his Gegg looked a bit like her. The people he spends a lot of time looking at are the people he can most easily imitate.
“So you can just look… however you want?” Fit asked
“Uh-huh.” Slime replied offhandedly, focusing on the little craft they were working on for Richas’s half birthday.
Neither of them had ever heard of a half birthday before then.
“Without effort? You don’t even have to like… try?”
Sue him, Fit was incredibly curious. Sentient Slimes just didn’t exist, Slime was the only one he knew and would probably ever know.
He became even more curious (and slightly defensive) as Slime began to stare at him, an expression of scrutiny behind his gaze.
Then, a familiar lopsided grin and covered his face for a minute. A sloppy squishing sound resounded from behind his hands that made Fit wince.
The taller gasped as Slime’s face became uncovered.
Fit’s own face stared back at him, with only a few uncanny details astray.
“Christ, Slime! You just keep that ability all to yourself? Do you know how much trouble you could cause with that?!” He all but yelled.
Slime laughed, shifting his face back to its normal appearance. He winked before turning his head back to the project.
“Who’s to say I haven’t caused any trouble?”
Fit—from that day on—lived in fear of the people the Slime could be.
Charlie is all types of temperature sensitive. It's crazy.
Too hot, he’ll get all melty and struggle to hold his form. Leave his bones behind him and become a puddle.
Too dry, he’ll dehydrate and crack up. It’s incredibly painful, which is why slimes tend to stick around damp, humid areas.
Too cold, he’ll freeze, becoming a literal Slimecicle. Just like hypothermia, his fingertips, toes, and nose will turn a shade of blue first, eventually infecting the rest of his body. Also hella painful.
A good tactic if you really wanted to torture a Slime, stick them in the cold. They wouldn’t be able to stretch or morph after a while, it'll hurt like hell, and you get to decide how bad it is. GOOD STUFF
A 60 to humid 70 degrees Fahrenheit is generally ideal. The island tends to run a bit higher than that, but it’s not too extreme of a shift so he’s generally okay with some extra water.
Haha, he picked Eggxile in a place that was out of his comfort zone, just cause he knew he didn’t deserve comfort. He sent himself to a place that was too hot and too dry for a Slime. That's fun.
Uhh, that’s really all I can think of for right now, but I’ll repost this anytime I add to it :DD If you’ve got any headcanons you wanna talk about or you wanna talk about mine, please do!! I’ll literally talk for hours, you have no idea
LOVE YOU BYEE <33
#qsmp#charlie slimecicle#qsmp slimecicle#writing#ficlet#quackity#qsmp quackity#philza#qsmp philza#el mariana#qsmp mariana#posting this cause the next chapter of my fic might take a minute I'M SORRY#if you have any questions feel free to ask#as i said i'll talk for hours#may have some mistakes#i'll fix them in the morning#i thought adding the little short stories in between could be fun#might just be stupid LMAOO
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Boy King AU | Vettonso + Martian | 1.3k
There's something about putting the future emperor of the Holy Realm on his knees like this. About how easily he goes, how willingly, how obediently. What would his adoring public think if they could see him now. If they saw their beloved king pressed down like this, in the cramped space between Fernando's legs. When they realized their little boy king took it like he was a little concubine instead.
Fernando's bitterness is lifted away in moments like these, like taking off a heavy cloak on a winter's day. It was hard to feel humiliated about his own situation when watching Sebastian debase himself like this.
He always gives himself up so easily. When Fernando threaded his fingers through his thick curls. When he pulled them, and then when he pressed his face down further down into the vee of his legs. Sebastian rubbed his cheek into the coarse fabric of Fernando's breeches and blinked up at him. Fernando had to smother an embarrassing sound; he was just like a little cat!
Sebastian quirked his lips up into an odd little smile and slightly rose up on his knees, "What's funny?" Fernando swallowed lightly and schooled his face back into being impassive, "Nothing. As you were." Sebastian simply smirked at him and let himself be pushed back down by the fist clenched in his hair.
Fernando scoffed internally, there was only so much pleasure in putting the other man in his place when he instead acted like this, this degrading action, was his birthright. He took to ruling and indulging in carnal pleasures as if they were of equal gravity. To be privileged to hold such high station and also let himself be taken apart like this…Fernando felt embarrassed for him.
He is dragged away from his musings when Sebastian moved to settle his hands in Fernando's lap, clutching his hips over the fabric and slightly squeezing; Fernando fought against the urge to shiver. Sebastian pushed up the skirt of Fernando's waistcoat and smoothed his hands over the opening flap of his breeches.
His eyes darted up at Fernando again, a daft smile on his face. Fernando scowled at him, "What?" Seb's grin sharpened, "You could stand to be a little more gracious. This is your future emperor, and future husband might I add, kneeling for you on this dirty, depraved, derelict- ah–" Fernando tugged on his hair again and hissed, "Well then, why don't you show me how eager you are to perform your marital duties?"
Seb licked his lips, completely unconcerned by Fernando's annoyance, and unbuttoned one side of the closure to Fernando's breeches and moved to open the other–
The door to the carriage flew open, arrival announcement dying on a wheezing breath as the servant took in the image the two kings made. One splayed across the seat, exuding power, the other kneeled, debauched, between the former's legs.
One would be hard pressed to determine which was higher on the totem of power and titles.
There was something gratifying about this to Fernando, about being caught. He had been humiliated enough throughout the entire courtship, what was one more thing? And, certainly, what was one more thing if he could drag Sebastian down into the dirt with him.
"Oh Mark, don't act so abashed! It's nothing you haven't seen before, in fact, we have been in this very position not even a fortnight ago!"
Oh. Yes. That.
It was hard to be completely pleased when he remembered how Sebastian had already spent years prior to their engagement sampling the palace's ample selection of fellow high-born men. And how all those men seemed to be completely and utterly wrapped around his little finger.
Fernando released his hand from Sebastian's hair as if it had burned him. He did not understand why he felt ashamed with Mark looking in on them like this. Fernando was the one marrying Sebastian, not Mark; Mark was just a lowly courtier who had the esteemed duty of spending practically every waking hour with the brat…something he himself was decidedly not looking forward to.
Sebastian stayed kneeling, staring impassively up at Mark, still fiddling with the clasp on Fernando's breeches. Fernando gritted his teeth and looked up from where he was watching Sebastian's clever little hands; Mark stared back at him placidly.
Mark's indifference made the entire situation worse. Fernando now felt as if he was not doing anything unique, not doing anything particularly new. How many other men had Mark caught Seb with in this exact position? Fernando felt like he was just another plaything of the boy king, soon to be boy emperor, except his position was forever, permanent. He was the "Kept King", the king who only kept his throne due to the whims of a boy who doesn't even understand what power is.
Mark coughed, "Well," he says, "Your Majesty, I do believe you have a meeting to attend." Seb pouted at him and whined, "We were just getting to the main course," but still braced himself on Fernando's thighs and got up off the carriage floor.
Seb pranced down the steps Mark had placed next to the carriage, miming tripping sown the stairs, snickering when his action made Mark reflexively reach out to grab him, and then playfully skipped off the final step.
Fernando couldn't help but stare as Mark made the weirdest grimace in response, and he inexplicably felt all his mortification seep away from him. Huh. Maybe Mark is-
Seb then turned around and frowned at him, seemingly disappointed, but his eyes are deceivingly sharp, "Fernando, I regret to inform you that I have other duties I must attend to, you will simply have to wait." He then grinned up at Mark next to him and giggled as the other man stiffened when Sebastian looped both of his arms through Mark's.
He leaned all his weight on the other man, Mark not so much as shifting his weight, "Oh Mark, won't you carry me back to the palace? I'm so very tired after all the horse riding," Seb looked up at him imploringly.
Fernando observed as Mark rolled his eyes and shrugged off the man, though notably not pulling his arm from Seb's grasp, and he got the distinct feeling that this exact scene had been played out countless times before.
Fernando clenched his jaw as he watched Seb turn and saunter off, Mark trotting alongside him like a loyal dog. Fernando was supposed to be the unaffected one in this partnership, the unflustered one, the unconcerned one. And yet here he stood, in broad daylight, in a foreign kingdom, on the steps of a carriage with his breeches half unbuttoned and his cravat in disarray.
He heard a cough from beside him, jolted and looked to the side. Sebastian's loyal Horse Master stood there, lounging against the side of the carriage. Fernando had forgotten who had even been driving the carriage in the first place. After Seb has let himself be pushed down, his hair still windswept from their ride together, everything else seemed to fade away. His thoughts were reduced only to how he could mess up the younger man's hair further.
Jenson grinned at him wolfishly, and casually crossed his legs, "First time?" he inquired. Fernando glared at him. The other man laughed openly at him, "What? He's a busy man with big prospects. You're not his majesty's only conquest, you know. Now your throne on the other hand…"
Fernando seethed, it was one thing to be humiliated by the future emperor, but to be patronized by the king's horse boy? No. It would simply not do. He closed his eyes in annoyance, pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaled, and prepared a speech about how he was not about to be talked down to by a man who didn't even have a throne to speak of!
But when he opened his eyes again and opened his mouth to begin his tirade, Jenson was already wandering away to tend to the horses. Dios mío, Fernando was not mentally prepared to spend the rest of his life with all of these impertinent morons.
#i love how i kept saying to people: no no i shant write any fic for this. only art.#me like two weeks later: hey guys :)#this is just: i was sitting in class and had a drawing idea but then im obv not drawing *this* in class so my brain went into narrative mod#not exactly 'baby's first ficlet!!!' but moreso ive not written in a while so i hope its alright???#but aaahhh this was actually pretty fun!! idk i think it was bcs i was also being brainrotted by the image of seb kneeling....#maybe ill draw it. but it felt like something that needed the context of narrative and not just oo here is a drawing!#anyways you can always ask me for a directors cut-(PLEASE PLEAE BEGGING PLEASE)#see this is why im not cut out for writing fic#its not like i dont think it can speak for itself. more that im just an overly reflective person who wants to explain all my thoughts#if i wrote fic itd really be just: chapter 1. chapter 1.5 chapter 2. chapter 2.5#anyways i think its pretty obvious but this is before their wedding and just like peak bitterness.#well not peak. peak would be the first year- first few months of their marriage#but this is fernando who is only just realizing how naive all his expectations of seb were and getting a glimpse of his future#but mostly: mindgames and power play and: whos actually really winning?#also my god jense is literally the best chara in this au. he is vibing and basically just witnessing ye olde reality tv#mark and fernando are always in a weird powerplay with seb(even if seb isnt even consiously doing so) and jense is just free from it all#hmm now how does one go about tagging fic#vettonso#f1 fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#f1#formula 1#martian#sebmark#also idk why im always so concerned abt tagging when im basically just writing this for my little boy king following i have somehow formed#hahaha! it is art to me!:#catie.art.#boy king au
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ummm I personally would love it if you'd write Sid offering himself up to Kyle to convince him that moving to the Pens would be great. Maybe Kyle like "Sidney I thought this was a meeting??" and Sid like "Oh this is just a perk of working here ☺️ Pittsburgh hospitality 😊 think of it as a preemptive signing bonus"
👀👀
i saved this until now because i didn't want to jinx anything....welcome to the team, kyle :-* also sorry it's a bit of a fade-to-black but i have a deadline and i don't want to blow my load for explicit writing here!
you can consider this a continuation of my free use verse: the original is here, and i wrote a follow-up here!
Sid's never quite known what to wear to meetings like this.
Game days are easy. Even though some of the other team omegas get adventurous with their styles—Tristan had been talked to about going with less-revealing options last season—Sid's always just gone with a suit. It's easy, it doesn't require planning, and he doesn't have to worry about getting caught at an unflattering angle by the team photographers.
Geno's never given him grief about that. For all he'd like to see Sid in some of the more fashion-forward options, he respects gameday rituals, and he cares more about winning than he'll ever care about being able to ogle Sid's ass in a sundress.
That doesn't mean he doesn't jump at the chance to help dress Sid for special occasions, of course.
Sid's honestly surprised Geno was on board with this. Ownership had asked, and Sid can read between the carefully-phrased corporate-professional lines—he knows what they meant. He'd shown the email to Geno, expecting a laugh and maybe Geno hauling him upstairs to show him who he belonged to, but instead Geno had looked thoughtful, and a few hours later he'd wandered into Sid's office with Sid's tightest leggings and a cropped workout top that still has the tags on.
"You go take care of him," Geno had murmured in Sid's ear, fingertips trailing along his arm and leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Make him want to come here, fix the team. And then you come home to me. This is the only time, yes, Sidney? You understand?"
Sid squirms in his seat now, thinking back to how Geno's breath on the nape of his neck made him shiver. He's going to leak through his leggings if he's not careful, all over the recently-cleaned wooden benches in the locker room.
There are voices in the hall.
"—still in town, wanted to meet with you before he goes on vacation tomorrow," Sid hears just as the door swings open. "Take your time."
Sid's only seen Kyle Dubas from a distance before, at league events and in the hallways of Scotiabank Arena, but he knows what he looks like—and he knows what an alpha looks like when he's caught the scent of an omega he likes.
"Hi," Sid says, parting his thighs. "Welcome to Pittsburgh. I can't wait to get to know you better."
#free use verse#hockey rpf#my fic#my writing#i need to get my tags on this blog figured out#because i think there are a decent amount of ficlets that i haven't archived on ao3#and i really should put them there because god forbid something happens to tumblr...#anyway#just a little warm-up today!
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haru overhears rin singing elvis presley's "can't help falling in love" quietly to himself one day while rin is towel-drying his hair after a shower at his tokyo apartment and it makes him feel things, even though he doesn't understand the words.
he decides he likes it, and before they go to sleep (haru on the bed, rin on a futon on the floor because haru is too chicken-shit and uncharacteristically overcome by shyness to suggest sharing the bed) he asks rin, "what was that song you were singing?"
"hm? what song?"
"the one you were singing while you dried your hair."
rin hums thoughtfully and pretends he doesn't notice the way haru is boring holes into the side of his face. he thinks hard because: a) rin sings (or hums) all. the. time. to fill the silence, b) he must've done it subconsciously, and he cannot, for the life of him, recall what he'd been singing earlier and c) the fact that haru had even noticed is both mildly embarrassing and wildly distracting him from the very act of sifting through possibly >50 songs he sings/hums a day. today. he is sure he'd have sung at least the amount today, because being with haru means learning to be comfortable with prolonged silences sometimes (but also working to fill those silences).
he sings a lot when he's around haru (not that he'd admit to it). he thinks being around haru makes his heart sing (not that he'd admit to that either).
"song... song... what song was i—"
and then it clicks, and his blush shoots up to his hairline.
haru, despite having the emotional perception of a proverbial tree stump but being an expert in all (well, maybe not all) things rin, senses the several stages of embarrassment that play upon rin's features and decides to be merciful.
"it sounded nice," he says tersely. the smile that he gives rin is placating. a peace offering of sorts. "i liked it."
rin glances at him furtively before awkwardly coughing and clearing his throat. "you did?"
"mmh."
"do you... would you like me to sing it again?"
haru hears a soft tapping sound—probably rin's finger on the linoleum floor—and pays it no mind. chalks it up to a nervous tic of rin's.
"yes," is all he says. the tapping stops.
the room is silent for a second too long, but rin breaks it. all too suddenly.
rin's voice is unabashedly one of haru's most favourite things about him in the world. his speaking voice is a rich baritone, sometimes raspy, maybe even bordering on sultry whenever he teases him. it makes the tips of his fingers tingle like he's being charged with minute amounts of steady-flowing electricity from the ground up. it makes his heart beat a few paces faster; it shoots adrenaline through his body like absinthe pumping in his veins. it excites him. angers him. frustrates him. maybe even enamours him, sometimes.
but his singing voice? it drips over his soul like the smooth silk of honey from an upturned jar, leaves every fiber of his being covered in its sticky sweetness. it's gentle and mellifluous, which haru finds absolutely ridiculous, because rin is anything but gentle or mellifluous in nature. it's calming. soothing. reminiscent of the lullabies his late grandmother once sang him to sleep. it makes his eyelids droop like he's lying peacefully at the bottom of the sea because he feels so safe and comfortable, like he's floating atop a cloud.
okay.
maybe he's exaggerating.
but rin's voice is lovely, and in haru's mind, he's walking on air.
"rin," haru calls out gently, ignoring the mild disdain he feels over the fact he'd had to interrupt rin's singing for this. "i can't hear you well from the futon."
rin blinks. "are you suggesting that i—"
the blanket rustles, and even in the dim light of the night lamp, rin sees it. haru has scooted to the corner by the wall, one hand holding up half of his blanket gingerly. an invitation.
well if haru insists.
they lay in the bed, close, but not nearly enough. haru looks at rin tenderly, blue eyes glistening in the moonlight, silently urging rin to carry on where he'd left off. but rin is stalling. or staring, rather. his carmine eyes look back at haru, matching in tenderness. he shifts slightly, exhales deeply. haru itches with impatience.
"rin," haru calls out again, gentler this time, voice laced with sleep. "sing?"
rin's eyes go dopey and he obliges, easing into the chorus.
"wise men say..."
haru doesn't even remember being lulled to sleep.
bonus: after rin returns to australia, he sometimes receives calls from haru, telling him he's having trouble sleeping. haru never explicitly asks rin to sing to him, but rin knows him like the back of his hand and does it anyway. when the line goes silent and is gradually taken over by haru's soft, even breathing, rin chuckles. he likes how haru enjoys him singing this one particular song, even if it's in english and haru doesn't understand a word. unbeknownst to him, rin means every word he sings.
("like a river flows surely to the sea, darling, so it goes; some things are meant to be")
#free!#rinharu#matsuoka rin#nanase haruka#ficlet#drabble#whatever you call it#i was listening to can't help falling in love and for some reason this little scene played out in my mind#i would pay to hear rin sing this#is this fluff???#fluff#i guess#okay yup that's all the writing i'm doing for the rest of the year
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Fun with Make-Up (Dream x GeorgeNotFound)
Concept inspired by @mushiewrites <333
“Stay still.”. Dream huffed for the fifth time. George furrowing his brows and turning his head at the annoying feeling. Dream was straddled on George’s waist and trying to do his makeup. Emphasis on trying. They had been at this for a while, but the smaller boy still only had a face layer down, far too squirmy for Dream to get through his next step. George agreed to this, but still he wouldn’t stay still. Dream wasn’t entirely sure why. At the moment he was only trying to brush through George’s eyebrows with a clean little mascara wand.
He wouldn’t have to wait too long to find out, though. George groaned and grabbed Dream’s wrists, flipping them before he could resist. Dream dropped the small makeup wand he was holding in surprise.
“George?”, Dream didn’t fight back. George plucked up the small wand and traced the inside of Dream’s ear with it. Instantly he gasped and shoved his hand away. “That tickles!”, Dream whined and rubbed his ear. ‘Oh…’, he thought dumbly.
George only smirked as he scooched down and lifted Dream’s shirt.
“Now stay still, I’m going to do your makeup.”. Dream flushed and tried to tug it back down.
“George no!”, he cried as his hands were batted away. He squealed as George grabbed his bare waist and poked the little mascara wand into his bellybutton. He shoved him away, already thrown into a fit of giggles.
George got that dangerous playful glint in his eyes.
“Stay still!”, he scolded. He grabbed Dream’s arm and slipped his other hand under his shirt, snaking it up fast until Dream suddenly felt the evil little mascara brush in his sensitive bare underarm. He nearly shrieked. His buck was enough to toss George to the side, but he quickly scrambled back on top.
“Stop I’m trying to do your makeup!!!”
“No!! You’re being…an idiot!!”, Dream tried to snap, but he was already lost in a world of small wheezes and frantic giggles. Dream fought George’s hands lightly, both of them giggling in the playfulness. George got a hold of both of Dream’s wrists and felt a rush of power.
“Do you think your feet need some makeup?”.
George crossed the line with that threat. In an instant he found himself on his back with both wrists pressed together above his head, quick enough only a single squeak left his lips before he knew what was happening.
Dream was much stronger than him. You think he would learn his lesson than to tease him too much. He never seemed to learn though…
Soon the Dream Team house was shaking with George’s insane cackling. He should have just accepted the light and manageable tickles the make-up application was giving him earlier, because this he might not survive.
#wishitweresummer#mcyt tickle#fun little ficlet#oooh look I did soft tickles#kind of#mushieeee#lee!dream#ler!georgenotfound#dream tickle#summers ficlet#if anyoneee likes this concept and wants to play around with it feel free#dnf
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Roman/Gerri, 535 words. Roman and Gerri wind up in a supply closet at the Waystar Christmas party. For business reasons.
#i finally posted my emotional support christmas ficlet originally from 2021! 😂#be free little bird#romangerri#roman x gerri#succession fic#fanfiction#i write things!#succession#also i really do love ficlets#there's something so crisp and refreshing about not reaching even 1000 words
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Hopes and Dreams
It had taken a few drinks to get them to this point, but Hob rarely got a chance to be open about his longer than expected history and eventually the talk came around to his centennial meetings. And what had happened at the last one in 1889.
“Wait a moment, let me get this straight- some powerful entity makes you immortal, meets back up with you century after century, and then on your sixth date you tell him he is lonely and say you are just friends? Geesh, no wonder the guy stormed off.”
“What- no- it wasn’t like that!” Hob sputtered as his drink came down hard on the table.
“Uh huh, sure- and in the 1500s you didn’t shove your wife and kid in his face only to get upset when he then went off with someone else?”
“...”
His friend just raised his eyebrow at him and went back to sipping his beer while thoughts chased themselves across the immortal’s face. When put like that…..
“Honestly I’m just impressed whatever he was just stormed off and you didn’t end up cursed or something. Powerful enough to give immortality without a noticeable drawback? Definitely powerful enough that breakups tend to spawn legends.”
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Who is Hob drinking with? No clue, but someone who is supernatural or at least involved in the supernatural. Honestly was kinda thinking of making it be John Constantine and having it be a relative of Johanna, but decided to leave it up to the imagination- feel free to insert your favorite character/crossover.
Had this conversation stuck in my head, but it isn't going to fit into Silver Linings so figured I'd just post it on its own. AO3
#the sandman#dreamling#hob gadling#be free little ficlet#fan fiction#my writing#huh#I don't have a tag for that?#posted on ao3#but figured I'd throw it here too for next time I roam my blog#mine
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blood debt.
Phil does not get a chance to wipe her blood off his hands until Tallulah has fallen asleep and he manages to will himself from her and Chayanne's bedside. They've pushed their mattresses together, determined to keep vigilant in close proximity throughout the night.
They are unsuccessful. They are children, after all, drained by pulsing adrenaline and cold terror coursing through their veins. Only when Chayanne's head hits the pillow, an arm thrown protectively over Tallulah, does Phil silence himself and stagger out of the bunker, double and triple checking all of the locks before he finally unravels within the supposedly definite security of his own home.
Wilbur is going to be pissed.
He entrusted Phil to her care, and until now, he had done well. A few nightmares, the occasional slip-up, but Tallulah had been safe. With rune-engraved armor, an army's worth of golden apples and shimmering totems, and five personal bodyguards dedicated to her survival, she should have been fine.
Then the sky itself rolled over and everything began and ended in quick succession.
Her death was inevitable, Phil tells himself, as her blood burns beneath his fingernails. There is only so much one can do against a swarm like that. There is only so much one can do against a being of unreality that should not exist and does not fall.
They left that fight one life lighter, lifelong guilt laid where it once was. His teeth taste like iron. His tongue is dry as bone. They were not meant to see the morning's sunrise.
At least she did not die alone.
Hands shaking, Phil turns on the faucet and scrubs until he cannot tell the blood swirling down the drain from his own.
#qsmp#qsmp philza#qsmp tallulah#qsmp chayanne#qsmp wilbur#qsmp fic#qsmp ficlet#qsmp binary entity#just a little ficlet about the fact that qphil was the one to land the finishing blow on tallulah#I'm fucked up yall#if anyone wants to translate this to another language then feel free#just credit me
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Challenge's cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances. I need to prioritise other things.
#android talking#sorry to everyone it's just one thing after another it seems#i'm trying my damnedest but this year has been one difficulty spike after another financially speaking#I can't keep up and i can't keep using savings#i'm gonna end up beyond destitute if I can't turn things around soon#still gonna try to do a ficlet or two when there's a little free time#and i might share a quick drawing here and there#but i need to focus on working my ass off until i make back all the money I just lost
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Hm.... slight itch in my brain to write chapyard again.....
#somwhat more queerplatonic than i used to do#since rudyards settled in my mind as more aroace#but whether kissing or sex is involved or not (probably not) those little freaks are Obsessed with each other#i need to get back to the spider au#its a little weird to come back to since i started it in a time when my ideas of the characters were a little different#wooden overcoats#mr. bees speaks#if anyone has any lil chapyard ficlet ideas feel free to send em my way mgiht use em as a warm up!
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Yo my dude! I noticed you haven’t been writing lately and I’m hoping everything is okay ❤️
hey!!! that is very kind of you to check up on me so i hope you don't mind if i make this a Public Reply tm
i am actually super good but insanely busy!! i graduated and started my big girl job in japan just over a year ago and am still figuring out how to balance work and fun life, and writing requires just. so much brain energy man. most of the time i come home after work and have enough to make dinner and do dishes and play some vidya games before crashing out and doing it all again the next day
i'm also pretty tapped on markiplier fic/lore since space. i haven't really felt inspired or. i guess interested? in a while. feeling a little jerked around with the lore teases and not totally sure what i wanted to do next with my big fic made my interest really fizzle out - and a lot of my writing energy that i can muster up is getting poured into doing a DnD campaign with some friends! which honestly sucks because i really enjoy alapctts and the intrigue for what i built on my own of it, and i hate to let it moulder (which it unfortunately has)
i guess it's the adhd curse, losing the flame for a fandom as much as you love it just through the attrition of time, but that's kinda where i'm at. really into baldur's gate and DnD/fantasy stuff plus also. man, ghost (the band) has had me by the absolute throat. i might actually have some little ficlets or even a long-form idea for that but it almost feels like cheating - i went from one man playing a bunch of characters to another one lmfao do i have a type - and i hate to leave stuff unfinished before moving on
anyway!! sorry for a bit of a dump, but it's been hard to pull the trigger and realize i'm not super into ego stuff like i was and am unsure if i'll be continuing. maybe in the future! or maybe i'll come back and jonah and the reader can have some resolution one day <3
#it also sucks to have seen fandom writers i love say this kinda stuff and now i am one of the fandom writers saying this kinda stuff#i am become my own worst nightmare lmfao#maybe im just in a slump??? maybe i should do some little ficlets or something#y'all got ideas or thoughts tm always feel free to drop them <3
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Hey Skyward! So, one your recent answers got me hoping, (if you have time) regarding the Incredibles AU- I thought it was really cool to see the different stages of “comfortable” Wild and Hyrule were in throughout your fics. It was just done really well. And I was left wondering, got any fluff or angst (or both) of their transitions from hiding/not speaking to crawling on Time’s bed because he’s sick?
Thank you! It was fun to write them both get gradually more comfortable with everyone, and it was a bit of a writing experiment too, slightly different than what I usually write :)
As for angst or fluff from them adjusting... hm.
They both had a lot of moments where it was one step forward three steps back, especially for Hyrule, who had to adjust to several more people then Wild did. Wild of course had his nightmares he had to deal with though, so they both had equal tough times and happy ones. They all counted it a victory when they finally got Hyrule to eat three meals a day though!
And I do have this scene here, which was an idea I wanted to put in Hyrule’s fic but didn’t quite fit in right anywhere. Living around people with questionable motives and living on the street in between leaves you with some marks... which in the fic Wild was supposed to notice and go “hey me too :D” but just didn’t fit in right.
But anyways, here’s a short, kinda unpolished scene of Twilight finding out Hyrule even has any scars (under a cut because this post is already a bit long)
...
Twilight caught a glimpse of the lines again later as Hyrule flipped the rock he was looking at over, and decided a closer look couldn’t hurt.
He tried to casually brush his hand over Hyrule’s sleeve the next time he reached for an interesting rock, but the younger boy noticed immediately. In fact, Hyrule jumped nearly straight up in the air at the touch, throwing himself backwards and putting up a shield before he realized what had happened.
Twilight immediately drew back from the younger boy, who was staring at him shakily as he dropped his shield. His eyes were wide as he clutched his arm around his chest, and Twilight could tell he was a few seconds away from bolting back inside.
“I’m sorry Hyrule, I wasn’t trying to scare you,” Twilight quickly apologized, keeping his voice soft. He slid back and gave Hyrule more space, and he seemed to slightly relax. “I just wanted to look at the marks on your arm.”
Hyrule pulled his arm in more tightly to his chest, and somehow shrunk even smaller into himself.
“Th-they’re just old marks,” he whispered.
“But do they hurt?” Twilight asked, hesitantly extending an arm. “I just want to help Hyrule. You know Wild has some scars too, we have stuff to put on them to make them hurt less. We could do the same for yours if you want.”
Hyrule stayed where he was, but let Twilight scoot closer again, carefully watching his outstretched arm.
After several long moments of silence, Hyrule took in a deep breath, then cautiously pulled his sleeve up, showing off the handful of scars marring his skin. Twilight stayed silent as the younger boy slowly extended his arm towards him.
“They’re all pretty small, they don’t hurt,” he said quietly, and carefully set his hand on Twilight’s. His palm felt clammy against Twilight’s. “Not anymore. Only the one.”
“Which one still hurts?” Twilight asked softly, looking over the marks, and Hyrule swallowed.
He hesitated, then carefully pulled part of his shirt up, exposing an angry knot of scarring a bit above his hip. Twilight paled as he took in the size and obvious deepness of the old injury, and Hyrule quickly tugged his shirt back down, looking uncomfortable.
“It doesn’t hurt very often,” Hyrule continued, trying to be reassuring. “Just sometimes.”
“Hyrule...” Twilight began, then stopped, not even sure of how to begin to ask about it. How on earth could he have gotten such an awful scar? What had happened to him?
He was interrupted from asking anything else by Malon calling from inside that dinner was ready. Hyrule perked up and pulled his sleeve back down, giving Twilight one last unreadable look before scampering out of the backyard.
Twilight watched him go with a worried lump settling in his stomach.
#answers from the floor#mad-navi#Incredibles au#lu hyrule#lu wild#ficlet#writing from the floor#if you were thinking of something more specific feel free to ask or whatever :)#I might have to rustle up some fluff to make up for this XD#and the scene is before anyone knew about Hyrule’s healing#but only a little bit before#like a day or two maybe#anyways poor kiddo#just wants to look at some bugs#incredibles au fic
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ficlet titled "rin's chompers" because i can't stop thinking about them:
"when i was younger," rin starts off as he peels a long line of skin off the tangerine in his hands, "i asked my mother about them."
haru swallows the slice he'd been chewing on contemplatively and spits its seeds into a bowl. he watches quietly as rin continues to pick at his tangerine, peeling its pith off as cleanly as he can manage. "what did she say?"
rin snorts. "she said, and i quote, 'you're part-dinosaur. it's your superpower; but don't tell anyone i said that. you shouldn't tell anyone it's your superpower either. it should be a secret.' and then she fucking winked at me. i'm convinced she just wanted to indulge in my weird obsession with dinosaurs as a kid or something, y'know? and to keep my mouth shut. anything that would keep me from questioning why i was growing canines like a goddamn carnivore. my dad never argued the logic either."
haru blinks. "you had a dinosaur phase?"
"uh, yeah? like any kid does."
"i didn't."
and now rin looks properly bemused. his eyes roll as he licks the juice that's slowly trickling down his wrist. "well that's because you're a weirdo who obsesses over creepy deep sea creatures. look," he nods at haru's t-shirt. "you're even wearing that ugly fish shirt of yours right now, at the grand age of twenty-six."
"northern stoplight loosejaw-kun is not weird or ugly." haru huffs, narrowing his eyes. "and how do you know you aren't part-stoplight loosejaw? they have sharp teeth too."
"because," rin says through gritted teeth, "i'm not. not fucking part-stoplight loose-whatever. not part-dinosaur either, okay? can we drop it?"
haru sighs. "fine. so does this mean no one knows why your teeth are..." he makes some sort of vague motion with his hands, waving them in front of his own mouth, "...like that?"
"no," rin replies dejectedly. he deflates a little upon admission, shoulders sinking like they bear the weight of the world. "no, no one does. not even my dentist."
they both turn and look at you, blinking like they're hoping you can come up with some sort of epiphany on behalf of them.
"do you know why my teeth are like this?"
#free!#rinharu#ficlet#i keep thinking about rin's teeth and how NO ONE KNOWS WHY HIS TEETH ARE LIKE THAT#so yes accept my little drabble as i address the elephant in the room#HE HAD NORMAL TEETH AS A CHILD SO WHY#drabble
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