i have no idea how to draw burns or inside out clothes apparently

Writer’s Block, CH7

Originally posted by suspend

Here it is! Thanks @litlifelover for the gif suggestion! I’m going to use it because there is a stay moment here. Thanks also to everyone that gave their gif opinion! I think we can all agree we just like Everlark together, however we can get them there. So here’s a little ‘togetherness’ for you. Read on AO3 or FFnet if you like. And happy continued bday to @katnissdoesnotfollowback. It’s almost time again! Lol. I’m slow….


I open one eye and stare at Peeta, sitting cross-legged next to me on my bed with his computer in his lap. The bright glow of the screen is the only lighting in the room. It’s two in the morning and our project is due in 6 hours. He’s been re-reading and editing here and there while I fell asleep. I don’t know how he’s still awake.

“Really?” My voice is raspy from sleep and my eye closes, too heavy to care that it’s finally finished. But my body feels weightless at the news.

“Really.” I listen to the click of the laptop closing, the sliding of it onto my nightstand before he says softly, “It’s late. I should go.” He stands from the bed but doesn’t get far before my hand is around his wrist. I let my fingers slide down, tangling with his.


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Dean gets pulled along for a Halloween prank and gets caught by the last person he wants to see him like this: Castiel Novak.
Read on A03

Dean doesn’t quite understand how he got here.

Alistair thrusts a roll of toilet paper in his hand with a dark grin and turns with the rest of their group to face the looming Colonial. 

“All right,” Alistair sneers. “Let’s do this before someone comes home.”

Streams of white sore through the air, wrapping around the house and tangling in the bushes and the large oak tree. Dean watches, frozen in place, as the boys run across the yard, cackling as they break garden decorations and kick up the flower beds. 

“Dean!” Gordon laughs, circling back toward where Dean is hiding by the car. “Get in on this man!”

Dean shakes his head and tries to seem as casual as possible. “Ugh, nah, dude. I’m good.”

But Gordon just rolls his eyes and grabs Dean by the arm, dragging him into the yard. He puts an egg in Dean’s hand. “Here, man. Throw it at the window.”

Dean’s fingers close loosely around the egg and he swallows roughly. “I-I don’t — can’t we just go to the-”

“Stop being such a bitch, Winchester,” Cole teases from across the yard where he’s smashing a jack-o-lantern. 

“Yeah, throw the damn egg!” Alistair says.

Even in the dark, Dean can see the glow of a threat in Alistair’s eyes. He looks up at the house and the big dark window and takes a deep breath.

Just as he’s drawing his arm back, the house floods with light and water shoots from the ground. 

“Oh, fuck, run!”

Dean drops the egg and the four boys race toward the car as the front door opens. 

“Hello? Whose there?” 

Dean can’t resist a quick look back because the voice sounds familiar and the next thing he knows he’s falling face first into the wet grass.

A few meters ahead of him, an engine starts and tires squeal against asphalt as it speeds away.

The water cuts off and Dean pushes himself up with a groan, trying to scramble to his feet but his ankle throbs and he collapses back to the ground with a curse.

“Are you okay?”

He jumps at the voice, body chilling with dread. He’s so busted. Why did he ever agree to go out with Alistair and his evil minions? This guy’s going to call the cops and then his parents are going to murder him. Shit, shit, shit.


Dean’s head whips up at his name and he blinks at the dark figure standing over him, not recognizing him until the guy leans closer. 



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Promptis Celeb AU Pt9

Previous parts: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

[Ao3 link]

Noctis and Prompto go on a fancy date. They have two very different conversations with each other at the same time. 

It’s been a week, and Prompto’s properly nervous.

It’s dumb, and he shouldn’t be nervous. Noctis has been treating him to dates all along, after all. But this one seems different. It feels formal.

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A very late birthday fic for the wonderful @betaruga. Thank you for all the fanservice you give us Gochi fans and fans of all other ships! You truly are a gift to this fandom *hugs*

I wish there was smut in it, but alas, I suck at writing smut. I hope you like it anyway!

Pairing: Goku x ChiChi

Rating: T, AU in which ChiChi and Goku never met as kids and are in an arranged marriage set up by the Ox King and Grandpa Gohan. 

Dark eyes go round as they take in the sight of a man with no visible ounce of fat on his godly body ingest food at a pace and in a quantity that would rupture the stomach of a regular human.

Being of a warrior clan herself, ChiChi isn’t the kind of princess with the formal, genteel etiquette and diction one might expect of a traditional royal heiress, and she certainly isn’t unfamiliar with the boorish, sometimes wildly inappropriate conduct of lower-class folk who she on occasion mingles and socializes with.  

But the way this man tears into meat with teeth as white as eggshells and devours food the way a whale swallows an entire school of fish is something ChiChi had not witnessed until now, not even from her own beloved father, who is thrice the size and weight of this beautiful man she is to marry in less than a week.

Instead of eating, she stares at him. She’s been doing that a lot since he arrived. Staring. He sure is fine to look at, but that’s not the only reason why he holds her eye’s attention. He’s an enigma. Simple and complex at the same time. She supposes that she only has the rest of her life to figure him out.  

She stifles a snicker upon seeing her usually composed and always reliable butler Piccolo turn almost green with revulsion.

Her father, the Ox King, on the other hand, appears entirely amused and pleased at the enthusiasm in which his future-son-in-law’s feasts. His massive chest and belly bounces as he heartily chuckles and makes the room vibrate with the reverberations of his laughter. “So you like the food, eh? Good, good. My girl here, see, she helped make most of it, and it’s her own recipe. Ain’t that right, ChiChi?”

The  bottomless (yet shapely) pit known as Son Goku pauses and gives ChiChi a considering look, a look he hasn’t given her since they met yesterday in the morning. She feels her cheeks burn slightly as her husband-to-be regards her.

“Really?” He asks through a mouthful of partially masticated food, some of which flies out of his mouth and onto the table. ChiChi nods as he finishes chewing and swallowing the remainder of what’s in his mouth.

“Well that’s something to look forward to when we get married!” He says in between licks of his fingers, a wide, big dumb grin on his face. His voice is devoid of any trace of sarcasm. Chichi feels a wave of disbelief roll over her bones, and then anger bubbles up inside her.

The sound of wooden pegs scraping against a marbled floor catches everyone’s attention as ChiChi abruptly pushes her chair back and rises from her seat.

“If you’ll excuse me,” ChiChi announces, dismissing herself in a manner she knows is a bit rude but doesn’t care. If he can be rude in her own home then so can she.

She can hear the confusion in her father’s voice. “But you haven’t even finished your dinner.”

“I’ve had enough.”

As she leaves, she hears, “If she ain’t gonna finish that, can I have it?”



According to his gramps, he’s upset his bride-to-be, and now he must apologize, though he really doesn’t know what he has to apologize for.

He’s been nice to her, at least in the brief moments of interaction they’ve had, smiling at her and repeating some of the phrases his grandpa had instructed him to address at the princess and the king.

He had wanted to tell her she smelled good, but gramps had advised against it for reasons he vaguely explained and still didn’t understand.  

She really does smell good, like campfire and mixture of spices, and something that’s distinctly her. It’s one of the things he first noticed about her, one of the things he likes about her, one of the few things he actually does know about her.

He’s only known her for less than two days, after all.

For some reason, it’s considered “inappropriate” for the two of them to be alone together, so this Piccolo guy, who despite his formality is ripped and huge and looks like he’d be a good sparring partner, is escorting him to the princess’s chamber door to apologize for something he apparently did, and when he asks Piccolo what it was he did that made the princess upset the butler merely responds with a gruff “hymph” and a frown deeper than the one he always seems to carry.  

But when they call on the princess, she isn’t there.



Piccolo is still following him around like a grey cloud, unwilling to make conversation with him and declining his invitations to spar with curt replies and grunts. Goku doesn’t get it. If this supposed to be a warrior clan, then why is everyone here so stiff, so curt with him?

He wishes he was home.

The marriage was gramps’ and the Ox King’s day idea, a solution to the rift that had occurred between the two elders after the Ox King had married the woman Grandpa Gohan had also intended to ask to marry.

Goku still doesn’t quite understand how a dispute between two people who’ve known each other nearly their entire lives can be settled by marrying two other people who’d known each other for a heartbeat, but if that’s what his gramps wants him to do, well then he’ll do it.

Even so, Goku feels out of place in this vast, cavernous yet restricting castle, and he takes advantage of Piccolo’s distraction of ordering staff members around to escape both Piccolo and the castle, exiting through a window three stories high to land swiftly on his feet.



Not far there is a river, where Goku can fish and tame his growling belly, cooking his catch over an open fire, the way he does back home. A wave of sadness hits him as he remembers that he has to trade his small, cozy cottage and vast lands for a vast but stuffy structure and unfamiliar grounds.

The song of a coursing river sings in his ears, and over that, he hears the grunts and “kya’s” of a softer yet strong voice.  Nearing the banks of the river, he sees her. She’s practicing katas in a clearing of grass near the riverside, unware of his presence.  

She’s wearing attire that is different from the fancy getup he’s seen her in since he first laid eyes on her. She wears a simple blue and red cheongsam over bright red pants, and he finds that he likes her in these clothes more than in the luxurious silks she seems to be uncomfortable and forced into. In these clothes, she moves like wind, bending her limbs with graceful fluidity, her torso gyrating in a way that draws his attention closer, just now realizing that beneath the layer of fabric there is a toned, defined belly that is probably as smooth and hard as unblemished stone.

His feet move further without thinking about much else except the patterns she makes with her long, pale arms, drawn to her as if within those twisting hands there are mini-cyclones forming that pull him forward.

Her form is similar to that of the Kame-style he was trained in, except much more beautiful to look at, like watching the branches of trees sway in the currents.

The sundried grass sighs out in under his weighted boots, alerting ChiChi. She arrests her movements and twirls towards where Goku stands in alert, her already sun-flushed face flaming brighter as she spots him. Sweat drips off her chin as her mouth opens in alarm.

A sheepish grin spreads his mouth, wishing he hadn’t interrupted her admirable choreography.  He places his palms out in front of him in a pacifying gesture, “Don’t stop on account of me.”

The startled lines of her brow crease as her black eyes narrow at him. She wipes her sweaty brow and sets her arms akimbo. “What’re ya doin’ out here? And where’s Piccolo?”

Goku grins at her apologetically. For some reason, she makes him feel nervous, but in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant. “I don’t really like being followed around, so I kind of ditched him. Plus, I needed some fresh air and food. Ain’t used to castles. Or this heat.”

It didn’t take him long to learn why they call this kingdom Panfry Mountain.

ChiCh looks at him like she didn’t hear him right. “Food?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna catch myself a fish or four.”

“But you just. You just ate three hours ago.” Her voice is incredulous. He’s heard this tone of voice from other folk who think him strange.


She shakes her head and sighs at him- long and deep but with a twinge of a smile. “You sure are somethin’ ain’t cha?”

“Dunno what you mean. But hey, I gotta say, you sure are something yourself. You got a good form. I bet you’re a strong fighter. Been hearing folks say that about ya.”

Her (full, pink) lips upturn to a confident smile. “Course I’m strong. My pa is one of tha strongest fighters in th’ world. Trained me his’self. Ain’t no man ever beat me.”

“That so?” Goku says, feeling his blood ringing with anticipation. He’s wanted to spar with someone from this clan, but his gramps had advised against it, particularly against him sparring with ChiChi, saying that that’s no way to charm a princess, even if she is a fighter herself. But ChiChi looks like she could give him a good match, and he discards Grandpa Gohan’s advice to the depths of his reason and asks her :” How about we have a friendly spar? Test out that theory?”

She looks at him with blinking eyes, that tenseness he’s come to associate with her seeping back into her frame and settling on her shoulders.  But then it’s gone, and she smirks at him, and that smirk does something down his spine that feels like when he rubs his feet against carpet and touches something metallic, and he mirrors the expression on her face as she positions herself into an offensive stance.

For a moment, they are still, making no movements but the rise and fall of their chests and the bat of eyelashes. He can tell she is sensing his chi, as he is doing hers, bouncing off each other, feeling their one another’s aura before any contact is made.

And then, she charges at him, her feet fast and buoyant as she’s skimming the air.

Bending his upper-body backwards, he avoids her angled roundhouse kick and takes another step backwards as yet another arc of her leg is swept towards him. Then, he deflects a side-chop aimed at his neck with his forearm, feeling her chi swell up in frustration as he continues to dodge and repel all her attacks.

Her movements are precise, well-executed and fast, yet they are far too hurried and tactless. He tells her this, which only seems to anger her.

“Why don’tcha  attack me? You afraid to hit a woman?” She shouts, launching a fist that manages to hit the end of one the spikes in his hair.

“It’s not that. I can’t hit you when you aren’t focused right,” he says, deflecting yet another intended blow. He hadn’t considered he was fighting a woman. To him, she was another warrior, a person strong and powerful. “It’s like you’re mad at me or something.’”

“I am mad at ya!” She yells, alarming a bird somewhere nearby with the ferocity of her tone.

Goku’s brow creases with confusion, sidestepping another hasty attack of hers from his left. “Why?”

Wouldn’t be the first time someone fought him out of anger, but he always knew the reasons, however minor their motives were, such as him eating the last of the pork buns.  He couldn’t think of anything he specifically did to make her so angry at him.

“You humiliated me!” She grinds the words out as he stalls another angled kick with one of his own, the impact shooting up his leg in shocks. They each draw back a few feet apart from one another.


ChiChi shakes her head, and he’s sure if it weren’t for the straight bangs concealing her ample forehead, he’d see a vein popping out like an angry, thin snake trapped under skin. “Do I really gotta spell it out for ya? Fine, I’ll tell you when you defeat me!”

A simple enough request, though he wishes that it didn’t have to end so abruptly. “Alright. Here it comes.”

With a push of his legs, he sails forward, so fast she has no time to react except widen her eyes as his fist gets her in the jaw and sends her flying backwards towards an old, massive tree. Before her spine can hit the trunk, Goku reacts quickly and catches her mid-flight, rotating her to the other side so that it’s his back that hits the ancient tree, the impact causing the treebark to crack and split open, sending the upper-half of the tall, grand tree crashing down with a loud, resonating thump and a flurry of furiously flapping wings and shaken chirps.

He prays to Kami that there weren’t any occupied nests in that tree. Against him, ChiChi’s pulse bangs and racks is chest.  

“Shoot, I didn’t mean to hit ya so hard. Sorry about that,” he apologizes, feeling warmer due to the heat emanating from her body. She’s soft, he thinks, but also firm, like fresh hard-pressed clay. And her smell. It’s even better now, a hint of added spiciness that wasn’t there before, making tongue stick to the roof of his mouth as if he’d smelled a juicy cut of steak.

“I-it’s fine!” She yelps, throwing herself back to land her bum on the crab grass. With a little more grace this time, she pulls herself up, her face red as she pats and smooths the lines of her cheongsam and pants.  Looking away from him, her voice lowers to a softer tone as she says, “You didn’t have to take the brunt of the force.  I’m no delicate flower.”

“That you ain’t,” he says, noting the hard lines of her figure and the delicate shape of her jaw that belies the strength behind it.  A weaker person would have had a bruise where his fist struck. “So that makes me the first man to have bested you in a match, huh? Now are you gonna tell me what it is I did that made you so mad?”

For a second, he thinks she’s going to yell at him again as her frown reappears. He’s surprised when instead she smiles wistfully, her tone almost sad. “Neither one of us really wanted this marriage, ‘specially you, since unlike me, you shoulda  been free to marry anyone you wanted, bein’ someone of the common folk an’ all. Me, on th’ other hand, I knew tha’ one day I was supposed to marry a prince, even if I didn’t like him. So when I saw you I…”

“Was disappointed?”

“No! I mean, you’re not what I ever expected, but I wasn’t upset at all. I don’t really care if you’re a prince or not. You’re strong, and in that respect, you’re worthy of bein’ my husband.  But… Can’t you just pretend that this marriage ain’t a joke to ya, especially in front of our families? It’s embarrassin’ to have my fiancé be more interested in food than in me, let alone say it front of everyone. “  She veers her black eyes at him, and then back to the dry, dull grass, as if looking at him causes her discomfort. “It may sound vain, but I ain’t used ta boys not thinkin’ I’m pretty and staring. I ain’t used to being the one who stares.”

“I know you don’t wanna marry me, but can you please make the effort to hide how much you don’t want to?”

The way her face is pulled down makes his belly flop with guilt he can’t explain.

“But I do wanna marry ya,” he blurts, surprising even himself. He’s never thought about wanting to marry her until this moment, he’s only thought about how he has to marry her.

Her shocked expression quickly shifts to an irritated scowl. He’s never seen someone go through so many emotions in so little time. It’s wild and fascinating, almost like when an opponent comes at him with an astonishing, secret move he doesn’t expect.

“For my cooking, right?” she doesn’t sound happy saying it.

“Yeah, but not just that. I like how you smell. I like how you look when you’re fightin’, and I even kinda like how you yell at me,” he chuckles, thinking how strange it is to like being scared, and how funny and oddly cute it is too see her face look so conflicted at his confession. “I like you, ChiChi. I think this marriage thing might be more exciting than I thought.”

Her tongue seems to be stuck in her mouth, because only a noise that wants to be a word comes out.  

“Hey, since ya cooked for me, how about I roast us a catch? I don’t have your skills in the kitchen- I don’t think I’ve ever tasted food tastier than yours- but I know how to make the skin nice an’ flaky,” he says, grabbing the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head in a flourish of black spikes and muscles.

ChiChi makes a noise in the back of her throat that sounds like a mouse cornered into a wall. “What are ya doin?”

“I can’t go in there with my clothes or they’ll get wet,” he replies, thinking how silly it is for her to not reach this perfectly logical conclusion as he starts working on the strings around his waistband.

His skull rattles as something hard and compact hits his jaw, twisting his neck and head around as an “unf” sounds escapes his lips that pucker from both the impact and alarm.  

“Wait till the honeymoon, ya pervert!” ChiChi spouts, her fist held out before her as she looms over him with her lips pulled back from two rows of straight, clean teeth. She stomps away with her hands bunched up and at either side of her hips, where Goku maintains his eyes in fascination as they sway side to side in a determined, fiery trot.

Whatever a honeymoon is, he doesn’t care, all he knows is that if this is the kind of vision and sensation he’ll get for the rest of his life, then he’s completely okay with that.


For better or for worse: Intro

Whew! 8 pages later and I’ve made an intro to my first actual fanfiction! I hope y'all enjoy this Dr pepper 3AM induces bullshit!!! And who knows if anyone likes it, I will continue!!

Iplier Egos x teen reader (platonic!)

It was just one of those nights, the kind of night that was quiet, calm, peaceful even. The perfect kind of night to simply stay inside and maybe read a good book, or watch a calm movie. These were the EXACT nights your friend lived for.

“The perfect night to cause some trouble!”  She would always exclaim. Stating that on such a calm night people wouldn’t be weary of anything “Unexpected.” This is where you would always step in. Being the goody two shoes that you are, you acted more like a babysitter than a friend at times. That was how you got into this whole mess, for better or for worse.

“Nikki what the hell are you thinking?!” You managed to yell to the brunette as she dashed away from you. Headed straight to the long stretch of woods surrounding an old gaited community. You never really saw the people who lived there; you just know that it was private property, most likely for a good reason.

“Come ON (y/n)! Don’t ya wanna have some fun for once? You’ll only be 16 for so long dumb dumb!” She yelled over her shoulder dashing right through the trees just waiting for you to catch her.

“When I said fun I meant like a good horror movie or some video games you idiot!” You yelled back finally catching up and making a grab for her arm, almost missing your target. You thankfully managed to latch onto her and pulled back, leaning your entire weight in the opposite direction of your dear friend of 9 years.

“Were already to the gate friendo~” She smirked, her eyes darting toward the right and sure enough there it was. The gate itself was around 6 ft tall, chain-linked. You soon enough noticed why she ran to the wooded area of the gate though.

“Is that a… hole?”

“Yup! All we have to do is crawl under the gate and were in partner. Come on don’t you want to see why those freaks here are always hiding? Maybe there like ex-cons or some cool shit like that!” She almost yelled as she broke her arm out of your grip and dashed underneath the gate standing again. Walking away, expecting you to follow as you always did. 

“Nikki Wait! Were not supposed to-oh what’s the point in yelling at you…” you muttered as you managed to crawl underneath and rushed back to her side. Determined to change her mind about the whole ordeal you continued on

“Ok, Ok, we had our fun. We busted in. Can we go now? We got our criminal intentions out of the way for the night. Besides we aren’t even allowed here! Its private property, most likely for a good reason!” you rambled; yanking her back by the shirt so she would listen.

 “And don’t you want to know what that reason is?”

“I do yes but this still isn’t the most neighborly way to meet your neighbors now is it? Respect the people who own the place dude, they want privacy why should we disturb them?” you said pulling her to a complete stop in front of a steep ditch that looked like it was covered in rocks at the bottom.

“Because its fun?” Nikki countered, making you sigh. The air began to feel tense. You could hear some sort of ringing but ignored it as part of an overactive imagination.

“I don’t care if it is!” you finally yelled out, sick of your friend breaking rules and dragging you into the trouble.

“This is wrong you idiot! May be a minor thing but whoever the hell lives here wants to be left alone, this isn’t your personal playground now get off your high horse and listen to me!

We. Are. Leaving Period. Maybe if I repeat it ill get it through to you. Whoever lives here wants privacy. As the neighbors it’s our duty to respect that fact. What we shouldn’t be doing is this! If anything I should send them a message about that damn hole, how did you even know it was there?” You finally slowed down enough to ask. Feeling the ringing press into your head now but pushing the feeling aside. Focusing on your criminal of a friend. The tension only growing.

“I come here a lot dude, so relax. Besides if you weren’t such a wus we could have some actual fun!” She countered shoving your shoulders, her eyebrows furrowing.

“Were leaving.” You stated pushing her as hard as you could back towards the fence. The ringing had stopped a chill ran up your spine and you could swear you could feel eyes on you. But that was just from Nikki… right?

“Don’t push me!” She yelled out shoving you back by your shoulders, with just enough force to make you tumble and fall down the steeper side of the ditch, and in using your hand to break the fall you hit it head on with the rocks.

The base of your hand and wrist burned as you hit the bottom landing on your stomach. You rolled over and sat up cupping your arm to your chest and wincing. The warmth of your own blood making your shirt wet.

“Told you this as a bad idea.” You muttered as you kept your head down. Taking a moment before you got up.

“That it was, child.” A deep voice sounded from behind you. Your eyes shot wide as you quickly turned to look at the newcomer.

The man was rather tall compared to you. He gave off a strange feeling that couldn’t be placed. Wearing a dark colored suit and tie with dark hair and eyes to match. But his eyes, they were cold and calculating. His mouth was in a neutral state, not a snarl or a frown, not a smile either.

“(Y/N) SHIT I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to do that!” your friend finally exclaimed rushing down to your side, making a move to help you up only to be beaten by the suited man.

“Allow me.” He stated as he reached his hand out. You took his hand seeing as it would A. Be rude, and B. well… you were kinda breaking and entering. As he helped you up You rushed to speak before Nikki could make this worse.

“Ah, Hello sir. I apologize for being here uninvited we were simply-“

“I heard you and your… Companion here. Apparently she is here often hm?” he interrupted looking to you, his eyes unblinking.  Drawing his hand back as they both rested behind his back.

“Well no point in lying to the man, he heard everything” You thought.

“Yes sir.” You said quietly, looking towards your feet. “I was trying to bring my friend home, I didn’t intend for this to get so out of hand. Please accept my apologies.” You said loud enough to be heard but quiet enough for it to be softly spoken. Trying to keep from angering the stranger.

He stared for a few moments at you, seeming to accept your actions. All the while Nikki was trying to pull you away, scowling.

“No major harm done other than to your arm. If you come with me to see our doctor here and let him look at your arm, then I will let you go home without any trouble for your actions.” He stated looking to you alone. You had a feeling that the same courtesy wouldn’t be passed to your friend but what was the worse he could do to her? Yell?

“We would appreciate that thank you Mr-?” You aid finally looking him in the eye.

“Dark.” He said simply and began walking. You quickly looked to your friend and nodded your head in his direction.

“Come on.” You whispered to her. Rushing to catch up to Dark, pressing your arm into your stomach while your good one pulled Nikki along begrudgingly by her sleeve.

The walk was quiet aside from the occasional question from Dark, How old the two of you were. Why your parents weren’t controlling you.  If you would be a problem for the doctor etc.

You made sure to be respectful in your answers and the way you addressed him. Nikki was making snide comments and sassing him to which you scolded her for. Making Dark smirk. Other than that though there was silence.

When you finally reached the cluster of houses the first thing you noticed was how different they all were, some were darker tones, some were lighter. Some were small and cozy like while the rest were much bigger than.  Each had its own style and they all seemed to clash together in just the right way, towards the back was the biggest of all buildings, around 3 stories high and plain, almost made to look like a business styled building. That seemed to be where you were headed.

Once you finally reached the inside you saw nothing but a high tech styled lobby. There was one man behind a computer, typing away at an almost inhumanly fast pace. He was almost identical to Dark except he had softer eyes and glasses, along with different clothes. His shirt was a bright yellow with a G that almost appeared to be… glowing? No that couldn’t be right. The pain as just starting to get to you. Yea that’s it.

The man behind the computer froze suddenly and turned to you, you made eye contact with him but didn’t stop walking in order to keep up with Dark. You did smile at him though, you even used your good arm to send him a small wave which he happily returned with a bright smile.

Once you were gone though his smile dropped and his eyes showed worry. He dashed away to find one of his dear friends to see just what was happening.

“So what’s your game?” Nikki asked suddenly, glaring at Dark. He eyed her for a moment before taking a quick left down what seemed to be an endless maze of hallways.

“There is no game here, child. Can I not just do something out of the goodness of my heart?”

“Nope. Doesn’t seem like you.” Nikki responded in a monotone voice as you elbowed her in the ribs.

“Be nice.” You instructed, earning a nod of approval from the suit wearing man.  He then turned to a door and opened it immediately, walking through and waiting for the two of you.

“Dark I know you like to be a dramatic kind of being but why do you insist on barg-oh…” Another similar looking man was in the middle of the room seemingly agitated at first but now confused.

“Doctor I believe I have a new patient for you. This young lady here has managed to hurt her arm.” Dark stated.  The doctor hesitating for a moment before speaking.

“Of course. Come here, sit down on the table here and ill look it over.” He said calmly before looking to Nikki

“And what of her?” He questioned.

“The child will come with me on a walk, she needs to be taught why it’s a bad idea to trespass.” Dark replied coldly making Nikki look at him questioningly as you moved to the table. You turned back to her before hoping up.

“Oi Nikki-bell, be nice k? don’t take too long I still need to get you home.” You sent her a smile as she scowled at you before walking away with Dark. Any tension had left the room now and the doctor seemed to notice as well. He smiled at you, his eyes warm and inviting.

“So, what happened to you miss-?” he asked as he began to pull out bandage’s and such for your arm before taking a look. So you told him. Everything. Your name, your story even minor details about your life, your parents, your current job search. He only nodded a few times but never looked really surprised. By the time he began unwrapping the bandages for your arm and hand your story was told.  Luckily for you silence didn’t seem to be all that common of an occurrence here seeing as almost immediately a different man busted in, breathing heavily and looking as if he had ran a good distance.

“Ah so you’re the kid that Oliver was going on about!” He exclaimed with a confused smile. Fixing his hair and straightening his tie, the bubbly man walked over and offered a hand to shake.

“Bim, this is (y/n) she hurt her arm in that damn ditch out in the “woods.” Once her arm is fixed and her friend gets back from her…”chat” with Dark they will be headed home. The doctor stated as he continue to wrap up your wound.  Bim looks to you with a confused expression.

“Oh alright, well it looks like your almost done and I don’t think dark will finish his eh “Chat” until later. So (y/n)!” he claps his hands together making you smile at his bubbly nature.

“Do you like being on stage?” as you were about to answer the doctor chimed in.

“Now’s not the time Bim.”

“Ah, of course. But you’re done now yes?” Bim ask looking towards the doctor. Who took another moment to finish wrapping you up. He smiled slightly and nodded his head, you think he went to say yes but before he could Bim grabbed your good arm and whisked you away.

“GREAT! THEN I’LL JUST TAKE THEM DOWN TO THE STAGE TO WAIT!” He yelled excitedly as he took off with you in tow.

“BYE DOCTOR AND THANK YOU!” you managed to yell out with a smile and a wave before you were out the door. Making the doctor whos name you never caught shake his head and smile.

Bim ran with a smile on his face, taking so many turns that you lost track and before you knew it you were on a stage surrounded by lights and a place for an audience. Bim finally let go of you and turned to look at you.

“So, you DO like the stage don’t you?” he asked tilting his head. You excitedly answered,

“YES! Acing is so much fun! Especially when you get into character, or just improvisation ah its just amazing” you responded with a wide smile making Bim laugh.

“That’s gre-“ Bim was cut off by a strange sounding voice who seemed to just appear behind you. Almost yelling in a… strange voice.

“Well isn’t that just great! But who are you?” You turned to see another man who looked similar to well… everyone! Except he had a pink mustache and a yellow shirt with suspenders.

“Oh um hello! Im (y/n), (y/n) (l/n). Nice to meet you mr?” you said with a smile, sticking out your good hand to shake.

“Wilford Warfstache little missy and the pleasure is mine.” He said while he vigorously shook your hand.  He went to say something but the doors flew open and in walked Dark himself with Nikki in tow. She seemed… terrified though… her eyes wide and her stance was as if she was trying to make herself seem smaller than ever.

“Do you have something to say to (y/n)?” Dark asked as he turned to look at your friend. She shuffled next to you with her head down and stuttered out an apology for dragging you into this whole mess.

“Hey, hey Nikki-bell its alright. Why don’t I take you home now hm? We can even watch those cheesy rom coms you like?” She only nodded her head and walked to the door, waiting for you to join her. You turned to Dark who looked slightly pleased.

“I-I don’t know what you said and quite frankly I don’t want to but I have a feeling that she wont be as much trouble now so… thank you? I think?” you questioned gaining the attention of everyone in he room.

“…Your welcome.” He replied in a cold manor.  “Now then the sooner you both leave the sooner we can all sleep so lets get a move on, now. He stated and turned to lead the way out of the endless maze of hallways and doors. You waved goodbye to the two men on stage and took off holding onto your friend to try and comfort her and maybe stop her trembling.

The walk out was silent, no one said a thing until you reached the gate back to the main road, you could see yours and your friends house from there. Dark stopped and turned to you one last time.

“As “fun” as tonight was I believe it is time for the two of you to leave. No more trespassing am I clear?” He asked glaring at the two of you with an icy look.

“Yes sir.” You nodded for the both of you and turned to go home and hopefully calm Nikki down.


The next day you received an unexpected visitor though. Once you opened the door you saw the same man from last night looking slightly surprised to be there himself.

“Oh! Hi Mr. Dark, um come in.” you opened the door a bit wider and gestured inside he swiftly stepped in and you continued while leading him to the living room to sit down.

“Excuse the mess, I haven’t gotten to cleaning up yet. So um how can I help you today?” you asked siting down gesturing for him to do the same. He sat and looked to your hand.

“How does it feel?” he slowly asked making you smile.

“I know that you’re here for something else so please don’t beat around the bush. Also since you asked it feels fine thank you.” You said looking at him. The sentence seemed to make him relived that there wouldn’t be any sort of small talk.

“It would seem that you may have discussed your current search for a job to pay for a future collage plan?” He started “It just so happens that I need a new employee to work at my business, and those who you met last night continuously went on if I would ask you so.

The job, it will be nothing majorly important. Just cleaning up messes, taking care of what “pets” others who work there may drag in. Simple stuff. I am willing to hire you for the job as long as you follow the rules and never break a single one of them. Am I clear?” He asked looking into your eyes as if he was staring at your soul.

“Yes sir, but how many days a week? What are the hours, term and rules?” you asked simply.

“You will work weekdays, no specific hours seeing as many days are unpredictable there but never later than 7:30 PM that I will assure you. On regular days head to the building as soon as you get out of school. If you have any sort of work it can be done in the lobby before you start working.” He continued beginning to list of rules and counting them on his fingers.

“Rule #1. You are not allowed to bring anyone with you. Unless you receive permission from either me or Wilford, the man with the pink moustache.

Rule #2. You will not leave whenever you want. If we don’t say that you will leave early then you will leave at 7:30 PM exactly.

Rule #3. If your work is lacking for even one day you will be immediately fired. It doesn’t matter if you are tired or not in the mood, if you accept this job then I expect nothing less than perfection day by day.”

“Demanding hours and rules huh?” you stated realizing that weekday activities would be down the drain at that point. But you needed the money and all you normally did as sit on your phone so… depending on the pay why not?

“How much will I be earning for this also?”

“I am willing to pay you 8$ an hour. Depending if you work on weekends occasionally, there will be bonuses. Does this seem fair?” you smiled.

“A minimum wage paycheck for cleaning and taking care of a building with some incredibly interesting people?” you stood and immediately Dark stood as well. You stuck out your hand to shake, an action he returned as you smiled.

“Mr. Dark we have a deal.” He only nodded and began to leave. Before he walked out the door he let you know one last fact.

“You begin Monday. Don’t be late.” You smiled knowing that this was the beginning of an interesting time, for better or for worse.

Did I do good? Idk I’ve never written a actual story before… 🤷

realistic drabble series: kim namjoon (m)

Originally posted by parkjiminer

pairing: Namjoon x Reader.
genre/warnings: smut, fluff.
words: 1544.
summary: Namjoon wants to try car sex, but this is real life; not fanfiction.

jin. yoongi. hoseok. namjoon. jimin. taehyung. jungkook.

a/n: PART 4! AS ALWAYS, OTHER PARTS FOUND ABOVE^ ENJOY! Also, theres some sappy shit in this short fic so get ready for that lmao.

His hands slip through your hair as he deepens the kiss, tongue sliding sweetly over your lower lip to entwine with yours, his chest leaning against yours until you’re pressed further back into the seat. Your hands grasp the collar of his shirt as you thrive in his touch, and he lets his hands drop down to wrap his arms around you until they’re pressing into your waist and gripping you firmly. Pulling your mouth from his you glance behind you at the backseat and then back to him, catching his eyes twinkling as the light from the dash bounces off them.

“Are we really gonna do this?” You cant help but laugh, the entire idea of driving all the way to this remote lookout to do the dirty in the backseat of his car incredibly trivial to you. But, it was his idea, he wanted to do it, and when he looked at you so cheekily with his dimples staring you in the face, who were you to deny him?

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Let Not Light See My Black and Deep Desires, an Adlock fic

So, this came about as a result of this post based on a dream @francesca-wayland​ had.

Slightly NSFW under the cut. (By slightly, I mean that there’s nothing explicit, but you  still don’t want to read this with your boss or family members looking over your shoulder.)

The title comes from Macbeth, when the titular Scotsman is plotting to murder the king and doesn’t want anyone to know. Because if I can use a Shakespeare reference (or even if I can’t and have to reach), I will.

(Also, I’m sorry this took so long. I’ve been in rehearsal all week.)

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Between Hunters and Angels

Requested by anon. Enjoy! XOXO

Summary: Pure smut. Cas asks Dean what a threesome is, so Dean and the reader decide to show him.

Word Count: 2550

Warning: SMUT, threesome, dirty talk, very slight dom/sub

Leaving Cas alone with a television or a wireless connection was always dangerous. You never knew what new “human thing” he’d discover and ask about, or worse, what “human thing” he’d want to try.

This time, he was watching porn. Again. You and Dean walked into the bunker’s library area to find him with Sam’s laptop, staring intently at the actors on the screen.

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endverse gothic

[tw post-apocalyptic grotesque bleakness involving dead bodies & stuff]

He’s headed northwest on I-70 when at last he’s finally forced to pull over.

In the end, it’s not because he’s out of gas, or because stalled cars and trucks have blocked the interstate completely making it impossible to go around. He’s had to go off-road surprisingly few times, mostly thanks to multi-vehicle collisions; drivers long since dragged from their cars and either devoured or turned, stuck horns no longer blaring, headlights dimmed. Only very rarely is the clump of accidents so bad and the shoulder so impassable (or, once, in Pennsylvania, a washed-out bridge) that he simply has to change cars: walk to the other side of the tangle and steel himself to pull whatever’s left from another driver’s seat. Then there’s a ritual: jump-start the battery with his remaining juice, hot-wire ignition the way he was taught; check the gas level, wipe the oil dipstick, examine the tires. Sometimes, to his relief and pleasure—an uncomfortable pleasure, followed by a thick sickened feeling he suspects might be shame—all he has to do is just turn the key, because whoever was about to die had startled presence of mind enough, was so schooled and conditioned by habit, that she’d simply turned off her car in the moments before death.

It’s almost always she, he notices. The same ones who leave behind well-organized purses and center consoles and gloveboxes, handbags he ransacks for their stores of tissues and lotion, candy and gum, painkillers and stronger prescription drugs. These are the women who keep bottled water in the cup holders, fruit rollups and energy bars in the back floorboards or seat pockets. When he is forced to switch cars, he brings everything with him, carries it in the largest handbag he’s found: a pebbled chocolate-brown satchel with a dulled gold stamp reading “kate spade.” He addresses Kate, sometimes, not just in his head but already aloud; thanks her for the water, for the lip emollients that stop his own from burning.

Even this far from big cities the sky roils with dark smoke, heavy and unsettled. He’s lost enough grace not to be able to tell what it is that’s burning, which chemicals and pollutants sift down through the air and sting his eyes and membranes inside his nose and mouth. It’s sifting away, too; he loses it by the hour—it dries up, like watching water evaporate from a puddle. I wasted time, he thinks, not with bitterness but numbly, and now doth time waste me.

(Sometimes in the cars he finds children, their gender obscured by decay. He needs to remember, tries to, that they were people, that they were just as beloved. Whatever rags the children are wearing, whatever length of hair remains on their skulls, he calls them all Mary, because that name once meant something. He unstraps them gently from their seats, arranges families together by the side of the interstate and starts the fire, leaving quickly before it can draw attention. He prays sometimes but only once he’s driving away, safe behind the wheel; sometimes tries to sing “Dies Irae” or say the קדיש, mumbles requiums under his breath, larynx hoarse, throat choking shut on the notes.)

Long ago, pressed into the clammy stone, years he spent listening enrapt to that one contralto nun, her voice like rich soft rainwater gliding over the modal syllables of “Ave, generosa,” transcendent hymns she wrote in Mary’s praise. Listened decades, half a century, until her clear skin wrinkled and she grew old, until she was not. She had something he no longer has, did he ever have it. Did humanity. Was it a thing that ever existed once, that he helped smash. Does she write psalms even now in her heaven, does she still cradle and lift into the light that glorious lucent glasslike orb of her fragile but luminous faith.

for heaven’s flood poured into you
as heaven’s word was clothed in flesh in you
you are the lily, gleaming white, upon which g-d
has fixed his gaze before all else created
around you he enwrapped his warm embrace
so that his son was suckled at your breast

He drives. He has to know, it takes days, he doesn’t sleep, doesn’t stop. Goes faster at night when he sees eyes gleaming out at him from the roadside.

And yet finally, It’s a billboard that does it, just a stupid fucking billboard, peeling and weathered, stuck out crooked from a neglected cornfield, and he pulls over because he starts laughing too hard to keep driving.

HELL IS REAL, it reads, with conviction, in uppercase block letters, white against black; and of course across the front someone has inevitably spraypainted the livid diagonal scarlet warning: CROATOAN.

He can’t help it. He watches himself break open, has watched this happen to people before, knows it’s hysteria but there is it anyway, like swallowing down nausea or gasping in fear, something bodies just do that can’t really be avoided. So he gives into it, gets himself out of the car—no one for miles, if the plague ever had been there it’s moved on—barely gets the door shut and then just folds over against it, his forehead smacking painfully hard against the glass window as his mouth presses against the bare crook of his arm, convulsing, opened and biting into skin to muffle the sounds. His shirt sleeve is torn off up high where he’d used it to bandage—bandage someone—someone who immediately didn’t make it. Wasted effort. And his own efforts wasting him.

HELL IS REAL. Hell is real! They had no idea how real. Hell is here, hell is now. He’s been to hell, spent forty years plummeting down through the worst it had to offer and it was nothing, this was infinitely worse and more wrong because this wasn’t supposed to—wasn’t meant to be hell—this was a deliberately planned paradise, and both the gardeners and their caretakers, they’d all conspired, unintentionally, through a series of colossally egotistical, blinded choices, to uproot, to defile, to spoil everything that— 

He catches his breath, reaches to wipe wetness off his face and his hand comes away filthy, streaked with soot. It’s hard to swallow, it’s hard to make his chest stop whatever it’s doing. His arm is dirty where his face rubbed it. He should use one of the bottles of water to wash, probably. Find more water.

Vaguely gray and furry, an animal darts off through the corn and the stalks quiver and rattle behind it. Eventually he’ll need to eat but he can’t think about that, not yet, not when hell is real. Hell is nearby, so proximate it throbs.

Hell is that he’s maybe an hour outside of Lebanon, with Detroit’s ruins behind him. And he is terrified—not of what he will, but of what he might not find there.

Welcome to Pleasantview

Summary: Michael couldn’t help but notice the strange occurrences that kept happening around him and he wondered if some higher power had a fascination with removing doors and setting things on fire. Sims!AU.

WC: 1,743

Rating: NC17 (Well, there’s Character Death but….not. If you’ve ever played The Sims then you’ll get what I mean xD)

I completely, 100% blame someoneudontknow5 and thepackwantsthed for this. …I got far too carried away with it though and that’s my own fault ^^”

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Thanks so much umadatalien! I’ve been working on a Josh drawing actually, so I took a few screenshots while I drew :) I hope this helps!

For anyone else reading this, I’m using Manga Studio 5 (digital download version is called Clip Studio Paint, which is why my app is called that as you’ll see in the screenshots).

I based my drawing off a photo of Josh, so first off I started with a loose sketch, to try to nail the basic shapes/gesture.

However, as you can see, my draftsmanship skills are waaaay off… I’m not one of those people who can draw things perfectly just from sight, unfortunately! Oops.
It’s not terrible, though. In fact, I kind of like the exaggerated length of his arms/legs, so I’m not going to throw the sketch out completely. I might make a few changes, though.

I don’t always do this, but for this drawing, after my initial sketch, I traced over the photo on another layer. I traced it pretty loosely - the idea was to get a sense of the shapes/forms, and pick up any details I might not have noticed. 
For example, I didn’t notice that Josh is wearing a longer black shirt under his white t-shirt - so that’s something I’ll definitely have to add in!!

Oof. Huge difference between initial sketch and traced sketch. Not necessarily a bad thing though!
It’s always interesting to see the difference between how your eyes perceive things, versus how they actually are, though. Apparently my eyes think everyone and everything is anime as hell.

Revised sketch in the middle! I took elements that I liked from both the initial sketch and the traced sketch, and combined them to make the middle sketch. 
So I’m keeping the basic shape of the initial sketch, but using things I learned from the trace to make the sketch better. 
Tracing is useful as a tool to improve sketches and help pick up details, but be wary of just using traces for artworks. It can be perceived as lazy. Unless a deliberate rotoscope-like effect is what you’re aiming for, of course!

Final composition. I got the iron filings background off Google; the image is grainy since I had to resize it, so I’ll be redoing it in Illustrator once I’m done. (P.S. I actually flipped it some time after taking this screenshot, bc I decided I wanted Josh facing the right - I’m doing a version with Tyler as well, and when I put them side-by-side I want them facing each other. Josh is always on the left, so he has to face right!)

Lineart time! I lowered the opacity of the sketch layer to about 14%-17%, made a new layer on top, and used my slightly modified version of the G-pen to draw the lineart. (You can do the same thing with the normal G-pen, though. This is just a slightly personalised version.)
Lineart is always the longest and most tedious step for me. It usually involves a lot of hitting command-z, a lot of redrawing the same line over and over, and copious amounts of swearing :) if there’s an easy, stress-free way of drawing lineart, I haven’t found it yet!!

Even with the stabiliser set to the second-highest setting to avoid shakiness, it’s still really hard to make a line exactly how I want it. So many other factors like angle, line weight, length etc all come into play, and I really struggle with getting my hands steady enough to co-operate. A lot of artists I know also struggle with lineart, so I think it might just be one of those things that are always going to be annoying and hard and tedious!!

It’s a nice process when you get into a rhythm, though. I like it when I get really focused on it, so I stop thinking about anything else. It can be really therapeutic - when it’s not being frustrating!

Lineart complete!

Flats! For flats, I use the Magic Wand tool to select areas of the same colour. My Magic Wand is set to expand the selection area by 3 pixels, so a bigger area than the actual space is selected. Then I fill them in with that colour on a layer UNDERNEATH the lineart.
Expanding the selection area (and so the area of colour) allows the lineart to overlap the colour slightly, so you don’t end up with white edges. 

I try to keep each colour on a separate layer. 

Shading time! (here’s where I flipped the image haha). 

I made a new layer on top of the flat skin-colour layer, then clipped it to the skin-colour layer. This means that anything I paint outside the skin-colour layer’s area becomes invisible, so I can paint freely without worrying about staying inside the lines. Which is super handy! (I was never a colour-inside-the-lines kind of kid. I’m way too lazy for that.)
I used the G-pen to colour the slightly darker orangey skin-tone, and the bluish-grey shade (both on separate clipped layers). Hence the hard edges on those shades.
Then above those layers, I painted on the pinks and white/yellow highlights with the Watercolour tool, so those colours were nice and soft.

The crosshatching is actually a dark blue colour, lighter than the scarf. It’s set on top of all the colours. I set the layer mode to Colour Burn, which causes it to interact with the colours below it in fun ways, creating those super saturated reds and pinks. 

I painted the jeans/scarf/boots with a lighter blue colour using the Watercolour tool.

Then I created highlights with the G-pen set to a low opacity, layering up the lighter colour.

I used the same technique for the shirt and jacket, except I started with a light base colour and shaded it with a darker blue. Right at the end, I highlighted the shirt+jacket with white using the Watercolour tool, just to brighten it a bit.

I painted the hair using the G-pen, using a bright red for highlights, and darker pinkish-red for shades. Both on separate layers above the base hair colour, remember!

For more highlights, I painted pink strokes on a layer above the hair shading (technically a desaturated light red - as you can see on the colour wheel in the screenshot, hopefully!!), then set the layer mode to Glow Dodge, which creates that extra highlighting effect.

Once all the shading was done, I locked the transparency of the lineart layers, and then coloured the lineart - so dark reddish-purple for the hair, dark blue for the white clothes, and VERY dark blue for the black clothes!
I don’t do that for all my drawings - I actually like it when the colour scheme is cohesive enough that I can use one colour for all the lines.
But with tøp fanart, I like to leave the lines a dark colour (usually blue-black), and colour the lineart surrounding red objects, like Josh’s hair or Tyler’s socks. Dark red lines usually look better with red objects than dark blue.

In this screenshot you can see I gave him red eyeshadow - that was added in after everything else was done. I just did that on a new layer (clipped to the skin tone layer above all the other shading layers) with the Watercolour tool!

And with that, I think Josh is done! Or Dun. Dammit. Now I just need to draw Tyler *weeps quietly*

I hope that helps! I think a couple of people have actually asked for a tutorial/process-record now, so I hope this is okay! :)

Fake Dating for @stupidlullabies by @hcvillicrd

Festivus had the tendency of being an absolute disaster for Dorian Pavus, whether he intentionally pushed the holiday in that direction or not. Add in family reunions, and he could be sure that at least three people in the family would be crying by the end of the night. This year, however, he had one goal in mind: his eyeliner would not be smeared as he walked out the door, and he would carry himself with pride.

The only issue? It had become something of a habit to shock and astound not only his parents but every other extended member of the family with some sort of surprise. Last year it had been dreadfully long hair, the year before a ridiculous amount of piercings, and the year before that he had gladly shown off his brand-new tattoos in all their wonderful Tevinter-esque style. This year would be the year to undo all others.

And that’s how he ended up calling Cremisius Aclassi at one in the morning three days before the family reunion, asking if he could borrow his large Qunari friend for the get-together.

“Altus, what now?” Krem picked up the phone sounding all but awake, and Dorian could hear Lace’s quiet grumbling in the background, which meant that he’d most likely woken them up. Oops, how unfortunate.

The mage ran a hand over his eyes and wondered on how exactly to phrase this without causing Cremisius to have a heart attack. “I need your help. There’s a Pavus gathering on Friday and I need a boyfriend-”

“No, absolutely not, there will be no way in hell that I ever go with you to a shitshow like that! It’d be like going back to Tevinter all over again. Do you want me to throw myself to the dogs? Is that something you find fun?” Krem started blathering before he could even finish, and Dorian patiently listened to all the reasons his dear friend had decided that no, they would not look good together.

“No, but I do want to borrow your Qunari friend for the occasion. He seems like he’d be a man up to the task!” A daring and daunting request, maybe, but it was worth a shot. There was a long pause and silence dragged between the two for an agonizingly long moment. Dorian settled a bit more into his comfortable arm chair, closing his laptop and setting it aside while he waited.

“I don’t know. I’d have to talk to him. Shit, he might be crazy, but I don’t think he’d be that crazy.”

“Just give me his number, and we’ll work it out between ourselves. No need for your involvement beyond this point, I promise.”

“Fine, I’ll text it to you.” There was a sudden beep and the droning tone that told Dorian that Krem had decided to hang up. Huffing, he re-opened his laptop and waited. About five minutes after he’d started reading about Varric Tethras’ spit-shined sequel to the absolute drivel known as Hard in Hightown, his phone made a pinging sound. Krem seemed to have made good on his promise, and sure enough, there sat the Iron Bull’s number.

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theunvanquishedzims  asked:

Lightning Bug meme: First time Karkat refused a client

(lightning bug au)

The thing is, you’d been afraid you were going to lose your temper, been worrying about it and gritting your teeth and running through your lessons on composure, but in the end you feel quite calm when you shove your client’s face into the table.

Your internal freak out commences immediately afterwards, but by that point you’ve pretty effectively drawn your battle lines and shown your horns and so there’s not much to do but troll up and see this chucklefarce dramedy through to the end. The little internal chant of fuckfuckfuck karkat you fucking fuck up running through your head is just the background noise of your life, really.

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a little (slightly cracky) something inspired by magicalplaylist’s reindeer!blaine and the fact that deer represent kindness, generosity, innocence, and determination. aka Blaine.

contains mystical/mythological sort of aspects even though I can’t find any existing myths of deer-people. whoops.

The first time Kurt gets lost in the woods, he’s nine years old. It’s spring.

He hadn’t meant to get lost, of course. It’s just that the old cabin that he and his dad visit every once in a while happens to be ensconced deep within the trees, and once he wanders out of view of the warm light that seeps from the windows, the trees turn into an unending labyrinth.

Being lost doesn’t worry him immediately. He’s sure that he knows the way back, so he simply keeps walking, nose scrunched when he accidentally steps in a patch of mud. The wilderness has never been his favorite thing in the world, but right now it’s calming, how the golden light of sunset dripping through the leaves stamp a pattern on the forest floor. It reminds him of a song – a wordless song – that his mom used to sing. A melodic hum, a soft whistle, and over again.

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