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eepywriters · 5 months

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.✦°. • Birthday boy ( ´∀｀)

warnings: none, just pure fluff and simp Quackity

a/n: HI GUYS, I had to speedrun this so if it feels rushed I’m so sorry 😿 but I put heart into it so I hope y’all enjoy!!

Ah the bed, what a glorious invention. It’s comfy, fluffy, warm and, most importantly, it’s where, usually, one of the best activities it’s conducted: sleeping.

Now, Alex loves working, he does! It’s written all over his projects. The passion that drives every piece of work he makes couldn’t be as strong as it is without determination and etiquette. After all, he is indeed THE Alex Quackity, creator of the first multilingual server with live translations.

But sometimes, just sometimes, he doesn’t mind sleeping the day away. His pounding head and aching eyes beg for rest on the daily, so it’s nice to actually give his body and his mind a moment to shut down once in a while.

A touch on his naked arm made him stir in his sleep. He groans. He wasn’t ready to let go of his sweet slumber just yet.

“Alex, baby, wake up, I’ve got something for you”.

An half-conscious grumble leaves him, which was more of acknowledgement of hearing your voice speak to him rather than an answer to whatever you were babbling about. Cause listen, as sleep deprived as he could be, nothing could separate him from his bed when he was actually set on resting.

“Baby c’mon, we can nap later”.

The soft feeling of pillowy lips pressing against his temple finally rouses him from his sleep. He sighs, a throaty, sleepy sigh, while stretching his back lightly.

“There you are baby”

The gears on Alex’s head are slowly turning as his systems finally makes sense of the world surrounding him. And while most of his mind is concentrated on your delicate hand stroking oh so lovingly his cheek, he can’t help but notice the delicious smell that was floating around the air.

He opens his eyes, now wanting to find out what exactly was making his taste buds tingle in curiosity.

Oh what a grave mistake that was.

A streak of sunlight pierces his eyes instantly, making him close them back on instinct with a weak cry.

“Noo turn off the lights” he drawls sleepily, shielding his poor, aching eyes with his arms. His mouth was still pasty from his sleep and he, quite frankly, didn’t understand what was the deal about waking him up so soon.

And then you laugh, and on a normal occasion he would’ve bite back, cause you were obviously laughing at his idiotic behavior, but he was sooo sleepy and your laugh sounded sooo pretty. (When did he go to sleep again? 2 Am?).

Slowly blinking the sleep out of his system, Alex was met with a rather endearing sight: there you stood, a cute, big grin brightening your face whilst you looked down at him with an amused gaze. He could tell you where sleepy yourself, if not by your tired eyes, by the dark circle that were adorning your features. After all, what did anyone expect from the partner of Quackity? Two sleep deprived people are better than one. (He’s not gonna delve into what seeing you standing there with only an old t-shirt of his was doing to his body).

“Good morning birthday boy”.

Oh, now he knows why you rudely (not really) woke him up.

“Hey” he mutters, scratching his crusty, tired eyes, hoping that the sleepy haze that was still clouding his mind will go away.

“Damn that’s all I get? Not even a pet name? We live in a society…” you frowned.

“Shut up” he snorts, looking back at you, just for his eyes to stop at a little red box you were holding. It is very pretty: a big yellow ribbon was tying together the bright red walls of the box, and hey, was that a duck painted on the side of it?

Before his fogged brain can even come up with a question, you are already in action.

“Stand still, your only job is to look pretty now”

He quirks a brow. He’s not sure of what you have going on today, but he’s in for it, especially since he can still smell the sweetness of the treat you’re hiding inside that box.

He sits up and his head lolls backwards onto the cupboard, giving him the perfect angle to watch you fiddling around.

“It’s rude to stare you know?”

“Mhh is it? Even when there’s something so beautiful to look at?” he replies, jokingly wiggling his eyebrows up and down at you.

“You’re such a flatter” you sigh, yet he can see you hiding your smile in your arm.

You soon bring out a tray to him, which had a plate, a fork, an empty glass and a cute, pink piece of paper on top of it. You had obviously written on the paper - he could recognize your handwriting instantly in any context given - and really, it wasn’t even debatable since the paper read “Happy bday amor <3”.

He brought the paper up to his lips, leaving a soft peck on it before putting it on his nightstand. Was he dramatic with it? Yes, but he swears that when it comes to you he just can’t help himself but cherish everything you give him.

“Here you go, I hope you like it”.

You finally open the little box, reveling an adorable, tiny chocolate cake. It was simple: it was round, not more than 10 centimeters wide, and it feature a raspberry and two blueberries on top.

He licks his lips and dives into it immediately, not waiting for approval nor giving it any second thought. He chews on the cake with a satisfied hum, letting the sweet, but strong taste of chocolate invade his mouth. Again, it was really simple, but the fact that it came from you made it ten times more tasteful.

“Where did you buy this? It’s great” he says, searching for the label of the bakery on the tiny box you handed to him. Maybe later he could’ve bought some sweets for his guests there. He strangely couldn’t find it.

“Actually… I made it”.

Saying his mouth was agape would be an understatement, his jaw was on the floor.

“WHAT” he screams with his mouth still full. He did have the decency to swallow before screaming out again: “THERE’S NO WAY”.

He swears he could’ve died right there. Your shy smile and the light blush that paints your cheek enough to send his brain into override.

“Yeah, woke up early to make it today. I’m surprised you didn’t wake up sooner, I made quite the mess” you cackle to yourself, probably remembering all the ruckus you made whilst scratching your neck in embarrassment.

“Im surprised you liked it that much honestly” you trail off, insecurity dripping from your hushed tone.

Was it really though? Alex would eat anything you gave him if it followed a “I made it for you”. Yes, he was that whipped, and he isn’t ashamed of it. It always has been you, trough life and death, he knew from the moment he uttered the first “I love you” that you were his ride or die.

“You did amazing (Name)” he smiles, craning his neck just enough for you to share a sweet, short kiss.

“I can tell you worked hard for it, I’m proud of you” he whispers at mere centimeters from your face, like it’s something just for you to hear and hold dear onto. He leaves a peck on the corner of your mouth before sitting back again.

“I’m very glad you liked it” you say softly, giving him one of those genuine smiles he’d die for “BUT we got much more to do! It’s time to open your gifts!”.

You clap your hands excitedly, already scurrying off to put the tray away.

“What if I want to unwrap another type of gift” he taunts, moving his arms behind his head while wearing a sly grin. He kinda felt bad about making you do all the work, but he figures that maybe, just this once, he can let himself be babied a little.

You shake your head, looking at him with faux disappointment. Your hands found your hips as you scold him: “Cmon you horny bastard, we are going”.

“You called me a WHAT” he says in his typical high pitched voice, following after you. He catches up to you in an instant and wraps his arms around your frame, keeping you still.

“Say that again, i dare you” he threatens light heartedly.

“Nu uh”.

“Okay, you asked for it” he whispers in your ear, impossibly close.

The world went quiet. Your eyes widened.

You knew what was coming.

“No wait, we can talk ab-“

You weren’t fast enough to stop him. You signed your fate.

His hands move swiftly all around your body, wiggling his fingers on those he knew to be your weak spots. He laughs at you, laughs at your misery. Your body twitches uncontrollably and your lungs beg for air.

“S-STop FUGAHAH, oh my GOd- HAHAhH ALEX” you cry out, trashing around in his hold while he brought hell on earth on your poor body. He continues to laugh at your weak attempt to wiggle out of his grip, determined to make you regret calling him names.

“Nu uh”

Needless to say, you where among the few guests on Alex’s birthday stream, and you were also the one who had clean all of it up. Nonetheless, the afternoon was filled with laughter, a bit of alcohol, and carefree dances.

　　*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

extra:

Well cleaning up that mess was sure a challenge. You had to do 3 Tiktok browsing pauses before actually getting it done (to be honest, you did spend more time on your phone than cleaning, but you’re sure nobody will snitch on you).

Right as you put down the broom, you spot Alex coming towards you, the shit eating grin he was wearing giving away his intentions.

“Can I get my final gift now?” he speaks, using a gravelly tone that catches you off guard. It was hard to take him seriously when he still had some confettis stuck to his clothes, even though you’d be lying if you said you minded the offer.

“You moron” you laugh, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Is that a yes?” He whispers, leaving a soft peck on the crook of your neck.

“Fuck yes”.

#quackity x reader #quackity imagine #quackity x y/n #quackity x you #quackity fanfic #qsmp x reader #birthday fic #GUYS I TRIED #im actually proud of this #speedrun it and it came out good like whaaat #nvm guys it took 6 hours #i’m so tired #not edited

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gophergal · 10 months

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The Kings Of Hell

In celebration of fixing my laptop screen, I gave @cursed--alien first dibs on a request and they wanted post-Snowblind SubScorp as rulers of the Netherrealm

(also loosely inspired by Be My King by @laismoura-art )

#gopher art #mortal kombat #subscorp #mk subzero #kuai liang #mk scorpion #hanzo hasashi #took this as an excuse to design fancy clothes for them... but then you cant see most of the outfits :'3 #on my phone this is way too saturated augh. not quite happy with that ugh #oh well i think its fine. i can be ok with this #art tip: if you're unhappy eith how something is turning out add more particle effects to distract from the shit you arent proud of #and i use a loooooot of particle effects lmao #i still need to do actual fanart for be my king. its just that fic was so good im a little stumped on what would do it justice fycghhhdgdrv

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didhewinkback · 11 months

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good morning

a something old blurb !

---

He’s been walking for over an hour, meandering down cobblestone streets while sipping on the cafecito he got from the local bakery, relishing in the early morning quiet of the city. Feeling like one of a million as opposed to one in a million, blending in with the other early risers gently reacquainting themselves with the world. How nice to feel so human, to get to live in this paradox of a day that starts this gentle and ends with him on stage in front of a stadium full of people.

There’s only three shows left, which is just mental when he thinks about it. When he thinks about the man he was at the start of this tour versus the man he is now - more like the man he was trying to be at the start of this tour versus the man he is now, feeling like he’s lived a thousand lifetimes since he first stepped foot on that stage in Las Vegas two years ago.

It’ll never be this way again, which has a certain comfort to it despite how utterly devastating a thought it is. A certain comfort to how ever changing life can be, how you can’t hold on to anything before time pulls it from your tight grasp. How all you can do is just be present and be grateful and take it all in.

And he is. And he does.

He’s quite proud of himself, if he’s honest. The way he’s been able to manage this whirlwind by surrounding himself with the greatest people to travel the world with - talented, respectful, on top of their shit. How he’s let himself celebrate the wins - and some of them have been massive - while not letting his head get too far up his own arse. How he’s abandoned his former all-or- nothing lifestyle, the way he used to let all of his relationships fall to the side when he was focused on work and touring. Instead, he has seen those relationships flourish and thrive, making him feel more complete and whole and loved than he has in ages and full of pride that he’s once again someone people go to when they need a friend, someone his friends trust will answer the phone, will be there to listen, to care, to help, to love.

He’s feeling quite sentimental as he heads back up to the rental, pausing at the gate to lean up into the sunshine one more time, taking a deep breath before slipping inside and shutting it tight behind him. He’s careful to be quiet as he slips inside the door, silently toeing his shoes off and taking off his hat, running his fingers through his hair before he hears a small clatter and a muffled curse coming from the kitchen.

He smiles, softly chuckling to himself. You’re up, then.

He follows the noise, pausing in his tracks when he finds you in the kitchen, standing there in nothing but an old t-shirt of his, sleepily frowning at the fancy tea kettle, the beams of the morning sun just beginning to peek through the windows. It’s the type of view men write songs about and he can already hear the opening notes of a fresh melody playing in his head as you tinker with the kettle, your distaste for mornings rendering the activity useless.

He creeps up behind you, placing his cup down on the counter before gently pulling the kettle out of your hands. He slides a hand along your shoulders, squeezing and kneading at the muscles while he plays with the kettle, finding the two connectors on the lid to get it to seal shut properly.

“Hmm, the magic touch.” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and nuzzling your face into his chest.

“Think you’d know about that more than anyone,” he says, giggling when you groan. He squeezes your shoulders once before hugging you close, using his other hand to put the kettle on the burner and turn it on.

He leans back against the counter, pulling you into him as he spreads his legs slightly to let you settle in between, rubbing your back up and down when you melt into the embrace.

“Sleep okay?” he asks softly, smiling when you nod.

“Yeah, just slooow to wake up this morning.” you say, blinking up at him, the soft look on your face making his heart clench.

He loves you at all times of day, but there is something about the quiet intimacy of your mornings together that make them his favorite. The way you’re never a morning person but always try to be for him, where he can jump out of bed first thing, a habit formed from years of work based necessity, you take your time, sleepy pliancy making your more malleable to his touch, clinging onto him more than you usually do. Where he is more physically affectionate than not, always needing his hands on you in some capacity, you are usually more selective, except for the mornings. In the mornings, you’re all over him and he lives for it.

“Still have some of this left, if you want.” he says, handing the cup over to you. “Couldn’t finish it.”

You arch your brow knowingly at him as you take the cup from his hands.

“Oh? You just couldn’t finish it?” you gently mock.

“Mhmm,” he says back, a light flush blooming on his cheeks, knowing he has been rightfully called out. You’ve had this conversation many times, you never want a full coffee but always end up wanting a little bit of his, never wanting to order a whole cup to just take a few sips but also not wanting to steal any of his much needed caffeine. So, he’s taken to ordering a slightly bigger size than usual and not finishing it, always sure to leave some for you.

“Thank you,” you say softly, eyes aglow with affection as you smile up at him before taking a sip, humming when he tightens his arms around you and plants a kiss on your head. “How was your walk?”

“Was good, yeah.” he says, your rapt attention warming him to his toes. “Got quite emotional at parts of it. ‘S a big week.”

“Big week.” you agree, corner of your lip twitching up. “Can’t believe after Saturday, I’m going to be the breadwinner of the family.”

That shocks a laugh out of him, a full belly, head tilting back kind of laugh, relishing in the way he can feel you giggle against him, clearly proud of your own joke. You’re saved from his squirming hands poised for retaliation by the whistle of the kettle, dodging out of his hold to turn off the burner, heading over to the large selection of teas you packed, thoroughly studying your options while you finish off his coffee.

He leans back against the counter and watches you in action, mulling over your last words in his head. He knows it was mostly for the joke but it’s not the first time you’ve referred to him as your family, a slip of the tongue slowly becoming routine for you, second nature.

Words fail whenever he tries to articulate how it makes him feel. It surpasses any of the many accolades he’s been lauded with over the last decade or so of his life, the stadiums full of people chanting his name, the critics praising his work. It’s different than that, it’s somehow more than that, the feeling of someone knowing you entirely and still choosing you anyway. It’s like how it feels when he finally gets the lyrics right to a long elusive chorus, the pieces fitting right into place, impossible and inevitable all at once.

All he knows is he will do everything he can to make sure he is worthy of the title, being your family, of building one with you.

He’s closing the distance between you two before he can think about it, gently spinning you away from the counter as his hands come up to frame your face before bringing your mouth to meet his. It’s a hell of a kiss, your hands clutching at his biceps as he drags his lips against yours. It’s an “I love you,” a “thank you,” a “you’re my family too and I’m going to ask you to marry me in a few weeks” kind of kiss, doing his best to convey everything he’s feeling with each slide of his tongue against yours.

He pulls away slowly, both of you catching your breath as he kisses along your cheekbone, resting his lips on your temple before pulling back to look at you, eyes grazing across your features, his favorite face he’s ever seen.

“Bloody hell. What was that for?” you ask, laughing when he does. Being able to see the effect he has on you stoking the fire burning in his belly. The simmering look in your eyes, the way you’re biting at your swollen lips.

“Thinking about what you said,” he says, sliding his thumb along your cheekbone before trailing his hands down your body, wrapping his arms around your waist and ducking down to drag his lips across the skin of your neck. “About y’ being the breadwinner of our family -”

Your nails dig into his shoulders ever so slightly, breath hitching. So you had realized you said it, then. He pulls back from your neck to kiss you, your hand sliding up into his hair as you kiss him back, the phrase “our family” rattling around both of your heads.

“And was just thinking…” he continues, pulling back slowly to kiss along your jawline. “y’ know, with me out of work next week, ‘m gonna have to start really pulling my weight in other areas.”

He emphasizes his point by sliding a hand down to squeeze at your arse, living for the way you gasp in his ear.

“Been told ‘m a good interview,” he says, “‘nd I’ve got a list of special skills I’d think you’d really enjoy -”

“You are such an idiot,” you say, as he giggles into your neck, pulling back to stare at you, living for the way you’re softly laughing at him, his favorite sound. “But you do make some good points. Think you’re gonna have to take me to bed to be sure you’re a good fit for the job.”

“Hmm, ‘s that so?”

“Gonna be a tough one, innit?” you say, a soft smile growing on your face as you rake your hands through the hair on the nape of his neck. “My very own stay at home boyfriend.”

“”S my dream job. ‘S the dream -” he’s mumbling nonsense, praise and ramblings about his dreams against your lips, something snapping in him as he crashes his mouth to yours. He slides his hands down your thighs, encouraging you to jump into his hold as he starts to carry you back towards the bedroom, biting down on the urge to correct you, to make you say fiancé or husband, the title boyfriend not feeling like enough for him anymore.

The calm energy of the morning has given way to something electric, something that makes sparks shoot up his spine every time you moan into his mouth when he kisses you just the way you like it, a type of chemistry only the two of you create.

He wants to spend the rest of his life just like this, just right here, he thinks, as he lays you down on the bed, hastily pulling off his clothes when he watches you do the same. The morning sun making you somehow more luminous than usual. You’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and you’re all his and he’s all yours and in the early morning hours, you’re not beholden to anything but each other. No interruptions from the outside world, nothing but the two of you right here. He wants to live in this forever.

A lifetime of mornings with his girl. What could be better than that?

---

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

#these pics did something to me okay #im quite proud of this actually #continuing my challenge i set for myself to write a blurb for each of the final shows #i missed the last show so this is counting #harry styles blurb #something old #harry styles fic

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fatuismooches · 3 months

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EVEN MORE CUTE DOTTORE MOMENTS TO MAKE YOU SMILE 🙏 (because I am too tired to post anything of quality)

#smooches talks #ouhhhh... to experience the domestic life with him...#someone motivate me to start writing actual fics again...#the dottore honeymoon fic merely has the title “medicus scriptor amorem” and “Honeymoon fic” in the actual document LMFAO #i made it on... january 27 oops #idek if im gonna stick to that name because google translate for latin is so bad omfg #(TO THAT KIND PERSON WHO SENT ME IDEAS ILY AND I PROMISE I WILL RESPOND. I PROMISE IM NOT IGNORING U)#i also have another wip i havent touched with loving the harbingers when they weren't in the fatui yet #no like seriously i think churning out 50k words did something to my writing state 💀🙏#a snippet from dottores part: Il Dottore’s strength was nearly unmatched in the Fatui being the Second Fatui Harbinger and all.#what most people do not know is that he was… certainly not the best fighter during his Akademiya days.#A claymore was also out of the question - he grumbled when he had to lug his numerous research materials and parts to the desert…#In the end you settled on teaching Zandik the basics of a sword. do with this as you will...#however i am still so proud of myself for fabulam diu oblitus #i was rereading in class bc i was bored and i was like #damn i kinda ate with this #thanks for listening to smooches mini writing life crisis if u made it here #okay i go sleep now... i have midterms this week #OMFG THESE TAGS R SO LONG IM SO SORRY

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rendevok · 1 year

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My illustrations for CJC Week 2022 - unofficially titled Green Carnations

Done in collaboration with my friend Zee, who wrote a lovely fic by the same title.

#cjcweek2022 #caejose #this was such a special series to work on and im SO proud to say i actually finished a ship week for once!!#i pulled this entire week out of my ass [looks up to sky] this ones for you joseph #also dont look too closely i was suped up on cold medicine for like 90% of this #smooches #jjba #aus #fan art #fic rec #rendevok #i dont want to officially tag this because it’s wildly NOT canon at all #this is their happily ever after childhood friends to lovers story #set in a similar time frame but no powers no bullshit no bizarre adventure just a whole lotta homosexuality

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pettyprocrastination · 1 year

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Reluctant Bride

Pairing: Ellaria Sand x Baratheon!Fem! Reader (background Oberyn Martell x baratheon!fem!reader)

warnings: description of war, derogatory description of women, forced marriage, oberyn talks lowly of the reader’s appearance and status because he’s angry he has to marry in the first place, Oberyn is a dick but he gets better, (this makes it sound worse than it is lol. Just lore building with angst and sapphic yearning lmao.

Summary: Just months after the rebellion has ended, Ellaria Sand meets her lover’s betrothed.

word count: 1k

_____

Ellaria was dressed in finer clothes than you on your own wedding day.

Orange silk embroidered with golden serpents hugged her curves and fine jewels were weaved into her hair that your betrothed seemed content to twirl with his finger as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

You didn’t need to be told who she was. The beautiful woman by your husband’s side, you saw it plainly in his eyes. Love and devotion that could never be found in a marriage under the sept’s roof, but rather one made by affection and passion.

Ellaria Sand was more of Oberyn’s wife than you ever thought you would be.

But bless the poor woman’s heart, she was frightened.

She didn’t want to come to his wedding at first. But Oberyn has all but begged her to, laying gentle kisses up her arm until he was mumbling his plea into the crook of her neck.

“If I will be forced to wed against my will, the least you can allow me is the pleasure of having my true love by side when I am chained to another.”

He always has a flair for dramatics, her sweet prince.

But Ellaria felt it, as she entered Storm’s End by his side, the judgemental stares and hushed whispers when his hand did not release hers. She knew exactly what they thought of her without ever heaving to hear their voices grind against her ears.

“He brought his whore?”

“To his own wedding, the gal!”

“She’s a bastard too, I heard.”

“That’s the dornish for you, debauched dogs, every single one of them.”

But she would not flinch at their words, she knew she was a bastard since birth, Dorne may have welcomed it but the rest of Westeros had no issue reminding her and every other sand in the world of their place. She learned it well and wore it with pride. She was the lover of the Red Viper, a child of house Uller, the gossip of tittering lords and ladies did not frighten her.

However, the Baratheons did.

She would be a fool not to, truly. They were the ones that started the war, plunging the realm into a year of bloodshed and horror that their eldest son charged headfirst into without a second thought.

Strong, dutiful, dangerous.

As she entered Storm’s End, thunder echoing against its stone walls that made their grand home resemble a shadowed cave rather than a castle, she is reminded of their words.

Ours is the fury.

It had been the third child, who greeted them. Dressed in all black and face somber, he looked well past his age, like a soldier returning from war rather than the young man just coming to age as he was.

“It’s a great honor to have you, my prince.”

But Stannis Baratheon had suffered a siege while his brother commanded from the battlefield, he had seen the war just the same.

His eyes, dark and cutting like a hidden blade, fell onto Ellaria, for a moment she felt as if she had come to an execution, rather than a wedding. Stannis looked at her like an intrusion, before bowing his head.

“My sister is eager to join our houses with this union. As are you, I am sure.”

Oberyn’s agreeance was slick with mockery, teeth flashed in a grin that made the young man’s face go sour.

“There is nothing I look forward to more.”

He had yet to let go of Ellaria’s hand.

The pair did not separate until they reached the sept, a grand building covered in tapestries of every dead saint and alive with hymns that speak of love and devotion.

Two things seldom found between husband and wife.

Oberyn walked to the altar alone, but his eyes caught hers in the crowd and he smiled. Even from afar, she knew him well enough to catch the twitch of his thumb at his side. That despite his anger and dismissive arrogance he loves to wrap himself in like a silken robe, he was at a disadvantage. This was not his home and nor were these were not his people. He was in the house of the family responsible for the death of his sister with no plan for vengeance, but a wedding he was forced into, just like his Elia.

Ellaria’s gaze is pulled from her lover as the grand door creaks open over the singing, where their king enters, face still laden with scars of the rebellion, of his conquest, escorting the bride by hand.

Robert Baratheon was large in every way possible. His presence commanded respect. Even in his formal wear the bulk of his muscle was seen through as he walked. The hymns dulled to a soft hum at his entrance, head turning as his eyes cut into the crowd before they landed on Ellaria and she froze in her spot.

For a moment, fear clenched her heart.

Robert had unleashed a war upon the realm when Rhaegar took his betrothed, he plunged his siblings into starvation and rode against countless noble families that now bend the knee to him. He caved in the chest of the silver-haired dragon prince himself, severing the three headed dragon with his war hammer until there was nothing left of it’s legacy than two eggs, lost to the wind.

And here she stood at his sister’s wedding, the proud lover of her betrothed.

There’s a brief moment where she wondered if he was going to say something. Shout an order for her to be escorted out for being so bold to be at the union, but then a hand squeezed his and he pulled away from her gaze to yours.

“Don’t.” Barely a whisper that only he could hear. No question nor plea, but an order.

One the Usurper obeys without resistance.

Ellaria had never seen you in person before. But Oberyn had painted a foul picture of you the moment your betrothal was confirmed to still be held after the rebellion. He spoke of your sneer and the way your lips puckered into a sour pout each time somebody spoke to you, your eyes were flat and empty of any emotion.

“If it weren’t for her skirt I wouldn’t know which one I was marrying.” Oberyn jested as he lifted a goblet of wine to his lips. “Her or Stannis.”

Ellaria watched you walk down the aisle to her lover, struck by your beauty.

A hood sat atop your head that fell to embroidered lace covering your shoulders, her eyes found a stray curl that dangled by your face and wondered what it would feel like under her finger tips. Dark eyes flick over to her own if only for a second and she felt herself stopped once more, not with fear.

But desire.

You continued forward and she watched you walk down the aisle to the awaiting prince.

A strong nose frames the soft line of your features, shoulders drawn back and head held high like a queen to be worshiped or a painting to be admired.

You were regal. Looking more like a crowned ruler than the king by your side.

Your voice did not waver during your vows, she wondered if you were frightened. Any woman would be. To marry a man who loathed her family for a death you had no part in.

But you didn’t let it show. Instead the promise to be a loyal wife echoed through the sept before you leaned forward and pressed your lips to Oberyn’s, who was just as stiff as you.

As she watched the first kiss of an unwanted marriage, Ellaria’s chest filled with envy of her beloved prince.

#ellaria sand x reader #ellaria sand x you #baratheon wife tag #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #teehee #id like to say my fantasy/medival fics have gotten some inspiration from my poetry of desire class last semester <3 thanks professor #those annotations were torture but the poetry slapped frfr #i think i still have my book actually #one of my favorites was the vine #i just. *clenches fist* love lore and WOMEN #im proud of this but also embarassed it took me like. four hours to write 1.2k words jfc man #i like putting oberyns wife in pretty hoods and gowns hehe #also i listented to tamino like the entire time i wrote this i hope it shows #anyways its..three am now. woof

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apocalyptic-byler · 2 months

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i’d grab the kitchen scissors (and cut myself to slivers for you)

Mrs. Wheeler opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it back, then closes it again. Mike can clearly see her struggle to understand why the fuck he cut his hair and when she opens her mouth again he half expects the question to roll off her tongue.

“Do you want me to fix it up for you?” is what comes out instead.

or the one where Mike cuts his hair, Karen and Mike are both at their wits end, and a certain someone makes the whole situation a bit more bearable.

#sky writes #byler #byler fanfiction #byler ao3 #byler fanfic #byler fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things ao3 #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #will byers #mike wheeler #im actually proud of this one #i think im getting better <3 finding my style!!!#13k words is honestly so much for me actually super proud i wrote all of that and managed to finish it too ☺️🫶🏽#posting your work is still a scary experience though 😭#ABSOLUTELY LOSING MY MIND I FORGOT TO BLOCKQUOTE 😫😫😫

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nuggets4fools · 1 year

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some art for a friend’s fic :] hehehehheeh here u go @oh-snapperss :>

#ethoslab #ethoslab fanart #evo smp #mindcrack smp #the stories we tell and the truths untold #im actually super proud of this one hehehe #ANYWAY YALLL SHOULD GO READ THIS FIC #ITS SOOOO GOOD I PROMMY #IT IS A LIL SPOOKY #BUT I PROMMY IT AINT THAT BAD #GO GO GO GO READ IT #YIPPEEEEE #nuggies art

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pigeonwit · 3 months

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fandom has become a contest of egos rather than an act of love towards the source material and its miserable and i hate it

#hey my guy. my guy. i started writing fanfic by making shitty soul eater self insert oc fic #i make shitty fanart. i write bad poetry. thats how you fucking get better at it.#and yknow not to sound cheesy but its fun to look back and see where i improved and grew #i actually made a pretty decent drawing yesterday! im very proud of it! i wrote a little bit today! im proud of that too!#what do you have to be proud of through theft.#im not gonna act like im above seeking attention and validation. i do that shit all the time. but how is that validation worth anything-#if its based on something you STOLE

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thegrimreaperisanerd · 2 months

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month-long chronic insomnia flareup got me acting a BIT too HDB-esk so I drew myself some Kims. I have cracked it! (The case of 'how to draw this MF')

feat one Harry, ECHEM, and Kineema that I fucking made up from memory because im not studying that beast

#broke my 5+ year sobriety streak w class As last Thursday. Sigh.#if you got on ave >4 sleep a day for a month you'd probably also go insane #my stupid neighbour's workmen decided to start taking the scaffolding down at HALF SEVEN. AND I WORK NIGHTS!!!! AHHH!!!#anyway....... kim Kitsuragi save me #draw him balding 2k24 #also i am fucking working on DUCKLINGS i promise but the lack of sleep giving me migranes i dont wanna look at a screen too long #im a writer before an artists but im actually rly proud of these- borrowed my GFs brush pens and they're so good holy shit #my hands shaking doesnt matter cos the lines get thicker if i press harder!!!! wow!!!#disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #coupris kineema #breakthrough imminent: post of mine #ignore my tags im losing my fucking marbles fr #anyway this is all in prep because i ACTUALLY wanna draw younger Kim from my fic. like. properly #not just at a safely vague distance lmao

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m00ngbin · 1 month

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Hey :] I finished it :D (EXPLODES)

It's October 14th, 2004 and Shou is watching his first solar eclipse with his mother (the title is really direct and literal skjkajska)

#happy shou sunday #ohh im so happy i finally got it done #ive had the suzuki family bug for like a month and i finally wrote something #out of all of the fics ive ever written (2) this one is my favorite #ANYWAYS IF YOU READ IT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT #mp100 #idk if anybody was actually waiting for this bc ive only mentioned it like three times but if you were i am happy to report that its done #and im very proud of it #damn. its like three days after i planned to have it finished 😮‍💨

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sluckythewizard · 2 months

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BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

#NO TAGS ON THIS ONE BC WELL. IM SHY. IM TAKING A BIG LEAP JUST BY ALLOWING U TO REBLOG THIS. IF IT BREAKS CONTAINMENT THATS UR FAULT.#i unfortunately suffer from the disease of 'i hate everything i write the day after i write it' BUT IM GETTING TREATED #I WILL NOT BE HAUNTED BY THIS WEAKNESS FOREVER. AND HEY LOOK THIS IS THE FIRST ACTUAL FIC BIT IVE EVER FINISHED..#ITS SOMETHING TO BE PROUD OF!! AND BY JOBE I WILL BE PROUD EVEN IF I HATE IT.#i dont always need to be the one who likes my art bc i know Someone out there will always enjoy it.#and to that someone i say: omg thankyou i LOOOOVEE YOUUUUUU!!!!!#JUST DELETED A WHOLE RAMBLE I JUST HAD ABT NERVOUS DISCLAIMERS FOR MY ART BUT I DONT NEED EM!!#GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT. ANYWAY. so emizel and soda huh #THEYRE SO CUTE TOGEEHTERRRR TEEHEHEHEHEEEE they are the homies that kiss eachother goodnight like CMON #but uhh so hey your bestest friend in da world just got turned into a freaky creature thing that eats ppl #ieah yknowthe guy that u care about alot that u had to watch get bled out by another freaky creature thing in an alleyway #yeaaah and you were super hurt and weak and stupid and u couldnt do jack nor shit to help him #what was i talking about again. RIGHT so hes even cooler now bc he cant die n hes super strong n his arms can be knives. sometimes.#but also he can eat people now. and sometimes he cant stop himself from eating people. and thats kinda scary. but in a cool way.#but also in a disturbing way. but also in an interesting way?but also in a freaky way.the feelings ARE MIXED!!!ATLEAST I THINK THEY WOULD B #okay again i havnt listened to the suckening ina bit. so its been a minute since i absorbed their personalities. i could be misreading or #misremembering or misconstruing or mischaracterizing or WHATEVER. i think the confusion carries its intended effect #LOSING MY TRAIN O THOUGHT. anyway i love soda n emizel i hope they get locked in a saw trap together or somethign. for enrichment.#TALOS GRANT ME THE STRENGHT TO POST MY CREATIONS ON LINE!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGHHH!!!!!!!

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