pr-writingdump

[pr-writingdump]

“That can’t be your bag, baby. Just look at those poor things.” They gesture down at your feet, currently snuggly fit in warm winter socks.

You must admit, you’re quite content in these fuzzy socks. However, the suitor does have a certain charm about them between the fancy furs and grand gestures. Their smile, while soft and welcoming, has a hidden edge. Your curious, what is it this strange visitor to your manor wants.

“Are you implying…”

“Oh heavens no, I’d never suggest that, my liege. I merely express my concern for the foundation of your land. For who is to govern a fief properly, if one’s body is left unattended.”

As they speak, they take a round about way up your steps to your throne. Never being so bold as to speak to forthright, instead admiring a nearby portrait.

“If I’m not to be… mistaken, you’re awfully weary.”

Oh, this suitor is too good to be true. They aren’t even making a formal request yet, playing their little games to tirer you out. You’re tired sure, but you are also unbearably bored of the same old tricks. This rogue clearly doesn’t have a penny to their name. Yet, their deception fooled the greatest of security this side of the wall. You can’t say you’re ecstatic for the failure but there is no fun when there’s only success.

“You’re awfully observant for a humble merchant.” You hum. “What else can you tell about my.. foundations?” Ever so slowly, you remove you prized gems from your slippers, wiggling the peepers for the whole court to observe. The nobles turn up their noses at such folly, none too pleased at how this makes a mockery of your court.

However, why should you care what they think? You rule over this land. So why not have a little fun once in a while.

The merchant bows, approaching you directly. “Firsts, my highness, I must say, those fabrics that covet your foundations are far too unyielding.”

“Unyielding,” you say, in mock shock at the stress you put your foundations under. “What ever shall I do, humble merchant.”

They smile guilefully. “Oh, you simply must release them.”

“I must?”

“I do suggest.” They insist. “But I am in no position to tell your highness what they should and shouldn’t do.”

“Indeed.” You nod, enjoying the high ground you lord over the smaller merchant. Despite their fub, you slowly peal off the sock, revealing the worn, pulsating flesh of your foot beneath, glistening with sweat and covered in a patchwork of impressions from sock.

The merchant holds a hesitant hand out, then feigns as if originally meaning to hold back their shock and aw. “I have never, in all my travels, seen such jewels, such as yours.”

You quirk an eye brow. “Wheedling will get you nowhere, you should know that the last merchant who did, did not face such a pleasant.”

“I imagine not. Though, I swear, I swear on everything on my back, that you have the most lovely jewels I have ever witness. To cover them up, as you do, it the worsts crime imaginable. How do you live with yourself, knowing such exists hidden beneath the clothes of normalcy?”

You hum, “I can’t say a manage well, but I manage.”

You’re definitely keeping this one.  

#my writing #fiction writing #sorta kinky #feet #thought of this while trying to do an austin powers accident #wanted to practice my powers of seduction cuz bored #this sorta happened #guess I'm gonna post it #added the power dynamic details later #fun to fuck around with different vocabulary than I'm used to

[pr-writingdump]

The lights of the dance floor flash hues of purple, greens, and pinks. You can’t even hear your own voice in there, it’s so loud. Though, when that short masculine cutie in a crop top approaches you, it’s impossible not to hear them. You cross your legs, leaning against the booth’s table that you’re sitting in. Even sitting, you’re barely an inch taller than them. Oh, you could just gooble them right up. Oh, actually he, you note his pronoun pin.

“Hi, um… I saw you across the dance floor and I..” He keeps glancing down.

You peek over the table to see where he’s looking. There isn’t much. the floor’s dusty from repeat performances. all manner of plastic wrap, spilled drink and food bits covers the floor. You follow his gaze to your sandaled feet. You wiggle them experimentally, “Like what you see?”

The little cutie squirms under your gaze. “I.. well.. they are um.. really nice.. er.. pretty! and I well…” He squeezes his eyes shut, taking deep breathes.

“Woah, you alright there, buddy—”

“Can I kiss them!” He squeaks.

Well, that certainly wasn’t what you were expecting.

“oh.. you.. oh, I’m so sorry. this is really weird and like I bet you don’t like.. um..”

“Sure.” You smile.

It looks like his little heart would burst. You let your shades slide down to meet his eyes. They glow a warm chocolate color, if the eyes are the windows to the souls, you wouldn’t mind getting lost in those. “Just mind the merchandise.” You joke.

He nods so many times that you think his head might just pop off. When he finally does kneel beside you, you don’t expect his hands to be so gentle. The way their ghost touch runs along your ankle and under the sole makes your entire foot twitch.

Hopefully he didn’t notice.

“Are-are you okay?”

Oh god, ain’t you the sweetest?

“Mhm” You hum, not trusting your own voice.

He continues with his touches. More shivers roll up your spine. It takes all of your strength not to yank away from his touch. You’ve always been extra sensitive in your feet but damn.. does it feel good. You let yourself lay over the counter. When the kiss finally arrives, it’s chased and ends far too soon.

“That was pretty tender sugar, you asking me out?”

If not for the background noise, you probably would’ve heart whatever he whispered. Sadly, you didn’t. You hold back a whine after he presses another tender kiss while caressing your foot. When he finally stands up, he races back to the dance floor.

Your voice catches. It ended so quickly. Guess you won’t be seeing him again.

Then again…

Your heart arms when you see your flip flop. Underneath your foot, a receipt was sneakily tucked and that magical ten-digit number. “You sneaky little thing.” You say sweetly. It only takes you a second to type in those important digits and fire away a text.

~see u tom

#feet #kissing #reader character #fetish #foot fetish #I think.... #I have no clue what I'm doing #I just thought it was hot #especially asking someone out after kissing their foot

[pr-writingdump]

Andy and Jeff

Original work, fiction

Note: Jeff is afab

Content warning: NSFW, no sex, discussion of sex, venting

With a skip of their feet, Andy swings open the apartment door. “You wouldn’t BELIEVE my day, bruh. Like… fer real. Chad is da best. So adorable with how they—” Andy stops upon finding Jeff, their roommate in the most grevious of poses, that of the thinker. If the carpet wasn’t still glowing a ghostly flame from the last supernatural happening, Andy thought it surely would’ve been by now. That stare… damn.

“So… whatcha thinkin’? looks serious.”

Aside from Jeff’s eye brows twitching, they made no move to acknowledge Andy.

“Okay… c’mon, bro.” Andy slides in beside Jeff on the couch. “talk ta me… please?”

“like you’d want to hear about it.”

“C’mon, shoot! I betcha I can handle it.”

Jeff gives Andy the look over. “yeah… not after you saw my collection.”

“well… uh.. you. “dat was a lotta vibrators, in my defense… in the wrong drawer.” Andy takes in a deep breathe and smiles. “But I think I can handle it, thanks for the warning though.”

“…. fine.” 

Jeff leans back into the couch. Jeff send a final look at Andy like ‘you can still leave. I won’t hold it against you.’ When Andy didn’t move, Jeff returned their gaze to the ceiling. “sexuality is confusin’. I never was really inta nobody.” Jeff taps at their leg. “ya know what I mean..?... but doesn’t mean I don’t think.. sometimes. Pleasure is pleasure but some things are… er… less pleasurable to read about. thought since I liked overstimulation that pv would be my thing even if qpr-wise I’m inta guys. that… I dunno.. cuz I like that and sometimes involves a.. you know.. the longer one, that I would enjoy seein’ that stimulated.”

Jeff frowns, sitting up. They send Andy a nervous glance. Andy, to their credit, hadn’t run off but clearly was lost from the vacant look. Once Andy notices Jeff staring, they boldly smile with two thumbs up.

“anywho….” Jeff resumes a thinker pose. “I jus’ stumbled cross this fic… had some fingerin’, scissoring, just between two afabs. One he pronoun but not a guy, another used she pronouns who identified as a woman. And.. hahaha-” Jeff ruffles a hand through their hair. “I just ya know liked it. like… I really did. It was so nice and soft and.. Sorry.” Jeff sends a searching look to Andy who shrugs it off. “I…I thought I was only into.. er.. people with.” Jeff makes a donut and hotdog gesture. Then the hotdog shifts into another donut, their hands drop, shoving their face into them. “I don’t know, dude. This jus’… don’ make any sense. I’m not into anyone. Just cuz I like sex between ‘em don’t mean I.. you know? er.. It really doesn’t matter! It shouldn’t matter. was only one way between the dom she-pronoun fella and the he-fella but…” Jeff screams into their hands. “s’ just fucked. I’m soo fuckin’ fucked. don’ know what none of dis means. Am I even ace no more?” Jeff sighs into their hands.

“Well…I think you still are.” With a squeeze of their shoulder, Jeff looks up to see Andy smiling. “And… I think that’s pretty cool that you figured that out. Like.. sure it was less fun reading boring old.. the other porn stuff.” Andy says awkwardly.

“heh, sure was. it was like watchin’ a movie where you can’t give a flip about a romcom. will they won’t they? I don’t care! I just want the besties to fucking go for a drink and have a blast! that too much to ask for?”

Andy nods in the most serious of fashion. “I think I understand now.”

“ya do?”

“Nope, I’m utterly lost. But I think I’m close to.” Andy chuckles. “so.. yer alright?”

“yeah, m’good.”

Then the evening concluded with a bro-tastic hug.

~~~~~

A/N: This is just a first draft. I felt like venting. So... yeah. that’s why this is rough as hell. I prob won’t come back and edit this more than once. Just having more of an interesting in doing the do with someone with innie-genitalia rather than feeling bored/intimdated with the exterior one... It just makes me feel super weird thinking about. 

Just like... libidos are weird and confusing. I wish there was more asexual content out there where people had sex drives but zero sexual attraction. It’s bloody confusing as hell. I really want to talk about it but like.. my natural state is a hermit so what the hell, I’ll post vaguely about it in a semi-narrative fashion to get my feels out then pretend I was never confused. I thought after what? 4 years of knowing that I was ace would be enough to get out all the kinks. sry, couldn’t resist the pun.

#nsfw #sexuality confusion #ace with libido #original work #non-binary characters #me experimenting with slang cuz why not

[pr-writingdump]

Your journey is finally at an end. You’ve reached the Western Air Temple. It’s said the greatest Air Bender ever to live resides here. His powers not only move the forces of nature but also the mind. Your expectations soared at all this master could teach you.

It didn’t take you long to find the commissary. Once you belayed yourself down the sheer cliffs, finding the brightly painted building paled in comparison. Your heart felt like it would burst out of your chest. After all these years of waiting, you were finally old enough to travel on your own to the temple.

Upon stepping it, you took in a deep breath. The commissary smells of burnt rosemary and lavender. But like.. if they didn’t understand that it’s dried and instead just lit bushes on fire since the ceiling was covered in layer upon layer of black smoke. Most sat along banquet style tables on plain pillows eating fruits and various vegetables, herbs and drinking tea.

The few nearest to you stand up. “Welcome to the Sweat Lodge--” The sounds of five people letting rip the loudest farts you’ve ever heard fills the room. That scent of rotten eggs assaults your nose, only to get screwed over again by another thirty other initiates releasing their own concoctions. “Where we release our inner demons.” They finish, along with tapering farts.

(Fuck, is this really the Western Air Temple? Is there another one???)

One of the younger practioners speaks up. “What do you seek, traveler?”

“Uh...” your mind goes blank for a moment. Maybe you should look elsewhere, then again, this is EXACTLY where the map said it would be. You reluctantly scan the room before saying in defeat.  “I’m looking for Master Meelo.”

“But of course.” The practioner says meekly before screeching in a scratchy voice, “MEELO! YOU GOTTA VISITA!”

“REALLY??!!” An easily excitable older fellow yells back. From the sounds of it, he must be several inverted buildings away. But sure enough, you hear the sounds of distant farts, getting louder and louder and louder until there’s a ‘THUMP’ against a nearby window. Sure enough, an elderly monk in master’s regalia climbs through. However, he hardly sounds very old in his excitement. “I haven’t had someone seek out my tutilage in a long-long time!” Meelo runs over to you, grabbing your hand and shaking it eagerly until it feels like it’ll fall off. “Greetings! I am Meelo,” in a more serious tone he adds, “Master Airbender. Did you know, I invented an entirely new style of airbending?” One of his bushy grey eyebrows raises unnaturally high. You wonder if this monk is even human.

“No? What is it?” You ask tentatively.

You didn’t think it could get worse but... it did. Meelo released the most obnoxious, ear-splittingly loud and smelly fart ever known to spirit or human world. None could match its power and ferocity. There was no escape. You already smelled the fumes. Your ears range and soon the world started to fade around you as everything spun.

(Am I dying?)

Your soul panics as you fall to the ground. You hear distant whining, “NOT AGAIN!!”

Then the world turns black.

#Legend of Korra #Legend of Korra fanfic #LOK fanfic #Meelo x OC fanfic #I spent way too much time on this shitpost

[pr-writingdump]

Person A: too bad, so sad, eat Chad.

Chad: wait what—

Person B: sorry, but it says that in the rule book.

Chad: it—what??? The Cannibal Rule book says NOTHING about eating fellow cannibals, much less singling me out...

*Down the table, everyone mashes their utencils on the table*

Chad: fellas, please—

*The mashing grows louder as more join in.*

Chad: can’t we talk about this like civilized people—

The sound rows upon rows of silverware being mashed on tables fills the banquet hall. It rattles the poor Chad. They slip further and further into their human leather seat. Maybe joining a cannibal college posed more dangers than the prey who fought back.

#my writing #cannibalism #different chad #not the andy x chad one #idk why I named them that XD

[pr-writingdump]

“Do you think we’re the only ones out here?” The child hums thoughtfully. “I mean, I really want there to ge aliens, magic and monsters but like... do you think there’re out there? So like... more importantly... will I ever get to see a monster?” The child, who we’ll call Aba, leans back on the wind and water weathered sandstone. They’d been wandering the desert for awuile before hapoening upon this bubbling, rotten egg smelling, and smoking mound of earth. Even at night, it glowed with warmth. “What do you think, Rocko?”

Rocko was never much for conversation. In all the four ours that Aba has known him, he hasn’t said a word. As a good friend would, they move his mandible about for him so he could get a word in. They even interpet his chittering. “One day, I think you will.” Rocko confirms in his deep gravily voice. “Maybe even an alien. They always crash in deserts, remember?”

“I do, I do.” Aba agrees. Though, this didn’t dispell the sinking feeling in their gut. “I’m worried.”

“About what?” Rocko says. Sadly, poor Rocko’s lower mandible falls off. Aba has to change their strategy of instead they hold Rocko by the scruff of the neck, right before the squashed section with the tire treds started, and bob his head up and down to promote talking. “Is it the experiments? I’m sure if you ask nicely, they won’t.”

“No, no. I’m thinking of monsters.” They frown. “Do you think they’d like me? I’m pretty normal.” They pull on their wolverine coat over their head. It’s already getting pretty chilly. Their sunning rock lost all its warmth to the night air. “I think they would but.. I have my doubts.”

“Of course, they will!” Rocko exclaims. “You can guide them to water. You can.. hm... find food. You know where to find salt. That’s a tricky one. They’ll definitely owe you for that one.”

“Rocko.” Aba lectures, “just because you can’t tell a salt rock from a normal rock doesn’t mean monsters can’t. I bet any monster worth their salt could find a salting rock.”

Rocko’s ears go back a smidge in defeat. It doesn’t last for long. Then his cheeks puff off when he says defensively, “they all look the same.”

For awhile, the night took over the conversation. Distantly, wolves howled. It’s hard to see much just by the stars but Aba could’ve sworn they saw the movement of wolf-like creatues nearby. They really shouldn’t be that close. The howling sounded like it was miles away. Aba discredits it as a miscalulation. They’d done it tons of times before. Neither were they worried, they’d fought off tons of wolves before if they decided to challenge them. They even fought off ten wolves while protecting Rocko. Anybody worth their weight in salt would know that Aba is a fiersome fighter who is definitely not afraid of field mice, lizards, scorpions and spiders. Aba shivers definitely from the cold.

A bright light appears in the distance from where the ‘wolves’ were. It looks like a torch. Aba crawls to the edge of the sunning rock and squints. It couldn’t be... the large hulking shape must be the height of.. whatever it us. It’s huge body would definitely dwarf theirs. It could only mean one thing. It’s broad shoulders, unnaturally long legs and head, Aba knew the answer before they said it out loud. “A monster!” Aba bubbles with excitement as they clamber down the cliff to get a closer look.

#fiction #road kill #dead animal

[pr-writingdump]

Twilight barely lights the tiny appartment. Any shred of illumination struggles to enter through the single tiny window. The only resident army crawls across the floor. “You can do this.” They growl out. The door is so close. They’re almost there.

The sales person barely takes notice of resident’s urgent escape. They simply follow behind at a casual pace. When the peaky resident gets too close to the door, the sales person jams their heel between the resident’s collar bones illiciting a yelp. “Did you know a swiffer can pick up ninety-nine percent of hair in the first sweep?” The sales person chirps. “Let me demonstrate!”

“No, please...” the resident whimpers. Try as they must, the swiffer’s unrelenting teeth continues eating a mixture of hair ans skin from the resudent’s head. “That’s mine—“ the resident says before finally collapsing.

“—and! It can get rid of the worst stains.” The sales person grins. With a definitive smack, the pale, sunken-eye human goes lax. “Pick up your swiffer today!” They continue, even pointing to you for effect. “You won’t regret it!”

Will you pick one up today?

#fiction #prose #tw gore #tw violence #swiffer #horror #questionable #you may not find this scary #I misheard a comercial about it thinking it was advertising its blood cleaning potential

[pr-writingdump]

Two friends casually play stab the tax man. Neither are wearing their normal gear, just the standard issue full body panchos to show off some snazy skirt and t-shirt combo. Distantly, the doorbell buzzes.

The first friend, we’ll call them Albert, leaps off the tax man, accidently spraying blood and vicera everywhere to the second friend’s annoyance. We’ll call him Plank.

“Pla-ank!” Albert calls in a sing-songy fashion. “Do you know what this means???”

Plank sighs. “We’ll have to clean the ceiling.” He squints, “again.”

“Plank,” they tut. “You‘re missing the point.” Albert says while setting the pancho aside. “I’ve got a special someone.” Albert waits intently until Plank says who with which Albert replies excitedly, “MY BIGGEST FAN IS HERE TO BLOW ME!!!”

Without another word and to Plank’s distress, Albert rushes to the door. They swing open the door to exclaim, “baby! I’ve been waiting for you my entire life.”

“Can you sign here?” A monotone voice replies.

After some fussing, Albert brings back a fancy plastic fan. Plank looks between Albert and the fan. He sighs, “I should’ve known.”

“I don’t know.” Albert hums happily. “You never know, us sex-repulsed asexuals may surprise you.”

#tw blood

[pr-writingdump]

A distant rattling comes outside your bedroom door. The night chill creeps into your bones. This is waaaaaaay to late for a breakin. Those were scheduled for Tuesdays and you would not stand for this. Someone would have to call the burglar’s manager. This was uncalled for and rude and—-

There’s a humanoid cat in the exact same colors are YOUR cat on the kitchen counter eating YOUR chocolate cake. She licks her paw, then starts grooming herself, as if the chocolate icing covered kitchen could be looked over.

“Umm... Felicia?” You say inquisitively as you cautiously approach, careful to maintain eye contact. “Are you—“

“—human? Yes, for the time being.” She purrs. “Need something?”

“I—the cake— your— doing uh— err..” you trail off as you gesture helplessly to what was supposed to give you a food coma but had been squashed beyond recognition, “my baby.”

“I thought I was your baby.” She puppy dog eyes you.

“There can be two.” You correct. “Cake. Why?”

“You were 42 minutes late feeding me. I prayed to the Cat Goddess and now I can exact my revenge.” She smirks. “How does it feel to lose what matters most to you?”

(Oh my stars! That glare is fricking adorable.)

You stiffle a laugh and cough instead. “Yeah, shit. That stings. I don’t know how I’ll live. Don’t eat the brussel sprouts too!” You accidently snort.

Lucky for you, sarcasm and the human body isn’t a package deal.

“Oh human! I will eat all of your brussel sprouts.” She leaps off the counter and strides toward you.

(Damn, she is really tall.)

“There is nothing that I won’t take, puncture or maime in your life.” She punctuates each word poking your chest.

“Ow!” Which it honestly did. “Fine fine,” you smile, “just don’t touch Mister Obama owo!”

“I will crush your mate. For I am, CRUSHER!” Your previous docile house cat cackles.

“Pussy crusher.” You snicker to yourself.

#cat #fiction #prose #reader fic #enby characters #no binary here folks #just enbies with naked humanoid cata #idk how this happened

[pr-writingdump]

Like the times of old, three humans dawning scarlet robes with crucifixes and sabers rush a busy office space. To their horror, a collective sigh came from the bustling workers before they returned to their work. A few gave pleasant waves and encouraging smiles. One even went as far to say, “nice try” with a firm pat on the leader’s back.

The leader looks on the verge of tears, “how is this possible!!?” They whimper. “We told no one! Johanis? Did you tell someone?” The leader asks desperately to their right.

With a firm shake of Johanis’s head, the leader looks to their left, to dear Joyboy, who’s also in the negative. It is too much for the leader of old to take as they clutch their side to scream, “NOBODY EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!” The sobs rang through the office as Johanish and Joboy took the leader back out with brief apologies for the inconvenience.

#spanish inquisition #nobody expects the spanish inquisition #what to expect #fiction #slice of life #monty python #*sad writer noises*

[pr-writingdump]

If you can yeetith the behemoth,

Can you save the seamoth?

Or will it sink into the ocean blue?

Wherest it can’t move in lieu

Of the zombie worms that feast

On one who greased the least.

Lying on the ocean floor,

It can be yeeted no more.

#poetry #the one and only maid of iron /buismuth/ is my inspiration #none can match when she yeets #yeet #behemoth #seamoth #rhyme #feel free to answer

[pr-writingdump]

Ink dances around a bit, testing out his new look. He whirls around. The way that his scarf trails behind him is satisfying as always but the feeling of his feet in the marsh woodland moss is the most distinctive. His feet sink in. The mud and water rise up between his bones.

A shiver snakes up from his feet all the way to his spine. He feels like he could run a marathon. “Thanks, creator!” He calls to the great beyond, better knows as the sky, “I love it!” He squeals hugging himself.

In the distance, a sigh can be heard, one full of relief and hours of painstaking work. “I’m glad to hear it.” A voice whispers within his mind.

He grins even wider.

If you had told him him that his creator would not only talk to him directly but also give him a redesign, he’d think you were pulling a prank on him, probably with Blue and a mean spirited one at that.

Anyway, he’d quickly gotten to chatting up with his creator about all manner of things. They didn’t plan to continue his story, rather letting the “fandom,” whatever that means, determine his path. Though, his creator did describe many of their original plans. He got so excited that he tried to draw a replica of his creator’s version of Snowdin. It looked like something right out of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. All manner of bright pastel color but also with hints of something being off is the best way Ink could describe it.

Sadly, his creator couldn’t stay for long but he continued to play with his interpretation of the creator’s Snowdin. He never would’ve predicted how it turned out.

.

.

.

Inspo from skele-in

#prose #fiction #undertale fanfic #ink sans fanfic

[pr-writingdump]

Brosef Andy hard day at work is finally over. They ruminate on how what they might do with Chad this weekend. Chad waited so damn long for Andy to make up his mind. They’d really like to give something to Chad that would symbolize the strength of their bromance.

Friendship bracelets.

Andy had the various embroidery flosses out in seconds. They picked out Chad’s favorite colors: green and grey but they also added some black and white for contrast. The braiding was all going well when they hear a flurry of footsteps outside the apartment door. Jeff rolls in like ne was shot out of a canon and slams the door behind nem.

Jeff pants raggedly as ne splays nir body across the door as if to stop the intruder from coming in. Ne seems further horrified at the craft in Andy’s hand. They have to admit that they’re a little offended. Yeah, someone of the braids were lose but it wasn’t that bad, was it?

“Rude.” Andy murmurs.

They’d been in this ridiculous apartment complex long enough to know what was coming.

“Don’t even think of letting them in” Jeff covers the spy hole with duck tape.

“You can just say no.”

“Because!” Jeff huffs, “you’ve MET them? Then you know why this is necessary!”

Andy puts down the bracelet. “Yes, and I think Abernathy just a little… persistent. If you say no, they’ll leave you alone.”

Jeff clicks nir tongue irritably, “you know how I feel about that.”

Andy smiles, “then it will be good practice asserting yourself.” Andy strolls over to the door, only to have their arm stiffly pulled back.

“Please.”

Jeff was normally a magician at hiding nir anxieties but they were all laid to bear in nir voice. Andy’s stomach churns over. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to pressure Jeff. As much as

Andy wanted to get back at Jeff for the first week, this might be a little cruel, even for them.

Andy sighs, “Go hide in the closet. I’ll tell them you got kidnapped by the fascists to.. uh, what was it?”

“The Reich realm?” Jeff offers, relaxing nir grip.

“Yeah, that so.. we’ll go do some crafts. Maybe next time I can help you say no?”

Jeff lets go, “thanks.” Ne rubs nirs arm sheepishly.

“No prob. That’s what homies are for.” A light smile crosses Jeff’s weary face.

With that, Andy scoops up their friendship bracelet supplies and braves the powder keg of a personality which is Abernathy. “Tell Chad that I always loved them.” Andy says with fake bravado.

Jeff rolls nir eyes, “not all anarchists torch buildings.”

Andy grins, “only the fun ones.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Andy says.

Jeff narrows nir eyes, “you know what.”

“Oh!” Andy rushes over and gives Jeff a peck on nir check, “I forgot about kissing the homies.”

Jeff face palms but seems to be back to nir formly antsy but relatively calm self.

“See ya!” Andy winks.

When the door finally shuts, Jeff curses. “Dammit, Chad, you’re a lucky bastard.”

.

.

.

Jeff’s pronouns: ne/nir/nem/nemself

#fiction #prose #andy and jeff #aromantic #friendship #mentions of QPR #kiss the homies goodnight

[pr-writingdump]

“Stacy!” A human dressed mini skirt and ruffled shirt bounces into their best friend’s arms. “I just love what you did with your outfit! How can I get my arms like that?”

Stacy glows with the encouragement as they adjust the mangled severed limbs that make up their torso. “Well, Patricia, it’s a little thing called demonic possession.”

“Demonic possession?” Patricia repeats in awe. “How does it work! And how do I get the blood to glisten like yours.”

“Hun.” Stacy’s expression turns stern. “You may never get blood like mine. This beautiful magical concoction stays red no matter how long it’s outside of the body.”

“No way!” Patricia squeals.

“Yes way.” Stacy says smugly. “But… you may be able to acquire several severed arms.. or even better! A couple of eyes. Could you imagine having FIVE EXTRA eyes? Think of the possibilities! You’d have more suitors coming for you than you could ever handle.”

“Oo,” Patricia feigns thinking it over, “I do like suitors… lemme ask you this, am I just stapling them to my body like you or do I like.. see with the eyes of my victims? Carol from accounting is being such a b*tch these days about all the blood I’m leaving in the bathroom. Like, C’MON! Everyone murders a co-worker in cold blood. It’s common practice to frickin’ spread their blood along the urinals to show your dominance.”

Stacy t-poses. Patricia t-poses back and sighs.

“I just feel like Carol respect my occasional bathroom murders if I just had a leg up on them style wise.” Patricia laments.

Stacy loops their arm around Patricia’s. “I know just what you need, babe. I’ve got this covered. Carol won’t think TWICE about messing with you after this makeover.”

Patricia (nearly in tears) says, “thank you so so much. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stacy dismisses yet soaks up the praise, “thank me after you see that beautiful body of yours after.”

The two best friends walk out of the clothing store with long trails of blood following behind the train of their fancy dresses.

#fiction #prose #fancy humans #enby characters #body horror

[pr-writingdump]

“Jeff!” Brosef Andy whispers from under their covers. “What the hell was that?!!” Again, in the distance, a high pitched scream bounces amongst the appartment. “There it is again!” They hide deeper under the blankets.

“Chill, dude. It’s just Angelica’s nightly scren time. Just wait for it.” A yodaling sound comes afterwards followed by another scream. “And there’s Anita confirming. Go back to sleep.”

“Oh... but what about the whispers?”

“The what?”

“The whispers,” Andy eyes the walls, “they keep on talking of boiling my eye brows. I don’t think that’s my imagination but—“

“—- don’t worry.” Jeff yawns. They tap on the wall. “Anabeth, you’re freaking out Andy. Keep your recipes to yourself till morning , alright?”

Soft whispers eminate from the walls about genius going unappreciated. After a few tense moments, they fall into the background to a low murmur, the details of the odd dishes lost to the plaster walls.

“There you go.” Jeff says, “can you go to sleep now?”

“Maybe?” Andy shifts on his mattress, nudging closer to Jeff’s. “I don’t think I can fall asleep. Can you stay up with me just a little longer?”

“And what? Tell you a bed time story?”

Andy’s expression brightens at that, “can you?”

“No way. Need sleep. Bye.”

“But I’m sure you’ve got lotsa stories. C’mon, tell me just one.” Andy pleads.

“You sure?” Jeff raises an eye brow, “they can get pretty intense. Oh..” he smiles wooflishly, “I know the perfect one.”

“No dead people.” Andy glares.

Jeff rolls his eyes, “alright, alright. Spoil sport. So, one a night much like tonight, there was a tenant call Alphonse...”

.

.

.

Inspo

#continuation #aromantic #jeff and andy #fiction #prose

[pr-writingdump]

“Thanks for letting me stay with you, bro. Economy’s been rough.” Brosef Andy sighs.

Jeff taps on the up sign for the elevator. “No prob, man.”

“You doin’, alright? You’ve been mighty quiet since Chad and I bromanced up.” Andy asks thoughtfully.

Jeff shrugs. “Bound to happen at some point.” They seem particularly eager to get into the elevator.

“Whatever ya say, bro.” Andy looks up and down the peculiar sliding door in addition to the traditional elevator entrance.. “You’ve got two doors? How big is this building?”

Jeff blinks, “I’ve never seen that one before.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try—“

As soon as Andy opens up the adjacent door, the wind howls as its sucked into the deep passage. The gravity in the room seems to shift as everything is dragged into the pit, including everything andy was carrying. It takes all of Andy’s strength to not he dragged by the vacume of space.

“What the funk is that!??” Andy screeches.

“How am I supposed to know!!?” Jeff yells back. He tries to reach for the elevator button but risks losing his gip on the hand rail. “It just appeared today!”

“What’s wrong with this place?!!” Andy yells.

Jeff shrugs, “hell if I know. Frederick got lost in an alternate timeline. It’s pretty normal.”

Suddenly, the vacuum space door closes and they both crash to the ground.

Jeff groans, then says, “just don’t go opening any strange doors… actually, don’t go anywhere that isn’t my apartment for all our sakes, alright?”

Andy nods breathlessly, they open their mouth to say something else but only manage to say. “Funking christ, what have I got myself into?”

Jeff grins, “this twists your panties? Get ready for Tuesdays. The whole place gets infested with fascist ants.”

“Fascist ants?” Andy repeats in disbelief, “it can’t be that bad. Just squish ‘em.”

“You wish,” Jeff says, “we nearly lost Anita when they went Voltron on their ass and bit their arm off.”

Andy stares blankly at Jeff as they pick up Andy’s belongings, “welcome to my life.” Jeff grins cheekily.

.

.

.

Original (started off as self-shipping shhh. Everyone has humble beginnings.)

Part 2: Brosef Andy

Edit [20_6_23] spelling

#based on a dream #continuation #fiction #aromantic #2nd draft #since I couldn’t resist one edit #jeff and andy

[pr-writingdump]

“  Edge wanted him to…deal with the spider. Like, what, like a mafia hit? Take it out with the tommy gun, blam blam blam? “

Another Drabble 2, Chapter 7 by keelywolfe

Edge stalks into the rickety shack on Half-Moon Bay. He never likes coming to this place. It always sends chills down his spine, whether it’s the fog rolling off the bay or damp smell of rot that permeated the shack, he didn’t know. All he knows is that he hates that shack. He hated the moss that eats away at the ceiling and floor. Sadly, he’s as soft as the wood as far as the skeleton on the rocking chair is concerned. His lanky slender body sported a slick tailor suit. The dark blue coat allowed him to blend into his dimly lit corner but his bright orange tie lit him up like a traffic cone. That was stylistic choice that Edge would never understand.

He wearily strolls through the doorway, careful to avoid the weakest of floor boards. “Stretch.” Perspiration fumed between his teeth as he hissed the skeleton’s name.

A lazy grin spread across the lanky skeleton’s face, “you called, lover?”

Edge feels magic swelling in his cheeks but he manages to quell it. He is here for a reason, a very one at that. “I have a job for you.”

Stretch leaned forward, “you do?” He tips his hat to get a better look. “and what might it be? thought the Gambinos flew the coup.”

Edge dismisses it with a flick of his hand, glancing out the pane-less window. Out of his periphery, Edge notices a deep mirth spread as Stretch smiled wider, like he already knows but Edge asks anyway.

“There’s a colony of spiders.”

"oh, yeah?” Stretch says languidly. He wasn’t about to throw Edge a lifeline, Edge would have to spell it out word for word.

Edge keeps his eyes trained on the misty bay. “Yes.”

“The one that runs a speakeasy?” Stretch offers.

(Oh, for Asgore’s sake!)

Edge needed to rip this bandaid off before he throws a femur at this asshole. Stretch already knew. “No, the small kind.” Edge murmurs.

“one of--”

Edge snaps, “There is a infestation of Daddy Long legs in my bathroom! Will you help me get rid of them or not?” Edge huffs.

“maybe.” Stretch shrugs, “on one condition.” He strolls over so he’s only an inch away from Edge.

Edge steps back instinctively, wearily grasping at his magic. “What?”

“A kiss,” Stretch grins goofily.

Edge deadpans puts a hand in Stretch’s face. He can’t stand when Stretch made that stupid love sick puppy face. Stretch is supposed to be the strongest contract killer and pest inspector around, not a mf-ing romantic!

“C’mon, Edgy!” Stretch whines. “Just one?’

At that, Edge pulls Stretch in for a quick kiss. Stretch’s eyelights are blown wide and fuzzy, a drunken grin plastered on his face as he finally gives Edge some space. 

“now.. where’s da spiders?” Stretch cocks his tommy gun. “those spiders don’t stand a chance.”

Edge nods. He knew he had made the level-headed decision indicative of the Great and Terrible Edge. 

#undertale #undertale fanfic #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #mobfell style on a mysterious lake cuz I love creepy and scooby doo #tw ableist language #whoops #almost forgot the tommy gun #the most important part #like the whole reason I wanted to write this