#High Pitched Rabbit Screeching

[kachowder]

Imagine reader pulling bunny yan (Jackal) ears to force them out of their room but jokes on the reader bunny yan (Jackal) is into it

Oh this dickhead was really pushing your nerves lately.

You weren’t sure why, but your roommate had become an increasingly bigger brat over the course of the last week or so. Almost immediately beginning after you had been gone for a night with some old college friends.

Dishes weren’t washed, clothes were tossed half assedly in the corner. He was stomping his foot every time you’d talk to him, and it had even gotten to the point where you’ve been exiled from your own bedroom!

And you had been sleeping in jackals room, till the asshole barricaded that door too!

So now, with a sore neck and stuff back, you’re having to march your way to your bedroom door and drag his cotton ass out for a civilized conversation.

“Jackal get out of-“

“No.”

Deep breaths. Deep breathes. The feeling of nails digging into the soft skin of your palm just barely kept you grounded.

“Jackal. Will you please-“

“No.”

“I’m gonna kick your fucking ass!”

Staying calm was not your strong suit. At least not with the six foot rabbit hybrid on the other side of the door.

“As if you could.”

This motherfucker

You almost wanted to laugh at the way he screeched when you kicked your own door down.

“Holy shit what the fuck are you?! the hulk?!”

Your lips pulled back in a mean taunting snarl, as you rolled up the sleeves of your shirt. Dark eyes following the exposing movement of your forearms, a button nose twitching just slightly.

Jackals dark black ears were perked in defense, and his stance made it clear he was ready to bolt any second.

So, with the practice of having chased down the hybrid before, you launched forward, letting out a mocking battle cry as your arms wrapped snuggly around his midsection and propelled him against the wall.

He let out a pained grunt, fingers twisting into the back of your shirt to tug you off but your pro-wrestling marathons did not leave you floundering. With your firm grip, you lifted the muscle bunny as much as possible before slamming him on the ground as your cushion.

Hands grabbed at fabric and skin, teeth barred from both party’s as you two wrestled across the floor of your bedroom.

“Calm the fuck down!”

“Me?! You broke down a fucking door and sumo’d me to the floor!”

Your fingers brushed past dark curls, before sliding against the cool interior of his twitching bunny ears.

And you tugged hard.

Though admittedly, the noise you heard was not what you expected in the slightest.

A high pitched moan, followed by bucking hips startled you enough to lose your grip for a moment. Foolishly. Large hands gripped your waist and pulled you flush against a heaving chest, before the world spinned and suddenly you were on your back again.

You could only stare with wide eyes at the panting bunny above you, who’s dark eyes had dropped almost tiredly, but glistened with a shine you weren’t sure you wanted to name.

His tongue darted across his full lips, as he stared down at you, and you shivered as his fingers rubbed circles against your hips.

Hot breaths fanned across your cheek as he leaned forward. “that was mean, roomie…”

The sudden shift in tone, both from the man before you and the air itself startled you slightly. Like a switch was flicked faster then you can react.

A hesitant scoff left your lips, though it sounded more wheeze like. “Didn’t sound like you minded…”

The air was so thick, you couldn’t tell if your heavy chest was from jackals body or the tension that bloomed between the two of you.

“Still hurt..” He tutted, nudging his face into the crook of your neck with a low chirp.

“You should make it up to me..”

The audacity of this guy! “Make it up to you??! You’re the one who’s been a dick all week!”

A nip at the skin of your jaw made you sputter for a moment, and your fist raised to smack him upside the head again.

“…”

But instead, you sighed tiredly. You had missed your roommate. He was a cuddly guy by nature (at least that’s what he told you), and you had quietly mourned the loss of warmth that you so often woke up to. Or the arms that circled your waist as you microwaved some leftovers. Or the couch cuddling during movie night.

You even missed the way he’d wait by the door for you to come home from work and smother you against his chest as he checked you over.

So,

You let your previous anger melt away, for now, and let your hand fall against the back of his head gently. Your back arched slightly as warm fingers slid underneath, pulling you nice and close to the big bunny man who stressed you to no end.

“We’ll..talk about your behavior later..I’m too tired.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook- GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY ASS-“

#yandere #yandere x reader #x oc #x reader #yandere bunny #yandere hybrid #jackal oc

[lord-of-the-prompts]

A LIST OF SOUNDS/ONOMATOPEIAS FOR WRITERS:

Action

bam (a sudden loud noise/sudden impact)

bang (a loud noise like an explosion or gunshot)

beep (a short high-pitched electronic sound)

biff (a short, sharp movement)

blip (a short, high-pitched electronic sound)

boing (representing the noise of a compressed spring suddenly released)

boom (a loud, deep, resonant sound)

buzz (a low, continuous humming sound)

ching (the sound of metal on metal)

clang (a loud, resonant metallic sound or series of sounds)

clank (a loud, sharp sound or series of sounds)

clap (the act of striking the palms together/an explosive sound)

clatter (a rattling sounds as objects fall or hit each other)

click (a short, sharp sound/a short electronic sound)

clink (a short ringing sound)

crack (a sudden explosive noise)

crackle (rapid succession of slight cracking noises)

crash (a sudden violent noise)

crunch (a muffled or grinding sound made when something is crushed)

ding (a metallic ringing sound)

ding-dong (the sound of a doorbell, like the chiming of a bell)

drip (the action of liquid falling in drops)

honk (a long and loud beep, such as that from a car horn)

jingle (a catchy rhythmic sound/light metallic clinking)

kerplunk (a loud, dull sound or plunk)

knock (to strike a surface noisily in order to attract attention/ sudden short sound caused by a blow)

patter (a repeated light tapping)

pew-pew (a sound made by a laser gun)

ping (a short high-pitched ringing)

pitter-patter (the sound of a rapid succession of light beats or taps)

pop (a light/soft explosive sound)

pow (expressing the sound of a blow or explosion)

rattle (to make a rapid succession of short/sharp knocking sounds)

screech (give a loud, harsh, piercing cry/a lour, harsh, squealing noise)

sizzle (a hissing sound made when food is frying)

slam (a loud and forceful sound caused by something being shut)

slap (a sharp sound made by a forceful blow)

smash (violent breaking of things)

snap (tp break suddenly and completely, typically with a sharp cracking sound)

splash (a sound made by something striking or falling into liquid)

splat (a sound of something soft and wet or heavy striking a surface)

swoosh (the sound produced by a sudden rush of air or liquid)

thud (a dull, heavy sound)

tick (a regular short, sharp sound, especially that made by a clock)

thump (a dull pounding sound)

thunk (a dull, heavy sound, such as that of an object falling)

varoom (a roaring sound made by an engine at a high speed/revving up)

whack (to strike forcefully with a sharp blow)

whir (a low, continuous, regular sound)

whoosh (a sudden rushing movement and sound)

whump (a dull thudding sound)

wham (a forceful strike/impact)

zap (the sound of a sudden burst of energy)

Animal

arf (canine)

bark (canine, seal)

bah-gawk (chicken)

bellow (alligator, deer)

buzz (bee, hornet, fly, mosquito, wasp...)

caw (blackbird, raven, rook...)

chatter (monkey, mouse

cheep (bird)

chickadee-dee (chickadee)

chirp (bird, cricket, grasshopper)

click (crab, dolphin)

cluck (chicken)

cock-a-doodle-doo (rooster)

coo (pigeon)

croak (frog)

cuckoo (cuckoo)

drum (rabbit)

gobble (turkey)

growl (bear, canine, crocodilian, feline...)

grumble (boar)

hee-haw (donkey)

hiss (goose, snake)

honk (goose)

hoot (owl)

howl (canine)

hum (hummingbird)

maa (goat)

moo (cow, wildebeest)

neigh (horse, pony, zebra)

purr (canine)

quack (duck)

ribbit (frog)

roar (bear, feline, gorilla...)

scream (hyena)

screech (bat, eagle)

sing (songbird)

snarl (feline)

snort (pig)

squeak (hampster, mouse, squirrel...)

tlot-tlot (hooves)

trumpet (elephant, swan)

tweet (bird)

wheek (guinea pig)

whine (mosquito)

whinny (horse, pony, zebra)

whistle (bird, whale)

whoop (monkey)

Vocal

achoo/atishoo (the sound of a sneeze)

ahem (clearing throat to attract attention)

argh (expressing annoyance, dismay, embarrassment or frustration)

blech (to express distaste/gagging or retching)

blurt (to speak out suddenly and abruptly)

chomp (vigorous chewing)

cough (expel air from the lungs with a sudden sharp sound)

eek (used to express alarm, horror, or fright)

giggle (to laugh lightly in a nervous or silly manner)

glug (to drink or pour with a hallow gurgling sound)

groan (to make a deep inarticulate sound in response to pain or despair)

growl (a low rumbling noise that expresses discontent)

grunt (a short, deep sound inarticulated when angry, sullen, or lazy)

gulp (to swallow loudly and quickly)

gurgle (a hallow, bubbling sound)

hiccup (an involuntary cough-like noise)

huh (used to express scorn, anger, disbelief, surprise, amusement, or confusion)

hum (to make a steady continuous sound like a bee)

moan (a low prolonged mournful sound expressive of suffering or pleading)

mumble (speaking incoherently, like a sort of whisper)

murmur (to make sounds that are not fully intelligible)

ow (used to express sudden pain)

phew (an exhale of relief)

oops (an exclamation of surprise or of apology, as when someone drops something or makes a mistake)

ouch (an exclamation of sharp sudden pain)

squeal (to make a shrill cry/a sound of complaint or protest)

ugh (used to indicate the sound of a cough or grunt or to express disgust or horror)

yikes (used to show that you are worried, surprised, or shocked)

whimper (to make a low whining plaintive or broken sound)

whoop (a loud cry of joy or excitement/laughter)

whoops (another term for "oops")

#writing prompt #writing ideas #writing tips #creative writing #writers of tumblr #writers block #writing things #writing #writing advice #prompt list #sounds #action sounds

[astroboots]

looooooved your steven somno/cockwarming story! it did leave me wishing i could be inside stevens head though.... if u ever wanted to write a little drabble from his perspective about what he was up to while the reader was asleep i certainly would not be opposed...

I Need Some Sleep 2.0

Summary: Mini Drabble companion to I need some sleep from Steven's POV. You've fallen asleep with Steven deep inside you and the poor man tries to hold onto his failing sanity (cockwarming galore).

ASTROBOOT’S MASTERLIST | MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST

The acrid heat of the desert made the trek across the Sahara desert unbearable and our--

Our-- journey tha-- shit.

The book lands with a thud against the mattress. Steven's eyes squeezes shut as he tries to steady his own breathing. His heart rabbiting away with a punishing pace below his ribs somewhere.

He has to finish. The sooner he finishes... He grits his teeth and picks up the book again. Steven blinks up on the page. The words are blending together. Where was he? What did he read. God, he can't remember-- He's going to have to stop from the top of the page again isn't he...

The acrid heat-- The acri--- fuuuuuuuuuck.

Steven groans, a deep and pained groan torn from the depth of his soul and needy chest as he feels you shift against him, clamped tight and warm and achingly slick around his painfully hard cock.

This is bloody torture.

The heat of you wrapped all around him, and he feels like every nerve in him is strumming with a high-pitched scream, screeching in his blood. Oh fuuuck.

You're squeezing around him again. So blissfully tight he thinks he's going to lose his mind from it.

He wants to move. No, fuck, not want... needs to.

His arm comes to his forehead as he drapes it across his eyes, blocking out the light of the room and all his vision, so that he can just... breathe, for a second. He just -- he needs to focus... finish... fuck that's what you said wasn't it? He just needs to finish and then-- then--- shit, what did you say again?

Why is he doing this again? What is he doing?

His eyes dart to the book in his hand, and the distant memory of it vaguely flashes across the remaining operating brain cell fighting to hold on, between his temples.

'Finish the work' the memory of your voice reminds him, ringing sweet and taunting between his ears. 'You’ve promised Marc and I’m not going to move an inch until you finish.'

Right... Marc... He'd promised Marc.

Marc, who had been adamant that he finished reading this tome of a book tonight, even as you had gotten increasingly cranky for Steven to join you in bed.

Marc who had nagged him from the mirror all bloody evening about finding the location hidden somewhere in the accounts of Hargrave...

Marc who -- the moment you went to sleep, with his cock buried deep inside, dangling as a reward and punishment all wrapped into one blissfully aching and torturous parcel -- conveniently disappeared into smoke. That nagging grump of a man fled the scene, the moment you sank on his cock and left Steven to his own woeful devices.

Rotten traitor. Right arse. Marc's the one who got him in this damned mess in the first place.

You hum in your sleep, soft and sweet. Then you shift again, squeezing and clamping down and ---

shitshitshitshit. This is torture. Oxygen flees from his lungs in a rush. His toes curl into the sheets, and his hips stutters into you, but you're squeezing too hard around him. He can't get deeper, can't work himself into you like this and -- God.

Steven's gonna die. Or cry. Or black out. God this isn't fair.

His grip on the edges of the book tightens, and he can feel the blood leaving his knuckles, until he's gripping so hard he can feel the bones in his fingers pressing up against the leather of the cover.

The acrid heat, he recites to himself. That's where he left off... he just needs to finish. He just needs to finish this goddamn book. Just a few more pages, and then --- then...

The slick silken heat of you tightens around his cock, the blinding pressure searing through his spine--- oh god... it's so good, you're so tight.

Sinking his teeth hard against his bottom lip, the blunt pain sharpens his mind long enough that he swears he can taste blood. He could roll you over right now. Have you on your back as he pushes you into the mattress with his body. Wrap your legs around him, thrust into you, you're so wet already. Dripping down the length of him and he can feel it leak down his cock to his stomach.

It wouldn't take much, he's nearly there. Can feel his climax looming like a threat along the tip of his tongue promising him rhapsody if he'd only take it. Maybe he doesn't even need to do that, he could grind himself into you to completion from where he's lying, it'd be so good. You'd feel so good.

But you'd told him to finish this first... Told him you wouldn't move until he's done.

Fuckfuck, he clamps his eyes tightly shut, biting down the sob punching through his throat. Pushing back the tears that are pushing behind his eyelids. His hands at his sides tightens into a fist.

He can wait. He can do as he's told. That's what you wanted...

He can do this... Just... a few more pages, he's a fast reader... Yeah... he can-- he can do this.

Nodding to no one in particular but himself, Steven opens his eyes again, and brings the book up to his face.

The acrid heat of the desert made the trek across the Sahara desert unbearable....

Author's note: gaaaah thank you for this sweetie nonny, I'm so so sorry I've held onto for it as long as I did as I did intend to write a sequel but life has just been a runaway train from me lately.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications for when I post something new!

#steven grant x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight #marvel #marvel mcu #oscar isaac #steven grant x you #steven grant #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #💌 asks

[thee-horny-thicky]

So, a night of drinking and my secret obsession with Bunny Izuku combined, to birth what will eventually be the first chapter of a much longer fic. For now, enjoy this snippet :)

Thanks for the encouragement @myprettydarlings 💗

Update: The completed first chapter is now out on Ao3 :)

Bunnies and Vices

You weren’t the best at self-regulation. When you did something, you either did the bare minimum or went all out, with no in-between. A lazy overachiever if you will. Unfortunately, this little quirk applied to your vices, too. You either paid them no mind or indulged in them until you were a wreck.

Most of your vices were safe. Fanfiction, snacking, sleeping in, etc., allowing you to safely humor them.  The one harmful vice, however, was your love for parties and alcohol. You were a sucker for a good time, and if free liquor was provided, you were there. The strong, fruity drinks were especially mouthwatering, as they had the winning combo of getting you fucked-up fast while tasting like heaven.

In the heat of the moment, guzzling alcohol with your friends was a ball. You danced like no one was watching, chatted with anyone who’d give you the time of day, and flirted with fine strangers with zero reservations. The stresses of day-to-day life and your self-image issues melted away, being too caught up in the moment to give a damn about them.

However, once the moment passed, all the alcohol you chugged seemed like a poor decision. Nausea and headaches began to set in, the alcoholic munchies you got leaving you bloated. The next morning, you’d be left with a raging hangover and intense regret over every little embarrassing moment you laughed at when liquor was flowing through your veins.

At 3 in the morning, your most dangerous vice had you staggering home, because your dumbass didn’t want to burden your friends when they offered to walk with you. You lived in the opposite direction, after all, and they were in no state to wander around town in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, you didn’t take your advice.

A yelp left you when a loud, high-pitched shriek sounded in the alley ahead of you. Your body tensed as the cries grew in urgency, your steps halting. You looked around and found the streets deserted, the lack of another soul making your heart rate pick up.

Going through the alley was necessary if you wanted to get home soon, but you didn’t know what horrors awaited you. You’d heard stories before of crooks setting up traps for potential victims. You were a drunk woman by her lonesome, making you a perfect target. Your skintight attire didn’t help matters.

You could go the alternative route, but that would add twenty minutes to your walk, and you wanted to get home as soon as possible.

Stealing your nerves, you bent down and removed your high heels. They’d be a hindrance if you had to run, and the platforms would serve as a decent weapon. Taking a shaky step forward, you entered the alleyway, praying to whatever deity up above to spare you. You tried your best to stay quiet, not wanting to catch the attention of whatever was in the alley. But a bundle of fur derailed that plan.

Two things quickly caught your attention. One, the source of that godawful screech was an injured rabbit. And more concerningly, it was green.

You blinked. Then blinked again, and when the creature remained green, you rubbed your eyes. A laugh bubbled out of you, your sense of survival being replaced by bewilderment. Just how much had you drunk?

“Hey, hey,” you cooed as the poor thing tried to inch backward, another cry leaving it.

Blood was oozing from its back paw, and a broken glass bottle laying feet away quickly revealed what’d caused the injury. Yet, it didn’t explain the uneven patches of fur, or the scars marring the exposed skin that the fur didn’t cover up. Your heart sank. While its coloring may be the result of too many margaritas, the scarring was a clear sign of mistreatment.

You slowly approached, dropping your heels as you tried to make yourself appear smaller. You’d probably have to walk home barefoot but considering those cheap demons had made your feet hurt all night, it was a small price to pay. A trip to your local thrift store would see them replaced.

“It’s okay,” you whispered when it let out a hiss. Briefly, you wondered if it had rabies. If it did, a rabies shot would take care of that, and you’d learn a valuable lesson. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Besides, if it did infect you with some disease, you’d have a fun story to tell, and one more of many examples of poor decisions your brain made when drunk. Because while sober you might’ve exercised caution, drunk you was removing your jacket and wrapping it around the rabbit’s body. It resisted, at first. But once you began to scratch behind its ears, it calmed down.

Your finger grazed across another scar, and you frowned. “You poor baby.”

Your grandmother would be having fits if she saw the scene before her. Luckily for you, she was dead, so you didn’t have to explain anything to her. She might be rolling over in her grave, though, as she looked up at you. The old woman was an unwavering animal hater, which made sense because she was a miserable hog. Hogs were aggressive creatures, after all, who didn’t like others infringing on their territory.  

Gently, you wrapped the sleeve of your jacket around the injured foot to staunch the bleeding. Somehow, you simultaneously managed to pull your phone out of your stupidly small purse. You adored Y2K styles, but you wished that the bags were bigger.

You began to walk back to your place with your head buried in your phone, keeping a tight grip on the rabbit who’d begun to relax in your hold. A quick search showed that all 24-hour vets were ridiculously far away, but another showed that you had most of the material needed to take care of the animal’s injuries. Tucking your phone away, you decided to handle it yourself and make a trip to the vet first thing tomorrow. Stupid as it may be to take a random animal home with you after a night of drinking, you couldn’t leave a poor creature to suffer. Besides, the vet would most likely have the resources to rehome it.

A/N: I love my (living) grandmother very much, and the words written here do not reflect my views on her.

#midoriya izuku #izuku mydoria #izuku x reader #bunny izuku #fem reader #x fem reader #snippet #more will come #bunny deku #bunnies #rabbit #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #my hero acedamia #my hero x reader #mha izuku #izuku midoria x reader #izuku x y/n #mha deku #sfw #sfw fic

[equinoxartz]

Ok, so I've dealed with rabbits several times before, and I can tell you, they can be VERY LOUD. they yell VERY LOUDLY and VERY HIGH-PITCHED sometimes when they feel threatened. The young ones tend to do it more, but the older ones also do it sometimes as well.

So this lead me to a thought: can jax do this?

For random example, imagine you trip jax on purpose or you touch his arm on accident while you're walking around, and he just screeches. Very loudly.

That'd be hilarious.

#jax #jax tadc #tadc jax #the amazing digital circus jax #the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc headcanon #(?)

[shares-a-vest]

Eddie skips through the Harrington house, spinning his keys on his finger, excited that he is a mere 48 hours away from Easter weekend. A whole weekend without gremlin babysitting duties. A weekend without Robin around. She’s going to her great-aunt’s-sister-in-laws-mother’s something, something. Whatever… point is, she won’t be hanging around Steve’s house. Neither will Dustin with his silly experiments.

And as usual, Steve’s parents are nowhere in sight. And Wayne is working all weekend at the plant for the holiday pay because the old man is still paranoid that their secret government hush money will suddenly stop.

Just Eddie and Steve. All weekend.

Which is a good thing because as soon as Eddie steps into the kitchen, his heart skips a beat...

Okay, so maybe his heart more bursts out of his chest like a lovesick Bugs Bunny and falls right onto Mrs Harrington’s catalogue-ordered eggshell tiles because Steve is wearing a pair of rabbit ears. They’re big, fluffy and white, bent tantalisingly forward at the tips in a way that isn’t making Eddie think about Steve dressed up in a Playboy Bunny bow tie and wrist cuffs. 

“Hi,” he garbles out, possibly yelling his greeting as he scans the room for a spot to sit down and catch his breath.

He flops down at the kitchen table by the window, breathing so heavily he’s sure he’ll fog up the nearby glass any minute.

Outside the kids are screeching and yelling as they run around desperately looking for chocolate, fighting each other for every last scrap of sugar. 

“For a bunch of fourteen-year-olds who think they are too cool for everything, they sure do love an egg hunt,” Steve says, giving a high-pitched giggle.

“Sure…” Eddie slurs, now unsure if he’s even speaking loud enough to be heard as he screws his eyes shut and runs a clammy hand through his hair.

“Give me that basket, Robbie!” comes Nancy’s voice from outside.

Eddie opens his eyes to find Nancy wrestling Robin to the ground outside, sending a basket of eggs - and her own bunny ears - flying.

Ah, yes. Of course, this is all Buckley’s fault.

“No!” Robin shrieks, patting her now-empty head. “Those are mine!”

“You cheated! You helped Steve hide them!”

At the accusation, Max, Erica and Lucas look up in unison, cutting off their own squabbling as they bolt towards the scattered eggs.

“Don’t worry,” Steve chimes. “I saved you some.”

Eddie startles. If anything will reboot him, it's the promise of sugary goods. But as he whips around he feels his cheeks flush scarlet as he's confronted with those sinful bunny ears again.

He really is an idiot.

“What?” Steve asks, brows furrowing with confusion as he stands before his production-like lineup of cupcakes.

Eddie practically scrambles forward,  planting his hands on the kitchen island for support. There’s an awkward silence (fine, fine, Eddie’s the one making it so... okay?) as Steve swaps pink icing for white.

“What’s with the ears?” Eddie eventually musters (aka blurts out), his voice strained and throaty, making him splutter.

Steve palms around over his head, letting out an all too cute chuckle as he brushes his fingers against an ear.

“Oh yeah, forgot I had them on.”

He shrugs and picks up another cupcake, piping little flowers atop coloured icing. In one swift move, Eddie rounds the counter, planting himself behind his boyfriend so he can snake his arms around Steve's middle. At least Steve's body will block him enough from this sickly-sweet baking scene. And if he tucks his chin in the crook of Steve's neck, he can't see those wicked bunny ears at all.

Unfortunately though, now he can smell Steve. A combination of baked goods, cologne and fruity shampoo...

“Eat this one,” Steve commands, knocking Eddie out of his daze as he holds up a cupcake with shakily-piped blue icing (a clear reject). “And you better not get any crumbs on this shirt!”

Eddie snatches it up and shoves the whole thing in his mouth.

“'Kay,” he chokes out, struggling to chew as he flicks a crumb off Steve’s shoulder, immediately leaving a smear of chocolate on his freshly ironed navy-blue polo.

“Had a headache earlier,” Steve explains before sucking a blob of pink icing off the back of his hand with a smacking pop. “Hence all the leftovers.”

He waves at a small plate filled with half a dozen poorly decorated (in Eddie's eyes they are perfectly fine) cupcakes.

“That’s no good, precious,” he soothes, inching back to run his hands up Steve’s back.

Which is a bad move because as he retreats, Eddie catches an eyeful of the bunny ears. God damn it.

“Stevie,” he coos before he can stop himself.

“Yes?” he replies, clearing his throat as his body stiffens up in defiance of the tight hold Eddie has on him.

And yeah, maybe the tight hold comes with a wiggling hip grind too...

“You wanna be my dirty little bunny?” Eddie whispers, nipping at Steve’s earlobe.

“Don’t-” Steve whines as Eddie rolls his hips forward and pushes him against the counter.

“Burrowing away into our cosy nest while I play with your big carrot…”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Steve laughs, cutting him off.

“Well now I’ve completely lost track of my metaphor,” he shrieks. “Point is: I want to fuck you while you’re wearing those positively naughty bunny ears, baby.”

He reaches up and flicks one of the ears, earning a giggle.

“Yeah, I got that part,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

Eddie slides his hands into the front pocket of Steve’s blue apron. Seriously, this guy wears so much blue.

“Stop,” Steve begs halfheartedly. “I know you have icing all over your fingers.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose and hisses, bearing his teeth.

Typically, resorting to incoherent animal noises doesn’t work on Steve but sure enough, he turns around, shuffling on the spot as Eddie makes no attempt to free up any space between them.

“Be cooperative,” he bargains, smirking as he takes the ears and places them on Eddie’s head. “And we can do whatever you want.”

He straightens up Eddie’s fringe and gives an overly-enthusiastic whistle.

“You’re right,” he winks. “These do look good.”

He kisses Eddie in a way that's far too dirty and wet for Steve Harrington’s Easter Cupcake Factory. It takes him by surprise, thoroughly knocking the last puff of remaining air right out of his poor lungs.

And as quick as it happened, Steve pulls back, smirking. He places his hands on Eddie’s chest, making him purr like a goddamn cat as his heart pounds. He runs them down Eddie’s shirt front, lower and lower until he reaches his belt and gives it a tug.

Then the little shit turns back around as if nothing happened.

Ever the terrible timing, everyone barges in through the sliding door, talking loudly and clamouring for the goodie bags, shoving past each other and grappling for the treats without “thanks”. Steve grumbles incoherent complaints as he attempts to hand out the bags he’d probably assigned, launching straight back to his regular Annoyed Dad mode.

And all Eddie can do is lean against the opposite counter, pouting like an absolute grouch as he wills away a cardiac arrest.

#the opposite energy to yesterday's ficlet #me walking right up to the line of writing literal spice bc i'm too scared to write glorious smut lmao #gah this ended up being waaaay too long #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie easter #st: easter edition #steve x eddie #steddie headcanon

[sanjoongie]

FFF~ Day 27

♡Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Reader (f) ♡Genre: Smut with no plot :) ♡Au: hybrid ♡Word Count: 1,414 ♡Warnings: animalistic behavior, a sex contract(?), seonghwa becomes addicted to animal crossing during the pandemic!, breeding kink, bratty top reader, nerd sub hwa, slight degredation kink, cutesy kink (?), penetrative sex with no barrier, m orgasm, creampie, premature ejaculation ♡Rated: 18+ MDNI ♡Masterlist link~ | Previous Day~ Omegaverse, KHJ | Next Day~ Mommy, SMG ♡Dedication~ @downtoamagicalland & @mejuii the unholy trinity beta team

Seonghwa was in the deep, dark abyss of Reddit threads when he came across something that made him scoff at its ridiculousness. He had read a lot of stuff and taken it with a grain of salt, but this one was too much: go to this website, type in your horoscope, date of birth and preferred animal and a hybrid would manifest in your room immediately.

“This is so stupid,” He muttered but went down the rabbit hole anyway, if only to feel valid in his judgment.

Seonghwa quickly filled in the requirements: Aries, 04/03/1998… but he was hesitant in his animal of choice. Should he pick a cat? He was sure everyone else had. What if… before he could stop himself, he typed in a rabbit and then hit send. The website had a hybrid cat girl dancing as their loading screen, which he blew a raspberry at, and then his screen went completely dark.

“I knew it,” He laughed and then threw his phone on his bed.

What would a bunny hybrid look like anyways? He knew they mostly had human characteristics but… wouldn’t a bunny with floppy ears look absolutely adorable? What if they had a cute little tail, like the playboy bunnies of old did? He wondered if it was sensitive…?

Soon, Seonghwa pulled himself out of his sweats and started rubbing one out at the idea of tugging on a nonexistent hybrid bunny girl’s tail. He wanted to hear her cry out, wanted to hear the stuttered “Don’t do that or I might cum!” protests, he wanted--

A high-pitch screech interrupted his train of thought. Seonghwa’s eyes flew open and there you stood in his room. Seonghwa grabbed his phone and saw that the black screen was no longer there but a message: ‘Your bunny girl should arrive shortly!^^’. “Oh Shit,” He groaned.

You covered your eyes, “I don’t know who you are or why I’m here but can you put that snake away?!”

“Snake…?” It took a few minutes for the comparison to sink in and then he quickly tucked himself back into his pants. “I can’t help it!” he yelled at you in embarrassment, “You came into my place unannounced!”

“Well I didn’t ask to be sent here!” You accused him, your eyes screwed shut completely. 

Seonghwa smiled painfully. You were right about that. “I--uh--about that.”

He got distracted by the shirt that was on your body. It was so huge for you that one shoulder was falling off your body. Your hair matched the fur of your ears. He was dying to see what your tail looked like but he wasn’t sure what was proper in this situation. Considering the state of undress you were in…

You whimpered and he watched as you pushed your thighs together. “Something wrong?” He asked you.

Your nose twitched. “I can smell your precum.”

Seonghwa was embarrassed. “What do you mean you can smell that?”

Your ear twitched in irritation. “I’m a hybrid! I’ve got a superior sense of smell!”

“Can I offer you something to drink or…?” Seonghwa really didn’t know what to do with you now that he had you.

“I wanna go home!” You insisted, your eyes snapping open and you stomped a foot down in anger. 

Seonghwa’s lips twitched in a smile. You were actually quite cute. “How do we do that?”

“How am I supposed to know!” You wailed.

Seonghwa grabbed his phone to see if there was anything useful in the damn reddit thread he had originally found the website on. Desperately reading it, he came across some information that made his jaw drop. The only way for you to go home was for either you to get pregnant or you would stay here permanently. 

You pouted when Seonghwa told you so. “I don’t want to live with some man who just jerks off in the middle of the day. Don’t you have a job or something?”

Seonghwa stiffened at the insult. “It’s my day off and it’s none of your business what I do with that time.”

You sighed and you twitched your ear in thought. “Well, if it’s between that or staying here, guess there’s no alternative.”

“Wa-wait a minute!” Seonghwa stuttered when you began to climb on the bed, “What do you mean, no alternative?”

You cocked your head cutely. “Why, silly human, you’ve got to fuck me until I’m pregnant. That’s what the deal is, isn’t it?” You frowned slightly, “I certainly don’t want to stay in this strange world.”

“But--” Seonghwa bit down on his lower lip when you palmed his erection that still hadn't gone away from earlier, if he was being honest, “Hnnnnffff, oh god--!”

“Seems like I don’t have to do much to work you up,” You said in a teasing but also condescending tone.

“You interrupted me, remember?” Seonghwa wanted to sink into his bed and die, why was this whole thing so freaking embarrassing?

“Well you’re in luck, human. I’m in heat so we can just go at it like bunnies,” You giggled.

You pulled him out of his pants, and Seonghwa could only watch on like he wasn’t driving the vehicle. You held him aloft and lifted your oversized shirt--fuck, you weren’t wearing any underwear--and sank down on him. 

You frowned again and let out a whimper. You gulped. “Oh,” You said so a-matter-of-factly, “You’re much bigger than I’ve ever had before.”

Seonghwa’s hands were grasping the blankets below him so tightly, he swore he was going to rip them. “Don’t say that,” he hissed.

You urged your body down his shaft, using slight jerks and gravity to do the work. “Why?”

“Because that’s too goddamn cute!” Once you had him full hilt in you, Seonghwa’s hands smoothed up your thighs. This was real, right? “Wait, just give me a few minutes to breathe!”

You giggled again. “Silly human. We have work to do.” You leaned forward, almost nose to nose with Seonghwa. “You know, you’re kinda cute, for a human that is.” You bopped him on the nose and then raised your body up his shaft and then brought it smoothly back down.

“Oh god oh god oh god,” He began to chant, “You’re so fucking tight, hhhhhhhhhh!” Seonghwa’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. 

“You know, you’re awfully pussy drunk and I’ve barely fucked you,” You commented, “You aren’t a virgin, are you?”

“N-no!” Seonghwa stuttered, pushing his glasses up his face. “I just--It’s been awhile since I’ve last had sex.”

You leaned fully on Seonghwa’s chest, laying your arm on top of each other and resting your chin there so you could absorb the man that was going to get you pregnant. “Oh? Why’s that? It’s not like you’re not good looking enough.” 

Seonghwa avoided your gaze. “I dunno.” He knew exactly why. He was addicted to a new video game and the world was on fire, telling everyone to remain home. 

“Well, I hope you saved up all your cum for me, because I’m going to need it!” You said cheerfully.

“Shit,” Seonghwa arched his back and came after you uttered that phrase. It was all too much for him.

You stopped bouncing and went back to pouting. “You didn’t even let me come?”

Seonghwa’s cheeks burnt up. “I’m sorry, I told you, it’s been a while.” His dick was still spurting out his seed as you scolded him.

You sighed in disappointment. “Is this how it’s going to be every time?”

“N-no, I promise,” Seonghwa looked you in the eyes this time, “I’ll give you all my cum so that you can go home.”

You beamed down at him. “Good boy.”

You lifted yourself off of him and Seonghwa watched with yet another jaw drop as his cum came dripping out of your hole. You let it, raising your shirt a little so Seonghwa could see it drop right back down to his twitching dick. “We’ll let the first load slide. I don’t want any bunnies from pleasureless sex.”

“I’ll do my best,” Seonghwa murmured.

His face was hot but he watched you curiously peered around his apartment. You were so fucking cute, his heart was going to burst. He hoped it took him a long time to get you pregnant. He really liked you. Maybe you’d come to see that this place wasn’t so bad, and neither was he. Maybe you’d follow the path of never going home and just staying with him…

♡Masterlist link~ | Previous Day~ Omegaverse, KHJ | Next Day~ Mommy, SMG

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #pirateeznet #thekpopuniverse #february filth fest #ateez smut #park seonghwa smut #atz smut #seonghwa smut #ateez scenarios #park seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa x reader #ateez x reader #topaz's work #ღatz #yeah this wasn't healthy to write after watching his live

[bonefall]

Attempting to translate some oc names and I’m hoping I got it right

Kessakreyab = Thistleberry

Pbumswash or Pbumshepash or Pbumshepashswash = Bunnytail (She’s a bit weird because she’s named after her stubby tail which is considered good luck for her clan)

Luparoopeyach = Bluebellscar (there is no clanmew word for bluebell so I combined some)

??? = Cinnamonstrike (there is nothing to base off and I don’t feel confident enough to clanmew it myself)

Bunny reminds me-- that can translate directly to Clanmew if you'd like.

Adult rabbit is Pbum, the ones that will send out a warning thump when hunted. "Bunny" is a baby rabbit, a young one who may still be a kit or freshly out of the warren.

Bunnies are considered a dishonorable animal to hunt, but a "low" one on that list. They're taken as game when times get a little rough, always before they will start targeting songbirds.

Bunny = Gwee Named for their high-pitched mewling screech if caught

You could also use "beacon," peeg. It's the bright white butt of deer and rabbits. "Bunny-beacon" would very specifically invoke the fluffy, white little tail of a young rabbit, which is meant to flash warning to its family.

On Bluebell-- this is an interesting one. Two plants could fall under what you're looking for. One grows in ThunderClan and wooded areas, the other grows in WindClan and areas of poor soil.

The one that grows in Windclan is "Luoob," Scottish Bluebell. Also called "Harebell." The other one, which is seen in more lush places like ThunderClan, is "Hebsi." Common Bluebell.

Scottish Bluebell/Harebell (Campanula rotundifolia) = Luoob

Common Bluebell (Hyacinthoides non-scripta) = Hebsi

And, lastly, for Cinnamonstrike, you'll need to think of what kind of action you want the name to invoke. Pummeling? Cutting? Swiping? Check under 'combat' in the Lexicon.

Strikestone's name is Kachkubon. "Will-Hit Stone." He was named because he smacked his dad on the nose as a baby. His eyes weren't even open.

Sunstrike's name is Awlharakich. "Sun Will-Grapple." She was named because of her ruthless participation in the Battle of the False Eclipse.

Cinnamon is a loanword from kittypets, "Seenameen." It wouldn't have meaning in Clanmew besides as a name-- all three Guardian Cats are actually the same way. "Seenameen" is because she was named after a relative (Seenameenswash), Antfur and Blazefire use Guardmew words in their prefixes (Ak-faf and Ekna-kafyar).

(Berryheart is angry about this, and regrets letting Sparrowtail name their son Spireclaw.)

A "blow," a smack made by another cat, is a "Kubo." You could use that, if you'd like it to be simple, and make the name Seenameenkubo.

Blow (A hit, strike, pass) = Kubo

#clanmew

[tatiana-petrovna]

little talks

“It’s not for nothing that I long for you: It’s that others love my smile only—you love even my tears. It’s not for nothing that I wait for you: It’s that others love only my health—you love even my death.” — Han Yong’un, from Love’s Reasons;

pairing: eddie munson x chrissy cunningham summary: in the wake of spring break, eddie finds himself talking to ghosts... inspired by this post by @bettercallmaul (Eddie lives AU I GUESS 😤 - wrote this before I watched the finale) playlist

~~~

She remembers screaming. Loud enough to shake the windows. High enough in pitch that her own ears had throbbed as if a needle pierced them.  

How could they think it was Eddie that had hurt her? Why had anyone allowed Jason to just… turn vigilante and hunt him down like a rabid dog? 

She remembers trying desperately to throw a vase full of lilies in her mother’s church after the funeral. 

Stop!

To kick a chair across the police station. 

Leave him alone!

To throttle Jason with her bare hands as he used her name to justify his vitriol. She’s never been so angry before. Never been so filled up with rage. But then again, she’s never cared about anyone like she does Eddie. 

He’s the only one who ever really saw me. Just leave him alone. Being so far away from him is hard enough, why are you wrapping the grief around his neck like a noose? 

But her fingers and her feet had slipped through the vase. And the chair. And Jason with every attempt. And her screams fell on deaf ears. Because she was no longer a girl. Nothing more than sand slipping through fingers. Nothing more than a shadow choking on her own silence.  

So she stayed. Stubbornly, she clung to Hawkins, refusing to abandon him… even if it did him no good at all. 

~~~

The first time, it's just a flash.

So brief he'd convinced himself it had been a trick of the light. An aftershock of all the trauma their small town's youth had collectively experienced in the past month.But despite the fear he'd felt, Eddie found himself replaying the moment anyway. A song he didn't want to let out of his head. A scratch in the record he couldn't bring himself to move the needle off of. And it was so easy because it had been so clear. Felt so real.

Chrissy, alive and bright and dewy with sunshine. Chrissy, sat in the passenger seat of Shadowfax (his beloved van), one hand out the window as her fingers played elegantly through the wind. Chrissy, humming along to the tape he'd had in his deck as he drove north. Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac bled from his speakers (lately, he'd been coming back to the records his mother had played around their shitty apartment in Detroit - the songs he'd longed to introduce Chrissy to for years, knowing, just knowing that her parents listened to shit like Donna Summers and ABBA).

He'd nearly driven right off the road, tires screeching as he went careening onto the shoulder of the 109. Body trembling and breath coming heavy, it had been a moment before he'd actually mustered the bravery to look over again. But all that was next to him was a pane of sunshine filtering in from the open window.

~~~

It took several joints to calm his nerves after that day.

The distraction of playing a show at a shitty downtown Chicago bar helps. He's started picking up side gigs. Filling in across the mid-west where guitarists are needed. Partly for the extra cash and partly for the connections he's able to network in the gig circuit. But if he's honest, it's not actually about any of those things. It's the distraction they provide.

He can't just sit in his bedroom in Hawkins like nothing happened. Focusing on one singular task at a time has never been his strong suit, but now it's impossible. Even trying to plan the new D&D campaign for Hellfire has proven a mountain that refuses to be scaled. Every time he takes out his kit, all he sees is the little Vecna statuette and he falls down a dizzying rabbit hole of confused, frustrated fury.

There are perks to this in a way. Gigs don't just provide an opportunity to showcase his talent with a guitar, they're the best venue to move product. He's never had so much money in his life. Sometimes, he takes the wads of cash out from the plastic bag they sit in, hidden in the toilet tank of the trailer bathroom, just to stare at it.

He won't put it in a bank. His uncle has warned him of that, since the money isn't legal. But the bathroom is as good a savings account as any. What's left over after he pays Wayne rent and buys flowers for Chrissy's grave goes right in this little bag.

Sometimes he feels foolish sitting at her grave, talking to her as he picks the thorns off pink roses. He knows she's not really there. She can't be. And even if she was, the handful of moments they'd shared didn't exactly entitle him to mourn for her. But the grief was there, all the same. It was there because she wasn't.

~~~

The second time is at a show and he knows it's because he's high as a kite.

The little redhead in the crowd can't be her. It just can't be. Those can't be her big, storm blue eyes staring up at him. He knows, because Vecna took her eyes. His favorite thing about her had always been her eyes.

After his set, he follows the girl through the crowd, leaving his precious Freya up on stage for the band he's with tonight to worry about. He's never left Freya on her own in his life but this girl looks exactly like…

"Chrissy!" The air outside in the alley feels cool after the heat of a packed dive bar. But all he can see is her short skirt. Her long slender legs. Her beautiful red hair.

When she turns to face him on the steps that lead down from the alley door, there's a mischievous smile twitching at her mouth. Then suddenly, she's kissing him and it feels as if there's snow falling and Christmas lights switching on and...

He reaches to grip her slender waist, but his fist closes around air. Eyes fluttering open, Eddie staggers back. He had felt her. He had felt her body heat. Heard her breathing. Tasted her strawberry chapstick. What the fuck had been in that bong he'd hit in the green room?

Brows knit together in determination, he heads back inside, wondering if he can't find some more.

~~~

The third time is very much on purpose. 

He waits until his uncle has left for the night, then lays out candles across the small coffee table and sits on the floor. Hands trembling, Eddie swallows hard against the tight ball of tension knotted in his throat. The woman he’d bought the ouija board from had warned him not to attempt this alone. But who could he possibly confess his delusions to? Or worse, that he was chasing after them rather than trying to rationalize them. 

For a long while, he just watches the candles burn. Glances up to where the scar of a long-since closed portal has been spray painted in a whitish gray that clearly doesn’t match the rest of the ceiling. He can still see her floating there. Can still hear her bones snapping. The whites of her eyes…her beautiful blue eyes… stolen. 

Wiping the sweat of his palms across black denim jeans, he shakes his hands out, trying to dispel the anxiety keeping his desperation locked up tight. 

“Come on, man.” He mutters to himself. “You can walk into another dimension strapped like fuckin’ Rambo. You can do this.” 

Closing his eyes, his fingertips rest on the edges of the planchet. 

“Chrissy? If you’re there… fuck, just… please give me a sign?” The words stumble out, unsure and half embarrassed.

A silence thick with his own cloying desperation follows. Dust floats lazily through the beams of moonlight slanting across the living room. Feeling like an idiot, Eddie lets go of the planchet and lets his head fall back onto the couch behind him. Letting out a slow breath, he drags his hands through his hair, tempted to pull some out in frustration. 

“God damn it, baby…just talk to me.” No longer guessing at what he’s supposed to say, this more surefooted tone seems to allow the energy in the room to shift. The dust by the window seems to swirl up into curls for a moment and he swears he hears a giggle brush by his ear just as a soft rush of wind blows the candles out, leaving him sat in the dark. His pulse climbs like a balloon full of hot air and his posture straightens just in time to catch the planchet slide over the word ‘hello’. 

Brown eyes wide, Eddie fights hard against the instinct to bolt. To run out the door and into his van and drive far away. But the thought makes his stomach turn. 

‘Fuck that. I ran away once. I’m not leaving her again.’ 

“H-Hey…uh, can you… give me a sign that it’s you? That I’m… not just sitting here talking to a… demon or something.” 

As if on cue, Chrissy appears on the other side of the coffee table, sat on the floor with her legs folded same as him. 

“You called me baby first and then you asked if I was a demon? Feels a little out of order.” 

For a moment, he’s stunned into silence from the fact that these are her first words to him after... 

“Death becomes her …Nice to see you too.” He muses, sliding a guitar pick off the coffee table and rubbing his thumb across the front. His hands have always been his greatest tell. Always touching or toying with something when his brain is going faster than he can follow. How the fuck is this happening?

Then she’s smiling. And he swears it feels like he’s reliving every Christmas morning at once.

“You’re not scared.” A statement, not a question. She’s surprised, having braced herself for a much longer fight before he didn’t look at her as if she was the monster in a horror film. 

“Are you?” Just like Eddie to be looking after her, ready to pick up all her pieces, even when they were buried in the ground. 

“What else can happen to me now?” 

Swallowing hard, he nods. Waves of guilt wash up on his shore and he struggles to put up a sea wall against them. But it seems losing her physical form has only strengthened whatever connection they had before and she can feel the shift in his energy as if she’s a radio antenna dialed into one station. His. Eyes falling closed, she pleads with him to believe her.

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“How did you…how are you…here?” 

Big blue eyes brushing around the trailer, she feels such warmth here. Like she could nest into the carpet and sew herself into the fibers of the couch and pool inside the moonlight falling through his windows. A single shrug rolls her slender shoulders. 

“I’m not sure…I just…wanted to be here. I wanted to be with you…You’re the only one who comes and talks to me, you know.” 

“Not even…?” 

“He brings flowers. He doesn’t stay. Mom and dad too. Nothing to say, I guess. Just like everyone else…except you” 

“Seems a little too easy…” Easy has been a difficult road for Eddie to trust ever since he can remember. Especially when that road leads to happiness. What’s the catch? He thinks.

“Does it? Feels like we earned this to me.” The look in her eyes silences any further opposition as he remembers how much she’s sacrificed. His usual ‘devils advocate’ attitude melts into an easy nod and he plays the corners of his guitar pick across the coffee table. 

“I’m happy you’re here…god, you could be anywhere. With your family, with…with Jason.” She nods, unblinking, completely aware of these facts. Only silence follows and the confidence of her response tugs a smile to life at the corner of his mouth. “But I don’t… I don’t want you to go, hmm?” 

And she nods again as he repeats the words that she'd pressed into his pages like little wildflowers in the woods. Smiling that Christmas morning smile all the while. 

~~~

The fourth time makes him cry in front of the entire school. 

Graduation day. And he never really thought he’d get to walk that stage. But seeing Chrissy stand up in the crowd, waving her pom poms and cheering him on is enough to choke a sob or two in his throat.

Through his tears, he still manages to flip off Principle Higgins. And after the diploma is in his hands, him and Chrissy run like hell out of the auditorium, screaming like banshees. 

~~

The fifth time is nothing short of embarrassing. 

He’s puking his guts out before a show in Detroit at The Riot Club. It’s a Friday night. The basement venue is packed so full that everyone knows they’d be shut down in a second if the fire department were to show up for an inspection. But as long as the drinks keep flowing, no one really cares. Even if half of them get spilled. 

Eddie isn’t even sure how Corroded Coffin got this gig. Or why he thought they were ready for this. For Detroit. Real studio reps show up at these things. God, they’re gunna see right through his bullshit. Another spasm twists his stomach and he wretches up bile, a cold sweat breaking out over his forehead. 

Then, without warning, a brush of ice cold caresses the base of his neck. And before he even hears her voice, he knows it’s her from the way this touch is steadying his shaken nerves. 

“Better back here than up on stage, hmm?” She runs her hand slowly down his spine, then back up to squeeze at the tension coiled tight in his shoulders. 

“Y-yeah…” 

“You are ready for this, you know.” Chrissy wonders if reading braille feels the same way decoding him does. A language you can’t see but only feel. 

“How…how could you possibly know that?” He barely loses the words as he fights to catch his breath. 

“I know you’ve seen me at your shows…” 

If he’s honest, he’d assumed he’d hallucinated all that. That he was simply seeing what he wanted to see. But then again, he’s been talking to a ghost. So, it’s a little late to play the ‘rational guy’ card.  

“I always wanted you at my shows.” A deep, dark laugh rumbles low in his chest at the irony. “Not like this, but…” 

“What’s the worst that could happen? You’ll die and have to come haunt everyone in Hawkins with me for eternity?” 

His eyebrows raise as suddenly the shotgun in his uncle’s closet starts to sound a bit more friendly. Catching the look in his eyes, she reads his mind as easily as if it’s her own. 

“That’s not an invitation.” She clarifies, slapping his own smirk right back at him. 

The walls shake with the chanting of the crowd beyond the bathroom. They’re losing their patience, ready for the music to start. 

Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, Eddie flushes his vomit away and moves to splash cold water on his face at the sink. Chrissy takes a seat on the countertop, her thin legs crossed at the ankles. Hesitantly, he lifts a hand and brushes it along her cheek. 

She’s smooth and soft and cool as the cement of a crypt. 

“I fucking miss you.” He whispers, feeling lost at sea. 

“I’m right here. Always.” She promises him, dusting a cold kiss to his jawline. 

That’s the night Corroded Coffin play their best show yet. It’s also the night they’re offered a record deal in LA. 

The producers he meets think he’s a little strange. Always talking to himself. Wearing a wedding ring but living alone. Always writing songs about dead girls. 

But the songs sell. And fans seem to dig his loner vibe. And the shadows he keeps company with seem to steer him out of trouble. 

For the most part, anyway. 

#eddie x chrissy #eddissy #eddie and chrissy #my edits #my wrtitng

[lotusclan]

LOTUSCLAN'S BANE | Act I Scene III

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Oh, the stars have blessed him today. Eugh.

A mangy rabbit was what a vile and careless so-and-so left on the fresh-kill pile; knotted with burrs and covered in cat bites and ticks, with its eyes rolling to the back of its head, smelling of the murk and grime from the bog it must have been fished from. Forced to carry its foot in his mouth, the healer held his breath and resisted the urge to gag.

It was the best-looking meal on the fresh-kill pile in days.

Granted, for as unappealing as it was to look at, its overgrown pelt was thick enough to smell mostly fresh on the inside, with the reek of its fur masking quite a bit of it. He could tell it wasn’t infected, the bites on its flesh weren't old, and the ticks were… able to be worked around; he could tell this prey was safe to consume. As for how it could taste, well, the healer could sacrifice that concern.

The healer’s name was Grapeberry.

Grapeberry, beloved Grapeberry. The black tabby was adored by his gracious clanmates for his clever skill in finding their ailments, treating them with the correct herbs for their diagnosis, and being one of only two cats in the entire clan keeping these stubborn, reckless jerks alive.

Surely, it had to have perks to carry the entire weight of fifteen to twenty other cats who rotated in and out of his den every few hours with some thorn stuck in their paw, or with a scratch on their cheek from running too swiftly into a tree, or severe and deadly wounds from fighting over a mouse’s tail. And the best part of it all was how appreciative his clanmates were; never once refusing treatment, never forgetting to say thank you for saving their sorry pelts, and not once were there any terrible incidents where fully-grown warriors would screech and swipe at him for laying his paw on their wounds for barely a moment when it was in his job description to fix them.

Not to mention the horrid living conditions in the healers' cave--every time some pointless scuffle occurred at every edge of their borders, cats would flood into the cave, shaking out the blood from their scratches and splattering the walls with them, ripping apart their moss beds for practice with their overgrown claws, calling for his own apprentice instead of Grapeberry himself.

Living his dream.

Just before he could disappear into the vines that draped over the cave, which was located a bit out of the way from the main clearing on the side of the hill, he was stopped by a high-pitched mew calling his name.

“Grapeberry!” A stout gray molly came bounding forward. “Glad we caught ya, Asterpaw got hurt during training. Do you think you could help out?”

“Pearpaw, I said I’m fine,” Asterpaw, her angular, orange, and white compadre gently hissed, slouching and hiding behind Pearpaw like everyone was looking at them. “We don’t have to bother the healer with this.”

It could have been one of two things, knowing these two: It would either be on Pearpaw–always ready to help anyone anywhere at any time–was truly doing her reluctant friend a kind favor for asking Grapeberry for help. 

Or it would be on Asterpaw–whose practical nature wouldn’t let her stop everything she was doing for something so small—like Asterpaw bumping her nose on a rock while diving into the river, which happened the day before. If Pearpaw was the one embarrassing them with her smothering, or Asterpaw was truly hurting and hiding that to play strong, it didn’t matter to Grapeberry. He has bared witness to this routine for as long as they’ve been apprentices. And they were nearly warriors.

“But–” Pearpaw stepped back, unveiling her timid friend. “At least let him see your ear.”

“Your ear? Oh, I see.” Grapeberry spotted a few drops of blood at the tip of Asterpaw’s right ear, ripped by someone or something that must have snagged on it. “Training, you said? Who got hungry?”

“PeakClan,” Asterpaw mewed.

“It was actually a tree branch–” Pearpaw interrupted, then did a double-take at her error when Asterpaw gave her a glare. “Yep, it was PeakClan!”

Grapeberry laughed, dropping the rabbit. Both apprentices tensed, the fur on their backs standing on their ends. Pearpaw forced out a nervous laugh, with Asterpaw flattening her ears.

“PeakClan?" He sneered. "May the stars all be dead, for this fatal wound is going to be your end, and you have rushed into battle with no thinking of your life. I don’t know how I will be able to help you, for I fear no herbs will be your cure. I’m afraid your fate will be left in the paws of the stars…”

“Will you stop doing that!?” Another voice from inside the cave snapped at him. Out from it peered a white pelt, belonging to Dahliapaw, his own apprentice.

“You guys can come in," she sighed. "Sorry about him, again. You know Grapeberry."

 "Aw, it's okay!" Pearpaw purred, following after Dahliapaw. "We know he's just kidding."

"Yeah," Asterpaw grunted. "I don't get how you can stand stuff like that every day, Dahlia."

Grapeberry watched the tips of the young cats’ tails disappear into the vines, standing there for a few more moments, festering in his own bitterness.

"You know Grapeberry," he mocked under his breath. "Don't get how you can stand him."

He gazed down at his paws, the rabbit still lying limp on top of them, with its dead eyes staring past him.

Pity.

#warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #warriors ocs #wc ocs #writing #lotusclan's bane #lotusclan #grapeberry #eye strain #animal death

[sparrowmoth]

Carlos and the (...) No Good, Very Bad Day • [AO3]

Teen | 1.6K+ | Carlos-centric | Crack/Humor, Magical Accidents

A/N: You can read this as platonic Core Four or shippy OT4 or even Jaylos and Malvie if you squint. It's functionally a gen fic, but I don't care how you read it in terms of relationship dynamics, so be free!

CW: Some dark humour, swearing, and minor angst at the end of this chapter.

Chapter One: Escape Room (Fail)

Carlos De Vil would have his revenge—starting with Mal’s favourite pair of leather boots. Oh yes, he was coming for those boots. Just as soon as he figured out how to reach the doorknob in his current…

Predicament.

Carlos De Vil, you see, was not usually a puppy.

It is thus only because he weighs, at this moment, less than a pile of potatoes on a kitchen scale that he whines in frustration at the sky-scraping knob. His stupid little legs aren’t as springy as a rabbit’s and his stupid little arms are just another pair of, well… legs.

He knows somehow, someway that Mal is responsible.

He growls at the thought, but it’s embarrassingly squeaky, and that is all the more fuel on his fire for revenge. He won’t just chew on her boots, he’s going to pee on her bed—and eat her Valentine’s cho—

Wait, that might actually kill him.

Damn you, Mal.

He squints up at the doorknob, then turns to look behind him. He’s in his own dorm room—the one he shares with Jay; but Jay isn’t here and who knows when he’ll be back? He needs some sort of plan…

His eyes flick to his desk chair.

Maybe, he thinks, taking a bounding leap forward—just to trip on his own paws and go tumbling like a slinky, head over tail, over and over until he lands a little dizzy in a pile of sweaty laundry.

He whines in a way that translates to “fuck this.”

Then, he shakes off the shirt that’s gotten caught on his head, bares his teeth at the pile, and continues on his mission—only stumbling a little on his too-big little feet. He makes it to the desk chair, where he goes to grab it with his teeth and pull with all his might, but—

Nothing happens.

Except it’s… satisfying.

His puppy brain wants him to lay down, chew, forget all about—

VENGEANCE, Carlos barks—a fervent, high-pitched declaration to the dorm room and himself. So what if he’s trapped in a body with less brains than usual? Make no mistake, he’s still—

“Carlos? Jay…?”

There’s a soft knock at the door before the knob begins to turn.

Carlos perks up his ears and dashes under his bed, crouching down in the shadows to assess the opportunity. He lets out a small groan when he sees who it is: Chad Charming, of course, peeking in around the door like he’s the world’s worst Double 007.

“Anyone home?” asks Chad, stepping into the room.

He’s about to close the door, and Carlos can’t have that—

Rushing out from under the bed, he barks for Chad to stop, but Chad only starts screaming and falls back against the door. It closes with a slam that must be heard down the hall—if Chad’s screaming isn’t louder—and Carlos barks more in frustration, trying to yell—

He cuts off when a dress shoe goes whizzing past his snout.

“STAY BACK!” Chad screeches, contorting to pull off his other shoe with one hand, groping blindly for the door knob with the other. “I MEAN IT!” he insists, voice pitchy and quavering. “I’LL—I’LL—”

Thud.

His other shoe hits the bed frame, right behind Carlos.

Annoyed, Carlos growls—puppy teeth on full display. He advances on Chad, not so easily intimidated. This prince is soft. He can take him, even like this. That’s what he’s thinking as he stalks toward Chad, and it must show in his eyes, because Chad scrambles up.

He looks like a lost deer, gangly and stupid, searching desperately for escape from a pair of headlights. It’s laughable, really—

The way he sprints to the bathroom…

And comes out with the trashcan.

What is he doing?

Carlos yelps and tries to run, but trash is falling all around him. The next he knows is total darkness and this strangely… soothing smell. What is that? Oh, that’s Jay. He’d had a nosebleed, yeah, and—

Wait.

Carlos scrunches up his snout. He starts to claw at the walls of his prison. He can hear Chad talking, voice muffled but mocking, and oh, it’s more than his shoes in trouble when Carlos digs his way out through—the carpet, right. He growls and tries a new technique, putting all his weight against the wall of the can until—

He goes tumbling out in surprise, blinded by the light.

Laying there on his back in the mess of tissue paper and q-tips and empty toilet paper rolls, he sees Chad has backed away, looking sheepish—and Jay is stepping through into the dorm room.

Carlos rolls onto his feet and barks as if to say, HEY!

Jay freezes, noticing Carlos—or, well, from his perspective… the all-too-apparent puppy in a pile of garbage—and then, of course—

“Chad, dude, we talked about this.” He sighs. “Where’s Carlos?”

Carlos barks again, running forward to leap up Jay’s leg, using his thigh as a springboard to send him flying back in Chad’s direction.

Except, well, Jay catches him easily mid-flight, and a desperately wriggling Carlos finds himself unable to escape from the sandwich of Jay’s large, calloused palms, which is humiliating enough that Carlos seriously considers adding Jay’s shoes to his hit list—

He’s distracted from the thought, though, by the realization that Chad has been speaking, babbling something about he “doesn’t know where Carlos is,” but he’d only come in because “that thing” had been barking, and what do you know, he’d found “it” tearing up the trash, and “it better not have rabies, because it tried to bite me, and I’m in line for the throne, so if anything happens to me…”

Jay had nodded politely to the point he shut the door on Chad’s face, having shepherded him out while holding Carlos at arm’s length, trying to keep from getting scratched by flailing paws—

“Alright, alright, alright,” says Jay now, slowly crouching to the ground and letting Carlos down on his feet with a bemused look.

Carlos takes a few indignant steps backward, snarling at Jay.

“Feisty one,” Jay teases, offering a finger that is quickly bitten. He doesn’t flinch, since Carlos doesn’t manage to even break through the barrier of callouses. That only seems to amuse Jay as much as it pisses off Carlos, who tries with all his might to get another bite in.

Jay grabs him by the scruff and lets him struggle as he looks him up and down, which has Carlos whining in abject misery. He curls up his tail, squeezes his hind legs together, and looks sullenly at Jay until he’s set back on the ground, where he tries to bite him—

Again.

This time, Jay stands up, towering above him, and Carlos is left to gnaw angrily at his track shoes. He can hear Jay musing aloud to himself about “the puppy,” wondering if Carlos had managed to sneak him in last night or in the short time Jay was gone for his usual morning run. He doesn’t seem all that concerned.

And of course, why would he?

It wasn’t exactly unusual to find Carlos smuggling animals into the dorm, be it a puppy, duckling, squirrel—even a skunk once, which, yeah, that was the first and the last time for that particular species…

Gently, Jay tugs his laces out from Carlos’ jaws, bends to ruffle him between the ears, then goes to sit on the edge of his bed. He pulls his phone out and dials a number as Carlos watches, having plopped on his haunches with a defeated little huff.

Moments later, Carlos’ cellphone starts to vibrate.

Jay glances toward it, seeming surprised. He hangs up on his end and goes to inspect, lifting Carlos’ pillow to show his cellphone where it usually is—still plugged in from the night before.

“Weird,” Jay remarks, though clearly not worried.

Carlos groans, sinking onto his belly. He’s not giving up. He’s not. He’s just… tired. This body is soft and weak and pathetic and—

He perks his head up, curious.

Jay is calling someone else.

“Hey, princess, are you with Carlos? — Nah, like an hour ago, but he was still in bed. — Uh, well…” Jay shifts uncomfortably under “the puppy’s” unblinking stare. “I think Carlos stole another puppy or something. — A dalmatian, but it’s got all these brown spots…”

Carlos cranes his neck down to study his own legs, noting the brown spots speckled over white fur. He scrunches his snout at the thought of what his mother would think, seeing him like this. Would she… even want him, without “proper” spots? It shouldn’t bother him that he knows she wouldn’t. Ugh, why’s he thinking about this? It’s stupid.

“—soon,” Jay’s saying as his voice filters back in to Carlos’ attention.

He hangs up the phone and slips it back into his pocket, then looks at Carlos. “Evie’s on the way. You’ll like her, don’t worry.” He tries to smile, but it’s clear the intensity of Carlos’ stare is really starting to get to him, so he quickly looks away with an awkward chuckle.

Carlos watches as he stands from the bed, saying something about needing to “clean up his mess.” If only, Carlos thinks sardonically, laying his head down on his paws again as Jay starts picking up tissues and such things from the bathroom garbage, never once acknowledging the hamper he’s made of his side of the room.

Man, it’s going to be a really, really long day…

But luckily, Mal’s never far behind Evie.

And when she shows up, he’s chewing on her leg.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are always appreciated. And feel free to subscribe on AO3 if you want to be alerted when the next chapter comes out. Kudos and comments are lovely, as well! ♥

#descendants #carlos de vil #core four #rotten OT4 #jaylos #descendants fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #puppy!Carlos AU #descendants fandom #this is wildly self-indulgent and I am not ashamed dajkgdjskgd #I was feeling kinda blegh today but writing this Fixed Me #sorry carlos ilu <3

[eviethedevil]

Everlong Love (Peter Pan x Reader) pt 3

NEW FEELING

”I see we have a new guest”

I nodded, “mhm, he says his name is Thomas.”

”well, Thomas,” he said with a smirk, I could tell he was up to something, “I’m Peter Pan, your in Neverland.”

”Neverland?! Like from the fairy tale?” Thomas exclaimed with wide eyes.

“It’s more than just a fairy tale, Thomas, it’s a sanctuary” I had to bite my lip to stop myself from snorting when Pan said this. Granted Neverland was our, my, home, but it wasn’t the easiest of places to live in. 

The kettle whistling brought me back to my senses. I quickly rushed over, taking it of the stovetop grill and onto the oak wood counter. It stopped making that high pitch screeching in seconds. The boys carried on the conversation about Neverland and how Thomas is lost and all that jazz. I pored some tea for Thomas and me, as I handed it over to him i asked pan “you want anything to drink?” 

“You got any of that special tea? If not I’ll have whatever you’ve got.” 

I nodded in response and grabbed a small glass jar full of my handmade tea bags off the top shelf and added one to pans mug. I made it for him a few years back to thank him for saving me from the mermaids again. For some reason he demanded he was the only one to use it, and he always used it. 

I traced my finger over the engraving I made on it ‘dear Peter Pan, thank you for everything, y/n’, as I handed it to him, our hands touched and I felt my cheeks flush. I quickly turned away to hide it. Why was I feeling like this all of a sudden? Why where there butterfly’s swarming my stomach?   

I silently walked over to the cooking pot and checked the rabbits, but still in a trance of why I was feeling like this about peter pan, I accidentally touched the burning hot metal. Cursing under my breath I sprinted to the tap and ran it under water. A deep red mark started to show. 

Suddenly I felt a breath on the back of my neck. He reached out and caresses it gently and the intense sting slowly started to leave. His other hand made its way to my waist and rested lightly above my hip. 

I just stood there for a minute, dumbfounded, not knowing what to do. But then the silence was broken when Thomas called out

”what happened? Are you ok?”

”I'm fine Thomas, it’s just a small burn.” I replied trying to hide the wobble in my voice. I'm not sure whether it was from Peter being to close or the pain on my wrist or maybe just a bit of both. 

Out of nowhere a mock came at the door. Pan moved slowing me to go answer it. One again, as I was reaching for the handle, it burst open. Only this time it wasn’t Felix, it was one of the older boys, Martin, who walked straight up to pan and whispered something in his ear that I didn’t quite catch.

”y/n can you train the boys today? Make sure none leave the camp.” Pan requested, id only trained them alone a few times before but they listen to me most of the time. They didn’t in the first few weeks I was here but one day they just stopped going against anything I said. 

“Yeah sure.” 

Pan and Martin left and I finished up the boys breakfast with seconds to spare as I heard the boys starting to run around outside. I watched them from the window in a daze. The little ones stayed out the way of the older ones games, knowing they might get hurt if they get i know the way. Some of the older ones sat around the burnt wood remains where the campfire was last night chatting. Others where playing tag or roughhousing.

“Um, y/n, I finished my tea, it was delicious but could I have some food by chance?” Thomas said, making me remember he was there. 

“Yeah of course.” I said and filled a bowl with rabbit soup and passed it to him. 

“Thanks.” He said barely audible before gulping down the soup in seconds.

”whoa slow down hungry bugga, don’t want hiccups now so we?”

 He chuckled a bit but sure enough, was interrupted by a loud hiccups. His face went a deep shade of red. I let out a quiet laugh as I handed a cup of water to him.

”It’s water, drink it slowly. I’ll be back later, don’t move out this room.” I instructed him before grabbing the large basket of bowls and the huge cooking but containing rabbit stew. 

After setting it down outside most of the boys started lining up.

”Youngest at the front!” I yelled, they quickly rearranged themselves from youngest to oldest. I filled bowls up and handed it out. They boys scattered themselves out in there usual places, chatting with friends or just admiring the nature. A lot of boys have told me how much better the island has gotten since I arrived. A few say the island coordinates with pans feelings.

Once making sure all the boys had food and were comfy I went to pans hut as it had all the spare clothes in it. 

#peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #peter pan x reader #peter pan imagine #ouat imagine #fanfic #once upon a time #ouat x reader

[fubukinorris]

Trending Moments Season 1, Episode 1

Episode 1: Gifted Hands

Episode Airing | Next

✎ summary: In an era where it's uncommon for women to wear pants, how will small-town seamstress (l/n) (y/n) realize her dream of designing pants for women?

Your head is spinning. When you open your eyes, you see a cluttered dresser before you. You glance over at the toppled cosmetics on the dresser and all the jewelry that's hanging on the wall.

"Am I... a movie star...?" You mumble quietly, letting the tiredness get to you. You then hear a coquettish laugh, and you turn around to see a beautiful lady with an attractive figure.

"If anyone at the Mad Rabbit is a movie star, wouldn't be me?" She chuckles at you. "Really, (y/n) Asking if you're a movie star in this dump?

You recall something from your past as she asks that. You're name is (l/n) (y/n), and your dream is to become a fashion designer. You remember leaving your hometown and came to Star City, where you applied as a part-time singer at a club called the Mad Rabbit.

The beautiful lady in front of you is Sano Emma. Your childhood friend. The both of you basically grew up together, since you would always be in the Sano household regardless of the day. "Emma you didn't have to say it like that." You say with a small laugh. "I'm glad we left home then, leaving that life behind. Ever since we left, I knew I'd one day become--"

"Some rich man's trophy wife." You say, cutting her laugh. The both of you laugh at that. "That's right! The wife of a wealthy man, someone who never has to worry about food or her delicate little fingers in the freezing winter." Emma chortled. "You know, for the life of me, I still can't believe you disobeyed your grandfather's will." She added, fixing her hair with a hairbrush. "He must be pretty angry."

You only roll your eyes playfully. "I did it to remind myself---" A tickle in your throat makes you cough a little, but you continue. "To remind myself not to repeat his fate."

Emma only groans. "Uh. Literature is such a bore. Hurry up and get changed into the outfit I picked for you. Our marks have already taken their seats."

She hands you a peacock-themed dressed, almost resembling the kinds you would see in a dance parade. With it, came matching shoes, a feathered headband, stockings, and a necklace. You only let out a quiet huff, knowing that these types of clothes would certainly get any attention from the crowd.

Not that you were being sarcastic, but Emma had more charisma than you when it came to these.

"They're your marks, not mine." You tell her bluntly.

"Whatever you say, dear." Emma only shrugs. "I'll wait for you backstage.

Once dressed and met Emma backstage wearing the same outfit but with less of the accessories, the sound of a high-pitched trumpet blasts through. "We're on, (y/n)." Emma says with a wink, and the curtains finally come up.

You and Emma raise your chins, proud as the both of you walk hand in hand to the center of the stage.

Emma smiles at the audience before turning to you with a nod. Music begins to flow from a saxophone and the atmosphere in the club starts to liven up. You and Emma hold onto the microphone stands with one hand as you both begin to sing.

"You make me wanna risk it all, I'm rolling on a high feeling~ Gonna set me, set me, set me free~" Emma sings into the microphone and the audience couldn't help but cheer loudly.

"All these words like a waterfall, when I say it, I mean it~ Gonna set me, set me, set me free~" The crowd cheers when you sang your lines, but they weren't as loud as Emma's cheers.

Despite all of that, the both of you make a great team. Your voices and expressions match beautifully. But the moment you start thinking about finishing early, and thinking about your designs...

Your voice cracks.

The music screeches to a halt and the guests begin to start booing and jeering.

"You tryin' to tear my eardrums or somethin'?!" "We're here for Emma! We don't need the window dressing!"

"Hey, (y/n)! What on earth are you doing?!" You avert your gaze to Dormouse, the boss and owner of the Mad Rabbit. Before you could say anything, he interrupts you. "Don't just stand there like a dunce! Keep singing!"

At his orders, you try to continue singing, but it felt like your voice was stolen from you and all you could do is squeeze out a hoarse tune. This must've been the result of Dormouse's push of making you and Emma's performances last longer. The extra practice made your voice sound terrible.

"It's alright." Emma pats your shoulder.

"Emma?"

"Don't say a word. Bow to the crowd and walk off the stage with a smile on your face." Emma had her arms crossed, and she was smiling. The smile only made you guilty. "I'm sorry. This... this show was supposed to be perfect..."

"Hush you." Emma shakes her head. "I know it's Dormouse's fault. If he hadn't been pushing us like this, your voice would be fine." She says, glaring at Dormouse who was talking to the rest of the band. Emma turns back to you with a smile. "Now get off stage and rest. Don't worry about me. I have my own way of dealing with rich men like them."

You feel even more guilty, but you just nod and try to do what Emma says: Bow down and walk off with your head held high.

"Alright boys, settle down~" You hear Emma talking once you reach the backstage. "(y/n) isn't herself tonight, but I'm sure all you gents have hearts of gold. Show a little girl compassion and let her get some rest."

"Are you gonna sing on her behalf? You'll have to sing twice as long!" One of the members of the audience exclaims in disbelief. This only makes Emma laugh. "Just twice? Oh honey, I plan to sing until the moon goes to bed!" She holds the microphone stand now. "Let's stop wasting time, shall we? It's time to dance until the break of dawn!"

The musicians start playing again. Emma's voice soothes the guests' discontent, and the atmosphere in the club returns to normal. You make a mental note to thank Emma later.

After leaving the Mad Rabbit, you wander around aimlessly.

You take a look at the sights, and you realize that Star City... is really amazing at night. But unfortunately, it doesn't attract your interest at all right now. "Oh hazy dream..." You let out a sigh. "Like a lighthouse in the distance, every time I take a step forward... you just fizzle away."

Suddenly, a paper airplane rides on the wind, flying straight towards you. "A paper airplane...? There must be some kids playing around here..." You mutter out loud, catching the paper airplane out of the air. There were some pencil marks on the paper, making you curious. You decide on unfolding the paper to see its content.

“It’s…” You were in disbelief. “A sketch of me…?”

“When I heard you talking to yourself, I thought you were going to give up on your dream as a fashion designer and were trying your hand ag being a poet.” A handsome man walks out of the shadow of trees as he said that. And you noticed that his bright smile… well, if the sun was out then his smile would’ve outshined the sun.

You recognize him as Mitsuya Takashi, your neighbor in Star City. He’s an artist whose entire life is built around his creative passion.

And just like you, he too is facing his difficulties on achieving his dream. But the difference is that he was more optimistic.

“Mitsuya,” You start, shaking your head. “Please, don’t make fun of me… I’ve been in Star City for three years, and no fashion studio has ever accepted my designs…” You sigh. “Even my job as a singer for the Mad Rabbit was arranged by Emma.”

You didn’t continue further, knowing that what you were going to say next was only going to bring you and Mitsuya down. Mitsuya seened to notice your expression. “I know you’re feeling a little depressed, but don’t talk or think about yourself like that. You can’t forget your dream.”

You ponder for a minute before sighing again. “My dream is to create women’s pants.”

Mitsuya smiles. “Well, look at me. I studied law, but I insisted on becoming an artist. I’m taking care of my funds still by working part time at a restaurant. But that… that doesn’t discourage me from pursuing my dream.”

You chuckle dryly. “I wish I had your optimism… but I’m just disappointed in myself.”

“Even if no one can appreciate your design right now, doesn’t mean it’s not good.” Mitsuya reassures. “Maybe Lady Lucky wants to challenge you to a sprint.” He adds jokingly.

You couldn’t help but smile. “You’re always considerate, Mitsuya."

Mitsuya only chuckles. "How about you come with me? I know a place that will make you feel better."

You raise an eyebrow. "Is there really a place like that?" You ask curiously.

"Follow me, and you'll see." Mitsuya says with a mysterious smile before walking ahead, leading the way.

As the both of you were walking, you clear your throat. "By the way, you still haven't told me how you ended up here."

"I was walking home when I happened to see you wandering with your head down low." Mitsuya says in a matter-of-fact tone before turning around to face you, walking background as he takes the takes out the charcoal pencil he carries around with him. "So, I decided to follow you and try to see if I could draw something to lift your spirits."

You felt the gloominess in your heart dissipate as you smile.

You follow Mitsuya to Jazz Avenue, which is known for being the birthplace of countless fashion brands. He leads you into a fashion boutique. Despite being already past midnight, there was one salesperson checking the inventory.

You look up at Mitsuya. "This is where you wanted to take me? A fashion boutique that's already closed for the day?" You ask him.

"Well, yes." Mitsuya scratches his head. "But the surprise is on the second floor."

You and Mitsuya walk up the spiral staircase to the second floor. Suddenly, you hear the booming voice of an impatient man.

"More! Cut another two inches off the hem of the dress---And where on earth did you find such an abysmally short model? Next!"

You could see tall (and surprisingly, short) models coming out of the fitting rooms one by one. Each model were displaying their dresses for a man wearing a pair of tinted glasses. Even with the glamorous makeup, the model's couldn't conceal their nervousness.

"Extend the shoulder traps by half an inch. Remember, a low neckline is the perfect frame for a gemstone necklace." The man says in a bossy tone before looking to the rest of the designers and models. "And where's the evening gown for the finale? Tell Kasumi she has exactly two minutes to get changed!"

You stand the stairs, looking closely at the man who is in absolute control of the entire room. For a moment, you think that the man looks like Azuki Hanyu, who is called the "Pandora" of the fashion industry. You could remember that every woman aspires to have a dress from Azuki Hanyu, seeing as they're akin to the box of Pandora which was drawn to because of irresistibility.

The lilac-haired male gently nudges your shoulders. "Go up and say hello. Maybe you can get inspiration from Hanyu-san."

"I was just thinking that he looks like Azuki Hanyu!" You exclaim, lowering your voice to a whisper. "It's really him?!"

"It is." Mitsuya couldn't help but chuckle at your reaction. "He came to eat dinner at the restaurant where I work. I may have overheard him and his partner discussing about the fashion show tomorrow." He adds with a nervous smile. "So I went and asked if I could bring a friend to visit here."

"Mitsuya, don't be ridiculous." You shake your head. "Why would this famous designer allow you to bring a friend to visit the studio?"

"My mom and Hanyu-san know each other a little." Mitsuya tells you casually.

You were about to back out but Mitsuya already waves enthusiastically at Hanyu. "Good evening, sir!"

"Oh, Mitsuya-kun." Hanyu shakes his head, obviously distressed. "You've arrived at the worst possible moment..." He glances at you. "Is this the young designer you were talking about? How charming." Hanyu says while glancing at you. His eyes were obscured by his tinted glasses, and you couldn't help but stare. "Her name is (l/n) (y/n). She's very creative, and her skills are superb." Mitsuya says proudly.

"Hello, Hanyu-san." You bow down. "It's an honor to visit your studio."

"Of course it is--Oh, get up." Hanyu sighs as you stand straight. "I'm busy at the moment... Mitsuya-kun will have to show you around."

'Although this is an awkward meeting... it's actually incredible to see the Azuki Hanyu with my own eyes...' You think to yourself.

"He speaks a little harshly." Mitsuya says, as if apologizing. "Please don't take it personally."

"No worries." You reassure. "I've heard about it already."

"What should I do?!" A beautiful female model comes out of the dressing up with a long evening gown, approaching Hanyu fearfully. "The evening gown for the finale is torn...!"

Hanyu looked like he was about to scream. "Show me."

The model hands the evening gown to Hanyu, revealing that there was a long slit in the fine silk. "What have you done to this gown, Kasumi?!" He asks furiously, glaring at the model. "I'm sorry, but it was already like that when I took it off the hanger!" The model, Kasumi, says in defense as if holding back tears.

"This gown was made of the finest silk! In other words, it's irreplacable!" Hanyu shouts. Despite the tinted glasses covering his eyes, they were burning with fury.

Mitsuya elbows you, whispering softly. "Do you think that gown can be saved?" He asks you.

"Well... it's possible. Just need to sew up the thread that's similar to the color of the silk." You answer him. Mitsuya's face brightens up. "I can guarantee that no one here has better needlework skills than you." He says to you with a confident smile.

You ponder at the suggestion. You knew that Azuki Hanyu is famous in the fashion industry, and it would be incredibly embarrassed if you made a fool of yourself. However, you have practiced your needlework skills since you were a child: It's possible that you've practiced more than Hanyu.

After a moment of hesitation, you decide to take a deep breath, and step forward with a confident smile. "Hanyu-san, I can sew up that slit with a needle and thread." You tell him.

Hanyu glances at you, then he holds his hand out. "Let me see your hands."

With no hesitation, you show him your hands. Hanyu notices the callouses your palms, which was a sign. "Are you saying that a few years of sewing made you an expert?" He raises an eyebrow at you.

"You said it yourself," You start. "This evening gown is made of the finest silk. No matter how you sew it, the fabric will gather at the seam. But if I'm the one who sews it, it'll be difficult for anyone to see the flaw. Just make sure that the model doesn't get too close to the guests."

"I see that modesty isn't your strong suit." Hanyu tells you with a huff, but he holds out the gown to you. "Show me what you got, Ms. (l/n)."

You take the gown under the watchful eyes of the crowd. Kasumi is the one who provides you with a thread similar to the color of the dress. With a needle and thread in hand, you sit down to work. You act quickly but efficiently, lost in your work until the moment when the scissors cut off the remaining thread. "Finished, Hanyu-san." You say with confidence as Hanyu examines the stitches of the gown. "Mhm. Not bad..." There was a smile on his face. "I'll save you a seat in the second row for tomorrow's fashion show, Ms. (l/n) (y/n)."

You stand frozen to the spot, stunned. Mitsuya nudges your shoulders again. "I believe a 'thank you' is in order." He says teasingly.

You suppress your excitement and thank the Azuki Hanyu. He only gives his smile of approval, thanking you and Mitsuya before leaving to deal with other problems. Kasumi bows down to you once Hanyu goes to talk with the other models. "Thank you, I'll remember what you did for me today." Kasumi smiles gratefully before heading off to the fitting room with the gown.

"I'm not dreaming," You look at Mitsuya, starstruck. "Am I, Mitsuya?"

"(y/n), it looks like your luck has finally arrived." Mitsuya says as he ruffles your hair. "Congrats, you're recognized by Azuki Hanyu."

It's as if your dream is a lighthouse that has lit up for the first time, a beacon guiding you through the dark... the first step in achieving the impossible.

#norrisworks #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x you #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya x reader #kokonoi hajime #kokonoi x reader #sano emma #emma x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers angst #fluff #angst

[kneel-to-seto-kaiba]

Trick or treat! ((I had to-))

“Do you like scary movies?”

Yugi paused. The subtle clinking of a mixer in a bowl of sugar cookie dough stopped, and his big eyes looked up to the ceiling, in innocuous thought. “Not really… but I do like one movie…” He picked up a bottle of orange food coloring, the watery droplets splashing into the bowl with a vivid, festive color.

The man took a shallow breath on the other line, as if impatient, pushing Yugi to speak faster.

“Ah… Yugi.” His voice was silvery and smooth, echoing through the cell phone, “And what’s that?”

“Well, it’s about a serial killer who calls each victim… and leaves a puzzle for them to solve.” His heart beat faster, thumping, thumping against the cage of his chest as if it wanted out, stomach sinking to the floor, gut instinct gnawing at him.

“I don’t remember what my favorite puzzle was, but it was something like…” His soft voice began to tremble, becoming demure as a shivering rabbit, “in the dead of night, I lurk unseen…”

They shared a few close breaths, his heavy, shaken with tension, while the other man’s was steady and predatory, almost dead silent. A sudden alarming set of heartbeats clawed at him, in his ears, everywhere, as if warning him to stop, stop speaking now.

“A chilling whisper that’s never been.”

“A chilling whisper that’s never been.”

The words were spoken in unison. Yugi immediately gasped, only for the breathy voice on the other line to speak with a teasing emphasis, as if growing excited.

“What’s my name?”

He immediately dashed out of the kitchen, eyes blown wide as an oppressive darkness blanketed, shrunk down every room and hallway the instant he stepped in. His search became frantic, desperation sinking into every gasping breath, which only seemed to thrill the man on the other line. Then, in a moment of both clarity and gruesome terror, he realized who he was speaking to.

“Kaiba… what did you do to my grandpa!”

The line disconnected with a resounding click, only a screeching, high pitched tone left beeping from the speaker.

“Kaiba!”

#{ ooc } the answer is silence #get it because he hung up #also this isn’t current Kaiba muse just a little short story #i shall call him kaiboween #i wrote this on the fly so not a fic or anything

[vkooksupremacy]

Because of the ask I sent to @freckledsunshin3 I was inspired to make my own version lol.

"Yo, listen up!" Haechan screeched through the mic. "We, NCT Dream, are going to explain the concept of our family tree!"

"Oh no." Jaemin grumbled, earning laughter. "Here we go again."

"First up." Haechan announced proudly. "We have the Jeno mom Chenle Dad universe."

Chenle's high pitched laugh resonated across the concert venue.

"Mark is my son, Daegal and Jisung are my daughters." Chenle chipped in. "Renjun is Mark's son, meaning I'm a grandfather. And Jaemin's the pet rabbit."

"Haechan used to be married to Jisung but divorced him." Renjun continued. "He vegan dating Daegal and they adopted Jisung as their daughter."

"Wait wait wait." Johnny said, confusion clear in his voice. "So... Jisung is Haechan's daughter and sister in law?"

"Correct." Jisung grinned mischeviously.

"But wait." Jaemin said. "There's more. Another universe."

"Oh god." Doyoung muttered, feeling exhausted from all the universes.

"Renjun mom and Jaemin Dad." Chenle said, laughing. "NCTzen, do you know who's my son?"

"Mark!" NCTzen chorused.

"Wait- how do they know but we don't??" Yuta asked in astonishment.

"They know everything." Haechan said. "Anyway, Chenle, Jeno Jisung and I are the children. Mark is Jisung's son as is Daegal."

"Third universe." Jisung recalled. "Jaemin mom and Jeno Dad. Chenle and Renjun and Jisung are the kids, Mark is Chenle's son and Haechan's boyfriend."

"Wahh." Johnny pretended to faint into Taeyong's arms.

"That's a lot to take in." Jaehyun said.

#nct dream #nct family tree #this was fun

[the-cat-chat]

December 10, 2022

Pinocchio (2022)

A father's wish magically brings a wooden boy to life in Italy, giving him a chance to care for the child. However, the two of them have to struggle to find a place for themselves as Italy becomes embroiled in fascism. 

JayBell: After the last reiteration of Pinocchio earlier this year by Disney received less than favorable reviews, I was interested to see how Del Toro would imagine this story. As a kid, I definitely had Disney’s 1940 version on VHS, but because it was not one of my favorites, it wasn’t something that I saw maybe more than a time or two.

So going into this, I didn’t remember anything other than these basic ideas. (1) A man made Pinocchio out of wood. (2) Pinocchio comes to life and wants to be a real boy. (3) There’s a cricket involved somehow. (4) If Pinocchio lies, his nose grows. Therefore, I have no idea how close Del Toro’s version aligns with the original. But somehow I doubt fascism was a major obstacle? I enjoyed the fact that I had no idea where the plot was going, especially towards the middle.

To me, stop motion is always slightly creepy yet beautiful. I don’t see a lot of stop motion films, so it was a nice change to typical animation of kids movies. I liked that the father-son relationship was at the center of the movie. The cricket played a nice supporting role. And Del Toro really leaned into the horror of Pinocchio’s construction and the grief of his origin.

The songs added to the tone of the movie and the emotions of the characters. Sometimes songs in kid’s movies are painful, but these were beautiful and fit the movie well.

The child voicing Pinocchio did a great job. And the movie captured the very playful spirit and nature of a child. However, I do wish Pinocchio was slightly less annoying. I get it, children are immature and impulsive and annoying, but Pinocchio really pushed the boundaries. Other than that, I thought this was a carefully considered, thoughtful interpretation.

Rating: 6.5/10 cats 🐈

Anzie: So I have to say as a disclaimer I never gravitated towards the story or the animated version of Pinocchio. I just always thought - ehhh puppet boy magically comes to life and he’s a liar too. No thanks.

Annnnyway. That said I did enjoy this version of the story. It actually reminded me a lot of James in the Giant Peach, which will always hold a dear spot in my heart. The design of the movie is very artistic and you can tell lots of work was put in to everything and it more than paid off. Yesss does some of it give me a creepy vibe sure, but overall it’s very cool- especially the underworld scenes and the Wood Sprite and her sister, Death. And I lovvvvved all the creepy rabbits playing poker in the underworld and all their sassiness.

The humor was there and I really loved this version of the talking cricket. Honestly, he might have stole the whole show. The circus guy makes me cringe tho and he reminds me too much of Joe Exotic.

The story of this version was unique - and I’m still mad about how Carlo died especially when that dumb pinecone shows up how it does- but what ever it’s got to be ironicly tragic right. Grr. And the morals that are sprinkled throughout are very touching and by the end if you’re not having an existential crisis it’s probably bc you’re too busy crying. My only complaint other than creepy circus guy, would be all the singing. Even righting this I can hear Pinocchio’s annoying, high pitched voice screeching that “My Son” song. But oh well.

Rating: 6/10 Sebastian J. Crickets 🦗