#sheep writes

[thesheepwhocouldtype]

Masky doesn’t want to talk about work when he gets home to you. You’re the breath of fresh air he needs.

You greet him at the door with a kiss on his cheek. You offer to make him dinner.

For a minute he can pretend that he isn’t a monster, that he doesn’t fall asleep and dream of all the people he’s left behind and the things he’s had to do.

You make him feel like Tim again.

[elitesheepi]

Going with the au that Zuko makes the right choice in the catacombs and leaves with the group, Katara would have mad “but daddy I love him!” energy. He fought for her, with her, turned on his own family just to protect her from Azula. (And help Aang and Iroh but this aint about them.)

She saw the vulnerability, felt the warmth of his skin as she touched his scar and saw that underneath his anger and rage was a deep pain that left a jagged scar on his psyche. It was evident by the low energy he felt for days after they boarded the stolen warship. (“I’m not sick, Katara. I was like this the last time I did something good.” “So you can tell jokes.” “I’m not.”) He’s still got his temper, but it’s quieter now, more withdrawn from being his first response.

So, the entire time on the warship, Katara’s first to make sure he’s not being hounded by Hakoda and the other Water tribesmen. Defending him even to her dad as he pulls her aside, “He saved me and Aang’s life, dad. He’s a good person.”

“He’s still the Fire Nation Prince, Katara.”

“Omg you don’t know him like I do!”

Whole time Zuko is sitting through this back and forth and refusing to get involved. They’re both intimidating and he’s not putting himself in it. What if Katara gets mad at him? He’s not dying today

[agarafile]

Gem is not coping well.

And yeah. Ok. Not like Grian can say anything about it. Losing Pearl has been hard on both of them.

But Grian has known grief before, how the games twist it and make it overwhelming, too much and too harsh. Grian had already to live after teammates deaths, spent sessions without them.

Gem hadn't.

The first thing Gem does after they get back to the lighthouse (or what remains of it), is dig.

Their garden is covered in scalding cobblestone, still steaming from the mixture of lava and water.

Gem doesn't seem to care.

She digs, foregoing her pickaxe entirely, hand buried over the pile of cobble of what once was their rose garden. Her hands burn and bleed and she doesn't even complain, just keeps on digging.

Only once all the cobblestone is gone is that you could see there were no more roses left.

Gem bites back a sob, before bursting into their burried storage room. Grian tries to go after her, but she is back just as fast as she left.

She starts tending to the garden, again. Digs and drops seeds and covers them, over and over again until the whole patch is covered in little mounds. Then, Gem searches her pockets until she takes out a handful of bonemeal and starts throwing it all over the garden.

"Gem." Grian tries. Because this all seems so silly. So pointless. What good is a garden when they need to tend to more pressing issues? "Gem. We need to strategize."

She didn't respond.

"Gem."

A rose bush sprouted. Gem continued until the entire garden was full of them. She picked some of the roses, an amalgamation of uneven stems and petals. Some hadn't even blossomed yet.

And then, Gem was off once again, leaving Grian to stumble after her to the other side of the server. They didn't stop until they reached Pearl's grave, the improvised crescent moon looked almost to be mocking them.

Gem gently laid the roses in front of the grave, more careful than she had been the entire night.

Grian didn't speak.

He couldn't.

There was something sacred in the silence that followed, something final. The grave was rough, hastily made with the same desperation that had hung over Pearl's last stand.

And now, Gem stood in front of it like a statue carved out of grief.

Then, without looking at Grian, she dropped to her knees.

And began to dig again.

The air was thick with the heat from the lingering day, but it wasn't the long-gone sun that made Grian's throat feel tight.

"Gem?" he asked unsure, his voice seemed too quiet even for his own ears.

She didn't stop.

Her fingers sank into the dirt beside Pearl's grave, not even trying to clear a space, just moving earth. Clawing at it. She didn't flinch when she hit rocks or roots, didn't pause when her already-raw hands tore again and again. The blood mixed with soil, darkening it.

Grian stepped forward.

"What are you—"

"I'm making room." she muttered.

That made Grian feel a chill down his spine.

"Room? For what?"

Gem looked up at him. Her face was blotched and tear-streaked, eyes wild but focused in a way that made Grian take a step back.

"For me." she said "I'm not letting her be alone."

And then she was back at it, digging faster, messier, like the pain in her hands meant nothing, like the end had already come and she was just catching up to it.

Grian stood frozen.

His fingers twitched at his side, useless.

He felt like he should stop Gem. Maybe say something clever or brave or kind, anything that would pull her out of this spiral.

But nothing came.

It wasn't right.

It wasn't fair.

Pearl had died with the moon high and the odds stacked.

And now Gem was burying herself alive beside her because the server had taken too much from her heart and left too little behind.

The soil gave beneath her hands.

And Grian couldn't bare to watch.

So instead, he knelt.

And began to dig with her.

[sparklychaossheeppp]

hiii so basically I've got a request for Jason Todd and it's like when you first meet his family like bh accident and he's like really embarrassed but they love you and it's all super fun 😭😭

Have a nice dayyy

Hello! Thank you for the request, lovely. It's highly appreciated. I hope you have a nice day as well. ^_^ This is my first time properly writing for the batfam, so please do have mercy on my soul... 😓 I think I may make another version of this later with the same idea but different occurrences.

Word count : 762

Warnings : Possible OOC, implied shorter reader, no use of Y/N, Jason and reader have a pet cat, not proofread, short

Sunlight snuck their way through the bedroom curtains to make themselves known to the sleeping pair. Jason stirs slowly from his sleep, eyebrows furrow as he seeks refuge from the sun under the blanket.

With great annoyance he sat himself up in a sitting position, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. He glanced over to the person who he had slept beside the night before, still in a deep realm of sleep. His eyes soften at the sight of them yet he drags himself out of bed to start his day.

Jason went through his usual morning routine of getting ready before heading to the kitchen, he retrieved the basic ingredients to create pancakes. He turned on the stove as he prepared his mix, pouring it onto the hot surface as his partner enters the room.

Jason’s lips curled into a soft smile as he looked over his shoulder at them. “Well good morning, beautiful.” He greeted, losing attention to the pancakes he was making.

They dragged their limbs over, eyelids barely open as they yawned. They stumbled over to watch Jason’s smooth and graceful culinary skills. “…good mornin’..” they hummed, giving Jason a lazy peck to the lips.

Jason had picked them up by under their thighs to place them on the counter, his eyes meeting their own. Jason’s eyes narrowed with determination, “mm- can I get a proper kiss?” Jason requests with a tint of teasing in his tone.

“hm. I don’t know, can you?” They responded with a raise of their brow, matching his cockiness. They did lean in however, lips connected with a sense of playfulness when, there’s a creaking heard and a gasp.

The both whipped their heads around to see Dick Grayson himself looking up at them with wide eyes and his jaw slack. “Jason?!” Dick said in a high pitched voice, hand to his chest for theatrics.

“Dick-“ Jason started, a flush consuming his face as he stepped away in an attempt to explain who his partner is.

“I’m definitely telling Bruce!” Dick announced with an shit-eating grin on his face, already retrieving his phone from his pocket. “Oh no, you’re not!” Jason exclaimed, taking off sprinting at the other man.

Jason's partner sat upon the counter, wide eyed before letting out a giggle at the absurdity of the situation they’re in. They had been aware of Jason’s family since about three months into the relationship. They had allowed Jason to decide when they were going to meet formally but, I suppose fate had other plans.

The two men had chased each other around till Jason had realized the pancakes had begun to burn. Dick was giggling maniacally as he made his escape to rat out Jason.

Jason had been rather embarrassed about their last encounter with one of the members of the batfamily… However, after a week, he finally decided to go out shopping with his beloved partner. He paced the aisles in search of where the hell they had moved flour to now..

He had finally located the flour he was on the hunt for when he heard the familiar voice of Dick along with his partners, not again…

He peaked over the side of the aisle with a raised brow. He spots Dick having a seemingly nice conversation with him as Jason walks over with his eye twitching and ears flushed red.

“Jay! We were just talking about you,” Dick informs, a pleasant smile on his face. “You should bring your partner over for dinner tonight,” Dick says, placing his hands on his hips.

Jason glances over at his partner , looking for any possible signs of discomfort or negative emotion. They meet him with a nod and content look on their face. “Fine, fine..” Jason nods.

The rest of the family had arrived before them, already in their seats that surround the table. Two chairs placed together are empty awaiting their arrival. The room was chatty up until Jason’s partner entered the room, The batfamily quickly blurted out curious questions to them as they sat down.

Jason could only sigh in embarrassment as they asked the basic questions, “how long have you been together?” “how did you meet?” “what’s your home address?” things of that nature up until Damian had inquired about their favorite animal.

“We have a cat?” They had informed, Damian gasping. “Todd, you have had a creature this entire time and didn’t tell me?!” Damian scoffs.

From there, the conversation delved into chaos. However, there was a warm, stable feeling to the room

Likes & reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

[sheepstiel]

loving you is like riding a bicycle

Rated E, Dean/Castiel, Post 13x05 Advanced Thanatology

Cas had just annoyed a cosmic entity so much that it threw him out. Now he was back in the bunker to reconnect with recently-born-almost-adult Jack. So Cas did the most reasonable thing and went to find the recently de-widowed Dean in his room to ask him for parenting advice.

Excerpt:

Cas tilted his head, puzzled. "Riding a bike?" Dean chuckled softly. "Yeah. Bobby gave me some busted old bike from the yard when I was around… I must have been around twelve I think. I remember it now. Sammy wanted to ride a bike so bad because he wanted to impress this girl in his class. I didn't know how to ride a bike, John never taught us." Cas listened intently as Dean continued. "Bobby was really angry when he heard Sammy couldn't ride a bike, so he took me aside one day and put me on this crappy, rusted thing of a bike. Said that we were gonna fix it together and then I'm gonna learn how to ride that damn thing. Then we're gonna teach your brother. So we did it." "I'm sure you were a fast learner," Cas said. Dean shook his head, scoffing fondly at the memory. "Hell no. Not in this case at least. I was so afraid of losing my balance. Bobby had to push me and I kissed the ground as soon as I realized he let go. Truly embarrassing. Don't you ever tell Sammy about any of this," Dean pointed his finger at Cas as a warning. Cas motioned zipping his mouth closed. "I swear I won't mention your ground kissing skills to your brother." "You better not. I acted like a natural. He would never let me live that down." Cas looked thoughtful, considering this. "I never learned how to ride a bike." Dean blinked. "Seriously?" "There was never an occasion," Cas replied deadpan. "Alright then," Dean chuckled. "Guess we'll start with the basics then."

Keep reading on AO3

[oxavane]

Hiya! I'm Maat. I make art here.

I am planning on restarting my Patreon in the coming year 2025. We'll see how it all shakes out to be, but for the moment, here is a link to it: https://www.patreon.com/Oxavane

Prints: https://www.inprnt.com/gallery/oxavane/ Process videos of my paintings: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC-eaM1xkkcAWEtz5i-2w5Yg All my social media links are here: https://linktr.ee/oxavane

My Obey!Me MC is Addie. You can find her under the tag of the same name. Masa is my JJK OC.

Some more tags:

- all my art goes under #sheep draws

- my writing and headcanons go under #sheep writes

- asks and more ramblings are under #sheep talks

I’m leaving the mentioned tags at the bottom of this post so you can just navigate stuff from here (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Okay that's it for the pinned post. Love you, stay safe, stay tuned. All that good stuff.

[leon-swedfinqs]

Well, if yall recall, earlier this week I rambled about a Stardew Valley Good Omens AU. I have not talked about it much here, but that does not mean I haven't been doing this with it!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Ta da!! A fanfiction my partner and I are writing!!

I am releasing this chapter-by-chapter as we get stuff for it done -- I thought it would be more fun that way! (Especially if we stay consistent and form a full story haha, maybe....) At some point I will post doodles and other art things for this au. Stay tuned!!

In the mean time, feel free to shoot me asks about the story/world and the roles of the characters! (I am ITCHING to talk about this teehee)

[ritterschaf]

without restraint

Characters: Baron Draxum, Splinter

Warnings: it's nsfw, but not explicit (I think??), but you know what they're doing. Yes, I know that's what you're here for. We have no shame here, it's fine.

Summary: What began with simple wrestling somehow turned into something more. Something differently physical. Something intimate. Something powerful.

He has no idea how it started; but then again, Draxum realizes, that is the case for basically all of their arguments. One of them starts – it really doesn’t matter who it is and what they argue about (but it mostly is Splinter and his movies) – and the other retorts. There’s a sort of rhythm in their arguments by now and they always end the same: stopped by one of their boys who interject.

It feels the same today, starting with a minor thing they probably both don’t remember anymore, anyway. But there is something different, and direly so – the boys are not present. A roadtrip, they had called it, one that would last for several days; so there was no one in the Lair to stop them from actually…well, arguing. And more. Although they both don’t exactly know what this more truly is, because they boys have always kept them from it…so when Splinter snarls “Alright, Draxum, that’s it. Let’s go.” Draxum doesn’t continue to argue. He just closes his hands to fists and falls into the battle-stance that is almost as familiar to him as breathing.

For a second there’s silence; anticipation lines the air between them, the crackle of adrenaline about to be released – they never really have fought ever since the Shredder. The thought is…exciting.

At first, there’s restraint; almost as if testing the waters, as if expecting the boys to barge in any second.

But they don’t, so their blows – almost playful in their weakness – get stronger. More serious. More powerful.

Draxum is a warrior – has been for almost his entire, long, long, life; his blows are fierce, if he wants them to be. He strikes with a purpose; his fist finds it’s mark and his adversary falls; that’s how it’s always been. Not today, though. Despite his size, there’s still somuch of Lou Jitsu in Splinter, he’s cunning and fast, and—strong. There’s a warrior inside that rat, violence hidden beneath that tiny frame. They’re equals here. And Draxum, for his part, loves it.

He has no idea how it came to pass, only that, at one point, Splinter pins him to the ground, hand on his wrists in a grip that seems impossible to resist. And then – perhaps to whisper something – Splinter leans down, just as Draxum strains against this hold, that was just so—so deliciously strong— –and suddenly their lips touch.

He doesn’t know if that really is what happened – only that when it did, his first thought was not to stop it. Quite the contrary.

Splinter, once he realizes what he's doing, draws back, startled. Maybe even horrified, afraid, he can’t tell— Draxum uses that momentum to topple him over, pins his wrists to the ground with his sheer might and weight. It works. The rat hits the ground so hard, all air leaves his lungs with a sharp gasp. Maroon hair tumbles into Splinter's face, grazing his whiskers that are flicking restlessly, quick like the pulse beating inside Splinter's wrists, right into Draxum’s palms, he sees him breathing hard-- Out of excitement? Fear? …Or something else entirely?

Draxum is so close he sees his own face in the rat's eyes. Sees the look of astonishment on his own features, of wonder; if he were less of a scientist, he would not be able to ignore the sudden heat he felt in his face, but pushing the emotional component aside was easy enough for him; but what he sees, that is indisputable.

He likes this, strangely enough. And the rat…doesn’t seem as adversed to this as he would have guessed.

Splinter's mouth opens, so close to him that he hears his lips part. Judging by his face, he will probably apologize -- for something Draxum doesn't want him to apologize. So he silences him, by covering his mouth with his'.

After they part again, there's surprise on Splinter's face, something in his eyes Draxum can’t make out, but it is not anger, or hate, or even disgust…he knows that look, would recognize it. This is anything but – if he were to put a label on it, it looked like the opposite entirely; so clear, so vivid and honestly confused it makes Draxum smirk and lean even closer. He doesn't fully understand this, how it could come to this. But he cannot deny how hard his heart beats with excitement, how right it feels in this very moment. This…whatever this is, is good.

Neither speak a word, just stare at each other. Say it now, if you want me to stop, Draxum says with his eyes, waits. He gets his answer immediately, for Splinter strains against his grip and chases him into another kiss.

It is unfamiliar as they tangle now on so different a ground, as hands slip beneath already dishevelled and loosened clothing, touching places they most certainly never thought - albeit silently hoped, perhaps? - they'd reach.

Splinter moves with uncertain confidence – as if the knowledge of appropriate movements is still there, just…buried – and Draxum imitates him, adding what he thinks feels right. The former movie star is experienced where the alchemist is not; they both move slow for different reasons none of them care about.

Suddenly, their restraint has returned; is welcomed, by both and feels right.

It feels right to sneak a hand under a yukata to sweep it off of a grey-furred shoulder, just as it feels right to have fingers loosen the knot around a cloth barring a fuchsia abdomen from prying eyes.

Claws tangle themselves in white hair, a tail wraps around an ankle followed by a small palm sliding up a reddish muscular thigh – all framed by the duel now carried out by their lips.

They wrestle with each other, now on completely different terms, and not at all as competitors, until both of them are bare to the other's admiring eyes; encompassed by a tension inside them that is all too sweet and growing ever sweeter with every lingering touch.

The first intimate touch is gentle, executed by Splinter who slowly regains his boldness with every further move they make. Draxum gasps involuntarily, followed by a scoff when he sees the rat grin in his face. He looks so much like Lou Jitsu in this moment it almost hurts; it doesn't, not in any way that matters right now; but it does throw him off balance and he can't help but stare. Splinter takes this as a sign to continue. A well placed stroke brings Draxum from hands down to forearms, forehead pressed against that of his former foe-now friend-now coparent-now...lover?

The word is so unfamiliar, so far off from everything he knows he inhales sharply. This is territory unknown to him, the warrior alchemist who has only ever known the fields of battle, his laboratory and seldom anything that kept him from either of the two. There's fluctuation here, all is in motion, feelings, sensations, movements and everything stays and sways all at once - the only thing constant is the man-turned-rat beneath him, one hand on his waist, the other on his length-- He can't stop when he raises his mouth to his' again, urging, needing to say, to name that constant that is the only thing holding him right now. Not Lou Jitsu, not 'rat', not Hamato Yoshi-- "Splinter", he sighs in a whisper.

The very first time he has said that name. And Splinter chuckles beneath him, uses their closeness to kiss him again and does, until the alchemist is well and truly breathless. He directs him to a sitting position, guides his hands until they find their way on their own, never letting go of him; until a well-placed stroke makes the former action start shiver in excitement, too. And Draxum, scientist that he is, quickly learns the flow of what comes next.

It is a blur from then on. Fur getting moist with sweat, slicked fingers stretching places, giving way to other, even more desired intrusions that beckon more noises, more shivers, more of that delicious, delicious tension--

Rhythm, that is not easy to find, but manageable, for they both have more than a thing to learn from the other. Until they move in unison and the restraint, welcome before, becomes utterly unwanted and is left behind like their clothing, long discarded. Sharp canines drag over a tense neck wracked by harsh noises, claws hook into flesh, leave marks red as fire, gleaming in fuchsia and grey fur alike. Grips turn harder, movements sharper, getting more reckless along their ever-fastening descent into completion; nibbles turn to bites, soft kisses to exchanges so hard they almost bruise and the gasps turn into occasional laughter, exhilarated because they match, they fit and even now they spar on equal grounds. Gloves off, no holding back, because they know the other will endure.

--until the tension reaches its peak, they push each other too far and it ends like every good battle does; in a slick mess, in utter exhaustion-- and bliss.

Draxum still doesn’t quite understand how that had happened – but damn, he sure enjoyed it; that is the thought most dominant in his head after it stops spinning. And when he looks over to Splinter, who flopped to the ground beside him, his brows furrow immediately.

"Oh. Oh no." He saw the rat's face. Knew the crinkle of his lips, the subtle flick of whiskers when he was about to say something absolutely, scandalously off-putting. And Draxum knows exactly, /exactly/ what it was going to be. So, naturally, just as Splinter opens his mouth, he lunges to cover his lips with his hands- only to stumble midway because, by the titan’s eternal essence, he is shaking. “That was some…”, Splinter begins and leans over to him, small hands framing his face, the power in that seemingly innocent grip holding him in place as he nears Draxum's ear and with great satisfaction and no small amount of mirth whispers: "…hot soup."

Draxum kicks him.

(In the face, tho. Not between the legs. He still needs that part functioning. For, y’know. Future experimentation.)

(hehe)