gay ass blog

always taking requests uuuh there's doodles sometimes some nsfw content will b tagged no followers under the age of 18 pls ty

[thepeachcompany]

i forgot i

had this bloooooog

[thepeachcompany]

i swear this blog isn’t dead things are just in the works also check out my patreon /peachjellies

[the-modern-typewriter]

“Shh, it’s alright,” the villain said. “You’re doing beautifully and I’m so proud of you. But that’s enough now. It was cruel of them to make you fight me - you could never have won. It’s not your fault.”

[spacey--ace]

The ancient and powerful villain may have had a calm and gentle face as he spoke, but he was furious, not at the hero, but the gods for continually sending kids and teenagers to fight their battles.

[thepeachcompany]

Bittersweet reunion rp starters(Warning:death mentions and angst)

•"It's been awhile..."

•"Long time,no see..."

•"How long was I gone?"

•"Do you have any idea how long you were/I was gone?!"

•"You've/I've been gone for so goddamn long and the only thing you have to say is HEY?!"

•"I've missed you."

•"Did you miss me?"

•"Why are you here?"

•"Did you miss me like I've missed you?"

•"Why did you come back?"

•"Why did you leave?"

•"You're the reason why I've returned..."

•"Where have you been all this time?"

•"I thought you were dead!"

•"But you're here and that's all that matters"

•"I'm so glad that you're here"

•"You owe me an explanation."

•"So...what's new?"

•"Things have changed since the last time we saw each other..."

•"You're not leaving me again,are you?"

•"Will we ever meet again?"

•"Don't do this again!Please..."

•"I'll never abandon you again..."

•"You/I shouldn't have come back"

•"You/I shouldn't have left"

•"I brought you a gift.I hope you like it"

•"I'm so sorry for disappearing so suddenly"

•"I told you I would come back!"

•"Thank god I've returned in time to save you!"

•"[insert name here]?Is that you?"

•"Are you real?This must be a dream"

•"It's been so long since we've talked like this"

•"I have no good reason for excusing myself.I'm sorry"

•"I left because I...I.."

•"Let's sit down somewhere comfy.Tell me all the juicy gossip that I've missed!"

•"I have so much to fill you in.."

•"Things were much better before you/I left..."

•"You know that legendary dog Hachiko?I'm just like him.At least my patience paid off..."

•"I've/You've changed..."

•"So,how's it going with [enter convention topic here]?"

•"I see that nothing has changed while I was gone"

•"Nothing ever changes here"

•"Suprise bitch!Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me."

•"Well...I've waited here like I promised"

•"I thought I would never see you again"

•"So,what do you want to talk about?"

•"You didn't even try to look for me!"

•"You left me to die!"

•"I/You left because of [insert person/reason here]!"

•"I wasn't able to tell you at the time"

•"You/I could've at least said goodbye."

•"How dare show yourself here after all this time?!"

•"Next time,take me with you,ok?"

[andrastesass]

fictional kiss things that end me

[thepeachcompany]

I'm looking for drabble prompts to warm up my brain. It can be from a fandom or if I know your OCs then those as well! Please submit to my ask box, thank you!

•Please see my rules/about page for things I won't write. Everything else is fair game.

[thepeachcompany]

I posted a new fic for the AkeShuAke secret santa on twitter! It was kept short due to time constraints, however I plan to rewrite it and continue the AU Akechi is a modern day prince; The phantom thieves are an international group of revolutionaries who expose corrupt politicians. While pursuing his target, Joker discovers the rabbit hole of schemes goes far deeper than he expected, and guarding the gate to those secrets is Akechi.

[thepeachcompany]

Hey guys sorry for the inactivity! I'm working on my secret santa project for the AkeShuAke secret santa as well as some commissions that I'm finishing up. Reminder that I'm also on Ao3! So please look forward to it!

[rpmememaker]

Yandere Sentence Memes

“Now hold still…”

“Stop screaming or I’ll use duct tape.”

“They had it coming, they were too friendly with you…”

“No one will find us here.”

“You’ll be mine forever.”

“I’m going to kill him/her.”

“I don’t like people touching my things…”

“Don’t bother to struggle…”

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Your friends are too close with you… I don’t like it..”

“It’s for your own good.”

“I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Keep running, I like the chase!”

“It’d be a shame if your friend was hurt…”

“If you promise not to scream, I’ll remove the gag.”

“Oops, did that hurt?”

“You can’t just keep me here!”

“I’m calling the police!”

“Stop threatening anyone I talk to!”

“You’re hurting me!”

“W-what are you doing?”

“Stay away from me!”

“You’re being so clingy, it’s weird.”

“Let go of me!”

“Someone is bound to come soon, they’ll notice!”

“What are you planning to do with that?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice you watching me sleep?”

“You killed him/her!”

“Don’t hurt me!”

“Put that down!”

“You’re scaring me…”

“That’s a really bad joke, quit it…”

[idrankthepoisonedteaagain]

Ooh, I had fun with some of these last year.

[universalfanfic]

writing advice: never italicize words to show emphasis! if you’re writing well then the reader will know and you don’t need them!

me: oh really??? listen up, pal, you can just try an pull italics from my cold, dead fingers

[thepeachcompany]

Quiet.

((AkiHaru hurt/comfort fic that touches on p/t/s/d. Warning: descriptions of trauma and drug use. I have a lot of feelings about post November protag. Also spoilers.))

“You’re not sleeping again, aren’t you?” Haru’s voice is soft amid the clinking of glassware and the bubbling hiss of the coffee brewer. The tabletop is blessedly cold against his cheek while Leblanc hazes in and out of focus.

Of course he’s not sleeping. He tries, every night, and he can’t.

His jaw crunches nauseatingly beneath the gritty sole of filthy shoes. Pain blossoms along his skull until his eyesight vibrates with it. The world shifts in and out of focus, and the sound of mocking laughter makes bile rise in his throat.

“So you want your coffee very strong, correct?” There’s the faintest giggle to her voice. He doesn’t answer, but she turns back to the machine as if he had. “No milk, right? Just two sugars, and a pinch of ginger...” He forces his eyesight back into focus long enough to watch her curls bob about behind the counter, her muted hum barely reaching over the drone of the TV.

His body feels so heavy.

He can’t sleep. If he drifts too far, it gets too dark, and suddenly his warm, soft bed becomes cold, hard stone.

Liquid fire shoots through his veins, his scream catches behind clenched teeth. If he drifts too far, he’ll wake up, and time will have rewound. He’d have failed his mission and eaten the barrel of a gun, too lost in a sea of poison to scream.

One time he truly had awoken to pain, his hand stinging and oozing blood while Morgana uttered apologies from his lap. “I couldn’t wake you up.” He insisted, his ears pressed back flat against his skull. Akira didn’t ask why he needed to be woken, he could feel the sweat soaking the mattress, and his lungs burned as if he’d either ceased breathing or had spent the night screaming himself raw. When no one showed up with noise complaints, he concluded it was the former.

Takemi offers him a cocktail of drugs to help him sleep, but the risk of addiction is high. The thought of being sedated again drains the color from his face, and before he knows it the floor tips quickly towards his face and he sees his breakfast in the bottom of a bowl held beneath his chin.

It’s why Haru’s here right now, hovering beside the table with a steaming cup balanced carefully on a saucer. Slowly, he peels his cheek from the table with a grunt, but doesn’t sit quite straight. She sets the cup carefully before him, and he mutters a gruff “Thanks, Haru.” His throat protests the words, and welcomes the warm caress of bitter coffee.

They’d started taking turns visiting after the night Morgana bit him. He couldn’t help but suspect that the cat had  spilled the beans despite their unspoken solidarity. No one asked about November though. No one questioned his wounds, or how he was feeling. Ryuji brought over video games, Yusuke wanted “inspiration”, which meant he wanted free food and access to Akira’s space heater. Ann brought him class notes while popping her gum, and Makoto sometimes escorted him to go shopping when he needed. Futaba never said much, she just looked at him in a way that he felt in his core, and tried to sneakily slide a little more curry onto his plate.

“No,” Haru says softly as she slides into the booth beside him, making him scoot closer to the wall. There’s a brief moment of silence, and she pats a hand to her lap. “lay back down.”

For a moment he glances between her hand and her face, fingers still curled around the mug. There’s no flush on her cheeks, nor hesitation in her eyes. They look far more warm and inviting than the steaming cup in his grasp. Could she hear the way his entire body screamed to accept the offer? Certainly she saw the way he eyed her lap, because the smile on her lips finally reached the corners of her eyes, and her fingers patted her fluffy sweater again.

Stiff fingers finally unfurl from the handle of the cup, joints popping with protest. Like the sugar cube that had once floated at the top of his coffee, he sinks down onto her lap, melting into the warm cashmere. The ache flees from his muscles, soothed by the faint smell of fresh soil, and Haru’s soft perfume. Twisting onto his back, he folds his hands across his belly and simply stares up at her beaming face.

“Now what?”

She hums, carefully plucking his glasses from his face. They make a soft clink when she sets them on the table beside the coffee she had never intended for him to drink. It’d been a choice, he realizes. Chase away the dreams with bitter sweet drugs at the cost of another piece of his sanity, or-

“Close your eyes.”

He already knows what she sees. Bruised eyelids, and scleras webbed with blood. The bruise on his cheek is a sickly yellow, and no amount of ice nor turmeric paste was being kind to him. The scrape on his temple had finally faded into a rough, red patch, still ringed with rouge. The split in his lip doesn’t agree with the cold weather, nor happiness, nor eating, making it painful to fake the smile for her.

“I don’t want to.”

Her hum is chiding, her lips creasing into a small pout. Gentle fingers brush away his messy bangs, then card through his curls and- oh no- his scalp tingles pleasantly with the pass of her nails. Nausea twists in his gut, his heart skipping in his chest. She’s not looking at the bruises on his skin, nor the sickly parlor of his skin.

Despite her soft features and bubbly demeanor, she’s still older, still more mature, still wiser. She says his name in a way that makes his throat seize up and his eyes water. It’s not pitying, nor chiding. It’s a thousand apologies in three syllables, it’s everything they promised not to say to each other before that night. It’s every unspoken word between them when they sunk their fingers into wet dirt, grinning like children again. For a brief, terrifying moment, he thinks she’ll say it out loud and he is absolutely at her mercy.

Her hand continues stroking his hair, smoothing defiant curls from his face. Panic jolts through him at the gentle brush of her other hand against his mended cheek. Fingers pause, stone still as she watches the rapid rise and fall of his chest winding back down. When the tension melts away, the warmth of her palm splays across his skin. The tender caress soothes his aches and makes his eyelids all the more heavier.

“What if... What if I sing to you?” Her voice wavers faintly, her pretty pink lips pressed into a pale line of brewing courage. “What if I stay, right here, with you, and sing? Would that be alright?”

There’s silence between them, only for a second, but Akira feels as if they’re suspended in time. The weather man drones on softly about flu season, but the clock on the wall only ticks once. Slowly, tiredly, he blinks, his eyelids threatening not to open again if he isn’t careful. “Haru, I know what you’re trying to do.”

She starts a little when his hand gently encircles the one caressing his cheek, a band-aid scraping gently against the back of her knuckles. Glossy lips tremble, if only for a moment, and the warmth in her eyes hardens. Haru disappears beneath Noire’s unyielding stare.

“Then let me.” The subtle crack of her voice ruins the illusion of a metaverse rebel. It’s a plea, not a demand. His eyes follow the thick bob of her throat as she swallows thickly, and he imagines it probably burns as much as his own does right now. “Please? Let me do this one thing for you.”

It’s the words unspoken that make his heart wrench. Haru had been the only one to not pity him, nor tip toe awkwardly around his ordeal. She didn’t baby him, nor act as if it never happened. But God, he thinks he’d rather her look at him that way, instead of the guilt that drowns her coffee colored eyes.

“Okay,” He whispers, and turns his face into her captured palm. His lips brush against budding callouses, still fresh and smooth. Her hand smells like coffee beans and sugar, with the faintest hint of this morning’s harvest. It’s a delight to watch the flush blossom across her cheeks from the corner of his eyes. “Okay.”

When he lowers his hands back over his belly, she sinks her own back into his hair. The TV becomes white noise beneath her gentle humming, and the ticking of the clock disappears like phantoms in the morning sun. Wrapped in her scent, soothed by her affections, he gives into the protest of his burning eyelids.

For a long moment he lays there, waiting for his stomach to drop, for his heart to rev like an engine in his ribs. It never comes. It’s just the shadows behind his eyelids and the weight of his body sinking into the sea of unconsciousness. Pain makes itself known in waves, his joints settling like the floorboards of an old house, the punishment for his habits. At one point the humming gets a little louder, and something soft presses against the cut on his brow. They move against his skin, just a hair’s brush trying to form words, but darkness drags him under before his ears can register.

It’s not the most restful sleep he’s ever had, but it’s quiet, and that’s all he ever wanted.

[thepeachcompany]

5, 6, 7, 8…

((Dance teacher Akira AU, borrowed from on twitter))

“You seem stressed.”

Akechi snorts as he watches their feet, counting out the steps in his head while he tries to keep up. He sees the heave of Akira’s sigh and can practically hear the roll of his eyes. Suddenly the arm on his waist tightens, and his world dips sharply.

“I mean more stressed than normal.”

Above him, Akira’s usually flirty grin is creased into a small frown, his brows disappearing into the curls that veil his eyes. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Not to Kurusu anyway. He comes here on Thursday nights to decompress, not to turn the dance teacher into his private counselor.

But Akira hoists him back up with ease, guiding him into a turn before marching them diagonally across the dance floor. “Talk to me,” He presses on, and Akechi falters in his steps as sour irritation rises in his throat.

“It’s just work.” Akechi insists on the pivot, their hands changing places until it’s his turn to lead Akira across the studio, hand firmly on the small of his back. Maybe his steps are a little too harsh, his shoes clicking a little louder than they need to.

Another turn, and he drops Akira in his arms until his spine bends in ways that always make Akechi a little envious. Envy, that’s what he calls it. “Good job,” He praises when Akechi doesn’t just flat out drop him like he did the first three classes, lips now twisted with pleasant surprise. They opened again but cut off with a grunt when Akechi jerks him upright once more.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks softly, hand settling on the detective’s shoulder gently, while their laced hands press between them. His left foot steps backward, but Akechi’s doesn’t follow, leaving them frozen in place.

A sigh escapes quietly, before Akechi smiles that soft, artificial grin. “Yes. You could continue our lessons. I find them rather… refreshing.”

Finally he moves again, clumsily following Akira’s steps and murmured corrections, before they begin to slow. “Tell me,” Akira begins with that smile that practically sells the lessons. Nobody in Tokyo wants to latin dance, but the package comes with an hour up close to that stupid grin. What a bargain. “What do you find refreshing about Latin dance?”

The question seems sincere, so Akechi tries to find the words as he lowers the teacher slowly. Akira’s upper back curves gracefully over his forearm, the tendons in his neck taunt. Yo-

“Learning a new skill.” He offers seamlessly with a debonaire grin.

“It’s my charming good looks, isn’t it?”

Akira’s body hits the floor with a fat ‘thud’, followed by Akechi’s remorseless “Whoops.”

[thepeachcompany]

Cereal Discourse

When Akechi had settled into his new, unexpected romance, he had very little expectations. A few dates, maybe handholding if he felt up to it. Casual texts, a stolen flirtatious one here and there. Movies had painted it where the salaryman returned home to a bride in a frilly apron, or awoke to a blonde vixen draped over them, urging them out of bed with heated kisses and loving coos.

Instead, Akira looked up from where he'd been hunched over a bowl of cereal, chewing loudly with a trail of milk dribbling down his chin. Akechi had never been so disgusted; never been so enamored.

"If you think about it," Akira paused to cram another spoonful in his mouth, presumably in hopes that the sugar would quell the pounding behind his eyes. Akechi felt a small twitch in his cheek. "Cereal is a kind of soup."

Akechi lowered his mug of coffee to the table, setting it down with the utmost care. His expression twisted briefly, before smoothing out into his celebrity mask. "Remind me again why I agreed to date you."

Another half a minute of wet smacking and slurping, before Akira raised his head with a milk smeared grin and crooked glasses. "I give amazing head."

The poptart made an awful sound when it made impact with his face, before falling limply on the table.

[triskellionquinn]

To Hunt and Trap A Beast Sequel

Alright, so the poll won out with 68.43% of people wanting the sequel. The Alternate Path will eventually be updated, but I do want to get the ball rolling on the story I originally intended to write first before I sink my teeth into writing the ‘what if’ scenario. 

Chapter 1 of The Art of Stalking Your Prey is here. Enjoy. All chapter updates will be tagged accordingly.

[imckari-deactivated20181207]

assorted angst starters

“What happens when you die? What do we do then?”

“You look like shit.”

“You have to run. They’re looking for you.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“What did they do to you?” 

“I’ve got you.”

“Walk it off, sport.”

“Don’t be stupid. Let me help.”

“Trust me, I’ve been there.” 

“Why didn’t you tell anyone it was this bad?”

“I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I am your friend. You’ve got me.”

“Are you lonely?” 

“Get the fuck out of here!”

“I guess this is goodbye.”

“I’ve been through worse.” 

“Can you stop thinking about yourself for once?”

“Of course I’m pissed!” 

“Who did this?!”

“Why did you do this?”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.” 

“Save it. You can hate me later.”

“You don’t need permission to cry. It’s okay.”

“Life isn’t fair.”

“You want to be a hero? Is that it?”

“I wasn’t meant to survive this.”

“You won’t survive.”

“Feel better?”

“We can’t go back to who we were before.”

“you lose someone?”

[nsfwp5confessions]

If that last post is right (about persona-fuckers confessing a ton since there isn't enough content for them) then there is only one solution: GO MY FAN-FIC WRITERS! SAVE THESE MODS FROM THEIR HELL! YOU ARE THEIR ONLY HOPE!

the only person you need to save is me then rip, mod akira is a persona fucker and doesnt mind the personafucking asks

- Mod Yusuke

[thepeachcompany]

[residentevil2-deactivated201901]

A2 + TAUNTS