ritty
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A collection of Dirkjake, Davecest, Johndave, and Davejohndavesprite drabbles I've done for my Sinmas event.
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The blood pounds in your ears as you duck behind one of the many Stonehenge-like structures of your land, your grip on your gold-hued pistols tightening. You try to steady your breathing, trying to make less noise as you hear footsteps on the soft grass near you. It's getting closer, and you hold your breath, you know you're done for.
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Pretty much a place to throw my silly davejohndavesprite drabbles into.
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John's face presses against the back of your neck, nuzzling his nose into the soft, downy feathers around it, while Dave brushes his lips in quick kisses against your jawline and wraps his legs around your ghostly tail. You feel your two lover's fingers intertwine on top of you, and you couldn't be happier to be awake.
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Observations of the Prince's Thief. by ritty
Fandoms: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
07 Nov 2015
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Chrom, you notice, is unflinchingly loyal. To his family, to his friends, to the citizens of Ylisse. There is two people, however, that one you notice he is especially loyal to, and the other, not as loyal to as he seems he is. You always had a knack for figuring it out. It's almost like picking the lock to something, which is how you know that he's not as loyal to Olivia as he seems, and he's especially loyal to you.
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a reylo fic by treezie
Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
19 Dec 2015
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short rey/kylo fic :)
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Dirk and dirt are not friends. Dirk and dirt, in fact, are the most mortal of enemies. Jake and dirt, however, seem to be bosom buddies. Dirk is not ok with this.
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Suddenly, something falls into place, but you almost don’t bring it up for how ridiculous it sounds in your head. “Dirk, you’re not- I mean. Dirk are you… are you drunk?”
Dirk is silent again. Then he kind of snorts. “It seems you think I’m drunk.”
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Your name is Dave Strider and you are 26 years old.
You have just gotten engaged.
The problem being that you have just gotten engaged to your best male friend in a furious fit of stupidity, champagne, one-upmanship and a weird warm-glowy feeling that occasionally (or more than occasionally) rolls around in the pit of your stomach and makes you act like a moron. You have, over the past 13 years and much careful experimentation, dubbed this “The Egbert Effect”.
You would like to state, for the record, that you are definitely, completely and 100% NOT A HOMOSEXUAL.
As Bro carefully describes to you what, as the DJ, he’s going to play at the reception (almost entirely a medley of Nicki Minaj and Ke$ha), you carefully nurse a Rock Star and vodka like a 16 year old girl who just popped her cherry at prom and try to figure out what the fuck happened over the past decade or so to land you in this mess.
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Crackling quiet on the line for a second. "Are you serious?" Jake asks at last. "You've programmed that machine of yours to...?" He trails off but the question mark is audible.