#chowder face

[parappah]

I was Chowder for Halloween!

[feralgaby2k5]

FINALLY! IT'S DONE!!

Here you go! The finished color wheel challenge. I have been on and off this for so long, and I have to make some adjustments, I switched Wally Darling for Meowstic cuz I don't think I can draw him, and Ran's tiara was so hard to draw, I almost lose my shit.

[obligatory-name-change]

sometimes i thank god that i was generally unaware of the concept of uploading things to the internet until i was twelve years old because i was drawing some weird shit with my nintendo dsi (blue) that if it ever saw the light of day i would walk into the ocean

[skrunklowumbo64]

Therapist: "Dr. Shnitzelshmirtz isn't real, he can't hurt you."

Dr. Shnitzelshmirtz:

[inagakki]

i'm still mad asf adventure time and regular show never had a crossover like that literally would've been the event of the millennium

[anonymous-harpy]

Haha

I made some progress today despite what happened earlier

And no I hadn't touched this project until today

Nor am I determined to make it perfectly clean, but I'm trying to make it decently smoove

[star-shine-s]

2003...

..

..

!!

Prev - Next

[rosalinastan]

nap time w gilly + chowder :3

[pinkopalina]

I'm actually not a huge fan of adventure time in general but the tragic heterosexuals from f&c which I have not watched have me somewhat curious just so I can see why they're so popular

spoilers but like not really??? but like it seems like time travel is involved (like everyone knows that if you like at I think) and you know opal always loves looping and tragedy

[everand1r]

Yeah he’s my boyfriend, he just doesn’t know it yet

I do not know how to summarize this, it’s more crack than anything 💀

A/n: Reader is of a diva. And delusional. Chowder reference in Ace’s part lol

Warnings: I love using commas, reader has no gender or physical traits but is very feminine

Characters: Ace, Idia, Silver, Deuce, Jack, Sebek

Ace

Ace blankly stares ahead, ignoring you once again as you rant about how he just HAS to hold your hand.

He’s flattered really, such a pretty thing like you has taken such a liking to him, but you seem to be lost in your own little world sometimes.

“As my boyfriend it’s only natural-“ “we’re not dating,” pouting, you throw on your best puppy dog eyes.

Ace playfully rolled his eyes, “Oh cmon prefect that’s not gonna work on me.”

Hmph well that didn’t work

Alright then time for plan b

“Hold my hand, NOW!” You shout.

Startled, Ace shakily reaches his hand for yours, before you snatch it and squeeze.

“Gah! It burns!” He whines, gripping onto his arm. Ignoring his protest, you happily wave your interlocked hands, a satisfied smile adorning your face.

“Look everybody! We’re holding hands!” You shout, dragging Ace behind you in the courtyard as onlookers watch you with gazes of confusion and fear.

Idia

“Idiiiaaaaa~” you sang, banging on his door at an ungodly hour in the night. At first you wondered if coming at this time of the night was a good idea, but then you remembered Idia doesn’t really have a solid sleep schedule.

But it’s so quiet, is he ignoring you….? Nah you just gotta bang louder. Said man was currently hiding under his covers, silently begging for the gods to have mercy and hope someone will kick you out. Unfortunately for him, Ignihyde is scared of you.

Eventually he caves and opens his door, and your face practically lights up. “Idia! Oh finally I thought you were going to leave me out here!”

“…what do you want?”

You thrust an object in his hands, “here I need your help with this.” Idia glances down at his hands to see a broken glittery watch. Unimpressed, he glances back up to meet your eyes. “Seriously?” “One hundred percent!” You salute. “You couldn’t have waited till the morning?” “Well I thought about that…” You start, glancing off to the side as you play with your fingers,

“But I just missed you so much! Playing online with you is fun and all but I needed to see you again!”

Feeling his hair heat up, idia looks away. “W-Well you could’ve just asked, no need to bring an excuse,” he mumbled glancing at the watch. “Anyways come on in I’ll fix it for you”

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod you’re gonna hang out with Idia…. In his room! You’re practically foaming at the mouth as you walk in the room and sit down on his bed.

You couldn’t contain the giggles coming out of your mouth as Idia worriedly glances at you from the corner of his eye.

Sighing dreamily, you wonder how this night is going to go. You’re lost in thought, wondering how to get Idia into joining you on the bed before he shoves your newly fixed watch in your hands and throws you out. “Here’s your watch prefect, I’ve fixed it up for you. Goodnight.” He says before the closing the door on you.

Even hermits value their sleep.

You’re left standing there mouth agape before you slowly walk back to ramshackle, a new plan already brewing in your mind.

Mission failed, but don’t worry you’ll get him next time.

Silver

You tap your perfectly manicured nails on your chin as you sit in the courtyard, watching the man who has stolen your heart. Everything about him is perfect. His gorgeous eyes and hair, his smile, that chivalrous personality and those forearms! Ugh he’s perfect.

Groaning you bury your face in your knees. “How am I supposed to go talk to him!?!”

Malleus sits next you, amusedly watching your inner turmoil. “Why not go talk to him child of man? You have expressed your desire to do so to me mutiple times and yet you have not followed through, I am starting to think you’re chickening out as you humans like to say.”

Gasping, you snap your head up. “Chicken??? Oh hornton I am many things but I am no chicken!” You stand up and dust yourself off. “fine I’ll go talk to him.”

Malleus chuckles, “I see no reason to be nervous child of man, silver seems to have taken a liking to you as well.”

The cogs turn in your head as you process his words. Silver likes you? He likes you?! Well uhhh- I mean of course he does! Who doesn’t like you??

With your ego rising to dangerous levels you march over to silver conversing with a few birds near the well.

Clearing your throat to gain his attention, he looks up and gives you a pleasant smile.

“Hello there prefect, did you need something?”

“Yes actually I need you to go on a date with me.” You state matter of factly.

His eyes widen. “A date..?” Nodding you respond, “Yes, with me, at that new cafe in Sage island.”

Clearing his throat he responds “I-I would love to.” You watch as a faint blush dusts his face.

You had that affect on him! Your ego once again shoots through the roof.

“Great! I already made the reservations a while ago so let’s meet up on Friday at 7!”

“When did you do that-“ “Don’t be late!” You hastily interrupt, not wanting to answer that question. Rushing back to malleus you practically scream “He said yes! Ohmygosh malleus you have to help me pick out my outfit! I need something that’ll make him say Oh wow!” “Of course my dear, shall we go now?”

Going on a date with the most dreamy boy at NRC…Oh you hope this isn’t a dream!

Deuce

Vdc practice was more stressful today, with epel lashing out and storming off, deuce following after him.

It’s been awhile since they left. You hoped everything was ok with deuce. Oh and epel too.

Argh I should’ve given vil a piece of mind! Then deuce would’ve fallen for my fearless charm! Your hands slap onto your cheeks while your thoughts spiral.

As time goes on and deuce and epel return, you’re overjoyed! Although that joy doesn’t last long when you find out where they had gone.

“WHYY??” You shout, falling to the ground in despair.

He went on a date with epel? He went on a date with someone that wasn’t you?!

The poor boy was awkwardly watching you spiral right in front of him. He glances towards his group mates behind you for help. Only for them to turn around, seemingly finding the wall so interesting.

Damn

Deuce scratches behind his head, wondering how to console the sobbing mess on the floor (you). “We just uh went to the beach? Nothing happened, we just shouted at the waves..”

That seemed to do the trick

“Oh I knew it!” You spring up. “My plans for our first date aren’t ruined!” “First date? What do you mean by that!?” He sputters.

You ignore him, lost in thought about what date you should go on. Although a Blast cycle date is off the list!

Hmph epel is lucky nothing happened between those two, or he would’ve gone straight into your burn book.

Jack

Recently you’ve been daydreaming,

Daydreaming about jack carrying you in his arms specifically. You sigh once again as you realize he’s never once lifted you up in his arms. He has no reason to

But this shall remain a dream no longer! You were determined to make this a reality, and with you and him both going to Vargas camp, you had your chance.

The day before vargas camp, you relay your plan once again to grim. He does not care.

It’s for the tuna it’s for the tuna it’s for the tuna- grim probably

.

.

Now here you two were, alone, in the woods looking for grim. You had roped that poor little beast into your plan, having him get “lost” while you asked jack to help you look for him.

You had to buy him premium tuna and do his homework for a week but it was so worth it. You think to yourself as you walk alongside jack

Seeing a tree stump ahead, you figured now was the time to put your plan into action.

“Ouch!” You hissed. Jack looked back, only to see you dramatically fall to ground with the worst acting he had ever seen in his life.

“Oooh my ankle, I think I broke it.” you whined.

“I don’t think you could break it by-“ “OOOH THE PAIN!” You interrupt. “I don’t think I can walk any further, I’ll need somebody to carry me.”

“I think you can-“

“Only a strong 6’3, wolf beast man will be able to help me out of this crisis!”

Jack playfully sighed, knowing you’d only continue to cry on the floor until you got what you wanted.

He walks over and lifts you up in his arms. “You’re lucky I like you prefect.” He states, glancing down at you.

Wait what you bluesceeen.

“What’s the matter prefect? You got what you wanted didn’t you?” He smirks.

Averting your gaze you mumble, “I-uh let’s just keep looking for grim.”

You weren’t expecting him to fluster you!

Sebek

All week you’ve been trying to get sebek to spend more time with you. From studying together, to accidentally bumping into him in the halls.

But you didn’t want to ask to spend more time together! You wanted him to come to you! Although nothing has worked so far… ugh how unfair. Who wouldn’t want to spend time with you!

Fine it seems you have to resort to EXTREME measures you internally groan, walking up to him after class.

“Sebek you aren’t busy after school today right? I was hoping you could teach me how to fight using a sword today,” you start, clasping your hands behind your back and rocking on your feet. You hoped you didn’t look too desperate

“Hmph, you’re lucky I don’t have any training today, I’ll meet you in Diasmonia later.”

Oh look how easy that was

.

.

.

You’ve been practicing outside for quite a bit. Spending time with the knight is always a treat. Getting to stare at his sharp eyes as he focuses on honing his skills, his muscles bulging with each swing- Oh look you fell into the grass and ate shit

“Prefect!” He snapped. “Why ask me to practice sword fighting if you’re not going to pay attention!”

To be honest you didn’t really care for sword training, you could defend yourself just fine, but getting to spend time with Sebek was worth the blood sweat and tears…. Kind of

“Oh I just hate to get my face dirty!” You groan, pouting on the floor. With a heavy sigh, sebek reaches a hand out to you, “Well you’ll get even more dirty sitting on the floor.” with a fast beating heart and warm face you take his hands as he helps you up.

“Come on let’s get you cleaned up-“ He offers, looking back at you only to be met with you staring with a lovesick smile.

Whipping his head back, “Don’t look like that!” He yells. To anyone else he may look mad, but that flushed face tells you otherwise. Smiling, you skip up to him and carefully link your pinky with his. The knight glances at you as you bat your eyelashes at him. Sighing once again, he grabs your hand as you both walk towards Ramshackle. A lovely shade of red coating his cheeks.

Hope you guys had as much fun reading as I did writing this lol

Banner by saradika-graphics

[gyllenhaalstories]

BODIES IN THE SAND — ELWOOD DALTON 🎂

summary: it’s your birthday and dalton wanted to make it special.

warnings: eating, mostly fluff & smut (making out, thigh riding). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2730

gifs credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: today is my birthday and i am, for the fourth year in a row, making it everyone’s problem with a (very boring) self indulgent fic. 🎈 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

The dock master waved at you when you passed by. You did not leave him enough time to repeat his speech about watching out for the damn crocs like a broken record. You had visited the Glass Key Marina so many times since meeting Dalton, one could think the old man would spare you the lecture. Whatever. This time, you ignored him. You stormed towards the wooden pier on a mission.

Dalton, now confident in Billy and Reef's abilities to handle the unruly patrons on their own (if they remembered to lift with their knees), allowed himself a night off from time to time. The pay as the bouncer of the roadhouse supported him plenty anyway. He did not splurge much, judging by the fishing box overflowing with stacks of cash. When he did spend his money, he would buy all the books Charlie recommended to him or he would treat you to his new favourite food, conch chowder.

You were usually the first person to know about his sporadic vacations, except for today. You drove to the roadhouse and Laura greeted you with a perplexed smile as to why you were there without Dalton. Frankie walked down the stairs from her office and expressed the same level of confusion. "Dalton called, said he's sick. I think the boat dreams are getting to him. Took him long enough." She explained before helping her employees to get the bar ready for another night. Dalton, sick? You stormed out of the bar with the same determination that made you beeline to The Boat.

"There you are." Dalton, who sat on the railing of the boat, stood up and turned around to greet you. The look on your face, painted with surprise, satisfied him, it was worth spending the entire afternoon decorating his corner of the marina. "Happy birthday."

You stood on a creaky wood plank and took in the scene. Orange balloons matched the colours of the sky as the early sunset reflected on the water. There were garlands and streamers, basically anything that could make the dock look festive. You scoffed at the Happy Thanksgiving banner attached to the back of the boat that clashed with the rest.

Dalton quickly justified. "I know... 'Was all Charlie could find." He worked on the ribbon of the balloon he had previously secured on the railing and held on it tight. He raised his leg to get off the boat, but you interrupted.

"I appreciate the thought. This looks so..." You spun on your heels and admired the decorations for a few more seconds. "This looks really nice. But that still won't get me to climb on that thing. It's literally sinking." You pointed at the rusty boat that the dock master constantly referred to as a frying pan. You wholeheartedly agreed with the older man.

"It's not sinking." He leaped from the boat to the dock. The tone of his voice failed to convince you. "... Yet." You both nodded in agreement. Not yet. Soon enough, Dalton would be taking a nap with the crocodile.

You let him come to you.

He tilted his head, eyes squinting at you. "You know, those little footsteps of yours sounded furious. Everything okay?" He clenched his jaw, already bracing up for bad news. It was all he seemed to attract: bad news.

"I should be asking you! Are you okay? I went to the bar and Frankie said you were sick."

"I don't get sick." He shook his head lightly.

"Then why did she tell me that?"

"Oh, I asked her to." He marked a pause, as if that was enough information. You pressed him to grant you with more details. "I thought it was a good excuse." There was a hint of pride in his grin.

"A good excuse that worried me a lot." Your attempt at reprimanding him failed miserably, especially when his grin widened while he stepped closer to you.

Dalton carefully tied the ribbon of the balloon around your right wrist. He then flicked the balloon, watching it bop. "Charlie and I have been planning this for a little while. Couldn't find a proper banner in time." His chin pointed at the Thanksgiving wishes.

"You can say something cheesy to make up for it." You suggested with a chuckle.

"I'm thankful that you're born?" Although he said it like a question, he was certain in the sincerity behind his words.

"That does the job." You both exchanged a moment of laughter. "Thank you for taking the time to decorate for my birthday."

"There's more." He guided you off the dock and through the makeshift path to the beach, always hovering a hand over your lower back to make sure he would be quick to react if you fell.

You let Dalton walk by the shore. Although you did not mind feeling the water run over your feet and ankles, he had insisted enough times that it was safer for you to stay on the other side. So you just let him do what he wanted. Your hand brushed over his a few times and you caught sight of the smirk on his lips.

He also noticed your head was turned towards the water so he pulled you to stand in front of him. He lost no time to hold your hand when you reached behind to grab his. Dalton mouthed a quiet wow when he took in just how beautiful you looked with the pink sunset sky.

Things were simple with Dalton. He did not talk much about what lead him to Glass Key, but you learned enough snippets of his life to know he wanted things to remain this way: simple. He liked the way you weaved yourself through the routine he built since working at the roadhouse. You'd visit before work, at work, after... You would hang out at the bookstore with Charlie, you would sit by the bar with Laura. It all felt simple. He did not hide his appreciation for the time you shared. He showed honesty in his intentions with you when a kiss turned into a lot more one too many times. Plenty of whispered praises, plenty of love filled gazes. You took it one day at a time with Dalton. And today was a special day in more ways than one.

Dalton bumped against you when you stopped walking abruptly at the sight of the makeshift picnic set up. Beach towels laid on the sand and held in place by a bunch of rocks and a pretty conch shell. It looked a little funky but he knew you could not care less. "After my first shift at the bar, Frankie told me this whole sales pitch about the place." He let go of your hand so you could wander towards the beach towels. "She said this was a beautiful spot to have a drink with someone special." Frankie was talking about the roadhouse, not the beach at the back of the marina but... It was close enough.

"She must be right." You sat down on the towel, Dalton joined you. He attempted to say something else, but the balloon floating in the evening breeze distracted him. You watched him intently as he untied the ribbon from your wrist and attached it to the handle of the cooler.

You exchanged a smile and enjoyed more of the sunset. You wondered to yourself how people could live in a beautiful place such as this and forget to pay attention. How could someone get used to a view like this? You certainly could never. You knew Dalton felt the same.

And Dalton knew what you were thinking about. He had travelled quite a bit, both for work and to escape it. He faced the same reflection time after time. "I don't know." He broke the silence, answering your unspoken question. "Maybe they don't have the right person by their side to remind them to appreciate the moment."

"I like the sound of that." You shifted closer to him and his hand slid along your lower back to find its place on your hip. "It's romantic."

"Wait 'til you hear about what I baked for your birthday..." He let out a small grunt when he stretched his arm towards the cooler to pull it closer.

"You can bake?"

"Nope." He opened the cooler and tilted in your direction. "But Charlie can." Kind of. He let you take a peak inside to admire the cupcakes that he prepared with the teenager and with Stephen on supervision duty.

You found it so endearing how he formed a bond with Charlie. Dalton even grew to like her comparisons to western novels and cowboy boots wearing broody heroes. You leaned in to admire the desserts and chuckled at the sight. "They're all squished."

"Shit." Dalton whispered at the sight of the dozen of misshapen cupcakes. He pulled out the tray and set it on the beach towel. He selected one that sort of held its shape during the transport from Charlie and Stephen's house to the beach. "I swear, I frosted them all nice for you." He grinned apologetically.

You grabbed the cupcake from his hand and took a bite. You swallowed thickly and tried to contain a funny face. "These are..."

"Burnt as hell." He stole a bite from the same cupcake and grimaced. He looked down at the rest of the desserts and began to explain that he was sorry, that he really tried to make your birthday special.

You interrupted him with a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "There was frosting." It was not entirely false, but you hoped this would stop the train of thoughts.

He still looked unsure, he worried that he had messed up.

So you kissed him again, on the same spot. You would usually let him lead and make the the first move so he would not feel trapped, but you wanted to reassure him. "Spending time with you is a nice gift on its own. So this?" You gestured around you. "This is great. And this." You held his head in your hands for a few moments, waiting for his lips to curl into a smile. "It's all I need to have a good time."

The smile stayed glued on his face even when you pulled away. You reached for the cupcake again and Dalton took it from your hand to put it back on the tray, slamming the cooler shut for good.

"You can't waste the cupcakes, you worked so hard to bake them for me." You would have eaten a couple of the sweets had he not stopped you, you wanted Dalton to know you liked the gesture.

"Then the crocodile can have them." You nodded, agreeing with his idea.

"Maybe he'll spare you for another night."

The sound of yours and Dalton's laughter blended together as one. "That's exactly what I was thinking." He replied.

"I know I just said I'm having a good time, but..." You crawled to kneel between his legs. You sat back, keeping a safe distance to let Dalton decide. "We can make it even better."

He considered the implications of your offer. Now, he felt like he was the one being celebrated. You were a real treat, kneeling before him with a gaze he had seen many times before. You wanted more... You wanted him. Dalton leaned in, glancing between your eyes and your lips.

You let him come closer until your mouths met in a gentle kiss, mirroring what you did moments ago.

His nose brushed against yours while he left you longing for another kiss. The small nod of his head told you everything you needed to know.

You erased the distance completely and kissed him again with your head tilted to the side.

Dalton's fingertips caressed along your arms and guided you to wrap them around his neck. He deepened the kiss when he felt one of your hands cradling the back of his head.

You hummed when his hands began to explore your body. The gentle touching up and down your back grew in eagerness.

Dalton's hands gripped firmly on your hips, pulling you closer. He placed a hand under your thigh and positioned you how he wanted. He took it slow, one step at a time. His hand travelled back up to the curve of your ass that he squeezed a little bit harsher than you expected.

The whimper you let out only encouraged him to keep going while his feverish touches fuelled you to take this further. Your tongue traced his lips before he parted his mouth open.

Your tongues danced together while he let go of you briefly to unbutton his shirt. Immediately after, your hands were all over him. Your fingertips followed the shape of his collarbone down to the curve of his pecs to end on the valley between his abs. You printed each and every detail of Dalton in your mind.

Your loving touch spread goosebumps on his skin, or perhaps it was the breeze getting cooler. The sunset reached its last instants, the sun appeared to be swallowed by the ocean far beyond the horizon. The marina was peaceful, but not quiet. Soft whimpers and grunts filled the silence as the waves slowly hit the sand.

You paused to catch your breath, Dalton could not take his eyes off your kiss swollen lips. "Wanna make you feel good." He whispered against your lips before leaning in again to let his tongue invade your mouth. His hands rested on your hips, squeezing the flesh and making your body move back and forth.

You ached from the lack of direct contact with him, you needed to feel him. But, again, you wanted to respect how far he seemed willing to go.

So he put his words into actions. Dalton made you straddle his thigh, trying to adjust the best he could to make sure you were comfortable. With his hands on your ass again, he began to make you grind on him. At first the movements were tentative, he let you adjust to the friction between your core and the clothes. But when you moaned at his ear, he could no longer hold back.

You rocked your hips back and forth, succumbing to the ever-growing hunger for more. More of this heated intimacy, more of Dalton's warm skin on yours... More.

Every time a door opened, Dalton closed it by repeating that you were a nice person, that you did not want to know him in that way, that you did not want to get close to him.

Yet, you waited. You showed him you had all the patience in the world for him. You showed that you were not out to get him, that you simply wanted to make Dalton feel good too.

You succeeded. The more you waited and reassured him that you would respect his boundaries, the more Dalton wanted to explore what lied beyond those limits.

"I don't want to stop." You murmured at his ear, trailing kisses from his ear and along his jaw until your lips connected again.

"I don't wanna stop either." His grip tightened on your hips, forcing you to slow down. "But since you refuse to get on the boat with me..."

You remained categorical, he would never convince you to step foot in that death trap. "We can go back to my place."

"Oh yeah?" Dalton kept you immobile, pressed down on his thigh. Your whine of complaint sounded like music to his ears. "You think you can wait that long?" It was quite the drive between the beach and your home. If either of you had the genuine intention to leave, you would have done in a while ago. "I'm not too sure about that."

You scoffed at his assumption. "Can you wait?"

Dalton answered your question by capturing your lips with his in a rough kiss. He slowly, carefully, helped you to lay on your back. He guided your legs apart to make space, his gaze meeting yours while his hands caressed your thighs. He let the tension build, he needed you to give him one more sign that you wanted this just as much as he did. When your hips bucked forward, your body pressing more against his, he grinned. "I've waited long enough."

[searchingforserendipity25]

There are some things Davenport knows.

He counts them sometimes, the things he knows.

His name; how to tie his shoes with twelve different knots; how the Madame Director likes her coffee.

The rules of playing Fantasy Chess, and how to cheat at Fantasy Chess too.

How to tell when someone is afraid

How to make his bed, so tight and neat he can drop a coin on it and it jumps, newly polished and gleaming, right back into his hand

How to bandage up to twenty different kinds of injuries

How to make the best sea chowder on the Moon Base, and also on the planet

How to press a uniform so it lasts a week and several explosions with no crinkled corners

How to organise reports with proper colour-coding techniques

Not a great many words, when it comes to that - slippery as fishtails, words, hard to grasp in the mind and impossible to put into his mouth

How to laugh, and how to cry

How to be helpful, if not always in the most efficient way

Some very complicated geometry and arithmetic, though not the word for geometry, nor how to write down an equation to explain how he got his results.His name, the names of his colleagues, where he is, what time of the day it is, what happened yesterday.

His name, his name, even when he doesn't know anything else, his name is Davenport -

Most days, anyway

He cries, sometimes, over bowls of spicy soup and at cute dogs, when someone leaves a book half-open on the table - when he sees groups of people laughing, and when he's alone for a long time. He is rarely alone. The Madame Director finds him, every time. Brings him biscuits and jam, shares puzzles, gives him folders to file.

She tries to teach him new words from brightly coloured books, sometimes. Not often; Davenport hates to make her unhappy, and she looks very sad, whenever he fails. He hates failing - this he knows for certain. But regardless of what he does, the Director is sad a lot of the time. Busy, busy; but she goes very still, late at night, and writes lists in strange languages with shifting characters, and then burns them, with a look on her face like stone, like a closed fist. He sweeps the ashes, afterwards; there's nothing in them he can understand.

No one sees her in those hours. Only Davenport is there, with no one else around. Davenport does not count as company, really. Or at least the Madame Director trusts him enough to let him see her when it's very late and she is very tired, and there is too much work for a night's rest.

It's nice, being trusted. Davenport likes it, likes his little tasks, his schedule and his friends. He knows every corner of the Moon Base, except the ones he is not supposed to enter; he has a little map sewn into his coat pocket, for when he forgets he knows every corner of the Moon Base.

He loves slow music, and sea chowder, and to drink his tea (the Director makes it, sometimes; she knows just how he likes it) while standing behind the transparent windows and watch the planet down below, all green and blue and changeful, like a face with many moods.

He knows he likes these things.

It is only that, sometimes, Davenport is very full of a painful feeling, a feeling like being full of smoldering fire, a feeling like --

Anger has no face, no colour. Davenport does not know a lot of things; sometimes he grasps at the softened edges of his mind, looking for something sharp enough to cut himself with. Davenport is angry, sometimes, though he has no words for it. Sometimes, anger is the only real thing in Davenport's world, the first thing he ever knew.

And then he forgets about it.

There are few things Davenport knows. He can feel the shape of something very important, prodding at him, filling him up with a warm, unpleasant energy. It is there when he wakes, for a handful of moments - every day, in the dreaming place between wakefulness and sleep. Like a dream, it fades before he is done dressing for the day. He has no words for it. The truth is, most days Davenport only knows his name is Davenport, and the worst of it is Davenport forgets there might be anything missing.

[star-shine-s]

"Time for bed!"

3:<

Prev - Next

[eistro-phobia]

HCs for Russell Adler pt.2 — Adler x reader edition

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

I am back and I have more to say, strap in

Warnings: suggestive references

Is very hard to fluster. It's annoying how nonchalant this guy is; pretty much nothing fazes him enough to earn a visceral reaction out of him. And he knows it frustrates you; sometimes he messes with you on purpose.

Expresses love mostly through silent physical touch. Catch him putting a hand on your thigh as you watch TV, squeezing your flesh as he reads something or keeping his arm locked around your waist at an event. He's subtly possessive like that.

Is a sucker for shoulder rubs. Heaven is the feeling of coming home to you after a long day of work and having your gentle hands knead through his tense muscles.

Loves satin on a woman. Dresses, chemises, robes, lingerie sets; wear them around him and you'll have him gagged.

Sleeps like a fucking vampire. Now this is fine when he's on his own, but it's stupidly difficult to burrow into his figure when you wanna cuddle. The best you can get is laying flat on top of him and by then he's out cold on sleep meds so is it even worth it?

Has a weakness for sharp and dark-painted nails. Something about their elegance and femininity does things to him, especially when you dig them into his skin.

Is a sugar daddy. To literally no one's surprise. He's in a high ranking position and rarely ever spends on himself; any saved up cash he has is yours to spend and his to spend on you.

Also gets you expensive stuff as an easy out when he wants to apologize or get you in a good mood. At least until the one time he bought you the same necklace he'd gotten you a month before.

Isn't really a jealous guy. He's a smug and overconfident bastard; he doesn't care enough to get jealous of another man. But if he sees you laughing it up too much with someone else, he knows too well how to make the guy uneasy enough to walk away—just to make sure you don't get too comfortable.

Would spring to action if he did see you uncomfortable, though. He wouldn't cause a scene, he wouldn't resort to fists, he wouldn't even get overtly angry or aggressive. All he'd do is flash the steel of the Desert Eagle tucked in his jacket and tell the bastard to scram.

Is a silent listener whenever you vent or ramble, and this comes from experience. He's learnt that the usual response he has to give, "it's not that big of a deal" will indeed get a toaster thrown in his face.

Doesn't act like an asshole when you're on your period; he's surprisingly understanding and offers to take over cooking for you if your cramps are getting to you, even if he's had a long day.

Can actually cook, by the way. Mostly just meals his kids like that he's learnt to make when they're over. Mac and cheese, clam chowder, pancakes, quesadillas; nothing fancy, but he tries.

Would probably be the most tender during aftercare or pillow talk; he's instantly pulling you closer and onto his body, running his hands through your hair as you pant against him. Domesticity doesn't have a place in his precarious life, but laying there in the darkness, blowing smoke out of his lungs as he feels you doze off holding onto him is a close enough respite—and it's probably more than he deserves.

This one was shorter cause holy shit I had to cut so much Gonna make them their own posts that'll hopefully be out soon

more stuff

[cookybananas]

Into You - Unburnt!Darth Vader x Reader

authors note: y'all can't stop me from writing unburnt/vader fics

summary: your husband, Lord Vader, is awfully cold towards you. Until one day, he begins to open up to you

"Let me into your heart..." You begged to your husband, whose backside faced you. His large frame faced the large window to your shared bedroom. "Can't you see my devotion to you? How much I-"

"Silence!" Vader barked, already growing annoyed at your words. You quickly shut yourself up, furrowing your eyebrows in frustration at him now. It had been 6 months since you had wed the Emperor's right hand man. From the start of the marriage, you had been nothing but a loyal wife who cared for him, despite him not showing his feelings for you in return.

As a former princess, your parents had stressed that you needed to learn how to be the ideal wife for your future husband ever since you were young. They had enrolled you into sewing classes and medical classes, believing that these traits would serve you well. Your mother had taught you to cook as well. She had always said that the fastest way to a man's heart was his stomach, and that meant that you had a cook a feast fit for king, and in this case, it was your husband, Lord Vader.

The efforts you had went through to show Vader your faithfulness to him were tiresome. At first, you had convinced yourself he just didn't know how to express his feelings towards you, but you were delusional. You now beginning to think he simply wasn't interested in you, but you wouldn't give up on him, and you didn't know why.

Even if you felt lonely, you knew the purpose of your marriage was to serve the Sith Lord, and only him. At times, you find had yourself missing your parents, your people, and being on a physical planet. You hated living on the Death Star, the grey interior sucked the life out of you. It didn't help that you could only stare into the dark and vast universe that had surrounded you.

-

Vader had sensed that you had been feeling distressed and had offered you a getaway in one of the luxurious penthouses on Coruscant, to which you happily took him on that offer, hoping that he would also join you the duration you were there. Unfortunately, he would only be there for a few days before the Emperor had requested his presence in the outer rim territories.

On the second night of your luxurious stay at the large penthouse, you began to do one of the many activities that helped you ease your mind: cooking. The two guards whom you had gave the task to retrieve your groceries had returned. Vader had entrusted them to look after you while he was gone for the time being.

After putting the groceries in their rightful place, you began prepping the ingredients for some bivoli tempari with a side of calamari chowder. Cooking was an escape for you; you didn't have to worry about anyone or anything else as you let your mind and hands wander, it felt like second nature to you.

The oven beeps, telling you that the bivoli tempari had finished baking. You finished setting the utensils on the table for you and the two guards, you thought that they could accompany you and that they would probably enjoy this meal better than the cafeteria food on the Death Star. They were a bit hesitant at first, perhaps worried that Darth Vader could walk in at any given moment, knowing that he wouldn't like the idea of his guards getting close to his wife.

To your surprise, the two guards were very easy to talk to. You discovered that their names were Knox and Adam, both very simple men who had the goal to fulfill their duty and were passionate about the Empire. You began to feel at ease, feeling more comfortable in the penthouse after having dinner with the two soldiers.

-

On the fifth day of your stay, Vader had surprised you by showing up two days earlier than his expected date. The doors to the elevator revealed a Vader in critical condition, you rush over to him, dragging him into the living room to patch him up. This wasn't the first time you had to patch him up. There were times your husband would come into your chambers injured after a mission. Other times he would wake you up to help him put on a batch patch on his back, but this time, he needed more than that. What felt natural to you, you began strip him of his black clad armor to get to the wounds.

"The...The helmet." He said weakly, his modulated breathing was hitched. Your eyes widen at his request, you had never seen him without his helmet before. Your hands were shaky as they slowly made their way to undoing the outer shell of the helmet, lifting it up from the neck gaiter.

"Maker..." You whispered under your breath, eyes widening at how gorgeous the man that sat in front of you was. His yellow colored eyes met your e/c orbs. His sandy curls were damp from the sweat he accumulated during combat. Your husband's hitched breathing brought you back to reality as you began to analyze his body from injuries.

He had a large gash on his left shoulder and ribs. You run into the kitchen to retrieve your medical box, now opening it on the table you began to work on him right away.

The atmosphere between the both of you was silent, but tense. Not a single word was muttered, other than Vader's occasional hisses of pain when you applied some bacta ointment on his wounds. An hour had passed while you had patched your husband up, without thinking, your e/c orbs met his as you cup his cheek with your hand.

"I'll make some soup to make you feel better hun." You kissed his forehead before walking back into the kitchen. It was in your nature to be nuturing, it was perhaps one of your best attributes that many people loved about you. For Vader, he hated it. He hated how caring you were, despite all the things he had put you through, you were forgiving and still cared for him. He felt he didn't deserve the woman like you.

Vader remained on the couch, his hands in his head, still stunned at what you did. It was the first time you had touched him, the first time you kissed him in way that made the butterflies in his stomach flutter.

A feminine hum shook him out of his thoughts, when he turned around, he was met with your backside torwards him. You were swaying your hips, as you hummed along to one of your favorite artists, Kuma Marden.

Vader couldn’t help but stare in awe, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile at you immersed into the music as you cooked. He didn't know what overcame him, but he knew he couldn't just sit there helplessly as you cooked.

“Allow me to help you my dear.” Your eye slightly widen at his suggestion, before you quickly nodded at him. Vader raises his hand toward the cupboards where the silverware and plates were. Using the force, Vader motioned the now, floating utensils and plates into the direction of the dinner table. You chuckled at Vader’s helpfulness as he carefully set the table with the use of the force.

“Take a seat darling, dinner is almost ready.” Your soft, yet gentle voice rung through his ears. With a screech from the chair, Vader plopped himself down in the chair that was head of the table. You made your way over to him, holding bowl containing some sort of stew that was steaming hot. Vader’s stomach rumbled at the sight of the bowl in front of him. It had been years since he had last seen something this appetizing.

With his hunger gnawing at him, Vader dug into the hearty stew. Glancing over at your husband, you couldn’t help but smile at his hastiness, before returning your focus on layering some jogan fruit on the purple-filled tart. The sound of the spoon hitting the table had made you nervous. “What’s wrong? Do you not like it dear?” You stopped in your tracks, whipping your head where your husband sat, growing nervous at his response.

"This is...This is very delicious my dear." He uttered out before digging back in. You let out a sigh of relief, smiling to yourself, content that you were able to satisfy your husband. What you didn't know, memories had began flooding into Vader's mind. The stew you had made had a familiar taste, if not the exact same taste of a soup his mother had made for him when he was a youngling.

"Well, make sure you leave some room for dessert then honey." You reply, slicing a piece of the jogan tart and plating for him. You place the plate in front of him. Realizing your husband was still shirtless, you go fetch one of his black robes that hung in the closet in the bedroom.

You had just missed the look on his face. Vader loved jogan fruit, and for it to be in tart form? Even better. He began scarfing down the dessert the moment you had turned your back.

Returning to the dining room, you see Vader washing away the plates he had just finished eating off from. Noticing you out the corner of his eye, he turned off the sink, wiping his hands dry on one of kitchen towels. You make your way over to him, helping him put on his black robe. He turns around to face you, allowing you to tie his robe altogether.

Sensing his gaze on you, you look up to him and give him a small smile before walking away to finish cleaning up, not giving him the chance to thank you for the dinner. Vader stood there, slightly hurt at your action.

The both you spent your evening winding down separately from each other. He could swear you were force sensitive or something, especially whenever he walked into a room you were in, you were quick to pardon yourself into a different room. He was getting just a tad bit annoyed, was he really that awful to stare at? Was he really that intimidating for you to be around?

He had found you in bed, sitting against the headboard, reading away at one of your books. Vader removes his robe and throws it on the vanity chair, leaving himself shirtless. Still immersed in your book, you feel the bed dip next to you, as your husband lets out a sigh of content after getting into a comfortable position.

For once, you sensed that your husband was finally opening up to you. Never did you ever see his face before going to bed or waking up. He had always made sure you didn't catch a glimpse of his actual face, maybe he was afraid of what your reaction would be.

You could feel his eyes burning through your skull. Beginning to feel uncomfortable under his gaze, you decided to speak up.

"How was your day hun?" Attempting to ease the awkwardness that had formed between the both of you. He didn’t respond, but you felt him grab your right hand that had been resting on your side. He began tracing your palm of your hand with his metal pointer finger, making you look over at him.

Now that he had your attention, your eyes lock on each other, your breath hitches at his intense yellow eyes.

"Sometimes I don't appreciate you enough my darling." He whispered to you. You were taken aback at his words, never did he speak such words to you, or just speak to you in general.

"Those rebels really got you messed up today don't they?" You poke at him, recalling that his physical state a couple of hours ago. Vader chuckled at your words.

"You could think that...But I mean it, really." His sincerity showing through.

You shut your book and place on the nightstand, unsure what to say to him. You couldn't run away from him this time.

"Perhaps you should get some rest." You suggest, wanting to avoid where the conversation was leading to. Turning off the lamp, you lay down on your side, your back facing him now.

Vader was starting to grow upset at your dismissive behavior, but he knew why you were acting this way. He had realize how cold he had been to you since the start of your arranged relationship. He never wanted this, but of course the Emperor had forced this upon him. He knew one day you would be collateral damage if something were to go wrong.

The past few months, Vader had been dealing with some inner turmoil. Conflicted with the idea of falling in love, the idea of falling in love with you. But now, he was desperate for your attention, deprived of it. Without thinking, Vader moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

At first, he could feel how tense you were, but you soon relaxed in the comfort of his large, strong arms. Your heart was beating fast against your ribcage. Vader was never physical with you, but you couldn't help but enjoy this very moment. Everything you had wanted to him to do, you were given it tonight. You knew it would take time for him to come around. Realizing your actions may have been hurtful to him, you turn around and face him.

“Perhaps I was too little rude to you.” You whisper to him. Your hand cupping his cheek.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything.” He cupped your cheek, his thumb gentle grazing the bottom of your lip. “May I?”

“Y-you may.” You breathlessly let out. His lips finding its way to yours.

His lips were soft against your plush lips. You pull away from him, trying to process what had happened. You rest your forehead on his, trying to catch your breath.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting you to do that.” You murmur, now resting your head on his chest, your arms snaking around his torso, tightly embracing him.

Vader couldn’t help smile to himself at your words. As you began to slip into your slumber, he couldn’t help but comb his fingers through your hair before dozing off himself. Perhaps he should keep you around longer.

-

authors note: thanks for reading yall!! xx

[rcmclachlan]

wip wednesday

Tagged by the fantabulous @beanarie. I was going to go to bed since I have to be up at 5am, but I figured posting this was more important.

Here's a snippet of the PWP I've picked back up and am trying like hell to finish. Speaking of hell...

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On Tommy's first official call with Harbor, they were sent to help Shasta County deal with the infamous Carr incident, and it remains the worst scene he's ever been sent to. That first day, he went up at least 40 times, dumping tons and tons of water over Redding to little effect. 

By the end of his first shift, in his final flight before he traded off with his relief, he'd been at the end of his rope—twisted and locked up with exhaustion and pain, like an exposed muscle—and it translated into some of the worst flying of his career. To make matters worse, night had fallen and visibility was nil thanks to the massive smoke plume that made it feel like he was flying through chowder. Plus, the bird he was in wasn't even his own, which always feels like driving a car that won't allow you to adjust the seat and mirror settings, and it fought him for every inch of air he gained. 

When Tommy finally broke through the plume, his throat one giant scratching post despite the steady flow of oxygen through his face mask, he found himself in the middle of what looked like the Apocalypse. The entire world had been swallowed by smoke and flame and wind, and through leaking eyes he caught sight of a slowly-spinning monster so massive he couldn't find the edges of it. 

In the span of a breath, he thought of the summer he turned nine and went to stay with his grandmother for a week, spending most of it curled up next to her on her three-season porch while they watched horror movies on a tiny television with a built-in VCR. Halfway through The Exorcist, his grandmother, who'd been drinking Pilsner out of a wine glass because she thought it made her look fancy, said she never understood why Hollywood thought the Devil would bother possessing random people. You think he'd settle for something so small? Of course not! He'd be out causing mayhem, flipping over cars, setting entire towns on fire! He'd be doing everything he could do to get God's attention.

Facing down what looked like a version of the Bat signal shot straight out of Hell, Tommy had to admit his grandmother had a point. But considering the fire whirl was consuming both the earth and sky without any kind of divine intervention, he wished she were still alive so he could tell her it didn't matter. God wasn't paying the least bit of attention.

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No pressure tags: @screamlet, @dadvans, @geddyqueer, @leashybebes, @liminalmemories21, @cecilyv, @dharmaavocado, @alchemistc, @harmless-variety-of-garden-snake, @firehose118, @beefcakekinard, @setmeatopthepyre, @epiphainie, @newtkelly, and @iphyslitterator