#AND ANGSTY

[onejellyfishplease]

This was based off of my ramblings in this post, id recommend reading it for context

but Voila! my Far Far Future au! This takes place way after the events of the movie and show (i dont want to give an exact number but its been a while)

[thatfoxnamedfinley]

I think about Captain Flint daily. This man SPECIFICALLY haunts my waking thoughts

[lordandladywhistledown]

Delulu wishes and thoughts based on Luke Newton's face expressions, part ??? :

The way Colin looks and smiles at Pen is to me giving different vibes from the "Oh Gosh, Pen, you are embarrassing yourself in front of these men" and is more like "Oh she's so adorable when she's nervous and she looks so cute with her hair like that." and he smiles (still unconsciously in love) but then he remembers why she's even talking nervously: they are finding her a husband (who is not Colin) and who will find her adorable and cute, too, and Colin will not be allowed to comment on her appearance anymore or be as close to her as they are now. Then his face drops because he realizes he's starting to like her more but she's slipping away from him and is bound to fall in love with someone else...

gif by: @yeahskam

[acroporatheseawing]

more illegal wof tribe colors!!

anywho, i need a name for this man. i would appreciate name ideas!!

[skinnyazn]

Lick Your Wounds

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader (Jaguar) Chapters: 3/3 Notes: VERY EXPLICIT MINORS DO NOT ENTER 18+, shit gets freaky—Ghost is a very freaky gyal, very graphic knife battle scene with lots of blood, followed by some freaky seggs, TW blood and stabby stabby, Thank you to @solidly-indulgent for inspiring the fic with their request of Jag getting injured and Ghost being sad feral,

Part One | Part Two | AO3 | MASTERLIST

Everything ached. From the surface of your skin and below to the bones and soft, tender organs. The tinnitus in your ears muffled out the other noises. There were no squawks from the jungle creatures. Just a high pitch ringing that drilled into your head as you stared up at the perfect blue sky amidst all the rubble. And there it was again, that odd flow of time. You knew you were awake, alive—breathing. But everything moved so slowly. Maybe if you just closed your eyes for a little bit…

A wave of nausea hit you and you rolled to your side and dry heaved. Sweat dripped from your face onto the crumbled concrete below. It dug into your palms. You groaned as your focus slowly sharpened. The sound of gunfire made its way past the ringing in your ears. That’s right—you were on a mission. You looked down at your dirty fatigues. Smelled the smoke and dust that surrounded you from the building. A subconscious part of you groped around the floor, searching for something second nature. What was it? A glint, a few feet away from you, buried under the rubble. That’s it. Your rifle.

“Chingada madre!” You felt a rough grip on your hair as a Buluc Chabtan soldier yanked you up. His fist met your face repeatedly and split open your lip and cheek, blood splattering to the floor. You groaned, willed your brain to focus. “Sabes que le hacemos a las putas como tú?” He threw you to the ground. Somewhere, in the distance, you heard an explosion.

The silhouette of the man blocked out the sun overhead. You watched as he pulled out his pistol. Aimed it at you. Felt the adrenaline pump through your body again, speeding up that flow of time. Your heart was pounding in your chest now as your hands sought something rough on their own.

“No puedes matar a una jaguar,” it came out raspy when you spoke. “Nosotras te matamos.”

The man chuckled—no, full on laughed at you. It was a grating sound.

“Crees que eres una jaguar cuando solo eres una puta—” but his words were cut off as you sunk your bowie knife into his achilles, slicing the tendon and bringing him screaming to the floor on all fours. 

You mounted him, locked your legs around his waist and squeezed. He reached back to grab you but you stabbed into his jugular, ripping the knife out to cut the cord, then sunk it in his chest—into any part of him you could. The man writhed, slamming the both of you onto your back as he exacted his own death roll. It fucking hurt but you didn’t let up—wouldn't unlock your legs. You just held him in a tight embrace as his hot blood coated the both of you, sinking your knife in again and again. He clawed and scratched and gripped but you never relented until his body started to spasm. Finally, his arms fell limp at his side and your shirt was soaked crimson.

Releasing him, you gasped for air. Shoved his still-warm body off of you and scrabbled away. You wiped your hands and arms on your pants but that just smeared the red around. Waves of vertigo rushed over you as you struggled to find your breath. A shadow approached you on the ground and you whipped around.

The figure caught your wrists as you tried to sink your knife into them, holding onto you with a firm grip. You tried sweeping your leg behind theirs but they blocked.

“Jag, it’s me!” a deep Manchester voice. You knew it, you were sure. You thrashed anyway. “It’s me, Ghost!”

Ghost. Simon.

You met his eyes as he took account of you. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, luv. I’ve got you.” 

His intense gaze raked over your injuries and the blood soaked shirt as you gave up your struggle. Somehow, you had no problem focusing on him and his skull mask. But his eyes behind the bone and blood… you’d never seen that expression before.

“It’s not mine.” You loosened your hold on your knife, letting it fall to the floor. Rested your hands on his chest as he released his grip. Felt the damp fabric underneath your fingertips. “Most of it, anyway,” you breathed.

Simon took of his gloves to hold your face, turned it to the side and looked at the blood dripping from your lip. His palms were so warm against you; his grip, frantic. Like he wasn’t sure if you were really alive before him.

He pulled you into him, constricting you with his embrace. “Thought I lost you.” 

You groaned softly. It hurt but you wanted more of it. Pain. From him. 

“Thought I’d fucking lost you.” There was a timbre in his voice. It almost sounded like anger.

“I’m here,” you mumbled into his chest; your hands moved to span the width of his neck. He sucked in a deep breath.

Pushing you away, he ripped off his mask. His dirty blonde hair caught the sun’s rays. It caught you off guard as your mouth went slack—it was the very definition of shock. You couldn’t breathe. Your skin went clammy and your heart felt like it was about to burst while you took in Simon Ghost Riley’s face for the very first time. He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen in your life, in spite of the smeared eye paint, sweat, and all his scars.

“Oh,” you breathed. It was all you could managed as you reached to touch his face, getting red on his cheek. His jaw flexed.

Then he crashed against your lips, tasting your blood. You still couldn’t find your breath but you opened for him—tongues vying with each other’s. He engulfed you, kissed your mouth and then your split-lip and along your jaw. Up to your cheek, licking the blooming bruise and metal of your open wound—the saltiness of your sweat. You couldn’t see straight but it wasn’t from the concussion this time.

“I need you, Simon.” It came out desperate and barely a whisper but he heard it all the same.

He pushed you backward a few steps toward a piece of wall that was still upright. Spun you around as his teeth found your ear. You gripped the concrete for stability. Wetness was already pooling between your thighs.

Simon reached around you, undoing your belt and sliding your pants just below your ass as your back rested flushed against him. Heard the metal of his own belt and zipper before feeling him already at your entrance. He pulled your hips back and you sank onto his hard cock, groaning as he stretched you wide. Your head hung heavy as you watched his hips pick up pace and snap against yours. Heard the slick sounds from your wetness over the ringing in your ears. When you rolled your head back, Simon gripped your neck, bringing you in for a kiss while he fucked you hard; your arched back formed a hollow against him. You tasted your blood on his tongue.

And you’re not sure when the tears came but he licked them away all the same. All you could feel as you closed your eyes was a numbness over your body and that sweet heat in your core—a heat that only your Ghost brought out. Simon grunted and panted in your ear as you tried to keep your moans down.

“J-Jag,” he huffed as you gripped the wall, knuckles bone-white under the blood—your name sounding like a prayer on his lips.

Simon was the only one who could ruin you like this. Bring you to this state of ecstasy. And so you made a guttural sound as fucked deeper into you, threatening to open you—take root in every part of you up and never leave. You slammed harder against him.

“Haaaa fuckkk,” he groaned against your face, slamming your hips once, twice before slowing them. You felt his cock throb inside you—felt his hot cum fill you as he fucked the fluid deeper inside. Simon’s thick arm wrapped around your waist, securing you against him, as he struggled to calm his breathing. 

“Are you alright?” he muttered softly against you. You could barely hear him as the blood pumped through your ringing ears, but attempted a nod. He rubbed his nose against your cheek before drawing away. His hot cum dripped down your leg. Simon pulled up your pants and redid your belt as you stared at the bloody handprints left on the concrete. You turned around when he was done, leaning against the wall for support. Your legs shook.

“We've gotta go, luv,” he said as he fixed his own pants.

You stared at his face. Tried to commit every detail of it to memory. Simon stared back at you tenderly. He kissed the corner of your mouth gently before slipping on his mask.

“Soap, what’s your status? Jag’s alright,” he spoke into the comms. Nodded at Soap’s response. “We’ll bring a truck to you.”

“C’mere,” he turned toward you and knelt down. You ungracefully climbed onto his back, barely able to wrap your legs around his thick waist. He supported you with his left hand while his right grabbed his rifle. 

“Getting blood on you,” you spoke as you placed your arms around his neck for support.

“Long as it’s not yours, we’re good.”

You hummed into his warm neck, head feeling unbearably heavy now.

“Stay with me, Jag. We’re nearly finished,” he murmured as he strode across the compound.

“I’m here, Ghost. I’m here."

[somebluemelodies]

i saw that one screenshot of Cellbit and Roier that screamed AU and it altered something in my brain chemistry so here's what i created in response. tumblr needs more spiderbit fics so here's my first contribution :]

-

There are pros and cons of being a personal guard.

Cellbit practically knows the prince like the back of his hand. What makes Roier happy, what makes him sad. All the drama and his feelings and all the other comings-and-goings.

He likes it. He really likes Roier.

(He loves Roier.)

Maybe he loves Roier, but that’s nobody’s business but his own (and Richarlyson’s, his loveable little nuisance of a son, who enjoys trying to play Cupid far too much for his own good).

Roier is the prince, next heir to the Brown de Luque throne. And he’s… a guard.

Even if the feelings were mutual, even if he’s helped Roier sneak out more times than he can count to find new places to watch the sunset, so Bobby could see from wherever he was among the stars that his adoptive father hasn’t lost that sense of adventure, of bending the rules just a little bit.

Even under a sky painted navy blue and flecked with white, and kisses are exchanged to an audience of no one but themselves.

He’s just a guard to his prince.

It’s for the best, though, Cellbit tells himself. He’s not royalty, and he never has been. No, he’s the opposite of royalty.

Roier deserves the best: royalty just like him. The best isn’t a prisoner-escapee from faraway lands, isn’t an ex-meticulous-murderer-and-manipulator, even if he spent years reforming himself so he could become a guard to begin with. The best isn’t broken.

The best isn’t Cellbit.

(Even if Richarlyson tries to reassure him otherwise. Even if Roier says his past doesn’t matter, that everyone makes mistakes. His past does matter, he’s made too many mistakes.)

(Right?)

But it won’t stop Cellbit from doing his rightful duty; he’ll always protect the prince with everything he has. Roier will never be alone as long as Cellbit is around. He’d die for him, he’d kill for him. Because a man like him deserves nothing less.

It’s why he doesn’t react when he hears Kings Foolish and Vegetta break the news of an arranged marriage for their son. It’s why he ignores the way Richarlyson keeps incessantly tugging on his arm that night, urging him to act, to object. Lest he lose what he loves for good.

It’s why he shakes his head, why he tells himself it’s for the best. It’s why he scolds himself for wanting something, someone, that was never his in the first place - because it was never his place.

(No matter how many hushed sweet nothings. No matter how many tight embraces or sunset kisses or familial feelings.)

He’s just a guard to his prince.

[whumpasaurus101]

Sidekick Whumpee x Hero Whumper pt 10

okay lets ignore the fact that i havent updated this story for...LIKE A YEAR??? oh my days- ANYWHO GYUHJHKDJHD I'm back with my mojo LETS DO THIS WOOO

Cw: Blaming self / Guilt / past character death reference / its more ouchy hurt than pain HUIJDGHKDHJ

Previous / Masterlist

---

Once Medic had convinced Villain to lie down for a few minutes, they made their way back into the room before freezing. Sidekick was curled into a ball, hugging their knees close to their chest as they rocked back and forward. Medic cursed under their breath, rushing to kneel by Sidekick’s side, “Heyhey Sidekick, look at me.” 

Sidekick sobbed out, shaking their head quickly, “‘s a-all my fault! Why the hell did you come after me!?!?!!?” They roared, “I was fine, I was able to put up with the pain-” They couldn't help the sobs that ripped from their throat, “And now someone died because of me!!!”

Medic looked at them, their eyebrows furrowed as they let out a sigh, “Oh Sidekick…” They gently pulled Sidekick close to them, “It's alright kid, I’ve got you, alright? Nothing is going to happen to you or us.” 

Sidekick sobbed, their fingers tangled in Medic’s shirt- their knuckles white. 

Medic softly shushed them, their hand running through the other’s hair, “Let’s get you to bed, just so your stitches don't get ruined or anything from being down here, okay? I’ll make us some food soon.” They gently brushed back a curl that was covering Sidekick’s eye, “You look exhausted.”

Sidekick gulped and nodded, sniffling as they wiped their face with their arm. 

Medic brought Sidekick to the guest room, they gave them a soft oversized hoodie -which Sidekick was very grateful for- before Sidekick relaxed into the bed. Just as Medic went to leave, they felt a gentle tug at their wrist. When they turned around, they saw Sidekick, looking up through their long eyelashes;

“Can.. can you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

Medic’s face softened and they nodded, “Of course, hun. They gently sat over the duvet, right beside Sidekick who’s eyes fluttered closed. Medic’s fingers carded through Sidekick’s hair, gently scratching their scalp. They felt the other relax under their touch, a smile on their face before they took out their phone. They texted Teammate, telling them the situation and asking for them to sort out the body. 

Once the message was sent, they let out a shaky breath before searching up to see if there were any nice hotels nearby.

Villain lay on their bed, heart aching. Their eyes were more or less glazed over, staring at the ceiling. They closed their eyes shut tight before opening them again. This is not what Henchman would like, Henchman told them to take care of Sidekick and that's what they had to do.

Just as they sat up, Meic entered the room; they both chuckled. “Hey,” Medic smiled. 

Villain shakily smiled back, “Hey.”

“So uhm, I figured it might be a nice change of scenery if we stayed a night or two at a hotel. Just the three of us.”

Villain’s eyes widened, “I-you- I mean, s-sure! But only if you let me pay.”

“Oh you're hilarious, cmonnnnn, let me treat you!!!” 

Villain chuckled, “Damn you, you know I can’t resist your puppy dog eyes.”

Medic giggled, smiling proudly, “Cmon, pack your stuff!!! I’ll get mine and Sidekick’s things in a bag.”

Villain nodded and Medic turned to leave.

“H-hey, Medic?”

Medic hummed, turning around to meet eyes with Villain who smiled, chewing on the inside of their own cheek before speaking, “Thank you, for…for everything.”

Medic smiled, walking over and hugging the villain, “Of course, it's the least I could do.” 

Villain shook their head, “It- it's not…it’s… well, it's more than anyone except for Henchman has done for me.”

Medic smiled a teary smile, cupping Villain’s cheek and pressing a gentle kiss to their forehead, “You deserve to be looked after, Villain. You get no credit for looking after this city, someone needs to look after you…”

---

taglist: @digitalart-dwa @screechingqueenmentality @happy-whumper @mercurymom @wingedwhump @wolfeyedwitch @therealcough @epiclamer @guachipongo @ghostfacepepper @break-so-beautifully @whumblrwork @echo-tries-writing @vuvulia @pizzasthengym @patheticlittleguy @random-sneke @myhusbandsasemni @yells-in-lowercase @extrabitterbrain @thearoaceghost @tolazyfornameme @itsmyworld23 @addendumbeekeeper @whatwhumpcomments

(if you wanna be added or removed just let me know!!! <3)

[radiohead-spiderman]

Jily is so very deer(haha) to me

There is so so much angst in their relationship and no one in this fandom sees it, I dare say it’s angstier than pandalily, I dare say it’s angstier than marylily, I dare say it’s angstier than jegulus even

Before I get yelled at for that; I can and will make a whole essay on why jily is ONE OF the angstiest ships in the fandom

[ender-goo]

GORETOBER DAY 23 - LOVE HURTS

STRYKABAL CONTENT WOOOO and is angst which means double prize ehehe

[gureshinlover]

Queen of Tears is so good 🥺 i cant wait for the next episodes

[waugh-bao]

The First Demo of “Thru and Thru” (Barbados, 1993, Voodoo Lounge Outtake)

[lizzychanz]

I don't usually self promote, but I figured I'd drop this here anyway. If anyone's interested in a really weird and dark ShinRan fic, then here's one. It's weird. Just a warning.

And here's the cover for said story, taken from the inside cover of vol. 95. Colored it myself.

[thespiritmoon9]

Weird flowers don’t usually grow in the dessert 🤔

[russilton]

Doing to @ininininininstayoutstayout what she does to everyone else

[leejenowrld]

this reminds me of how messy and chaotic i’m gonna make ghostin!mc in the future chapters!! and you guys better deal with it LMAO. i’m gonna get asks saying ‘i hate her’ ‘she’s a bitch’ ‘poor jaemin’ ‘she needs therapy’ ‘she’s a mess’ and i can’t wait for it!! our girl has attachment, substance abuse issues and the list goes on and on! she got a whole load of issues

[marsneedstherapy]

every chapter of fhh is my favorite actually