#am all bark and no bite) ur about to feel my teeth

[luvrhyune]

SOLAR IM THINKINF ABT VAMPIRE SKZ NOW STOP THIS MADNESS (ur theme is the CUTEST btw!!!) but i’m thinking abt vamp!chan whos alw biting ur neck just for sillies like dull teeth but he has the silliest goofiest little smile whenever u let him and go along with it JUST IMAHINE “ahhh oh nooo i’m being bitten” and he’s just giggling into ur neck arms wrapped around u !!!!! i am weak . OR COOKING WITH HYUNJIN and imahine ur holding garlic and ur holding back giggles like “hmm i wonder what this is” and he stops what he’s doing just to give u the blankest stare he can bc he is so SICK of u !!! but he still covers his mouth and giggles along with u and he dodges u if u put it near him just to entertain u :( ASKING VAMP!JISUNG if he can see his reflection and he’s like ‘yes do u think i would’ve been able to live this long if i couldn’t wake up to this pretty face?’ and ur like ‘hm unlucky’ AND HES SO POUTY ANS LITERALLY MAKES U BEGGGGGG for forgiveness for ur little joke OH MY GFOS IN THINKINF ABOUT buying jewellery for changbin and suddenly before u give it to him ur looking all worried and he comes over and cups ur face and he’s like ‘baby BABY seriously baby tell me what’s wrong’ and his eyes are so wide and genuine ans then u start giggling and ur like ‘binnie what if u can’t wear them because they’re silver :(‘ but ur shaking with giggles and he just GROANSSS bc he was so worried for u and buries his head in ur neck and nips u in retaliation solar soso i am not ok rn THWYRE SO SILLY !!!!! how r u btw !!!!!!

“how r u btw” GIRL I AM SICK??? GOD ELLA THESE LITTLE HCS ARE SO CUTE IM SHFUEIDE SCRWAMING INTO MY PILLOW.

vamp! channie just doing silly little things that you play along with just to see his cute little dimples and his fangs :(( “i’m gonna drink ur blood” “ahh no mr vampire please” and he’s just doing his little squeak giggle, wrapping his arms around ur waist, nudging his nose against ur neck <3

vamp! hyunjinnie is actually debating biting you with ur antics,, garlic is the devils spawn >:(( he’ll literally knock that shit outta your hand so fast, running around with his super speed whining about how he “touched garlic” and he’s “gonna die” before pouting at you laughing ur ass off

vamp! jisungie is just so :( he’s holding you in ur full length mirror, i can imagine him nuzzling into ur neck and ur like “ji?” and he hums, looking at you through the mirror seeing a frown on ur face, immediately worrying, and your just like…. “i can feel you, but i can’t see you???” HE’S SO OVER YOU EUDOEBEI he immediately pushes you away from him, and walks into a different room while ur on the floor laughing

AND VAMP! BINNIE :(((( i LOOVE HIM HES JUST SO [barks] idek what to say about him hes just sooooo🫨🫨🫨 i can just imagine him picking you up, and nipping at you, with dull teeth and he’s just like “stop playing with me >:|” SHHHSIEBEIDBEOEJODDNDIDNOEDNODDBI

[lupi-usque-ad-finem]

ask game: 🌺 and 🍂

ily thank u for asking!

🌺: I found out I was otherkin/wolfkin at a very young age before I even had the language to describe it. I always preferred walking and running on all fours or my toes, growling, biting, hissing, barking, whining, and chirping felt more comfortable than talking most of the time plus my family never demented or made fun of me for it and even encouraged it, I was and still am the designated “guard dog” of my family, and have always had a fascination with wolves. I found some undeniable sense of comfort and almost a familial bond with them. any wolf movies, books, or media I could consume I did (shout out alpha and omega this is all ur fault <3), then one day around age 11 I was perusing through YouTube and found this video, and immediately wanted to cry out of sheer joy. for reasons I couldn’t explain at the time, it felt so empowering and overwhelmingly comforting to see others who dressed and acted like me especially since they were teenagers and I was still a pup, much less seeing packmates! packmates!!! that meant I could form my own pack too! it wasn’t just me who felt this way! soon after I discovered ‘otherkin’ here on tumblr and YouTube and just nose dived into it all :)

🍂: some of my favorite activities are designed by the weather, as for spring it’s all about those early morning howls, exploring the nearby woods, and hunting (going to the grocery store in a sneaky way), summer it’s gotta be swimming, hiking, and stickin my head out the window of the car, fall is for lounging by the fire in a wolf pile and eating s’mores, and winter it’s snow time babey! gotta eat all the snow and dig dig dig!!! MAKE A SNOW DEN DIGGY DIGGY

for activities outside of weather is definitely making and remaking my den/nest cause dogs gotta sleep, collecting sticks and rocks, adding more foresty items to my den, candle and purfume searching for woodsy scents, experimenting with clothes and accessories to feel more comfortable in my kintype, watching and rewatching my favorite canid centered movies, biting my sibling to show affection, wearing my canine fangs until I can save up and get them permanently pointed, hanging out with my packmates and marking them with face rubs and gentle arm bites, wearing the prized possession that is my tail on every outfit, practicing my vocalizations like barking, growling, snarling, and howling, taking care of my claws and teeth, collecting necklaces and collars my beloved, improving facial control (nose/snout movements, lip curls, ear movement, the works), improving mobility (I’m very tall so walking/running on all fours for long periods of time is a bit more difficult now), connecting deeper with my kintype mentally/spiritually, and going to my family’s cabin upstate! there’s dogs and wolves on the mountain who answer when I howl to them :)

I love getting asks hehe thank you sm! <3

[jaskiersvalley]

I just died laughing over ur last ficlet with geraskier as demons seducing each other. The set up was so good. And the ending *chef's kiss* 😂😂😂

The demon AU was a lot of fun to write and I wish I had a follow-up to that story. Alas, that seems to be a standalone story. However, I can offer you some idiots being, well, idiots.

It was just Eskel’s luck that he got to a village only to hear that the contract had already been snatched up by another witcher. Still, he was in a village with a tavern that had music and a bard who seemed to be whipping the crowd into a merry frenzy so Eskel risked staying for a drink and some food. If the other witcher objected to his presence, he could at least leave on a full stomach and a song stuck in his head. Because the bard was good, infuriatingly so. More like the kind that should be in a royal court than in a nameless backwater village. Maybe he was on the run, did something stupid like sleep with the wrong wife and now had a price on his head. it was none of Eskel’s business even if he liked to guess scenarios.

The set wound down and Eskel pulled his hood tighter around his face now that the music no longer distracted people from their surroundings. Hopefully the crowd was in too good a mood to chase him out. He didn’t expect someone to sit down opposite him and push a tankard across the table.

“I love how you just sit in the corner and brood.” It was said so teasingly, Eskel’s eyes flashed from under his hood, surprise stretching his scars across his cheek. “Don’t worry,” the man was quick to reassure, “you’re safe with me.”

As if a witcher was safe with a bard. There was no protection a bard could offer but Eskel still gave him a thorough once over.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the bard said with a wide grin, “I am-”

“You’re Geralt’s bard.” He could recognise the bruised teeth marks on the bard’s neck in a heartbeat. Especially when he had worn the very same marks quite proudly over winter. Not that Eskel was jealous. It wasn’t like he and Geralt had anything more than a winter romance each year.

“I prefer to think of Geralt as my witcher actually.” There was a slightly offended tone to the bard’s voice. “At least he talks of me, I guess that’s a positive. I’m Jaskier.”

“Eskel.”

Introductions made, there was a brief moment of silence and Eskel thought Jaskier would leave. Instead, it seemed Jaskier just getting comfortable and taking a deep drink from his own tankard.

“So, was it the wonderful singing that tipped you off as to who I was?”

Eyes on Jaskier’s neck, Eskel shook his head. “There’s not many people Geralt would mark as his own. Really, out on The Path, it’s just you.”

The unsaid implication that there were others Geralt would mark when not on The Path probably went over Jaskier’s head. Or not, as his eyes darkened.

“Well-” a long finger traced the rim of a tankard, “-seeing as Geralt has taken the only contract, I feel bad about having you get here only to find there’s nothing worthwhile in this village.”

If Eskel didn’t know better, he would have thought Jaskier was coming onto him. He obviously didn’t know better because Jaskier leaned closer, a hand popping a button on his already indecently open doublet.

“You’re his bard,” Eskel bit out and hastily tried to drain his drink so he could escape. There were a lot of things he was willing to do but he didn’t want to cross Geralt.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Jaskier’s eyes were dark. “I call him my witcher. But he has in no way claimed me as his bard. I’m open for the taking because he hasn’t got the message that I could be his.”

“I’ll leave him a message,” Eskel growled under his breath. If Jaskier was offering so openly, he would be a fool to turn him down. “You got a room?”

The way Jaskier jumped up, emptying his drink in a few quick gulps spoke volumes about his enthusiasm and Eskel knew he’d made the right choice. Even back at Kaer Morhen he and Geralt weren’t exclusive. They shared Lambert and even Aiden if he was there and in the mood. A hand around his wrist and Eskel was being tugged towards the rooms at the back. Someone even wolf whistled Jaskier and Eskel fought down a blush.

In the room he could smell Geralt, saw evidence of him having been by however that was quickly wiped from Eskel’s mind in favour of the world narrowing down to Jaskier.

The bed ended up smelling heavily of them and the throw had to be thrown to the ground as it had ended up covered in come. It was worth it though, especially when Eskel looked at Jaskier’s throat and, on the opposite side to Geralt’s fading mark, was an imprint of his own teeth. If Geralt missed the permeating smell, he would hopefully see Eskel’s message at least.

“Geralt better bring you to Kaer Morhen in the winter,” he murmured as he held Jaskier, both of them sticky with sweat and other bodily fluids. “If he refuses, tell him you’ll be my guest and need escorting.”

“I’ll be there.”

Waiting until Jaskier was asleep, Eskel slipped out of the room and went to collect Scorpion. He didn’t want to waste money on a room of his own and he didn’t really want to be there when Geralt returned. Well, he did a little, just to see his reaction to the bite mark but by being there, the surprise would be somewhat ruined. It was easier to get ahead and have a few hours’ advantage over Geralt.

The sun was rising and Eskel was napping off the side of the road in a patch of soft moss when he heard the sound of hooves, accompanied by a lute. It couldn’t be an accident that Geralt and Jaskier were headed that way. Which meant Geralt had received the message.

Stepping out onto the road, Eskel had his arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow raised.

Never a man of many words, Geralt dismounted and marched up to Eskel who stood his ground. A glove covered hand reached and gripped the back of Eskel’s neck, pulling him in. First it was just to rest their foreheads together but then the hand slipped to cup Eskel’s cheek and lips brushed against his. One soft kiss turned into something more forceful as if Geralt was making a point. By the time he pulled away, the were pressed chest to chest and Geralt’s thigh had slipped between Eskel’s.

“Can’t believe you didn’t wait for me.” Geralt’s voice was a low rasp. “Leave my bard all marked up but leave before I get back.”

“Oh, so I am your bard?” Jaskier was smiling, lounging against a tree and openly appreciating the view before him. “About time I got some recognition around here.”

“Shut up.” Geralt was almost smiling. “If you’re not careful, I’ll bring you to Kaer Morhen for winter. Then you’ll be the Wolf School’s bard.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Eskel barked out a laugh, head thrown back which turned breathless as Geralt nipped at his throat. The light brush of teeth turned to something harder and Eskel’s knees almost buckled as his hips rocked against Geralt’s thigh. The bastard stepped away, leaving Eskel high and dry.

“Come home for winter.” Geralt smirked and hopped up onto Roach. “Until then, Wolf.”

With a cheeky wave, Jaskier turned to follow Roach, sauntering after Geralt and already strumming a new tune.

Rubbing his throat, Eskel watched them leave. The mark smarted, a nice reminder of what he could expect, come winter. Even better, when he finally made it there, Jaskier was lounging in Aiden’s lap, both of them looking every bit like the cats who got the cream.

[heroprose]

can we talk about a fake dating au..... todoroki is so unconvincing that ppl dont even tbink u guys are FRIENDS... mans acts like he is ur distant cousin... - 🦊

a/n. this wasn’t even a rq but i’ll humor u with a fake dating au w/ shoto let’s GO 

//

“so… you two are dating?”

“yes!” you say cheerfully but pressed, leaning in so you can hear your friend over the bustle of the party. in the glass in your hand, the ice is melting fast. you keep shoto todoroki’s expression in your peripheral view as you continue. “we’re three months in. give or take.”

thankfully, he doesn’t miss a beat when he speaks. unfortunately, it’s not the response you were hoping for.

“three months?” echoes shoto, startled. stark unease is written all over his face and you’re wondering what’s wrong now. 

“yeah,” you say. “i know, time flies, right?” you stare unblinking, hoping he’d understand.

he does, for the most part, once he meets your eyes. “yes… yeah,” he says. the arm that is around your waist for niceties is noticeably stiff, and you do your best to feign as though shoto’s fingers aren’t digging into your skin through the fabric of your shirt. “we love each other very much in spite of the short three months.”

his voice is robotic, his words pulled straight from a script.

you suck in a breath between your teeth as your friend smiles politely, confusedly. you know that in a bit, they’ll be pulling you aside for a talk. “that’s cute,” they say. “it’s very nice to meet you.”

“yeah.” he takes big sip of his glass of water, not attempting to stretch the conversation.

“where… where did you two meet?” says your friend, with a curious tilt of the head.

“work,” he answers but it’s an unsatisfactory reply, judging by how their eyebrows knit.

“we’ve always been friendly,” you interject with something of a bark of laughter. “but you know how agency potlucks can sometimes bring people together, especially those from different divisions and buildings.” 

this time, you refuse to meet shoto’s gaze when he stiffens with braced confusion.

“umm…,” you hear him say. “yeah. potlucks… they do that.”

with that, you knew the conversation had to end immediately.

“well. it was nice seeing you! i’ll see you around!” you tug yourself out of his grasp and grab his wrist. he stays silent until you round on him at a secluded corner of the room.

“shoto,” you whisper. “i don’t think anyone could fall for that.”

he gives you an apologetic look. “but we didn’t discuss how long the relationship was to be.”

“yeah, but– improv! we can improvise this, you know. as long as what we say doesn’t clash with one another, it’s fine. say what you think people want to hear.”

“like what?”

“literally anything. that we’ve been dating for three months, that we met at a potluck, that we’ve gone to three twice concerts together and that ooh-ahh is your favorite song but likey is mine! literally anything.” you pause, allowing him to digest this.

he glances away, eyes flashing fast before nodding. “got it. three months. potluck. twice.”

you nod, now refilled with determination to get through this party while lying to all your family and friends about your dating situation. it’s complicated.

you two part ways from then, promising to meet back in a bit. you expect things to go swimmingly, even with a few setbacks and prolonged pauses, but you trusted shoto to not give you nor him away. 

he was awkward, but not dense; and he equally knew that this setup was only temporary, in order to get your parents off your back.

that’s what you thought, at least, until he came hurrying back to your side as you were picking through the concessions.

you extend to him a cracker, pinched between your finger and thumb. “want one?”

he takes it reluctantly. “i talked to your parents,” he says and your jaw drops.

“shoto! no! we were supposed to face them together!” you whisper-yell this time, around the cracker in your mouth. “you should’ve ran.” you take an anxiety-riddled chug of your champagne before slamming the plastic flute on the counter.

your blatant horror doesn’t faze him. “it went well,” he says with a nod and nibble of the cracker. “they were happy.”

“oh,” you let slip. “that’s good to hear, actually. not suspicious?” 

“no,” he says, but how trustworthy his response was, you had no idea.

nevertheless, you clap a hand on shoto’s shoulder and let out a loud noise of relief. “really? great, then. thanks for having my back. i’ll be forever in your debt.”

shoto smiles, seeing you relax. “you have nothing to worry about. i’ve got you,” he tells you. “they won’t suspect anything.”

“love that. and in like a months’ time, i’ll tell them we broke up so it’ll all fade into the past.” you take another cracker from the tray. “perfect.”

he nods. “probably not a month, but agreed–”

“wait, what? i think a month is plenty of time.”

“it’s too early.”

you snort. “it’s fine. they’ll probably forget your name in two weeks anyway.”

“no, they’ll be back in the city in a month. they told me.”

uneasiness crawls up your spine and you withdraw your arm. “i’ll cape for you if they try grilling you for being a bad ex boyfriend, seriously! don’t worry about it.”

“but i told them that…,” he trails off, seemingly reflective.

“what did you tell them?”

“i said i’m planning on getting you an engagement ring. they’ll be trying to figure out your ring size in the coming weeks.” he shrugs. “so i think we should probably hold off for now. to not hurt their feelings.”

it was like he punched you square in the chest with how dread filled your torso. your mouth opens but you don’t speak immediately. he just waits as you marinate in your shock, taking another bite of his cracker. 

it crumbles slightly and you squeeze your eyes shut because past shoto’s shoulder, you see the familiar bright visages of your parents. looking directly at you.

“and why would they forget my name in two weeks’ time?” shoto asks. “am i that forgettable– are you okay?”

“did you tell them about the twice songs too?” you ask in a mumble, withdrawing into your own space. they’re walking over, you know it, by the way they’re edging their way through the sea of people and oh god–

“no. should i have?”

“no,” you say with a bit of a sigh, “it’s a good thing you didn’t. they know my favorite song is actually TT so the jig would’ve been up.” 

“oh,” he says quietly and as he finishes chewing the last of his cracker, you turn him around to face your parents.

[vincent-frankenstein]

When it Rains

Summary: Logan's facade is slipping — and all it takes is an argument with Roman to make it break entirely.

Pairings: none 

Warnings: angst w no happy ending, crying, fighting, yelling, lots of Ouch Oof My Heart feelings :')

i lost my gen taglist :'(((( if youd like to b added or removed please let me know! i gotta rebuild it shdkfh

@aliferous-ly (the only person i remember being on the list shdfksh)

thanks to @nonbinarylogan who messaged me late last night to deliver some Sweet Sweet logangst and inspired this mess ur an iconic logan stan and ily

They were arguing again.

Really, Logan wasn’t even sure what had started it this time. An offhand remark, a subtle jab about schedules; anything and everything seemed able to get them at each other’s throats. One tiny problem and they were off, yelling and snapping and hating until they couldn’t even remember what they’d been fighting about in the first place.

Roman was yelling. He did that a lot these days, even more than usual; and in place of his typical overdramatic tone, fury rolled darkly beneath his voice. Logan felt fury blaze to life in his chest to match Roman’s anger and he pushed it away, away, away, gritting his teeth as he schooled his expression.

“As I’ve said countless times, this is getting us nowhere. Thomas has far too many obligations to spend any longer on recreational projects. You’re being ridiculous, Roman.”

“‘Ridiculous?’” Roman repeated, his eyes flaring with anger. “Wow, talk about throwing stones in glass houses!”

“I would never do that, that’s incredibly dangerous,” Logan said, shaking his head. Roman let out a loud, furious scoff, dragging a hand through his hair.

“I know Thomas has work to do, Logan! With how often you remind me, I doubt I could ever forget! But he cannot just give up on other pursuits because of it!” Logan felt a million retorts jump up his throat and die on his tongue as Roman growled. “I can’t work like that!”

“That is not my problem,” Logan said, and cleared his throat to erase the hint of frustration leaking into his voice, “and it should not be Thomas’, either. I will reiterate: we have too much to do to keep taking so many breaks.”

“It is your problem!” Roman yelled, loud, and Logan winced despite himself, his chest tightening. He readjusted his tie and cleared his throat, shoving away the feeling before it could take hold. “Without me, there’s no work to get done in the first place! Why don’t you stop being such an idiot and realize that not everybody can be a robot like you?”

Logan’s chest seized. Why wouldn’t his voice come? Why weren’t his lungs functioning? He cleared his throat. “I-I am not —” He cut himself off and shook his head. “While you are… necessary… for Thomas’ productivity, your incessant need to take on more than we are capable of handling, even ‘recreational projects’ for ‘self-care,’ is only hindering Thomas. You’re hurting him —”

“Shut up!”

Roman had slammed his fist against the wall and the noise echoed around Logan’s mind far longer than it should have. He took a step back despite himself, hot fear trickling through his lungs.

“Stop acting like I’m not important!” Roman continued, his voice loud and pitchy and practically dripping with fury. “Stop pretending I’m not needed! I only want him to be happy! What do you want, Logic, beyond turning him into a heartless robot like you?”

Why wouldn’t his voice work? It didn’t make sense — it didn’t make logical sense. Dust was beginning to fill his lungs and creep up his throat — push it away, push it away.

“Not everything is about work! There’s more to life than that!” Roman’s face was flushed an angry scarlet to match his sash, and frustrated rage darted through his bright fire’s-ember eyes. “I’m sorry I cannot match up to your infinitesimally high standards — oh, wait, that’s wrong, isn’t it? You would know, wouldn’t you?”

His voice was cruel, mocking; the words seemed to tumble from his mouth like an uncontrollable waterfall and Logan was drowning in their echo, his mind filling with words and swirling, unbidden, a whirlpool of illogical feelings. Push it away — he grit his teeth and curled his hands into fists, willing his face to stay blank, stay blank, push it away —

“You talk about me hurting Thomas? Ha! Keep saying that while you take away his self-care! Keep saying that while you push away the rest of his personality, and for what? To prove you’re above emotions? To prove you don’t love us?” Roman let out a loud bark of humorless laughter. “We got that message loud and clear!”

Logan’s protests got caught in his throat and tried to choke him. He pushed them down — push it all down, he reminded himself — and cleared his throat. “I am above emotions,” he said, as evenly as he could, and he ignored the way Roman’s words echoed around his head. You don’t love us you don’t love us you don’t love us.

“Well guess what? The rest of us aren’t!” Roman growled. “Stop pushing us aside and stop pushing Thomas down a path that will only make him unhappy! Be as cold and robotic and empty as you want, I don’t care, but stop —”

He cut off. Logan opened his mouth to retort but all that escaped was a strange, choked sound that seemed to wrap around his lungs and squeeze tight. The room felt completely, utterly silent in the absence of Roman’s yelling, and Logan felt cold inside and out but burning hot at the same time. You don’t love us.

“‘Above emotions,’ huh?” Roman said with a sneer. Logan’s eyebrows furrowed as warmth slipped down his cheeks, and his fingers came away wet when he touched them to his face.

“Wh-what is this?” Why was his voice cracking? Why did his chest hurt so badly? You don’t love us, his mind repeated over and over, a broken record to match the broken glass in his lungs. “Is it… is it raining?”

But that didn’t make sense, it wouldn’t rain indoors. Roman was shaking his head, his expression growing cold as his anger cooled. “You’re crying,” he said, as if it made the most sense in the world, even though it didn’t make sense, not at all.

“But —” His hands were shaking, his chest was aching; why wouldn’t his brain shut up? He couldn’t force words past the lump in his throat. Push it away, his mind yelled, but the thought was silenced by a wave of emotions.

He tried to readjust his tie but ended up just clutching at it, his fingers curling around the fabric and holding it like a lifeline. He took a step back, hunching in on himself as his vision blurred and swirled. Robot, his mind yelled. Robot, robot, robot.

“Roman, I —” Another sob wrenched its way out of his throat and he choked. Why couldn’t he stop? Why couldn’t he breathe?

“What’s wrong?” Roman asked, eyes narrowed. “I thought you were above emotions.”

And he sank out.

And Logan was alone.

Silence pounded against his ears — or maybe that was his heart, pounding resolutely through the broken-glass sobs and deafening him. His hands tightened into fists around the fabric of his shirt as the tears kept flooding, flooding, flooding, they wouldn’t stop and he couldn’t push them away no matter how hard he tried, and he couldn’t breathe.

This was illogical. Roman’s words shouldn’t affect him this badly. He needed to stop. He curled into himself, bunching the fabric tightly between his fingers to keep his hands from shaking and biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. He wasn’t emotional. He was never emotional.

“I am a robot,” he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse and trembling and broken. He had to convince himself of that fact. He was never emotional.

He’d been so proud when he beat Roman in that rap battle, and so excited to show off his poetry skills, especially against one as poetically gifted as Roman. His chest still swelled when he thought of it.

“I am a robot,” he whispered again. He was never emotional.

Trapped in Anxiety’s room and trapped in his own mind, he’d never been so scared. Thorny vines had wrapped around his lungs and squeezed tight. But he’d breathe through it, he had to — to show Anxiety how needed he was, how much he cared about him, and to save his fellow sides.

“I am a robot,” he tried again, and grit his teeth as falsehood rang out through his mind.

Creation wasn’t his forte, that was more Roman’s thing, but still, he sat and worked away at it until he felt completely satisfied with his work. Patton deserved no less. Guilt ate away at his stomach as he shifted the hoodie to just the right shade of gray.

“I am a robot.” He squeezed his eyes shut, tighter and tighter until colors exploded in front of his vision. He. Was. Never. Emotional.

Astronomy courses? It was more than he could have ever hoped for. Excitement and anticipation exploded in his chest and possibilities raced to the forefront of his mind. The cosmos fascinated him! He couldn’t wait to learn all about them.

“I am —” He choked. The tears weren’t slowing and that awful heat in his chest hadn’t left, and his brain wouldn’t stop, refused to stop. He shoved his glasses up his forehead and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes.

He was proud and excited and guilty and curious. He was fond and frustrated and angry and sad. He was wonder; he was intelligence. He was Logan.

He was not a robot.

And he’d never hurt worse.

[amusewithaview]

fade to black drabbles, part one

“i’m a rockstar and you’re a fan who snuck in and do you maybe wanna help me ‘blow off some steam’ back stage because ur A) really hot and B) pretty obviously willing“ au.  Somehow this also became an ageswap au too almost?  I picture Darcy as being roughly 10+ years older than Tony’s 19(ish) in this.

Darcy was sprawled out over the lounger, bass on her stomach while she idly strummed.  She’d caught her breath ten minutes ago, but the break was supposed to last another twenty.  By now, she knew, Jane and Helen had probably spirited their favorite roadie away for a quickie and Skye was probably going over the tech specs for the lighting for their second set.

She briefly considered going outside and bumming a cigarette, but Skye would kill her if she fucked with her voice before they’d had a chance to sing “Hacker/Slasher.”  Of course, she could always - 

There was a faint creak as the door opened and Darcy glanced up to see the back of a tailored jacket and a head of dark hair as a stranger swiftly shut the door behind him.  He stood there for a second, and she glanced over at the mirror that ran along the length of one of the walls just in time to glimpse nerves on the man’s face before he adopted a cocky expression and pivoted to face her.

”And you are?” she asked, raising her brows.

”A fan,” he said quickly.

Darcy squinted.  “You look familiar...”

”Uh, I don’t actually think we’ve met - ”

She skimmed him with her eyes: designer suit, worn carelessly, messy black hair and big brown eyes that were probably twice as tricksy as they seemed innocent, his hands - she had a thing for hands - didn’t quite match the rest of him: long fingers with blunt tips, knuckles liberally stained with black and brown.  Not ink stains, they looked more like oil.

That was what tipped her off, well, that and the smile.

She set her bass aside carefully and stood, watching him watch her as she smoothed her shirt down over her stomach.  “So... how many people did the Tony Stark have to bribe to get himself into my dressing room?”

He startled when she recognized him, then forcibly relaxed himself.  “Fewer than you’d think, security is kinda lax.”

“I’m not usually the one who has to worry about overzealous fans.”

Stark let out a sharp bark of incredulous laughter.  “Oh, wait, you’re serious.  But you’re so - and your music - I can’t - ”

Darcy smiled, cheshirelike, and leaned her hip against the shelf that ran along the length of the mirror.  “Feel free to keep talking, you’re good for my ego.”

“I could be good for more than your ego,” he blurted, then flushed.  In spite of his obvious embarrassment at his own forwardness, he didn’t retract the statement.

She checked the clock on the wall behind his head.  Fifteen minutes till she needed to be back on stage.  “You’ve got ten minutes to impress me, tinkertoy, and if you do...”  She beckoned him closer, smirking when he nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste.  “We can continue this after the show,” she breathed the last few words against his mouth before kissing him.

“seven minutes in heaven with my longtime crush but we get locked in for hours bc our friends forgot about us” au.  Also a college au because I’m a sucker for those under certain circumstances.

Skye thumped her head back against the wall behind her.  “Ow.”

”I don’t think giving yourself a concussion is going to make this any better.”

”It can’t make things worse,” she groused, sneering at her companion.  Her poisonous expression was lost on him, trapped as they were in the pitch black of a locked broom closet.  Who even had closets just for brooms?  Tony-freaking-Stark in his stupid-freaking-frathouse, that’s who.  Skye remembered being excited to be invited to an Alpha Beta Nu party.  Excitement that had faded hours ago.

”I’m sure it could be worse,” Steve said, still trying to be optimistic.

Skye wriggled around, trying to stretch her limbs, settle into a more comfortable position, but the closet was small even before you crammed in six feet something of pure All-American beefcake and five feet whatever of her own special brand of American melting pot.

”Could you - stop.  Please.”

”You’re taking up more than your fair share of the space,” Skye said.  “Budge over,” she insisted, planting both hands against his shoulder and shoving.  It was like trying to move a boulder, only warm and covered with smooth skin and - nope, not a good time to think like that.

The little imp of the perverse that was the source of roughly half her worst ideas popped up, pointing out that getting a reaction out of Steve was at least entertaining and being stuck in the dark with her long-time crush had very swiftly gone from mortifying to maddeningly boring.

”I’m just - ” she shifted around, slipping her legs over his to try and take advantage of the limited space, “trying to get - ” she scooted her butt a little closer to his hip and braced her legs against the opposite wall, “a little more comfortable,” she finished.  It was hard to tell, but she was pretty sure that they were now roughly perpendicular to each other.  Her thighs rested against his as little as she could manage, but she could still feel his heat against her skin.

”Skye,” Steve bit out.

”What?  I’m done moving.  Keep your shirt on.  Or wait, no, give it to me.  I’m starting to get cold,” she complained.  She’d let Pepper and Peggy dress her before dragging her over to the party.  A short skirt and a sleeveless top were all well and good when in the midst of loads of tipsy-to-drunk collegiates, but much less comfortable when stuck in a broom closet.

”You’re cold?”

”Yes, that’s what I just said - eep!”  Steve had leaned over and lifted her - lifted her!  Into the air! - and plonked her in his lap.  She was shocked enough that she offered no resistance as he arranged her to his liking.  Shortly thereafter, she found herself pressed against him, her back to his chest, her legs stretching out on top of his, and his arms wrapped around her.

”Better?” he asked, his breath ruffling the shorter hair that barely brushed her nape and making goosebumps break out all over her skin.  He chafed his hands up and down her arms, solving the cold problem and starting a whole new one.

The imp was back, spurring her to shift, wriggling her hips as she readjusted her skirt to cover as much as possible.  “Well, now I’m just f - ”  She choked, staring straight ahead into the blackness because: “So, Steve,” she said casually.  “Is that a roll of quarters in your pocket, or...?”

He groaned and she felt his forehead drop down to press against her shoulder.

”So... not quarters?”

”Skye...”

”Because, I mean, if it’s not quarters, I’ve got a few ideas on how you can keep me entertained and warm.”

“got locked in a walk-in refrigerator/freezer and now we gotta keep warm somehow” au.  This takes place in the same universe as the drabble immediately previous because why not.

”Why does this keep happening to us?” Skye whined.

”Our friends are assholes,” Steve said, pressing a quick kiss to her temple.  He was still inspecting the door to their make-shift prison.  “At least it isn’t on.”

”So Loki wasn’t in on this one.”

”Probably not.”

”But we’re still stuck here.”

”...yes.”

Skye started fishing around her pockets.  Huffing in disappointment when she found nothing, she swiftly moved onto Steve’s, shoving him this way and that as she groped around his jeans until she found his wallet.

”Sweetheart, I don’t think the credit card trick will unlock - ”

”Ah-HA!” she cried, yanking out two condoms.  “Provisions!”

For the first time since they’d been locked in, Steve smiled.

“you’re a vampire with an aphrodisiac bite and i’m the drunk party-goer you decided to snack on tonight” au.

Jane was trembling, muscles going limp, and would have fallen were it not for the strong grip bracing each of her arms.  “When I asked if you wanted to look at the stars with me,” she panted, “that wasn’t a euphemism.”

There was a throaty chuckle and a brief pressure against the top of her head.  “I know, сладкий звезда, but your enthusiasm was quite enticing.”

She hmm’d, head lolling back against the cool shoulder behind her.  The sounds of the bar were still quite loud, but even so she could hear the shift of cloth moving as her captor shifted, drawing her closer.  Lips brushed her neck again, this time on the unmarked side.  “You’re not... full?” Jane asked, trepidation welling up inside of her.

”Relax, I will not take more than you can give.”

The lips were back, followed by a tongue, and teeth too sharp to be human.  Jane shivered as silky red hair drifted against her bare skin.

”Let go, сладкий звезда, let me show you a different kind of stars...”

“you’re really invested in your tv show/book/etc and i don’t think you understand how much your absentminded petting is getting to me but like hell am i gonna ask you to stop“ au.

Clint was holding still.  So still.  Well, as still as he could under the circumstances.  Those ‘circumstances’ being Darcy’s latest manicure and its continuous, torturous, wonderful application to his scalp.  The instant he’d flopped facedown onto their couch and, not incidentally, her thigh, she’d started petting him.  At first it was just light brushes over the back of his head, a futile attempt to smooth down the hair that always spiked in the back.  Gradually she shifted from strokes to scratches, lightly running her nails from his nape to his forehead, paying special attention to the sensitive skin at the base of his skull.

He was concentrating so hard on not moving, not moving, not moving, not moving, not moving.  It took him longer than he wanted to admit to realize that it had been quite some time since she’d actually flipped a page.

He pushed himself up and glared at her.  “You’re evil.”

She tilted her head to the side, “Something wrong?”

“Evil.”

“You don’t like it when I use my nails on you?” she asked, pouting playfully.  When he continued to scowl, she reached out and slowly dragged her nails from the collar of his shirt to halfway down his stomach.  Even with his t-shirt dulling the sensation, he still shuddered.

"You held out a lot longer than I expected, if it’s any consolation.”

Clint scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder.  “As consolation prizes go, I suppose you’ll do.”

[georgeluz]

hi can you do the face tag thing for me!!!!! also i love your blog i just joined the hbo war fandom on here and i love everything and all of you guys!!!! also my face tag on my blog is tagged/me the picture on there are all over a year old but i look p much the same just a little bit longer hair, slimmer face lmao

“i just realized i didn’t say anything about me ack i’m a pisces, 5'3" i love music and writing and nature and i’d prefer to be shipped from someone in BoB since it’s my favorite and i know the men better.“

YOU GOT IT! I know this is super late… annoyingly late buT WELCOME TO THE FANDOM I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE HERE.

(no more ask game requests pls)

The Character I See You As: David Webster! Sweet sunshine child, loves to write, loves music, loves nature (so much he DIED BECAUSE OF IT I WILL NEVER NOt be SALTY OVER ThiS @ the ocean give me back webster ok) I mean I just can’t get over how he wrote so much about the war. He saw it from an outside perspective despite being right in the middle of it. He was always observant like that. Loyal and overly trusting to a fault, like a puppy dog, sweet and gentle with THE KIDDOS (even tho he probably swears he doesn’t want kids). ALSO PSA I DIDNT KNOW WEB WAS UR BLOG SIDEBAR THING I SWEAR I DIDNT PiCK It bECAUSE OF THAT I JUST SAW…………….. I picked because I swear you seem like him!

Your Three Best Friends: George Luz, Dick Winters, Babe Heffron

The One You Don’t Get Along With: Frank Perconte. Okay actually you do like Perconte okay, it’s not anything hard against him, it’s just that he’s so damn salty sometimes. He’s rough around the edges, blunt, and somehow naive despite doing his best to seem super prickly. Half the time you have no idea what to expect from him or what to do around him to avoid his bad side, but Luz SWEARS he likes you, Frank’s just like that.

Who I Ship You With: Eugene Roe. THE CAJUN PRINCE. MYSTERIOUS MEDIC. The love of everyone’s life tbh. I feel like everyone swears he’s this shy and gentle soul (and at times I kinda believe it), but people sometimes forget that he’s STRONG, strong enough to deal with watching his friends get injured one by one, strong enough to sit there while they scream in pain as he patches them up. He can deal with whatever shit you throw at him tbh. He’s funny, he can be outgoing when it’s just you and him, and he’s just a BRAVE GOOD SOUL UGH.

Wildcard: Private First Class. Mortars. 1st Platoon. Easy Company. 

You were trying not to cuss, biting down hard on your lip. You had twisted your ankle up nice and good in Bastogne, and you had ignored it, walked on it, limped on it, and eventually you had to be carried by George Luz and Babe Heffron all the way to Roe’s foxhole. Meanwhile you swore it was fine, you swore you would let it rest, prop it up, do whatever you could to avoid the scathing gaze of the medic you admired so much. You swore he was going to kill you for letting it get this bad. You just didn’t want to be taken off the line.

George and Babe were both cussing and laughing, yelling and mothering you at the same time. “Goddamn it, Y/N, you didn’t have to go lookin’ with me for supplies. If I’d’a known your damn leg was like this–” Babe spewed, huffing and muttering obscenities under his breath as Roe popped his head out from under the tarp spread above the foxhole. You rolled your head to the side, over George’s arm to guiltily stare at the medic. “Sorry, doc, I’m so sorry, I’m an idiot, it’s not that bad I swear–”

Roe furrowed his brow, looked at the two men who shook their heads at him, and motioned for you to be slid down into the foxhole. You groaned in annoyance. “I feel betrayed, guys,” you bark, grappling to smack George’s leg on your way down.

“You’ll thank us later, alright? We need you healthy,” George said through a wide grin, dancing away from your smack.

Down in the foxhole, Roe had already begun untying your boot. Your foot had swollen in the boot, and every jarring movement made you suck in air sharply. “Sorry, Gene, really, I should’ve known better.”

“Toye ain’t much better than you, I s’pose,” he said through gritted teeth, easing off your boot while you bit into your knuckle. Your ankle was black and blue. Your socks were soaked with sweat. You were getting trenchfoot along with the swollen ankle. “I oughtta send you off the line right now, private,” Roe scolded gently, taking your uninjured foot in his hands and rubbing it gently between his palms. You tilted your head back against the freezing snow and bit back a moan of both relief and pain. Pain blossomed across the foot as feeling began to return, but it was coupled with sweet, sweet heat.

“So am I stuck in here with you until I’m back on my feet?” You panted, stuffing your gloved hands into your front pockets as Roe went back and forth, massaging one foot and delicately massaging the injured one. 

“That’s the way it’s gonna be, but I very well may send you off the line if this won’t improve.” Roe was quiet when he was at work, gaze occasionally lifting to meet your’s as he worked on drawing circulation back into your feet. It was painful, but you didn’t mind so long as Roe was keeping you company. You felt guilty he was going to the trouble. Embarrassed, but also grateful that Spina wasn’t here to intrude.

“Put your socks on your neck ‘til they dry,” Roe instructed, running his thumb over your toes. You wiggled them at him before doing as he said, screwing up your nose at the smell.

“Aye, aye, Doc. Maybe I’ll massage your feet next?” Cheeky, you grinned at him despite yourself, trying to lighten the mood, trying to make him forget that he should have been mad at you for making such a foolish mistake.

“I got Spina for that,” he replied smoothly before grabbing one of the sheets in the foxhole and wrapping both your feet in them. Once he finished, he set them in his lap and continued to hold them in his hands. “You’ll repay me in company, Y/N, I think that’ll do just fine.”

You ducked your head against your chest, avoiding his gaze. “Thanks, Gene. Really.”

He cracked a little smile and gingerly squeezed your feet in his hands. “You’re alright, you’re alright. Why don’t you tell me about home?”

“Home?” You repeat, trembling as a chilly breeze penetrated the foxhole.

“Yeah. I need somethin’ to cheer me up,” was the gentle reply, Gene scooting over until his shoulder brushed your’s, trying to share whatever body heat the both of you had.

“Well, I don’t know where to begin.”

“How about Christmas?”

“Alright, Christmas it is.”