#but I really really wanted to do a marathon

[weird-is-life]

if ur still taking requests, may i humbly ask for a very fluffy Steve Harrington x shy reader period imagine? maybe the reader is really in pain but is too shy to ask for help? and gets embarrassed but Steve is just an angel about it?

Hii, lovely🥰 thank you for this cute request, hope u like it! Warnings: mentions of food, period pain, pet names, fluff, (0.7k)

Steve isn't really thinking of what you might be doing this late Saturday night as he knocks on your door. He is so eager to see you.

You weren't supposed to be together today, because Steve had to work, and you said you didn't feel good. That you were ill.

Steve, the sweetheart he is, wanted to surprise you, and he also got you some stuff to make you feel better. Like a good soup that he absolutely thinks you're gonna love, some sweets, vitamins and so on.

He waits not so patiently for you to open the door, and for some reason it takes you a lot longer than it usually does.

You open the doors, and your eyes go wide, "Steve! Wh-What are you doing here?"

Steve just chuckles at you baffled expression," I wanted to surprise you, honey."

"Oh," you say, not particularly happy about that fact. Steve doesn't seem to notice it or maybe he just doesn't want to notice it.

"Exactly oh," he chuckles. Steve thinks you're going to open the door wider, so he can go inside, but you don't, "aren't you gonna let me in, sweetheart?"

"Stevie, I'm...I don't feel well," you shyly admit, still only peeking at him from behind the door. It looks like you are definitely not going to let him in.

"I know," he tells you softly," that's why I'm here. I came to take care of you. I brought a few movies as well, we can have a movie marathon. Before you say anything i want to state that I don't mind getting sick and....-"

"Steve," you interrupt his rambling. You look at him with pleading and shy eyes. "I'm not sick in-in that way. It's just....It's....I-"

You can't bring yourself to say it to him. Your shyness getting the best of you. You love Steve, but you are just too shy to admit that you're in pain, and that you'd love nothing more than for him to just hold you while you watch the movies.

"What is it?" Steve concerns. He pretty much ignores that you didn't want to open the wider, and comes inside, so he can instantly find out what's wrong.

"It's my....," you take a deep breath in, and tell him as your cheeks go red, "period pain."

Steve isn't expecting you to say that, but honestly he doesn't care that you are on your period. He only cares that you are in pain, and he wants to change that.

Steve gives you a bear hug," have you been in pain the whole day, sweetheart?"

"Yeah," you admit into his chest. You bury your whole face into his soft hoodie, enjoying the comfort and the warmth seeping from him.

"You could have called me earlier. I would have gladly come to take care of you, you know?" Steve kisses your temple.

"Didn't want to bother you," you murmur sheepishly. Cheeks even more red. You suddenly get a pretty bad period pain, wincing lightly.

Steve immediately pulls you away from his chest with sorry eyes," How about you go back to the couch while I heat up the soup I've brought you?"

"You've brought me soup?" You question.

"Of course, I have. I bet you haven't eaten much today, so go lay down, and I'll be right back." Steve gives you one more kiss on your cheek before he dissappears in your kitchen.

Steve comes back a few minutes later with the soup, and your forgotten heating pad you'd left in the kitchen. Because Steve came right at that moment as you were about to heat it back up.

"Here, sweetheart," he puts the soup on the coffee table," can you sit up for me?"

You sit up from your too comfy position on the couch, but your stomach rumbles at the sight of the soup. Steve carefully puts the heating pad over your lower tummy, and it's immediate relief.

"Thanks, Stevie," you smile brightly at him despite your pain.

Steve smiles back at you, and leans in to kiss your cheek again. You can't say that you aren't loving being doted on like this by him.

He always loves on you, but right now it's maybe just a tiny bit more than it is usually.

"Come on, eat your soup, and then you can have the cuddles and the movies I promised you." You eat as quickly as you can, eager to be in Steve's hands.

When you finally get the so much needed cuddle, the pain eases pretty much away just by Steve's gentle stroking over your side and tummy. And definitely from the constant pecks all over your face.

[zhaosbin]

Hello! If you're thinking about writing a Soobin fic, how about a Soobin x fem!reader in which they become fwb after finding out reader's bf cheated on her, so she wanna get revenge and he's such a good friend he can't help but offering himself... you can leave their relationship like that (secret fwb/affair) or maybe they become something more in the end...

Tell me what you think and feel free to change or add anything to the plot! :)

sweet revenge- c. soobin

summary: after your boyfriend cheats on you, your best friend is there to pick up the pieces.

reader: afab/fem reader!

warnings: kind of dom!soobin x sub!reader, soobin is in love with his bestie, oral (f receiving), kissing,explicit smut minors dni

a/n: tysm for requesting!! i love fwb trope a little too much.. also for the record i am the biggest sub!soobin enthusiast but i had to make him dominant here sorry :(

-

slamming the door to your apartment behind you, you immediately let out a cry of frustration.

twenty minutes prior to this, you had walked in on your boyfriend of almost a year cheating on you. you always had a hunch with how distant he became but you never thought you'd actually witness it first hand.

breaking you out of your thoughts was a sweet voice, the voice of your best friend to be exact.

"y/n? is everything okay" the voice asks.

fuck. you completely forgot you and your best friend soobin were having a movie marathon tonight.

you grow even more frustrated and rather embarrassed and slowly sink down to the floor finally letting your tears run free.

soobin immediately rushes over to you, long arms engulfing you in a tight squeeze.

you try to blurt out an explanation but your thoughts were too jumbled.

"shhh, it's okay y/n. calm down and tell me when your ready" soobin says softly.

after about five minutes of sitting in your best friends warm embrace, you finally find the strength to speak again.

"he cheated on me soobie" you pout and tears slowly fall down your face again.

soobin immediately holds you tighter, cursing under his breath at the boy he never liked in the first place.

"it's his loss" soobin immediately cuts in. "you're the sweetest girl i've ever met".

it wasn't unusual for your best friend to compliment you, you grew up next door neighbors and have been inseparable for as long as you could remember. even though you were used to the compliments, it didn't stop your heart from fluttering at his words.

after a few more minutes of silence, soobin noticed your breathing going back to normal and tears no longer dripping down your face.

he took your hand and led you to the bedroom that he had set up for your monthly movie night.

you notice how much effort he put into it and find yourself pouting again, ready to apologize before he cuts you off.

"don't y/n. we do this once a month it's okay to miss out on our fifth avengers rewatch" he says smiling.

you giggle at that, your best friend immediately cheering you up after such a shitty night.

god. you think to yourself. i should've just dated him.

before your thoughts could get any more bizarre, you take a seat next to soobin on your bed.

he immediately engulfs you in his arms again, kissing the top of your head and sighing contently.

after a few moments, you glance over at soobin who looks awfully nervous about something. before you could ask him yourself, soobin speaks up.

"you know... if you ever want to get back at him or something, i'd be more than happy to help" he gently says.

you furrow your eyebrows at his comment, not fully understanding what that meant.

"you mean like keying his car or something?" you confusedly giggle.

soobin chuckles at your cuteness.

"well that or, i don't know, maybe he should feel the same pain he caused you" he says sounding more confident now.

your eyes widen a bit when you fully understand what your friend was suggesting.

you weren't gonna lie to yourself, you knew your best friend was attractive. you just never really thought of him as anything other than your friend before. but for some reason, you were enticed by his idea.

"but...w-wouldn't that ruin our friendship?" you ask nervously.

"of course not. i'm your best friend and i'd do anything for you. let me do this for you" soobin rushes to say.

you weigh the pros and cons in your head, trying to logically think of what to do before that anger from earlier comes back. you wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt you, and your attractive best friend was offering to help you with just that. how could you possibly say no?

instead of verbally answering soobin, you gently press your lips against his plump ones.

he looks taken aback for a split second before he recovers himself and kisses back more passionately.

"tell me if you're uncomfortable at any point and i'll stop, okay?" he says seriously.

you nod, fully trusting him to do whatever he wanted to you anyway.

soobin moves down from your lips to your neck, stopping here and there to leave hickeys that you knew would be noticeable tomorrow.

you moan softly at the feeling of his lips against your neck, making him swallow a groan in his throat.

"you sound so pretty, baby" soobin comments casually making you a flustered mess.

"soobin, please" you beg him.

he knew what you wanted and he wanted it too. badly.

he moves down lower on the bed until he's face to face with your drenched panties.

"how are you already so wet?" he moans running his fingers up and down the wet spot before moving your panties to the side.

without warning, he presses his tongue flat against your core making you scream out in shock and pleasure.

"tastes so fucking good, better than i ever imagined" soobin says too entranced to notice his slip up.

you frown confusedly for a second before his tongue circles around your clit and the only thing you can think of right now is his mouth.

"soobin i'm gonna c-cum soon. really want your cock inside me" you say very obviously deep into your sub headspace.

soobin pulls his mouth off of your clit with a loud popping noise making you whimper at the loss of contact.

"since you asked so nicely" soobin says smiling and kissing your lips again.

he releases his (massive) cock out of his boxers and it was already dripping with precum.

soobin wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance, gently pushing in inch by inch.

you knew that right now wasn't the time to be comparing cock sizes, but he was so much bigger than your ex and felt so much better. were you really missing out on this feeling this entire time?

after a minute he finally bottoms out, both of you letting out soft moans at the feeling.

he looks into your eyes, silently asking for approval to start moving. you softly smile at his cuteness and nod your head at him.

immediately soobin picks up the pace and your smile is replaced with your mouth dropping open.

"oh my god soobin, you're so big. feels so good" you gasp.

soobin let's out a chuckle at this, knowing your ex must've been less than half of his size.

"yeah baby? does that feel nice?" soobin says trying to contain his own sounds of pleasure.

you nod your head up and down quickly, not being able to form a proper response right now.

soobin knew that you were already pretty close since he ate you out before this and he hurriedly moves his thumb to circle your clit as he fucks you.

"s-soobin. cumming" is all you could say as your orgasm rips through you, making your entire body shake.

soobin has never been more turned on in his life seeing you like this and quickly follows after you with a deep groan.

he releases onto your stomach, cum splattering onto your mouth and chin in the process.

you immediately lick it up while staring deep into his eyes and he shakes his head in disbelief.

"fuck that was amazing" he says slowing down and eventually taking his cock out of you.

you had completely forgotten about why you were so heartbroken and upset before and once you remembered, you really couldn't care less.

the only thought in your mind was soobin.

you knew your friendship would be changed drastically after this, especially after coming to terms with the fact that you might have been in love with your best friend this entire time.

little did you know soobin was laying next to you thinking the exact same thing.

[wordywarriorwrites]

Calendar Girl: November

Series Masterlist: Calendar Girl Joel Miller Masterlist Author: @wordywarriorwrites​ Summary: The story of how Joel Miller falls in love again, told over a series of months. Series Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Language. Violence. Discussions of rape and consent. Alcohol consumption. Age-gap.

Shorter days sometimes began with frost-covered windows and transitioned to noisy nights filled with the hungry calls of migrating birds. Eventually, the leaves on the trees had been shaken loose by stronger winds and rainstorms, leaving behind the scent of damp earth and pine-fresh evergreens.

Fall had begrudgingly given way to winter, prompting the townspeople to reap and prepare. Baking and canning marathons. Meat preservation. Sorting livestock and building shelters. Getting out seasonal clothes. Sealing leaky windows, cleaning out gutters, and ensuring fireplaces were operational.

Getting his home prepared had been a chore, and yours hadn’t been a walk in the park, either, but he’d done it. Joel had patched up the roof, checked the pipes, and ensured there was enough wood out back to last you through this winter and into the next, not because it was his job, but because he wanted to. Because he’s only ever known winter to be a dark time, a harsh time; a time when people were meaner and hungrier, and he’d be damned if you weren’t as safe and comfortable as he could make you…

“Joel, please – just – I really don’t need another quilt,” you sighed.

He grunted and spread it out over the bed, “It gets cold in here at night.”

“Really?” you arched a brow, cheeks rounding with a broad, toothy grin. “Guess we should stop sleeping naked then, huh?”

Joel smirked. Placed his hands on his hips. With your point made, you rounded what had become his side of the bed, donning one of his flannels, feet tucked into wool socks he’d nearly pummeled a grown man for three days ago. Arms around his middle, ear pressed to his chest, head tucked beneath his chin – these actions steadied him, centered him, and made him let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Before we go to bed, I wanted to talk to you about something,” you murmured, voice muffled against his shirt.

“Is it about sleepin’ naked?” he wondered. “Because if it is, we can talk about that all you like, sweetheart.”

You laughed. Issued a teasing pinch to his waist. Joel held you tighter, and you turned your face up, all silent askance, and he obliged, more than happy – eager, even – to drop a series of gentle kisses on your soft, sunny mouth. Your contented hum is one he echoed, and he’d gotten half the buttons of the flannel undone and was guiding you toward the bed when you placed a halting hand on his chest and slowly eased away.

“Talk first,” you repeated. “Then, you can kiss me all you like.”

A promise sealed with another kiss – one that lingered. All slow and tender to the point of aching, and you didn’t even realize that you’d made it that much harder to pull away, but he did it. He pulled away because you asked him to listen, and he watched you take a deep, fortifying breath before launching into an explanation about town growth and a burgeoning housing crisis.

Apparently, expanding families had become cramped in their own homes, which prompted a need for placements to be re-evaluated. In the interim, the council asked for volunteers from within their own ranks; anyone willing to share housing had been encouraged to do so, and you’d not only agreed to move, (thus giving up your home to the Hardens, who had a baby on the way) you’d also agreed to bunk with Connie and Helen.

“Wait,” Joel interjected. “Connie and Helen? Those two busy bodies?”

You shrugged, “Just think of how fun the sleepovers will be.”

“It’s good of you, to be so kind to the Hardens,” he supplied, rubbing his thumb over his chin. “But wouldn’t you rather… I mean, you could come live with Ellie and me, right?”

Eyes flared and lips parted. He’d surprised you, but the slight tilt of your head – one of your many tells that had revealed themselves over time – indicated you were mulling. Joel, on the other hand, had been picturing it for some time now; living life together, instead of in tandem. In his mind, you, he, and Ellie had already become a family. A year ago, he wouldn’t have believed it possible, but he does now.

He wants a life – whatever that means, whatever it looks like – and he wants it with you.

“Just think about it,” he suggested, smoothing a wrinkle from the bedspread. “And whatever you decide is just fine with me.”

You cleared your throat, “What about Ellie?”

Joel exhaled a low laugh, “She’s actually been pushing me to ask you. Apparently, she's tired of all the back and forth for dinner. I guess it cuts into her time with her girlfriend, so…”

An amused eye roll and a wave of your hand, followed by a creak as your heel hit the squeaky floorboard at the foot of the bed. The frame groaned as you sat, hands settled on your knees, eyes surveying the small space around you. You remained silent for so long that Joel eventually sat beside you, and the mattress dipped with his added weight, causing you to lean into him, your body pressed comfortingly against him from shoulder to thigh.

“I’ll move in with you and Ellie,” you finally declared. “But I have two conditions.”

Joel glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and dipped his chin, “Alright, name them.”

“First, I get to bring my sheets. Yours are terrible.”

“Fair. What’s the second condition?”

Finger crooked beneath his chin. Gazes met. You graced him with that smile, the smile that’s just for him, and his heart galloped. Slowly, steadily, you used his shoulders for balance and positioned yourself until you were straddled over him.

“Build us a porch swing,” you said softly, hands now cupped around his face. “One that’s just ours. Where we can sit together, and you can play, and I’ll listen and pretend not to cry…”  

Unable to speak around the tightness of his throat, Joel simply nodded, and when you kissed him, it was sweet – sweeter than even that first time beneath the mistletoe. Sweeter than he deserved. Sweeter because he loved you and would’ve given in to whatever demands or requests you made, no matter how big or small.

Thoughts of winter preparations, of asking if you’re sure, of wondering aloud if you’re ready for what living together means – they all get swept away by your warmth and the sheer strength of your embrace.

Drugging, languid kisses ended the conversation and prompted him to seek you out, to find you bare beneath the flannel, to peel your arms from the sleeves. Tongues meshed, Joel’s hands and body grew eager and greedier with each moment that passed. Fingertips mapped the velvet-soft skin at the base of your spine, the gentle swell of your breasts, and the firmness of your calves. Mouth explored the column of your throat and the pulse that thrummed at the base of it. Teeth nibbled and nipped at the lobes of your ears and the hinge of your jaw.

“I want every night to be like this,” you confessed, voice hushed, as if this admittance were a secret only he could be trusted with.

“Whatever you want,” he insisted, agreed, promised. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Enveloped by you – your arms twined around his shoulders; thighs pressed tight against his waist. Guided by you – encased deep in your warmth; an incredible sensation he suspects he’ll never, ever get used to. The ragged intake of your breath. The flutter of your eyelashes. The steady rock of your hips. The mere undertone of your pleasure, clearly heard above the rhythmic squeak of the bedframe.  

Rapt by the way you take him, uninhibited, unabashed, and Joel knows he’s been possessed by you. It’s as irrefutable as the sun rising in the east and the fixed position of the North Star; it’s as real as the danger outside the walls and the ever-looming precipice of disaster; it’s as fierce as the greatest love of a daughter he never got to see grow and the hell he’d raise if anything ever happened to you…

His name – the way you exhaled it, how it morphed from desperate to encouraging, how it eventually bloomed into something reverent, almost worshipful. You kissed him. Smiled at him again. And the words he’d kept to himself for far too long just tumbled out.

An echo of what you’d said to him all those moons ago: love, love, love, mine, mine, mine. Frantic. Guttural. They spilled into the air as he spilled into you, a powerful release brought on by the hot clutch of you coming around him.

Slumped boneless in his embrace, cheek mashed against his shoulder, slow breaths exhaled into the crook of his neck. Comfortable, contented silence, interspersed with unhurried kisses and gentle touches; two, sated bodies moved, slow as syrup, to lie side-by-side.

“Say it again,” you sighed, woolen-covered foot brushing along his calve.

“I love you.”

“And?”

Joel cupped your jaw in his hands and pressed his mouth to yours, “And you’re mine.”

Last Chapter: December

[words-in-starless-skies]

For @bucktommyweek, June 5: "Bad Weather Days" Title: Healing Love

Summary: Or: One time Buck gets sick, one time Tommy gets sick plus one time they both get sick. (For Bucktommy / Tevan week Day: Bad Weather Days)

~

Buck doesn’t get sick often. 

Usually, his immune system shakes off any kind of bacteria or virus that tries to invade his body. But now, for the first time in years, he’s hit with a sickness like a truck. It might be the flu. Whatever it is, it seems to be the Queen bee of sickness, sending her worker-bacteria everywhere to shut down Buck’s immune system and force him to stay in bed the whole day.

It’s horrible. Ugly. Nasty. And it overwhelmed him in the middle of the night.

Buck’s nose won’t stop running. He can barely breathe. His eyes are red, swollen and itchy. There is a persistent scratching sensation in his throat that forces him to dry-cough every few seconds. His bed is surrounded by crumpled used tissues. He feels too hot in his own skin like he’s boiling from the inside.

Damnit. He can’t go anywhere like this. It’s his day off anyway. Of course, it is. But Tommy and he had a dinner night with a Star Wars marathon - and mind-blowing sex, obviously - planned, since Tommy doesn’t have to work either, which rarely ever happens. Great.

With a heavy heart, Buck pulls out his phone and writes a message to Tommy.

Sorry, we have to postpone movie night, I’m sick. 😷

Tommy answers almost immediately. How sick? 😨 You need a doctor? I can drive you.

Buck smiles through another terrible painful coughing fit. How can Tommy be that cute? He’s so … thoughtful, considerate and sweet. Buck doesn’t know how he deserved this. He’s really not that special. But Tommy looks at him like he is.

He types: Might be the flu. I think I just have to lay here and endure this.😞

Ok. I’ll come over and cuddle you.

Wait, what?! Buck hesitates, his fingers hovering above his phone. Tommy can’t mean that. Buck is one big living bacteria, coming here would surely make Tommy sick too.

But then you’ll get sick too!, he types, frowning.

I don’t care. You need endless cuddles. And tea. And food.

Buck has to bury his face in a pillow for a moment, like an embarrassed blushing teenager. 

Oh God. He is so in love, it’s ridiculous. His stomach is full of fluttering butterflies and his ears are burning and he feels dizzy in a good way. Right now, he wants nothing more but Tommy by his side, fussing over him and taking care of him, if he’s being honest.

Buck never had that. Not like this. 

He wants it. But there’s a persistent nagging voice in the back of his mind, admonishing him: Don’t be a burden, don’t ask for too much, don’t be too demanding, don’t be too much!

Buck swallows. He nervously chews on his lip and types: You’re sure???, while thinking: Please be sure …

Yeah.

Buck smiles and starts to feel a suspicious burning in his eyes. He tries to figure out how he can show Tommy through text what this means to him.  

What did I do to deserve you?🥲

Hmmmm. You booked a helicopter ride into a hurricane?

I did. Thank God, I did, Buck writes back, his heart jumping a loop in his chest.

Yes. Thank God, you did. See you soon, babe. Don’t die.

Buck’s laugh turns into a cough. I’ll try not to.  ~

Buck falls asleep while waiting for Tommy. Fortunately, they already exchanged keys. So he gets to wake up to the smell of tea and soup. And to Tommy, sitting on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through Buck’s sweat-soaked hair. Even though Buck’s head is swimming in fever-induced fog by now, he’s so happy to see Tommy, he smiles and tries to tell Tommy, only to break into a cough again.

“Hey,” Tommy says, worry filling his eyes. He puts the back of his hand against Buck’s forehead and frowns. “You’re too hot.”

Buck groans and leans into the touch. Tommy’s hand is so cool. It’s heaven … “No,” he says, his eyes snapping open, when he feels Tommy’s touch leave. “No. Please. Don’t.”

Tommy puts his hand back. “Jesus, Evan. I think we should get you to the hospital.”

“No. No hospital,” Buck groans, putting his own hand on Tommy’s. “Please. Can’t. I’m sick of it.”

“I get that. After everything you told me, I think they might have a bed with your name on it reserved for you,” Tommy says dryly. “Ok. No hospital. For now. But if the fever rises any higher, I’m going to carry you to my car and drive you to the ER. We clear?”

“Alright,” Buck grumbles. “M fine.”

“You’re really not,” Tommy sighs. “Anyway, we should get some fluids into you, ok? You’re sweating like crazy.”

Tommy is right. And it’s gross. Buck is gross. He grimaces. “Sorry …”

“You got nothing to apologize for, kid,” Tommy says, his fingers brushing Buck’s hair back from his forehead. “Now let me get you some tea and soup, alright?” ~

“Are you not scared of getting sick?” Buck croaks, his head resting on Tommy’s chest. They’re together in Buck’s bed now, after Tommy cleaned up and fed Buck soup and made him enough Chamomile tea to last a whole day. He also got Cough syrup and lozenges. Not to forget the month’s supply of Ibuprofen.

Buck feels better already. It’s so nice to be taken care of. He could get used to this. And he slowly reaches the point where he can actually allow himself to enjoy this. It feels like Tommy's care makes the bad intrusive thoughts fade away into an inaudible static noise. Drowned out by the heart-fluttering rhythm of I'm loved.

“No, I have a pretty strong immune system,” Tommy says with a chuckle. “Also I care more about you right now. You shouldn’t be alone like this.”

Buck feels like crying again. “Thank you for being here. I … I wish I could tell you how I feel about this, but, but, but -” He sneezes violently.

Tommy laughs and hands Buck a tissue. Then gives him a kiss on his head. “I know. It’s alright, love. Just focus on getting healthy again, alright? We can talk later, after you stop exploding.”

[crowdsourced-webcomic-reviews]

Hyperdriven: By Declan Garrity

A couple of months ago I read Hyperdriven for the first time in a single sitting.  Around 750 pages of comic action.  This occurred for primarily two reasons:

I have hyperfixation

It’s just that damn good.

While I cannot recommend you read it all in one sitting (you do you), I can highly recommend that you do, in fact, read it.

The Story

Kaleco has wanted to be a swashbucking ship captain all her life, and now she’s got a ship, a crew, but a major problem.  No money, and a shitty freelancer license that doesn’t allow her crew to take on any well paying jobs. 

We follow the misadventures of the Bon Petit Déjeuner as they try to make ends meet and not fall apart in the meantime.  If you are a fan of space western media like Firefly, Cowboy Bebop, or fellow webcomics Ghost Junk Sickness or Thunderstryke, there will be a lot here to love.

But also mixed in with the silly hijinks the comic also touches on and deals with some really heavy stuff: trauma, mental health, bigotry, to just name a few. The balancing act between comedy and drama is such a difficult one, and I am in awe at how seamlessly Hyperdriven is able to do it.  It will have you laughing one page, and then crying just a few short pages later.

One of the major challenges with balancing an ensemble cast is making everyone feel like a distinct person, and giving everyone time to shine and room to breathe.  Hyperdriven does this very well, giving each of its little cast of weirdos so much heart, character, and trauma.  While I love them all, our protagonist Kaleco is by far my personal favorite character.  She is an idealistic disaster, and earnest to a fault.  I loved watching her fuck up, then work hard to try and improve and do better.  Character is king, and all the characters have had wonderful journeys through the story, but I wanted to especially highlight Kaleco.

The Art

I love the art style, it’s colorful, it’s clear, and it’s stylish as hell.  All the characters are so distinctive and unique, and the whole comic is infused with this colorful, distinct vibe that definitely contributes to the fun, comedic atmosphere.  There is a level of clarity in the simplicity of the color, even down the way that people will be color coded by group.

And also, holy fuck does this comic have some style.

TL;DR

Go read Hyperdriven.  Just… maybe don’t do it in a single four and half hour marathon.

Link here

[anundyingfidelity]

BLIND COLORS — Dean Winchester

Summary: Dean finally makes a confession, but you don't feel the same way.

Pairing: Dean x female!asexual reader.

Word count: 1k.

Notes: this is part of @artyandink Jensen's drabble marathon. 🫶 as an ace girl I think it was good to start with an ace reader as well, I don't know if someone has wrote about this before but I just wanted to do it. This is based on my own personal experience as an ace and how I feel and see it, we're kind of ignored everywhere so just trying to make us more visible I guess? Hope I did it justice anyway and happy pride month to everyone! <3

GEN MASTERLIST!

If you’d like to be added, the taglist is here!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

There has been an unresolved tension between you and Dean. The only problem was that you didn't really notice that. But Sam, on the other hand, did, and he was wondering if you would ever realize how attracted to you his brother was.

It was just a case, like any other, that you were working on together. A poltergeist that had appeared in a small town you were driving near by and of course, you had to stop before at least you got home. The same things as always happening: going undercover, interviewing any witnesses, getting clues, reading some old stuff, calling Bobby for help...

So you found yourself invested on research with the Winchesters in complete, utter silence in their motel room. It was already dark and you had no dinner yet. You heard Sam turning off his laptop and getting up the couch until he walked towards you and Dean, sitting in the dinning table reading and marking stuff in old documents.

"It's late already, I'll go grab something to eat," Sam said, looking at you and then turning his gaze to his brother for more than a couple of seconds.

Dean shifted in his seat, realizing he had to be alone with you. Again.

During the past few weeks, Dean had been thinking on how to confess his feelings for you, and Sam was actually encouraging him to do it whenever it was fit. You were pretty chill with cases, even the difficult ones, and this was just another job for you. A love confession wouldn't harm, would it?

Thing was that Dean didn't want to ruin your friendship, and you seemed too naive to understand the subtext between his attempts at hitting on you and constant flirting, or the way he would remark suggestive things. You just laughed back at him and continued with your life, and maybe he had to do something.

He cleared his throat after his chain of thoughts, staring at you for a moment and then going back to Sam. "A cheese hamburger will work for me."

"I think a sandwich is good," you said. "Thanks."

"Alright, I'll be back soon," Sam announced and he gave a last glance at his brother, communicating in a way they only knew.

As always, you didn't pay attention to what was going on, instead, you went back to mark something in your notebook while checking an old file. Sam left the room and you were alone with Dean. Quickly, you were so invested on your notes that he began to think it was a bad idea. But he had to try.

"Hey, can I talk to you about something?" Dean asked. You lifted up your gaze to see him.

"Go ahead."

He shifted uncomfortably, but smiled nonetheless and pursed his lips in a tight line before speaking.

"I, uhm, I feel that I have to tell you that... I like you. Like a lot, a damn lot. We've known each other for years, and I- I don't know, it just happened. I'm very attracted to you and been trying to find a way for you to notice that, but I guess I might just have to tell you straight away."

The whole time his voice was calm and soft, and you found yourself looking directly into his deep, green eyes as he confessed. And then, you actually noticed the change in Dean. He stopped hooking with random women in bars, stopped flirting with them in front of you, and instead, he would flirt with you and then remark sexual stuff. But you didn't see him that way, at least not the sex part. For you, it was almost irrelevant, even though Dean was a very handsome man you just couldn't bring yourself to feel sexually attracted to him, nor anyone.

"Dean, I like you but... Is not like that for me," you said in a whisper.

He blinked a couple of times as his softened eyes remained on yours. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not... I'm not sexually attracted to you. Or anyone, is just- I don't know how to explain it, but sex isn't everything to me. I just don't get to feel it," you began, but afraid he might judge you, you continued. "Is like I'm blind to a color, I can't see it. I can't see the point on that, and I cannot give it to you if that's what you're looking for."

Dean had a look on his face you couldn't decode. You knew he wasn't probably used to being turned down, but it was the truth. You never really fit into that. He finally gave a nod, slowly with a soft smile.

"Okay, I understand that. I just wanted you to know, I'm sorry, I didn't want to mess up our friendship."

"You didn't, trust me. I think you're the first person to not judge what I feel anyway," you said, smiling as well but looking away.

"Why would I do that? It's your choice, I mean, is perfectly fine."

"It's not really a choice for me, you know, I can't feel it. Really, it never has grown in me, and a lot of people have judged me for that... I don't need to find the right person to feel like a complete woman, is just who I am and that's alright."

Dean smiled more for himself this time. That was the reason he liked you so much. You didn't give a crap about anything and you were just you, and he loved that from you.

"I understand that. You being you is what has drawn me to you," he said and you chuckled softly. Even when you turned him down, he would still try. "I'd like to know more about it, if it's okay."

"You'd like to?" you asked with a playful voice, and sounding surprised. "Really?"

He shrugged. "I've met gays, lesbians, trans people who are great... What's with understanding one more?"

"Right," you nodded. "We don't really fit the norm, do we?"

"You don't have to. I told you, I like you like this," he said, proudly.

There was a heat covering your cheeks at how he looked at you. Maybe you didn't experience a physical attraction in regard to sex, but how about falling in love with someone? You had such a long time without letting your feelings flourish.

"Thank you, I like you a lot too."

Dean taglist (some of them I can't tag them sorry :/)

@thesilmarillionblog

@onlyangel-444

@daisy-the-quake

@jackles010378

@cassieriddle713

@deans-spinster-witch

@feyresqueen

@drasticemotions

@stoneyggirl2

@sapnaploves

[madlittlecriminal]

[06] Secret Ingredient⥓ Mafia!Miguel O'Hara × Female!Baker!Reader

Warnings: mention of vomit (kind of), is this short? possibly & im sorry

The offer; it occupied his mind after the meeting to the point where his lunch was climbing back out of his stomach.

The last thing he wanted was to marry Dana.

Miguel had no love for her.

Especially, not now when most of the time his thoughts were occupied by the pretty baker, and his heart raced a marathon when he saw you.

God, he wanted to hug you right now. He needed your reassurance. He needed you.

But you weren't his.

And he wasn't yours.

He took a deep breath as he rubbed his temples. Miguel had to find a loophole for this arrangement.

He didn't want his first marriage to be forced or with a woman he didn't love. No, he wasn't going to learn to love her either because he did once, and it ended with them breaking up because she got greedy.

He couldn't imagine what she would do if she had the money from his family. He wouldn't be surprised if she tried to gain control over his businesses like she once did.

Miguel couldn't bare it.

Dana didn't deserve his money, his businesses, his mind, his heart, or his body.

But you...

He relaxed as your face flashed through his mind.

He hardly knew you, but his gut said you deserved it all.

You could ask him for anything, and he'd get it for you without a second thought; everything that was his, would be yours.

He loosened his tie before running a hand through his hair. He wanted to find a way out of this, but didn't know how to do it.

I mean, he couldn't say he got a girlfriend within a few hours when he was speechless for the meeting, and didn't mention anything about it. Right?

Right?!

Miguel grabbed his phone.

----

You flipped your sign as your day finally came to an end with a sigh. To say the day was rough was an understatement.

After you came back from your break with Patrick, he left for an interview, and your day was busy with last minute orders that customers came to order in a rush.

You were confused as to how a son forgot his mother's birthday, he, unfortunately, wasn't the first son to do so; you don't necessarily keep track of how many, but you knew he wasn't the first person to forget their parents' birthday, let alone the first son to forget his mother's birthday.

You wouldn't blame him since you knew it was normal. Plus, you gave him the benefit of the doubt since he remembered her favorite color was periwinkle.

You grabbed the box of Danish pastries and headed to the club to deliver them.

Surprisingly, it was a request; they never requested anything, so you happily made them

When you entered the club, you raised a brow at how empty it was.

Even if the day wasn't the busiest, there would always be people here.

"Sorry. I had to talk to you."

Your eyes darted up to the balcony of the club that you knew was a private section; more private than the VIP lounge downstairs near the bar.

"Ruby," you acknowledged with his nickname you gave him, causing him to chuckle.

"Please, Miguel is fine."

You shrug. "Ruby is better." You tilted your chin up to the ruby colored glasses, one of its arms tucked into his breast pocket.

The music was playing faintly in the background, as he scanned you. You tilt your head to the side as you placed the box down on the bar.

"Where's everyone else?" You asked, still feeling his eyes on you.

"I gave them the night off and closed the club."

"Is it really closed?"

He snickered. "I unlocked it when I saw you closing up. Plus, Lyla put out an announcement on our website that we were closed. Word goes around pretty fast."

You gave him a glare before he made his way down the staircase and towards you.

"Did you purposely want to meet with me?"

He gave you a nod. "I did. This is about your bakery."

"My bakery?"

"Yes."

Miguel doesn't mix business with pleasure.

"So, you closed your club, requested Danish pastries, and waited for me to have a business meeting?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I mean, when you put it like that, I guess so."

Was it just a business meeting? Not for him.

"Fine," you sighed out. "Next time, don't be so mysterious about it and ask me, okay?"

He gave you a nod before taking a Danish pastry. The milk glaze of the pastry decorated his lips, causing you to pluck a napkin from the bar and handing it to him.

At this moment, he wished it was your thumb or even your lips.

Screw the business or pleasure.

He wanted both with you.

He wanted all or nothing with you.

~~~~

tags:

@deputy-videogamer @barbiecrocs @deepinballs @faimmm @wakeupr41 @bubblegumfanfictions @smartyren @kimmis-stuff @latenightcravingz @youcantseem3 @corpsebridenightamare @thedevax @cicithemess @diannana @itsameclinicaldepresssion @hwasoup @migueloharasbbm @vkumi

[sindar-princeling]

my friend and I have been trying to catch a lotr marathon in cinemas since like summer 2021 or maybe a bit later but anyway the first time we couldn't go because they organised it when as far as I remember we were on vacation. the second time we couldn't go because it was the day we were flying to london to see david tennant in a play. now the third time they chose a day when we're at a beloved event we attend year after year. so I said fuck it we're having a marathon at home and so tomorrow I'm gonna be crying for 12 hours straight while watching extended editions like god intended

[carpe-mamilia]

Ghosts’ Larry Rickard Explains Why They Chose the Captain’s First Name

Photo: Monumental,Guido Mandozzi

It couldn’t be a joke. That was one rule laid down by the Ghosts creators when it came to choosing a first name for Willbond’s character. Until series five, the WWII ghost had been known only as The Captain – a mystery seized upon by fans of the show.

“It was the question we got asked more than anything. His name,” actor and writer Larry Rickard tells Den of Geek. “Once we got to series three, you could see that we were deliberately cutting away and deliberately avoiding it. We were fuelling the fire because we knew at some point we’d tell them.”

In “Carpe Diem”, the episode written by Rickard and Ben Willbond that finally reveals The Captain’s death story, they did tell us. After years of guessing, clue-spotting and debate, Ghosts revealed that The Captain’s first name is James. At the same time, we also learned that James’ colleague Lieutenant Havers’ first name was Anthony.

The ordinariness of those two names, says Rickard, is the point.

“The only thing we were really clear about is that we didn’t want one of those names that only exists in tellyland. It shouldn’t be ‘Cormoran’ or ‘Endeavour’. They should just be some men’s names and they’re important to them. The point was that they were everyday.”

Choosing first names for The Captain and Havers was a long process not unlike naming a baby, Rickard agrees. “It almost comes down to looking at the faces of the characters and saying, what’s right?”

“We talked for ages. For a long time I kept thinking ‘Duncan and James’, and then I was like ah no! That would have turned it into a gag and been awful!” Inescapably in the minds of a certain generation, Duncan James is a member of noughties boyband Blue. “Maybe with Anthony I was thinking of Anthony Costa!” Rickard says in mock horror, referencing another member of the band.

Lieutenant Havers wasn’t just The Captain’s second in command while stationed at Button House; he was also the man James loved. Because homosexuality was criminalised in England during James’ lifetime, he was forced to hide his feelings for Anthony from society, and to some extent even from himself.

In “Carpe Diem”, the ghosts (mistakenly) prepare for the last day of their afterlives, prompting The Captain to finally tell his story. Though not explicit about his sexual identity, the others understand and accept what he tells them – and led by Lady Button, all agree that he’s a brave man.

Getting the balance right of what The Captain does and doesn’t say was key to the episode. “It wasn’t just a personal choice of his to go ‘I’m going to remain in the closet’,” explains Rickard. “There wasn’t an option there to explore the things that either of them felt. That couldn’t be done back then – there are so many stories which have come out since the War about the dangers of doing that.

“We wanted to tell his personal story but also try to ensure that there was a level at which you understood why they couldn’t be open, that even in this moment where he’s finally telling the other ghosts his story, he never comes out and says it overtly because that would be too much for him as a character from that time.

“He says enough for them to know, and enough for him to feel unburdened but it’s in the fact that they’re using their first names which militarily they would never have done, and in the literal passing of the baton”.

The baton is a bonus reveal when fans learned that The Captain’s military stick wasn’t a memento of his career, but of Havers. As James suffers a fatal heart attack during a VE day celebration at Button House, Anthony rushes to his side and the stick passes from one to the other as they share a moment of tragic understanding.

“From really early on, we had the idea that anything you’re holding [when you die] stays with you. So it wasn’t just your clothes you were wearing, we had the stuff with Thomas’ letter reappearing in his pocket and so on. And the assumption being that it was something The Captain couldn’t put down, it felt so nice to be able to say it was something he didn’t want to put down.”

Rickard lists “Carpe Diem”, co-written with Ben Willbond, among his series five highlights. He’s pleased with the end result, praises Willbond’s performance, and loved being on set to see Button House dressed for the 1940s. He’s particularly pleased that a checklist of moments they wanted to land with the audience all managed to be included. “Normally something’s fallen by the wayside just because of the way TV’s made, it’s always imperfect or it’s slightly rushed, but it feels like it’s all there.”

Rickard and Willbond also knew by this point in the show’s lifetime, that they could trust Ghosts fans to pick up on small details. “Nothing is missed,” he says. “Early on, you’re always thinking, is that going to get across? But once we got to series five, there are little tiny things within corners of shots and you know that’s going to be spotted. Particularly in that very short exchange between Havers and the Captain. We worried less about the minutiae of it because you go, that’s going to be rewound and rewatched, nothing will be missed.”

The team were also grateful they’d resisted the temptation to tell The Captain’s story sooner. “We’d talked about it every series since series two, whether or not now was the time, but because he’s such a hard and starchy character in a lot of ways you needed the time to understand his softer side I think before you had that final honest beat from him.”

“What a ridiculously normal name to have so much weight put on it for five years,” laughs Rickard fondly. “Good old James.”

From Den of Geek

[thepoisonroom]

that post that's like "learning social skills helps with social anxiety" applies to dating also btw

[lyledraws]

"Why are we here?" and "Liam captures Vector"

Double feature for the Zebra Herd! Don't worry, I didn't forget about Zera; he's getting a fully rendered piece to himself soon.

(Castoff Fanart Marathon #10: Zebra Herd)

[you-can-be-what-you-want-to-be]

I think the reason trans girl mob goes off so hard is because… the show is inherently about a kid who’s an outcast learning to be his best most happy self. Like people always say be yourself yeah but that usually doesn’t actually mean anything.

Mob psychos thesis statement is you are NOT special, and that is beautiful because it means you can be anything. Just because you’re a good artist and a shit singer doesn’t mean you should do art instead of singing, you should do what makes you happy and strive to be as good at it as you can, because mediocre is an achievement when you aren’t special, it’s about self improvement, not being the best.

And then you get a kid, who’s constantly terrified of his own emotions and how they effect others and is seen as naive, who doesn’t fit the stereotypical masculine world well (weak as hell, cares a lot about emotions, pacifist) and doesn’t fit the stereotypical feminine world well either (reserved usually, in the body improvement club, horrible fashion, not able to read a room) and you say part of being the best, happiest possible version of yourself is realizing your gender, and it’s not a sad thing, and it’s not about anyone else, it’s about being the best you possible.

I don’t think mob in show is trans or would be any better or worse at being a girl than he is at being a boy, because it isn’t about that. It’s about the idea that when people do the things that are important to them without regard for what other people might think and only focus on being who they want to be (not who they think they should be, not on who they are, who they WANT to be, who would be both a good person and make them happy) that that is the best, happiest, most successful version of them. And I think that’s beautiful.

[camgoloud]

i simply feel that if you burn shit in your roommate’s skillet you should then feel the obligation to be the one who scrapes it out and cleans up

[darkwood-sleddog]

Prepping for the annual dog wash like: *adds deshedding shampoo to cart adds deshedding shampoo to cart adds deshedding shampoo to cart

[a-very-fond-farewell]

eh. how are we doing fellow h/elluva peeps? D: me is personally not doing well, I’ll tell you that Dx

[callixton]

i know this is the universal struggle but it is so sick that i will always be so much younger than the artists i look up to and if i ever get to work with them it will be from that perspective. and they will die first. before i’m half as formed bc i will always be playing catch up bc of how time works. that’s fucked.