#eventually!!

[yuesya]

What is Shiki's body like physically? That is to say, she seems to be someone with a delicate body but when you see her with different clothes you see that she is in good physical shape.

Shiki is short. Honestly, strictly speaking she'd be a pretty average height for an Asian girl. But JJK has a lot of Tall characters, so in comparison Shiki (and Nishimiya) is (/are) short.

Due to constant training and a fighting style that relies on Shiki being up close and physical with her opponents, she is in excellent physical condition! Not that it's usually noticeable beneath the kimonos that she's so fond of, though.

[allylikethecat]

omg more prompts!! would love to see matty holding hands with george while he’s stressed out about something and then maybe later laying his head in george’s lap🥺

HELLO THERE ANON,

You sent me this WONDERFUL intimacy prompt literally three months ago, BUT I finally did it, I finally filled it! Better late than never? Right? I want to apologize though for taking so long to get to it, and thank you so much for sending it in. I hope that you're still around to see the response! I ended up combining the two- I hope that was okay! Please let me know what you think! Additionally, if anyone else wants to send in any intimacy prompts, the list can be found here. I can't guarantee that it won't take me three months to finish the next one, but I promise that I *will* eventually. I really enjoy working on prompt fills and even if it takes me forever to actually sit down and write them, just know that I am in fact always thinking about them!

Thank you so much for requesting this prompt, your patience since I am the worst and it took me months, for reading, and for your continued support! I look forward to hearing what you think!

❤️Ally

WARNINGS: Reference to past drug abuse

Holding hands during a stressful situation & Resting your head on your partner's lap

Matty hated flying. He hated the drive to the airport. He hated that they were always, inevitably, caught in stop and go traffic that made his already nervous belly churn, nausea burning the back of his throat. He hated leaving his bag with the airline agent, the worry that it would get lost, that it would get stolen, that it wouldn’t make it to his final destination even as he obsessively tracked its air tagged location on his phone. He hated going through security and border control. He hated taking off his jacket, and shoving his backpack into the plastic bin. He hated the scrutiny of the security agents as they took in his tattoos and the scars on his arms. He was always, without fail, pulled for random, additional screening. He always tried to smile good naturedly, anxiety bubbling in his gut, even if he knew he wasn’t truly chosen at random, drug dogs sniffing his ankles as they swabbed his hands for explosives. At least he got to carry his own passport now, it was no longer in Jamie’s clutches as if he was going to run off to score the second he was left unattended. (He never had even considered fleeing an airport to score, however, he had considered fleeing an airport to run back to the flat he shared with George and hide under the covers of their bed.)

He hated making his way through the crowded terminal, people rushing around him, knocking into him, suffocating him as he tried to remember how to breathe. The straps of his backpack digging into his shoulder. He knew there would be a red mark on the skin when he sat it down, there always was. He loved their fans, he loved them more than anything, but he hated that he could feel their eyes on him as he moved through the airport, taking pictures of him with his eyes downcast, the brim of his baseball hat pulled low as if it would be able to fully hide his mop of curls. Only for the pictures to end up on Twitter moments later, which led to more eyes seeking his location. The braver ones would approach him and ask for a picture with him rather than just of him from a distance. He would force a smile, his arm stiffly around their shoulders as he tried to focus on his breathing, his palms sweating as every fiber of his being screamed danger and run. He hated that they always seemed to be assigned the gate furthest away from the main artery of the terminal. He hated that his anxiety meant he needed to lay eyes on the gate, that he needed to verify that it was real before he could wait with the rest of their group in the lounge. 

He hated that once he had dropped off his bag, and made it through security, and checked on his gate, that it was time to wait. Matty was not a patient person, he was even less patient when he was stressed, wanting things the way he wanted them right this instant. Demanding, George had called him one time with an amused smile and love shining in his eyes.

At this particular instant, he was both stressed and demanding, gripping George’s hand as if it was the only thing keeping him tethered to this earth as he dragged him through the crowded corridor towards their gate. He was more stressed than even his usual airport levels of airport anxiety. He hadn’t slept the night before, tossing and turning, worrying about the ten hour flight from LA to London they would be embarking on the next morning, popping piece after piece of nicotine gum as they inched towards departures in their rental van. They had played the last show of the tour the night before, and Matty was burnt out and ready to go home. Once at the airport, he had been, as usual, pulled for additional screening, the man that patted him down rough and inconsiderate. He had been stopped by a duo of fans less than five minutes later, forcing a smile as he tried to swallow down anxious tears threatening to spill. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his blood rushing in his ears as a man speaking loudly on the phone bumped into him, splashing him with iced coffee.

“You’re okay,” George soothed, giving Matty’s sweaty hand a comforting squeeze of his own, as the man turned away from them, glaring, as if they were the ones not watching where they were going. He swiped his thumb reassuringly against the back of Matty’s hand. 

“The gate is just up ahead,” George said, pointing with his free hand to B37. “We still have an hour ‘til boarding.” 

Matty nodded, wishing that seeing the gate with his own eyes would have loosened some of the tension in his chest, the way it usually did. George gave his hand another squeeze and Matty swallowed hard. George had calluses on his fingers and across his palm from years of playing the drums professionally, Matty loved that they slotted perfectly against his own guitarists calluses. Matty loved that George’s hands were so much bigger than his own, dwarfing his hand, his fingers wrapping fully around his own, engulfing them, protecting them from the outside world. He loved that even when he was shaking, even when his palms were disgustingly damp and sweaty, George never let go. He might have been the one clinging to George, but really, George was the one holding onto him. He closed his eyes, and tried to focus on the feel, on the weight of George’s hand, intertwined with his own. He could still feel his heart beating in his ears, but he no longer felt like he was going to drift away, like he was going to be pulled out to sea by the current and lost forever.

George pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Matty’s head. “Let's head up to the lounge, I would kill for a cup of coffee.” 

Matty let himself be led through the crowd, their hands connected as if George was the tugboat guiding Matty’s ship to shore. George showed their passes to the hostess and they were granted access, the rest of their group already sprawled out on the couches, bags at their feet, coffee in hand. Matty swallowed a yawn, he was exhausted, and knew that coffee would help, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach the acidic liquid at the moment.

Matty sat down on an open two seater. Matty hated that he had to let go of George’s hand as he made his way over to the coffee bar, pleased that they were reunited a moment later, a steaming paper cup in George’s hand. He dropped into the seat next to him and without thinking Matty found himself leaning over, not caring that technically they were in public, to rest his head in George’s lap. 

“I just want to go home,” Matty said softly as George tugged Matty’s hat off to run his fingers through the messy squashed curls. 

“Soon love,” said George, “we’ll be home soon.”

[one-winged-dreams]

Pre-Relationship, #1 for Varian.

I'm legit dying to know how you two met!

@askthelovenest

How did they first meet?

Well, my insert is introduced early or mid-Cataclysm. In the wake of it and the mounting tensions with the Horde, the Stormwind Crown thought it would be a good political distraction to assign the High King a personal war priest. That personal war priest was meeeee! He didn't really want to go along with it but more than that he didn't really care so he just was like 'fine'. And then we met officially and he was like "Holy shit, this priest is so tiny, how does he hold all that willpower in there?" and I was like "HOT! HOT! HOT! SO MUCH HOTTER IN PERSON!" akjsdgh

I'm writing part of the first meeting fic now, here are some excerpts from it

There was another one of those sharp intakes of breath, and the priest's eyes widened further, his face turning a subtle shade of pink. "Oh! Yes, of course… My apologies, uhm, AGAIN, King Wrynn." Those eyes could have made a gnoll feel pity.

A sharp sucking-in of breath grabbed his attention, and for a moment, Varian watched the small priest hold it and then slowly let it out as his shoulders slacked. A practice Varian knew well, a quick whip of shame finishing the sentence for him; but neglected often to utilize. Fixing those eyes that seemed to seek out a man's very soul upon the King, his expression was utterly neutral, his tone bereft of anything other than sincerity. "My name is Adriel, Your Majesty. I will be your assigned War Priest. If you've agreed to it…" As he spoke, his gaze remained fixed, valiantly enough to impress him, entirely on Varian's own. Alright. He was never incapable of being prepared for his expectations to be subverted, but this was… A pleasant surprise. He blinked as another notion took front and center. Septum piercing. Another surprise.

"Forgive me, I'm used to shaking the hands of men much…" "Bigger?" Varian blinked. "I was going to say 'more politically oriented' to be perfectly honest." "Oh."

[salstray]

thanks to some encouragement from one of my besties, i am writing lethal company fanfic

[miasmaghoul]

Is it too late for these now? I sure hope not

I wish you would write a fic where two ghoulettes enjoy some good ol‘ piss (in whichever way you choose) together

I HAVE WONDERFUL NEWS MY FRIEND

CUMULUS AND SUNSHINE PISS CONTENT, COMING (EVENTUALLY) TO A KINKTOBER PROMPT NEAR YOU

[spacedustmantis]

my brain wants to write but sadly my brain also wants to shut down...

[ibis-radish]

I don't have any glasses for the eclipse someone relay it to me when it happens

[koifee]

Falin panics when her gf is sad

[dendrochronologies]

maya angelou saying the funniest thing anyone has ever said about editing, which i can never let myself forget EVER AGAIN [x]

[littlemsterious]

i was thinking about that post comparing Jessica Rabbit as an asexual to Barbie and an asexual and then i thought of the Neil Gaiman post (was it a post?) about Crowley and Aziraphale being asexual sexless and then this happened.

anyways. thoughts?

sorry it took so long I meant to do this a week ago but my brain is full of rocks.

[Image ID a three sided venn diagram. the big circles show Margot Robbie's Barbie sitting in front of a mirror, Jessica and Roger Rabbit from the poster of Who Framed Roger Rabbit, and Aziraphale and Crowley from Good Omens standing back to back. Between Barbie and Jessica Rabbit it says "sexualised by society". Between Jessica Rabbit and Aziraphale and Crowley it says "Knows what sex is". Between Aziraphale and Crowley and Barbie it says "no reproductive system(?)". the center is the asexual flag. End ID]

Also i haven't seen the Barbie movie as of this edit so at least please tag your spoilers.

[threefuckencrowsinatrenchcoat]

Myself included tbh

[cronchy-baguette]

When all this is over, will you stay with me? For good?

[waltricia]

I genuinely love this candle symbolism.

For her, it’s been burning. For him, it’s finally igniting.

( And actually his candle is already low and a liiittttle bit lit, implying the love was always there, burning so low as to not be noticed, but surely burning nonetheless 🔥♥️ )

Edit: I let this go on long enough. I’m putting an editor’s note on it. As we should all know by now, this symbolism is what the season 3 part 1 trailer was trying to convey. In the show, Colin’s candle shot is reversed. The candle goes out. Of course this can mean different things, but I believe we can all basically agree, given the context of the scene, that he’s recognizing his time is running out. His hope of being with Penelope is slipping away.

Yeah, I felt like a bit of a clown when I saw the scene and it turned out this post, which had already garnered thousands of notes by then, turned out to be a total fuckin fabrication. But how was I supposed to know the team that cut the trailer would reverse a shot??

Yes, it is still basically true- she was always in love him and he finally fell in love with her. Something was always there for him with her, but really he didn’t start falling for her until he started seeing her as a woman and they kissed and, ya know, here we are.

But anyway, my basic point is this: trust no one. Don’t trust me. Definitely do not trust the Bridgerton trailer editors. Just stay vigilant, alright?

I release you from the burden of liking and reblogging this post. Be free!

And enjoy Bridgerton 💚🐝

[rozecrest]

hey don’t cry. spiro the bald eagle failing at catching a crab, okay?

[distantsonata]

[inktho]

week 4 of dressing chilchuck up in contemporary menswear