#i forgot how much i love writing this

[leighsartworks216]

Gonna try to get stuff out this week for Wyll Week. It's a week late, but I only now have the time to actually write and focus on it

As a little treat, an excerpt from the smut I teases on Valentine's <333

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

There was something so utterly lewd in the soft command you gave him to lick, but he answered without hesitation. He ran the flat of his tongue along your slit, groaning at the taste of you. It was nothing like he’d ever tasted before, and it was addicting. He looked up the length of your body, watching your face contort in pleasure as he licked again, dipping the tip of his tongue along your entrance. One of your hands falls from his hair as the other gently pulls him away. He watches enraptured as you part your folds with two fingers, exposing more of yourself to him, and use your middle finger to circle your clit. The barest touch has your breath catch in your throat. He can hear it even as his heart thuds in his ears. “Here,” you gasp out. There is not a cell in your body that can find the desire to be embarrassed. Not when Wyll’s eyes look over your hand touching yourself to meet your eye, utterly enamored with you. “Lick here.”

[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, fuck.”

The clatter of her practice sword on the ground is almost louder than the crunch that rings out from his wrist. He inhales sharply, biting back a shout — no matter how many times it’s happened, he will never get used to breaking a bone. That shit hurts.

“Fuck, fuck fuck. Fuck, Seaweed Brain, is it broken?”

“Think so,” Percy grits out. He tries for a smile, and Annabeth matches it, small and worried. He leans into the hand she cups over his cheek. “Not too bad, though. If I just dump my water bottle on it —”

“Absolutely not. Water healing leaves you achey when it rains, you know that.” Shifting to wrap her arm around his waist, she helps him stand, shouldering some of his weight like it’s his ankle that’s broken. He lets her, reaching down to squeeze the hand resting on his hip — I’m fine. We’re good. She turns her hand to wrap clasp their hands together — Okay. If you’re sure.

They walk together to the infirmary, taking their time. Aside from the pain pulsing from his arm, it’s not too bad — camp is as balmy as usual, and the spring break energy is practically visible, it’s so potent. The Demeter cabin has plants growing everywhere, flowers and fruit trees blooming as bright as a box of new crayons, and the air is filled with shouts of laughter and teasing. Annabeth’s steps fall in time with his, and she’s a comfortable warmth at his side, pressed from shoulder to hip.

“You still okay?”

“Yep.” He catches her eye, smiling crookedly at her. “Doesn’t even make my top fifty.”

She rolls her eyes, hipchecking him. “Don’t I know it, ya klutz.”

“Not sure I would call being flung from the St. Louis Arch being a klutz. Or exploded in a volcano. Or crushed under the sky. Or slashed by giants. Or chased by —”

“You’re talking, but all I’m hearing is Annabeth, please, please pinch me, as hard as you can —”

“Hey! Get those claws off me, gods you’re worse than an empousai —”

“— and when you’re done pinching me please put me in the tightest headlock you can manage —”

“I am injured! You are beating up an injured person right now!”

“— and then please just bite a chunk out of my shoulder —”

“Cut it out or I’m telling Mom!”

“Wimp,” she taunts, finally releasing him. “I don’t go running to Sally every time I lose a fight.”

“Wha — you do so!”

She ducks through the infirmary door, smirking like she can’t hear him.

“You literally — you snitched on me last week! I got grounded for two days!”

“And you deserved it,” she says primly.

He gapes. “I did not!”

“Anytime you two are done,” Kayla drawls, shoving a clipboard at them. They accept it with matching sheepish grins, cowed at her perfectly arched eyebrow and slowly tapping foot. “I got patients to deal with and older brothers to harass. Let’s get this moving.”

She is shockingly good at humbling people for a thirteen year old. The two of them turn to their clipboard, chagrined, letting her stomp away with an exasperated He’ll be with you soon! Don’t set off the sprinklers again!

“That was one time,” Percy mumbles, ears reddening.

Annabeth pats him on the back. “There, there,” she says mockingly. “The fact that it was one time definitely negates the fact that you flooded the entire Big House because you got jumpscared by a child.”

“Harley can be sneaky, okay. Let me live.”

“Literally no.”

Annabeth does most of the paperwork for him, ‘cause she’s a nerd because his wrist is far too swollen for him to write properly, so it takes maybe half the time it normally would. The infirmary is crowded as Hell, though (he knows, he’s been), so they settle in for the wait, amusing themselves by tearing little pieces off of a blank form, balling them up, and tossing them in increasingly harder places. Percy is winning 7-4, although Annabeth might just pull through if she manages to toss her paper ball into Travis’ wide-open snoring mouth.

“Hey, guys. Sorry for the wait.”

Aw. She missed. Percy was looking forward to that.

“Hey, Will.”

He drags his attention away from the son of Hermes to greet his friend, but frowns before he can open his mouth.

“Woah, dude, you good? You look exhausted.”

Will snorts. “Welcome to spring break, man.” He holds his hand out for the clipboard, scanning it briefly. “Sparring injury? Oh, thank the gods. I could use a break. Here, face me.”

He climbs up onto the minimal left over space on the cot, tucking his legs under his thighs. Percy turns to mirror him, hesitantly sticking out his arm — A break? he mouths to Annabeth, meeting her eyes over Will’s head.

She shrugs.

“Just spent four hours putting Jake’s nose back on his face,” Will mumbles, placing a careful hand on his fingertips and his forearm. Percy flinches — his skin is blisteringly hot. Like someone just dropped a hot stone onto him. “I never want to sing a skin cell hymn again in my life.” He prods at Percy’s wrist for a moment, gentle enough not to hurt. “Okay, hold still, I’m gonna fix ya right up.”

Healing hymns are familiar, by now, but Percy will never get tired of them.

The cool thing about ambrosia and nectar is that as pleasure food for the gods, it’s pleasant. It’s whatever taste you want, whatever you need to have most, you get it. But healing hymns are intentional the way nectar and ambrosia aren’t. Ambrosia and nectar happen to be healing for demigods — healing hymns were constructed to knit you back together, like you mother smoothing a bandaid over a skinned knee. They’re warm and sweet and deeply, endlessly comforting in a way most things simply cannot claim to be. They don’t feel like a medical procedure or a hasty patch job, they feel like someone gripping you tightly and promising you’ll be okay. They feel like getting carried to bed when you fall asleep on the couch. They feel like sitting down after hours of standing, like a drink of water when your throat is drier than sand. Healing hymns draw the pain and sick and ache from your body, and they feel like relief.

But this time, Percy can’t focus on it.

With every word, Will seems to get a little duller. Nothing like the horrible ash-grey he went in the war, dragging the poison from Annabeth’s body, but like his usual sunny disposition was dialed down a few notches. Enough that Annabeth frowns in concern, drumming her hands on her thighs, watching him closely.

“There,” Will says, pulling away. Percy turns his now-healed wrist, noticing the slight pant to Will’s breath, the strain to his smile. The shake of his blistered fingertips.

“You look overworked,” Annabeth says quietly.

Will holds his hands up in a what can you do gesture. “Spring break.”

“You said.”

“It’s just busy, is all.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Guys,” he interrupts, smiling tiredly, “there are two hundred ADHD demigods at this camp right now who have been trapped in a classroom for six months. There are three of us. I’m going to be a little drained; we’re all a little drained. But I’m fine, okay?” He gives them a second to scrutinize his expression, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I have been running my infirmary for years. I know how to pace myself, and I certainly know how to make sure my siblings are pacing themselves. If something goes really wrong, Chiron is a whistle away. I can go longer than you guys without sleep, anyway. Apollo kid health.”

“If you say so,” Percy says reluctantly. “I just — I can wear a wrist brace, man. Not every injury needs to be handled when it happens. You can tell people no.”

“I appreciate that, Percy, and I’ll keep it in mind. Anyways, I’ve got more patients. Stay off that wrist for the rest of the day, okay? It might be tender for a bit.”

Percy turns to Annabeth as Will leaves, frowning. He’s has never noticed the so-called spring break stress before (his camp spring breaks are usually a blast, but now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t think of a single spring break where he spent any time at all with Will, which is odd), but it can’t be good for him. There’s gotta be something they can do to ease some of the bruising under their friend’s eyes.

“I could set off the fire alarms again,” Percy suggests. “That’ll certainly get this place cleared out.”

Annabeth snorts. “I think that’ll cause more harm than good, Seaweed Brain. It’ll just fall in him to clean it all up, after.”

“Shoot.”

Percy counts nine of the forty cots currently unused. Will, Kayla, and Austin are rushing from cot to cot, handing out nectar, wrapping bandages, rattling off hymns at light speed. All three of them look exhausted, squeezing shoulders when they pass each other, knocking hips, exchanging tired smiles. This is so clearly something they’re used to.

Annabeth’s head rests on his shoulder.

“It wasn’t always like this,” she whispers. “When it was fully staffed…”

Percy exhales heavily. Yeah. He remembers. There was a lot less complication, once upon a time. The most chaotic the infirmary would get was when Lee would challenge his siblings to Hymn Karaoke — trying to heal with pop songs. There was a lot more laughter, at one point. A lot more people.

Percy sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. It never does well to dwell, but he — gods, he wish they all had more time. To sit with it, to acknowledge…everything. Siblings. Friends. A camp that’s smaller than it’s supposed to be.

Annabeth squeezes his hand again, and he squeezes back, resting his head on top of hers.

“Hey,” she murmurs after a moment, pursing her lips at the front door. “Look.”

Slinking through the entrance like a criminal is Nico, in all his dork ass black camp shirt glory. He looks around shiftily, like he’s trying to make sure no one sees him, and when his gaze lands on Percy and Annabeth his eyes widen. Annabeth smiles at him, but it does nothing to ease the spooked look to his face, back arched like a startled cat. He turns to leave, but before he can slip back out the door —

“Nico!”

The son of Hades whips back around so quickly he brains himself on the doorframe. Percy ducks his head and bites his lip, hard, because he can feel Nico’s glare at the side of his head like the press of hot coal, and if he laughs as badly as he wants to then the infirmary is about to look like a Spirit Halloween.

Will turns back to his patient, squeezing his eyes shut and rattling a hymn off so quickly it makes a burst of light pop from his whole body, and rushes over to where Nico’s standing. He only trips over two things, which is remarkable for him. Percy would be proud if he wasn’t a little embarrassed on his behalf.

“Nico! Hi!”

“He-ey, Will,” Nico says, voice cracking badly on every vowel. Annabeth shoves her face into Percy’s shoulder, body shaking.

“I didn’t know you were coming! I thought you were in the arena all day.”

Nico shrugs, shoes scuffing the floor. “I am. I just — uh, I got hurt? So. Came to see you.”

Will’s beam is so bright it hurts to look at, a little. Percy squints and realises that’s not just the excitement, actually — he really is glowing, faintly. His hands flap slightly at his sides.

“Well, you’re in the right place, then.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them say anything for a minute, rocking back on their heels. Will watches Nico closely, biting his lip. Nico looks resolutely at the floor.

“We weren’t this bad,” Annabeth whispers, “were we?”

Percy shakes his head. “Nah, there’s no way.”

“Gods. It’s so — I don’t know whether to smile or take a dip in the Lethe. It’s embarrassing and endearing at the same time.”

“Painful to watch, but I can’t stop looking,” Percy agrees.

“What’d you hurt?” Will asks, finally. “Did you pull your shoulder again?”

A look of panic flits briefly across Nico’s face until he smooths it to something neutral, aloof.

“Yep. Totally. During — sword fighting, I swung — I did this really big thrust, actually. Just — hugely powerful, training dummy exploded on impact.” He clears his throat. “Some might say too powerful. If you can imagine.”

Percy cradles his head in his hands. “Oh my gods — ”

“Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh,” Annabeth chants, “oh my gods, don’t laugh —”

A light flush dusts Will’s cheeks. He brushes a strand of hair behind his ear, fiddling with his earrings. “Woah, really? I’ve never heard of that before.”

Nico smirks, standing up a little straighter. “Well, it’s not the first time. I tend to go pretty hard.” Remembering his supposedly hurt shoulder, he exaggerates a wince. “Too hard sometimes, I guess. Could you do the — the energy thing?”

“Oh — gods, yeah, sorry. Hold on.” He stares at Nico’s shoulder, hesitating. “It, um, works better with skin-to-skin contact.”

“I have seen crystal vases less transparent,” Annabeth says, aghast. “In two years he’s going to remember this and try to drown himself.”

“I will be counting down the days,” Percy says gleefully.

On rare, rare occasions, the gods answer his prayers. Clearly, both Nemesis and Aphrodite are looking at him kindly today. Percy makes a note to scrape some of the good stuff off his plate for them both today. Hell, maybe he’ll skip the portioning and toss them an entire roast chicken each. Or something. They deserve it.

Will places both hands — interesting, Percy notes, his wrist was snapped cleanly in two and he only needed one hand, wonder why that was — on Nico’s shoulder and closes his eyes, screwing up his face in concentration.

“Huh. I’m not feeling much damage. You said it was your right shoulder?”

“I heal quick,” Nico says loudly. “I mean, some of the damage might have — um.” He clears his throat. His face glows a faint crimson. He clears his throat again. “Y’know?”

Will’s face is a similar shade.

“Right, right. Yeah. Um, brace yourself.”

Instead of starting to sing, Will closes his eyes, holding completely still. After a moment, the tips of his fingers begin to glow; soft, ambery yellow, flickering like lit candles. He opens his eyes again and focuses intently on Nico’s bare skin, tracing patterns around every defined muscle, leaving a trail of light behind. He lingers, for a moment, when he connects the last string of light, waiting until it has faded entirely from Nico’s skin to remove his hands and shove them in the pockets of his coat.

“That better?” he asks softly.

Nico swallows. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’m glad, Nico. It means a lot that you — came to me. When you needed it.”

“I trust you, I guess.” Nico looks away. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little,” Percy says thoughtfully.

Annabeth laughs, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t be mean.” She pauses. “Me too.”

With a sigh that can only be described as besotted, Will steps reluctantly away.

“I have patients,” he says, in the same tone of voice Percy usually says I have midterms. “So I gotta…”

“Yeah, no, go. Do your —” Nico gestures vaguely. “Doctor thing.”

“Right. Yeah. I’m gonna — go.” He turns, walking back towards a group of Hephaestus kids who appear to be tightly entangled in some kind of net. After a few steps, though, he pauses, biting his lip, then darts back over to Nico, pressing a lightning-fast kiss to his cheek — “Um, bye. Thank you for visiting. Bye,” — and then runs back over to his siblings, shy smile on his face.

Nico’s jaw is brushing the floor of his father’s palace. He stands, still as a statue, for four entire minutes.

“I think he just died,” Annabeth observes, eyebrows climbing higher and higher up her forehead with every passing second “Damn. Survived so much only to literally die because a cute boy kissed his cheek. A true hero’s end.”

Percy, because he is a kind, concerned friend, clears his throat loudly.

“Yo, di Angelo, you alive?”

Nico startles so violently he falls right over. Percy shoves his fist in his mouth to keep from cackling.

“Shut the fuck up,” Nico hisses venomously, scrambling upright. “Both of you, shut the — not a word —”

Percy and Annabeth make the mistake of looking at each other and simply erupt. Percy can’t feel his stomach. His lungs have abandoned ship. He’s glad as hell he’s in the infirmary because he is heaving for breath, tears streaming down his face, entire body convulsing. Nico stands in front of them literally shaking with rage, entire body redder than one of Apollo’s sacred cows, trying and failing to string together a threat that will ease any and all of his suffering. Annabeth screeches, almost falling off the bed as she cackles. Percy cannot even find the strength to catch her, his muscles are so weak.

“I fucking — I hate you! Both of you! You’re dead to me!”

“Your face!” Percy shrieks.

“Percy Jackson, I am going to turn you to fucking dark matter! I despise your very essence! I —” He stomps his foot. “I’m leaving, and I’m going to leave a rotting corpse in your cabin! Screw you!”

“Oh my gods,” Annabeth wheezes, digging her nails into his arm. “Oh my gods, that was —”

Percy wipes a tear from his eye. “I love being alive. I love being alive so much.”

“It really is great.” Composing herself, and biting back the leftover giggles that keep bubbling out, Annabeth looks back towards Will. He stands much straighter, now, smile back to full brightness. His siblings, too, look rejuvenated, snickering to each other and making kissy faces behind Will’s back. “So many beautiful things to witness. I’ve never seen his face go that red.”

Percy sighs. “This is genuinely going to carry me through the semester. I think his soul died a little. And Will just — gods, that kid is bold.”

“Oh says you, Mr. Do I Get A Good Luck Kiss.”

“Hey, I earned that.”

Annabeth grins, punching him in the shoulder. He grabs her wrist and tugs her towards him, chasing the curve of her smile. She laughs into his mouth and it taste like strawberries and freedom, and he presses a kiss to her cheek, to her jaw, and the side of her neck, resting there, breathing against her skin. After a moment her hands come up and slide in his hair, gently untangling the knotted mess.

“He is one thousand percent going to put a zombie in your bed, you know,” she says after a moment.

Percy snorts. “Yeah, I know.” He smiles. “Worth it.”

[cocolacola]

❤️💙 important finds from the Hellsing Ultimate Scans

[myokk]

Eloise is really, really bad at chess😐

(this is a scene from my fic & I typed it up here:)

"Milady, you cannot send him there! He will surely die a terrible death, and Murdoch is our finest knight!"

Eloise blinked her bleary eyes at the wizarding chess board, not really comprehending what the tiny pieces were yelling at her. The one that seemed to be doing the most talking was gesticulating wildly and jumping up and down, trying to get her attention. When she had taken the pieces out of the box Sebastian had lent her, they had immediately recognized her and started protesting, appealing to 'their benevolent lord's innate sense of goodness', but their protests fell on deaf ears. Eloise was positive that Sebastian took some sort of perverse pleasure at watching her lose at chess.

In the background, she could hear Ominis's laughter echoing through the Undercroft. His own pieces were quite happy at the moment, preening and occasionally sending rude gestures towards Eloise's, much to Sebastian's amusement. He was narrating their every action to Ominis, whose laughter was egging on his soldiers even more.

"Eloise," Sebastian said, propping his chin up by one hand (entirely too amused, infuriatingly so, why did he have to look so handsome when she was trying to be annoyed at him?), "maybe you should move the knight..." his other hand pointed to an empty space on the board, "...here."

This declaration caused an uproar. There were shouts of betrayal, tiny pieces gesticulating wildly to the carnage surrounding the board as they shouted in vain. She didn't see any other viable moves, so Eloise sighed and ordered the brave little Murdoch to where Sebastian had suggested. Chaos immediately ensued and Ominis's queen gleefully knocked his head off with a violent swing of her scepter. Eloise's pawns all doubled over, sobbing as their most valient knight fell, and her remaining bishop shook his tiny fist in outrage up at her.

After a few more minutes, much to Eloise's ashamed relief and the boys' disappointment, her pieces refused to move for either her or Sebastian. They solemnly collected the remains of their fallen comrades with as much dignity as they could muster and marched off the board and back into their box in a mourning parade of sorts.

Sebastian joined Ominis's pieces as they jeered the losing team off the board, causing Eloise to glare fiercely at him. "You were the one telling me what to do, and they're your pieces! Show some loyalty."

He shrunk away from the intensity of her gaze and held up his hands in protest. "I was suggesting the moves as a joke! After last week's fiasco, I didn't think you'd fall for it again."

Ominis was laughing so hard he was gasping for breath, and the two of them turned to watch him. Even through her irritation, Eloise couldn't help but smile at him - he was always so solemn and these bouts of mirth were few and far between. He managed to speak between bouts of laughter. "I...I couldn't...I couldn't believe it when you sent your bishops one by one into my trap! It was so obvious! And then...and then you..." Ominis dissolved into fits of laughter again and couldn't finish.

Eloise turned her angry glare to him. "We can't all be chess geniuses!"

"I've tried teaching you and you don't listen! For the next time, I'm only going to give you one piece of advice: don't listen to Sebastian." He chuckled once more to himself and then turned slightly to the board, addressing his men (and queen) and giving them a debriefing. He always did this after he won the matches; it was a strange sort of ritual that he seemed to look forward to.

[kisses4kaia]

BABE WE NEED MORE ETHAN CONTENT MORE WHINY AND NEEDY SHIT

IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE !! send ethan reqs u guys i’m dying over here😫🙏

(separate a/n: i'm back! i know you guys probably missed me soooo much but i missed u all so so so much more. so happy to be back. ❤)

smarty🍪- e, landry ,,

"please," he's given up, his voice was a quiet, defeated plead. you were sat on his aching cock, riding him to oblivion.

he begged permission to utilize his hands, knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists to restrain himself. they were tight at his sides, sheets in between his fingers.

"oh honey, you've been so good," you slow the rolling of your hips until you can look into his sepia-toned eyes. his pupils were blown and his eyes were glossy with tears.

he whimpered at the compliment, and also with frustration due to your lack of movement.

he looked so sad, it genuinely sent a pang to your heart. finally, you nodded. "go ahead, sweetheart." you allowed permission for his hands to land on your hips.

only, he didn't get that message. his hands flew to your hips and flipped the both of you over. the swift movement left you winded as ethan pounded into you repeatedly.

you wanted to tell him to slow down, but it felt so good that you weren't even sure if that was what you wanted.

"come on, i'm almost there. am i making you feel good, momma?" you nodded rapidly. "so, so good, e. so good, don't stop," you breathed out through your moans.

he laughed humorlessly before saying with each thrust, "over. my. dead. body,"

all your senses were so overwhelmed with pleasure that you couldn't hold your orgasm back any longer. the white-hot sensation crashed over you like an ocean tide. you couldn't even recall the moment with how pumped with adrenaline you were.

and from the way ethan's eyebrows furrowed and the way his teeth grinded against each other, you could tell he was close, too.

"c'mon, pretty boy. come inside me, it'd make me so proud," and with just those short phrases, a guttural moan tore from his vocal cords as he came long white ropes into you.

ethan slowly pulled out, watching his coated dick slip out of your cunt ever so easily. he could've come again right there.

when he flopped down next to you, finally getting a real opportunity to catch his breath, you turned onto your side to face him, a thoughtful expression on your face.

"again?"

at first his face read 'you have got to be kidding me', but quickly twisted into a smile before he spoke.

"obviously."

tags; @themostintellectualblonde @dreamtofus @wannabe-indie-sleaze @insanelycrazyanddelusional

[anthropoetics]

Raymond Carver, “Hummingbird,” from All of Us: The Collected Poems

[baby-xemnas]

dead strawhat! booo dead strawhat!! 😂

he is so damn MEAN. she already wasnt hiding that she cares about luffy A LOT you didnt have to test her 😭😭

[celestiallights515]

Snippet 1.5

Previous

An accumulation of Henchman's nerves, curiosity, and isolation left them reaching for the TV remote and flicking on the news; if they were supposed to stay here, they may as well figure out what's going on outside. They weren't quite sure what to expect when they flipped to the right channel. At worst, they expected a detailed account of how Hero had beaten them to a pulp the previous day, and at best a dull prediction of the weather.

What they hadn't expected was a picture of the hero's face: bruised, blood, and scared. It was such a surprise Henchman merely blinked in silence for the first few moments, utterly failing to digest any of the words coming out of the reporter's mouth. Villain had to have been the one to do it. They hadn't heard of any other villains causing Hero so much trouble, and they knew they were incapable of doing that themself. Hell, in the previous battle, they'd barely managed to land a single hit on the damn Hero.

The TV flicked off suddenly. Henchman turned around, confused, until their focus settled on Villain's face in the doorway. They held the unplugged TV cord in one hand, and a small bag in the other. "We need to speak. In my office, if you don't mind." Henchman nodded numbly, and within a blink they were sat in Villain's office again.

"Hey," Henchman said, then immediately kicked themself, but Villain's lips quirked into a small smile, and when they drew closer, Henchman couldn't help noticing how they smelled of night air and coconut-vanilla body spray, which was their second favorite perfume, but very similar to one Henchman always wore.

"Hey," Villain responded, a teasing light in their eyes as they stopped within arm's reach of Henchman. "Are you feeling alright?" They asked softly, folding their hands together behind their back after dropping the TV cord and placing the small paper bag on the bedside table.

The proximity brought a faint burning to Henchman's cheeks, which prompted them to break the silence. Sitting up straighter, they spoke with a croaky voice. "I'm sorry--"

"Wait."

The Villain's soft voice was all it took to silence the breath in Henchman's lungs and steal the rest of their words off of their tongue.

"If there is an apology in order, it is one of me to you. I believe my anger was misdirected when we spoke earlier." Villain's cheeks were pinker than usual, though Henchman wasn't completely sure they weren't imagining it. Villain cleared their throat. "I... I wasn't angry with you; just frustrated at the situation. I didn't mean to cause you panic."

Henchman wasn't imagining it; Villain was absolutely blushing. Which was good, because so were they. Met with silence, Henchman floundered for something else to say in reply. They should probably attempt their own apology again, or accept Villains, but their mouth was full of marshmallows and their tongue was made of lead until,

"Did I misread anger for anxiety?" Villain offers, and they look embarrassed with themself.

---

I thought I knew them better than that. Villain knew they were making a horrible mess of the entire situation, but Right Hand made it clear on no uncertain terms that if they had to watch Villain beat around the bush with Henchman anymore they'd shave off their eyebrows in their sleep, then make them confess, which was an infinitely worse situation that Villain was doing their best not to image.

Henchman shook their head slightly, then their eyes widened a little as they shook off the silence they'd fallen into. "No, not at all. I just--I wasn't expecting you to say that. I was pretty sure you were pissed at me."

It's a herculean effort to stop the sigh of relief from swooshing out of Villain's lungs, and the burning blush they were hoping Henchman hadn't clocked faded just the slightest bit. Maybe this wasn't completely hopeless. With another slight clear of their throat (a nervous tick they'd been trying to loose since childhood), they unfolded their twitching hands and offered the bag to Henchman. A peace offering, and an apology.

Quick, sharp footsteps passed in front of the doorway, and a flash of Right Hand's silvery hair was all it took to prompt Villain into their next words, uttered so quickly their tongue tripped over itself. "I was angry at Hero because I was worried about you." They were blushing furiously, and focused their gaze to the ceiling because any eye contact with Henchman would absolutely send them sprinting out of the room to take the easy way out. Or, in Right Hand's words: The coward's way out. It was even worse knowing their right hand was most likely listening as they dug themself deeper and deeper.

"It was the whole reason I wanted Hero down in the first place; they showed an interest in you--they attempted to target you, and I'm not sure if it was to hurt me, because they knew I cared about you, or if it was of their own accord, but I put you in danger and probably encouraged you to run out and fight them."

From what they could tell, they'd stunned Henchman into silence once again, though they couldn't tell if that, coupled with the blush on their ears and cheeks, was a good thing or meant Villain was just making a fool of themself.

"I thought I'd pass out on the spot when Right Hand told me where you were, especially when I saw Hero trying to call for backup. I wasn't sure what they'd do to you if they got you in custody. I went back as soon as I could to deal with hero, but they'd already gotten reinforcements and I couldn't get more than a couple good hits in--"

Their phone buzzed on their desk and lit up with a notification from Right Hand. [Slow down]. The bastard was listening.

Villain took another steadying breath, fixing their uniform and closing their eyes for a moment, clearing their throat and running one hand through their hair, bruised knuckles still aching. Henchman's voice broke in before Villain could continue their poorly planned speech. This was supposed to go so much smoother.

"I... I'm sorry, for worrying you. I didn't realize you held that kind of concern for my safety."

Villain collapsed onto their chair, holding their head in their hands as if that could make this entire situation go away. "I'm sorry, for dumping this on you so suddenly. I just... I would hate to see you get hurt again. I really don't know what I'd do without you."

"And Medic being so weird...?"

"I wanted to make sure you took proper care of yourself while I was gone. I guess they went overboard--but you do have a tendency to neglect your own needs in favor of work, and last night was no different."

Henchman blushed a little bit, and Villain felt themselves sliding into a more relaxed cadence as the conversation eased from "confession" to "take care of yourself, you idiot".

"You're one to talk."

That knocked Villain into another bout of silence. "I'm Villain. It's my job to go out and fight heroes--and maybe sometimes with Right Hand, but you're... you're different. Even considering my other employees, you are different. If you were hurt... If you'd died last night... I don't think I would be okay without you. I... really... I really care about you." Wow, great job genious.

Henchman didn't give Villain time to fret about what their expression meant as they replied, "I don't wanna loose you either, Villain."

-- Thank you all so much for all the attention and support on this series! It means the world to me. I have so many ideas for future posts, so stay tuned! Also, I have very little idea of how romance is actually supposed to go, so any specific requests are very much appreciated.

Tagging: @nameless-beanie @crow-with-a-typewriter @mylovelyme @21fandom-shipper21 @gooberlad @cassidysinferno (If you wanted to be tagged and weren't please just poke me with a stick)

[hall0wedwyrm]

I need comfort after Prime's conclusion

I wrote this kind of quickly last night, but im actually pretty proud of it and i like it lol. Anyway um no spoilers for Prime, i just wanted to write something nice. It's not very long but i had fun writing it :P Enjoy!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another battle against the doctor was concluded. A minimal amount of destruction was achieved once again.

This one was rather tough though. When it was about the Chaos Emeralds, Eggman pulled out his toughest bots and gave it all he had. It was unfortunate that he was up against Sonic, who would also give the battle everything he’d got too. Which happened to make him a tough opponent.

Shadow would always be impressed… he’d obviously never admit that though.

He and Sonic agreed to meet up at their usual post-battle spot, under a secluded tree on a cliff where Shadow used to hang out on his own until he ‘accidently’ invited Sonic along with him. They’d grown a lot closer since doing this, and even if they didn’t talk about anything, it was nice to just enjoy each others company.

Looking over the horizon in thought, Shadow had reflected on his growing appreciation for the blue hedgehog. He found himself doing that a lot more recently, even when he wasn’t completely intending to. He wasn’t quite sure what that meant… but whatever. He knew he cared about Sonic in some way though… Rouge had helped him figure that out.

“Hey!! Faker, is that you?” a voice called. It was Sonic, walking casually towards Shadow.

“Took you long enough.” Shadow responded, in the best joking manner he could muster.

As he approached though, Shadow immediately began to notice a few… differences.

First, the incredibly noticeable gash on his forehead. It was just above his right eye, and had looked like it just about stopped bleeding. He also had a few scuffs on his legs, but nothing as bad as the gash.

“How’s it goin’?” He asked, still keeping his cheery demeanor, despite the slight tiredness in his eyes.

“What…” Shadow hesitated, “What happened to you…?” He whispered. Sonic was stood right in front of him now, and the big gash looked even bigger now.

“Oh…” Sonic looked confused for a second before catching Shadow’s eyeline as he stared up at his forehead wound.

“This thing?” He pointed up to the gash, “It was crazy! Eggman had a huuuge robot and it was throwing a bunch of stuff at us but me and Knux managed to beat it up though and it’s totally not coming back.” He put his hands on his hips triumphantly.

“But… are you alright?” Shadow raised his hand a little, up towards Sonic, who looked a little taken aback by the concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine…? What makes you so worried about it?”

Without really thinking about it, Shadow grabbed him swiftly, pulling him into a close embrace. He held onto Sonic tightly, like if he was to let go, he would be gone forever.

Sonic was completely caught off guard, even making a little gasp noise when Shadow latched onto him. He didn’t really know how to react. He wasn’t much of a hugger, but in this moment it felt… nice.

Before Sonic could even question Shadow on the frankly bizarre gesture, Shadow began to speak first.

“You’re really important… you know that?” He muttered. Sonic was taken aback.

“I… I mean yeah I know,” Sonic says, awkwardly putting his hands on Shadow’s back as his response, “It’s kinda like an extra thing that comes with being a hero.” He lets out a little laugh with his comment.

“You…” Shadow takes a second, giving the hedgehog in his arms a firm squeeze, “You matter to me.”

Some kind of, what he can describe as, honor rushes over Sonic. It was something he’d hear a lot from his friends; Amy said it a lot and Tails did too. Even Knuckles had said it before.

But coming from Shadow? It was definitely significant to him.

Finally, Sonic wrapped his arms around Shadow too, giving him a squeeze back.

“You matter to me too.” He muttered back.

After a few more minutes of holding onto eachother, Shadow finally let Sonic go, but place his hands on his shoulders. There was a tender smile on Shadow’s face. Something that was quite the rare sight, but it was a good one.

“Can I please do something about that on your head now?” Shadow sighed.

Sonic raised an eyebrow, “You can do something about it?”

“I was made to heal, Sonic. Of course I can.”

Shadow pulled Sonic to sit by him under their tree. He pulled out the green chaos emerald from his quills, and held onto it tightly in his hand. It began to glow softly, as Shadow channeled its energy. He then raised his hand up towards the gash on his head. Shadow's hand rested over it for a second, before a slight glow emanated from it.

The slight cold sensation was weird and caused Sonic to react by squeezing his eyes shut, but there was an eventual heat coming from the energy coursing into his head. Sonic was rather amazed. He opened his eyes to peak at Shadow, who remained completely focused on channeling the energy of the emerald.

After a few more seconds, the heat passed and only Shadow's hand remained. He eventually moved his hand away though, as if he was making sure the chaos energy was done flowing.

“There you go.” He kept his voice low, preserving the peace, “It's as if nothing happened…”

Sonic placed his fingertips on the spot where the wound had been, as if he was making sure it was gone.

“Dang…” Sonic muttered, “Why don't you do that more often?” He joked.

“Well I haven't really needed to.” He admitted, putting away the emerald, “I already heal faster, and you've always just got back up again.” Sonic smirked at the remark.

Shadow could immediately see the cogs turning in the others head as he turned to look out at the view. He knew exactly what he was thinking.

“If you're thinking about getting into trouble just so I'll heal you, don't even try.” Shadow folded his arms, giving a smug smile to Sonic. He saw his eyes widen in shock.

“Oh c’mon… I'd never try that.” Sonic replied, with a big grin across his face. Shadow merely rolled his eyes in response, earning a laugh from Sonic.

[provincial-girl]

Yeah, so A League of Their Own continues to live in my head rent free, and lately I’ve been really fascinated with what the show does with Sergeant Beverly. There’s one scene in particular in episode 7 which really strikes me as a moment that does some really great, subtle work towards helping us understand the ways in which she fits in the show’s larger goal of exploring queer and marginalized communities.

 It’s right after Jo is escorted into the house by the police, the moment Beverly asks to speak to Carson privately. I feel like this is the scene where we get our first solid hint at the fact that Bev is queer, because she speaks as if she knows. Bev knows how this works. She understands that the names will be in the paper unless someone gets paid, and she clearly knows how to go about paying the right person. She understands the danger of keeping Jo in Rockford in a way that doesn’t even seem to occur to Carson until Bev explains it. Bev discourages trades all season in an attempt to keep the team together, but she pushes this trade through overnight, because she knows that getting Jo out of town ASAP is the best way to keep her safe. Bev is very matter of fact about the whole thing, like she knows these facts of queer life, and has  known them for a long time. 

This scene also takes place in the same archway where Bev all but comes out to Jess, an interesting parallel which suggests that Bev often exists in a sort of in-between space. On one side of the doorway, we have the kitchen, a more private personal space. It’s the only place inside the house where we see Greta try to kiss Carson, where Carson asks Greta on a date, and Greta asks Carson to move to New York with her. It’s also where Bev shares the most she ever has about her service in the Marines as she has a heart to heart with Carson about learning to stand up for herself and find her power (even if that advice is a bit misguided). The kitchen is very clearly a private space, though one vulnerable to intrusion, as we see right after Greta asks Carson to come to New York, and where we can still see people milling around behind Bev and Jess. On the other side of the archway is the much more public space of the staircase and main entrance, the place where Jo is very publicly escorted in by police, as if to indicate that this is what can happen when a person’s private queer life becomes part of a public space. 

This is the in-between Bev works within for the entire time she is with the Peaches. On one hand, she’s an employee of the league, tasked with enforcing rules and maintaining their image for the public. On the other hand, she’s a queer woman doing her very best to protect these vulnerable women. Standing in that doorway as she has these conversations is symbolic of her straddling that line between her public and private self, brief moments where we can very clearly see one bleed into the other. One of the main difference in the shots is that she stands on the left as she talks to Carson, and the right as she talks to Jess. My theory is that this is symbolic of the fact that, in one case, she is taking something away from the team, even if it’s in Jo’s best interests, and in the other, she’s giving something back. It’s a literal give and take that Bev constantly has to balance as she tries to take care of her girls.

Bev may not be a main character, but this character arc acts as an important part of this broader portrait of the lives of queer and marginalized characters living out their own unique, often untold stories. Bev often hovers in the background, but the show treats her with thought and care,using small, subtle moments to create an interesting character, someone we grow to love and remember. By the end of the season, we learn that she’s an older, closeted, queer female Marine who doesn’t care about baseball, but is as devoted to protecting her baseball girls as she is to her fellow Marines, maybe even moreso. I can’t think of an occasion where I’ve ever seen a character quite like that, particularly one where we’re given the time to learn about her organically. I just really love that the show puts in the time and effort to allow a character like that to be seen and included as part of this larger portrait of the lives of marginalized people in 1940’s America. A League of Their Own is just so thoughtful and sneaky smart in how it does that, and I’m so grateful that it exists in this world.

[reiinai]

Ta-da!

Finally finished the polished page for this iconic scene!

Comics are so satisfying to make 💜

Should I do more?? I should…do other things but…given a lil poking maybe..?

[barclaysangel]

Y’all remember the “Junior Wheeler if he was 9 years old during Chucky season 1” AU that I made?

Well, I reread the oneshot that I wrote for that this morning and I suddenly really missed the AU…so how would y’all feel if I wrote more of it?

If you guys want that, here’s the thing…I don’t have too much ideas. I have a few but not a lot. So while this isn’t technically a “Request something and I’ll 100% write it” thing, but if you have some ideas, pls tell me and I may write it.

So yeah, lemme know pls :)

[crimeronan]

hey what is wwaitsoatl?

oh! it's what we are is the sum of a thousand lies, my most popular toh fic by FAR and the thing most toh people here started following me for. back before i got sucked down the princess luz hyperfixation rabbit hole. it's a fic that takes more work to write than any of my others because it has an incredibly involved drafting & editing process. bc i am a perfectionist.

the premise is a canon divergent timeline wherein belos suspects that hunter lied to him at the end of hunting palismen. and completely wrecks hunter's shit forever. and infects him with curse goop in the process. and darius (who, Very Importantly, does not yet have a friendly rapport with hunter) trips over the kid's half-dead body.

and freaks.

and kidnaps hunter n takes him to the owl house. bc that's the one surefire place of refuge on the isles.

there are a bunch of emotional threads, hence why it's novel-length and not even finished yet despite being about just four characters chilling in a house together.

mainly it's about:

hunter unraveling his cognitive dissonance and cult brainwashing in an AU where he doesn't have all of hollow mind's answers; his feelings are Incredibly complicated and messy & he gets incredibly mean and snarly about it

darius grappling with the fact that his own grief and resentment blinded him to a kid who Very Much Needed Him, darius dealing with the fact that actually he never DID grieve his mentor or his mentor's dead family

darius and hunter developing a rapport in a timeline where hunter very much has Not broken out of all the cop shit that darius disdains So Much. so darius is so fucking exasperated and tired all the time

eda trying desperately to help hunter learn to live with a curse / chronic pain / chronic illness, while having very little faith in herself to begin with

luz feeling Horrifically guilty about hunter's curse and injuries, bc she thinks she should have clocked the abuse and brought him home with her or otherwise stopped it

hunter developing an almost immediate and pathological emotional attachment to luz because of her kindness, which complicates all of his complicated feelings WAAAAAY MORE

eda, darius, AND luz all desperately trying to get hunter to admit that he's been abused and that what happened wasn't his fault. you would not believe how fucking long it takes.

i'm actually really, really, Really proud of it -- it's rare for one of a writer's best works to be their most popular, but this genuinely is one of mine. if not my best work, period. there's a lot of nuance and messiness and emotional complexity and grief and arguing that i'm SO happy with.

also, despite the subject matter, it's often extremely lighthearted. some of the funniest dialogue i've ever written is strewn throughout all these serious emotional threads.

i'd apologize for how long this response is but this story is a heart project and has 67,000 published words on ao3 so far. (the chapter i'm writing rn will likely be another ~8,000 words, then there are a couple more chapters to come.) so there's a lot to say!!

it's my most popular ao3 fic for any fandom, ever, in the 12 years i've been on the site. the response has been WILD. if you sort by kudos, it's the 31st most favorited owl house fic Of All Time, the 7th most popular fic involving darius, and the 5TH most popular hunter & luz relationship fic. again, of all time. which is. insane.

people have been very kind and patient with me having been too sick to work on it for a while. there was a seven-month break between chapters 8 and 9, and if i finish chapter ten soon then there'll have been a nine-month break between chapters 9 and 10. so i don't know how many people are actually going to come back to read it, a lot of ppl have moved on from the fandom and such. but i'm extremely extremely extremely grateful to everyone who's given it a look!

[deoidesign]

hi. I just read your entire comic in one go and I’ve gotta say I am in love with it. as a trans guy with hair that looks so much like Steve’s and who loves werewolves, I had to physically restrain myself from squealing out loud upon realizing he was trans, because I am currently living in a room with five other people in a small community in rural Alaska and didn’t want to explain to them the joys of seeing yourself in a character and then realizing “oh shit they’re trans like me”. I hope you are doing well, and may the gods of creativity and carpal tunnel bless you with much fruit in your artistic endeavors.

how could I ever show how deeply messages like this touch me... I never know what to say, I want so badly to have the proper words to show you how grateful I am

This is why I write. so that people get to feel like this, and I could never reflect that properly with just my words... But I want you to know that.

I hope to make something that is worthy of your love, and I hope every day that my work is sufficient to show I love you. so I'm relieved that it's succeeding and you feel seen.

Thank you for sharing this with me, I love you

[schrutexbucks]

"You wanna hear the bad news or the really bad news?" "Actually, I don't want any news Damon." "Alright, let me rephrase: Do you want to hear how the council is back in vampire mode or how I just killed Uncle John Gilbert?"

The Vampire Diaries S1 E18 Under Control

one gifset per episode 18/171

[fuedalreesespieces]

arrow to the heart