#i love little hand sanitizers and soaps

[nexus-nebulae]

i love when bath & body works goes on sale i have So Many little hand sanitizers and soaps

[libraryofgage]

@holyangelstudentuniverse requested the following: Steve working at Bath & Body Works while Eddie is the mall pianist?

I love it omfg, your brain is fantastic I hope I did the idea justice

(if you see any typos no you didn't <3)

The old food court pianist was...okay. Technically, she was good; she knew how to play and rarely made mistakes. She was also clearly just there for the bi-weekly check (not that Steve can blame her), and her playing reflected that. The piano became the ideal white noise, loud enough to lessen the awkwardness of any silence but not so amazing that people couldn't ignore it in favor of conversing with each other.

The new food court pianist? He's a fucking enigma.

He's very clearly skilled, and he seems to actually enjoy the job. He plays like Billy Joel and Elton John met one night, had a piano contest, and then had a baby to create the perfect pianist. He's great and energetic and can play anything from Mozart to fucking Cardi B, and Steve wishes he'd quit already so he can actually focus on his own shitty mall job instead of getting absorbed in the guy's playing.

"You should just hook up with him," Robin says one day, hip-checking Steve as she passes by with a box of Cherry Blossom products. She restocks the soap bottles first, then the perfume, then the lotions, and finally the tiny hand sanitizers with their shitty little plastic flip-caps that Steve swears break for the fucking fun of it.

Steve, meanwhile, is replacing last week's sales signs with new ones. They're the exact same. They rarely change, actually. The only difference is the "expiration" date at the bottom, which changes if only to continually sell customers that sense of urgency that results in them buying $50 worth of products they'll forget about until the holidays come around and they need white elephant gifts.

He's almost done, too. All that's left are the signs by the metal gate pulled down over the store's entrance. They'll open it in about an hour to prepare for the mall's opening, but for now, it's staying down to discourage the mini-bodega clerk in the middle of the hall from flirting with Robin and trying to sell her shitty perfume like she can't just steal shitty perfume from Bed Bath and Beyond at the end of the day.

He waits until after he's switched the sign to turn around, arms crossed over his chest. His back is to the gate, and Steve would normally be too fucking paranoid about a blind spot to withstand it, but he's in argument mode.

"I barely know the guy," he says.

Robin snorts as she crouches, stocking extra hand sanitizers in the tiny drawers at the bottom of the shelf. "Yeah, but I know you, dingus," she says, her voice light and bouncing. "You hear the guy's muzak version of a Lil Nas X song and you're ready to marry the guy."

"I can just recognize artistic ability! Have you ever tried to make a pop song sound like a classic?" he asks.

"My point," Robin says, pushing some hair out of her face, "is that you should ask him out. Maybe you two can play piano together."

If she hadn't already heard it before, Steve would be immediately launching into an explanation of why that wouldn't work. Steve has never met someone he liked or trusted enough to actually play with them. Sure, he's tried playing with a partner before if only to say he gave it a shot, but it sucks. Especially when you don't like the person. You're squished together on an uncomfortable bench, sharing sheet music, elbows bumping as you both try to reach the proper keys to keep the song from sounding horrendous. It's Steve's personal version of hell on earth.

But Robin has heard that rant before, so Steve graciously spares her from hearing it again. For now. Until he's drunk, probably.

"What, I'm just gonna waltz up to the piano and ask if he's free on Saturday? Or, I don't know, try some dumb pick-up line like asking if he comes here often?"

"I'll be honest, it's not the worst pick-up line I've heard."

Steve and Robin jump, both whipping their head to look at the grate to see the food court pianist grinning at them (well, more specifically, he's grinning at Steve) from the other side. He's wearing a button-down black shirt with ripped skinny jeans, old Converse, and more accessories than Steve can count. There are chains on his jeans and a guitar pick hanging from his neck and an ear cuff and a stud through the edge of his eyebrow and so many chunky rings that Steve could use as an excuse to stare at his hands for an hour.

Robin is the one who breaks out of the shock first. She jumps to her feet and walks over to Steve, resting her arm on his shoulder and leaning against him. "But would it work?" she asks.

The guy grins wider, obviously looking Steve up and down to check him out before looking at Robin. "From Stevie here? Yeah. He's really rocking the apron," Eddie replies, winking at Steve.

Steve is about to ask how the guy knows his name, but then he remembers the name badge on his apron. He clears his throat, tearing his eyes away to glance down at Robin.

She seems to be having the time of her life right now.

"Well, uh, I'd prefer to know your name before trying any pickup lines," he says.

"Eddie Munson at your service," Eddie says, bowing to Steve with a dramatic flourish that he finds more endearing than anything else.

One look at Robin and her scrunched nose tells him she thinks it's a little over-the-top and, dare he say, cringe. Her opinion doesn't actually matter, though, since she'd be down bad for any girl that curtseyed at her.

Steve looks back at Eddie, noting the now expectant gleam in his eyes. He can't help an amused smile as he says, "Well then, Eddie," Steve says, stressing his name a little just for the fun of it, "come here often?"

Robin groans next to him. "Fucking hell, Steve," she mutters, slapping him upside the head. "I know you suck at flirting but you really couldn't come up with something better?"

"No, no," Eddie tells her, waving his hand dismissively. "I'm into it."

"And I'm out of it," Robin says, raising her hands in surrender before scurrying back to her Cherry Blossom products.

She's definitely still listening, though.

Steve rolls his eyes are her reaction and focuses back on Eddie. "So, uh, are you free on Saturday?" he asks.

"Completely free," Eddie says, taking a step closer to the gate and shoving his hands into his pockets. "How about lunch?"

"Yeah, I know a great pizza place."

"It's a date then," Eddie replies, winking at Steve. "By the way, any song requests?"

Steve blinks and thinks for a minute before asking, "Do you know Vienna?"

Eddie's grin tells Steve that he does, in fact, know Vienna. "Vienna it is." With that, he winks at Steve once more before heading back to the food court.

"That was painful," Robin says once he's far away enough.

Steve rolls his eyes and flips her off. "You're just jealous I've got a date and you're still too chicken shit to approach the Nike girl."

Robin practically squawks at him. "Oh, fuck you," she says.

"I'll leave that to Eddie, thanks," Steve says, laughing when Robin gags.

[heartfullofleeches]

I would love butterfly boi hc <3

-🩷

Adonis - Yan Butterfly Hcs

Warnings: Cannibalism, Mentions of death, Stalking, Gross Behavior (namely sweat)

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Adonis is a male, conventionally attractive purple emperor butterfly. The attraction for many stops as his looks as getting to know him people tend to notice something.. strange about him. He seems friendly on the surface, but never expresses deeper interest in others beside his darling unless they've been injured or taking about their medical history in any form. Before meeting his lover Adonis has a very bleak, but cheerful outlook on life. It leans heavier on the brighter side once he realizes his feelings to the point he meets every day and event with a smile - even those where he's witness to or commits terrible crimes against humanity.

• Works for a crime clean up crew by day and most nights, and as a grave robber others. Most, if not all, of the jobs Adonis receives are phoned in by crooks/corrupt members of power as with his appetite it's killing two birds with one stone. They usually allow him to take whatever since he's already taking care of the body which results in nearly every house he cleans appearing as if no-one ever lived there.

His "souvenirs" are his prized possessions - till his darling comes around. Then he's willing to share. His first gift to them is an engagement ring he received as payment for his first job. It's a priceless heirloom, if the guy it belonged to have just sold it he'd still be around, but if that happened Adonis wouldn't have been able to give it to someone who deserves it more. The second gift is matching butterfly knives. Always on the hunt for more things to present to his darling during his cleanings. Anything brand new shows up on their doorstep or hooked up indoors if tthey haven't changed the locks again.

• Adonis' ideal darling is someone who's a little untidy. He enjoys his job and taking care of his lovebug, plus while cleaning up their home he can find more treasures to take with him. Half drunken bottles, sweaty clothes, straws they may have bitten. If they're the type to have adult toys he'll clean them by hand... likely with his tongue or after using them himself. It's important to keep things like that clean and sanitized.

Has a nasty habit of throwing out fragrant soaps and perfumes/colognes as they mask the natural scents he adores. Adonis is touchy and clingy during all seasons, but Summers are his most active as seeing his darling sweat cause him to lose all train of thought. Refuses to let his darling shower without bathing them with his tongue first when sweaty. If they aren't a fan of his tongue he'll wipe them down with some towels and huff the moist cloth instead.

Adonis' ideal first date is capturing someone from either his or his darling's past and burying them alive in a grave at his local cemetery while they have a picnic nearly in the butterfly garden. Adonis is stuck up in his head at times with fantasies of domestic bliss chopped up with slaughtering the neighborhood on the eve of a big anniversary. He makes killer banana bread.

What's his is his darling's, but the one thing he forbids is them going into his closet. Adonis has a hobby for polaroid photography and his closet is where he produces the film. He'd hate for his darling to recognize a face in his red folder drawer or find the drawer labeled with their name

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Cod Men - Drool

Requested: No

Warnings/Additional Tags: Fluffy, Pre-Established Relationships

A/N: So this is based on the fact that I have a hard time with drool. I’m not really sure why it is, maybe I just forget to swallow it because my face is always so relaxed but I’m used to a drool trail escaping once and a while and sometimes I can get really embarrassed about it (especially in front of people) so I came up with this.

Ghost

Ghost knows how you can get, so he keeps a box of tissues on him at all times. He doesn’t really think much of it, even if he didn’t understand it at the beginning of your relationship. He used to point it out to you whenever he saw it but now he just grabs a tissue, gently wipes you clean, and closes your mouth. He thinks it’s a bit cute, in an odd way, and he doesn’t mind it or helping you.

Soap

Soap doesn’t even question it at the beginning of your relationship, just simply closes your mouth for you and dabs at the drool with a cloth that he keeps on him. Eventually he just gets so used to it that he keeps another rag on him now just for your drool, this one having a pattern of a little bear, curled up and drooling as it sleeps. He thinks it’s cute and it reminds him of you.

König

König is a little bit of a germaphobe and a worry wart so in addition to carrying around tissues he has hand sanitizer and soap so to wash away any drool you get on yourself, gum so you can focus on chewing, and various snacks for the same reason as the gum. Not to mention that he’s always gently closing your mouth, pecking the corner of your lips everytime he does. Would he prefer no drool? Sure, but you drool and he loves you so he can put up with it.

Alejandro

Gonna be honest, the first time Alejandro saw you do this, he just chuckled and leaned in, licking the trail down your chin before trying to initiate sexy times. It’ll take him a minute to realize that it’s just part of who you are and your mannerisms but he will catch on eventually. He usually uses tissues to help you clean up, and kisses you softly after each time.

Rudy

Rudy is definitely confused the first few times he sees it, gently pointing it out while handing you a rag, but after a while he just accepts it as part of who you are. He’s kinda like a mom so he’ll tut at you while cleaning up your face with a damp rag, murmuring in Spanish, something about how troublesome you are (all jokingly and lovingly of course)

[cowyolks]

SMOKED

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Gn! Reader

Request: a oneshot where Ghost is smoking but his gf warned him about smoking and that it's bad for his health and then he holds the smoke in his mouth and kisses her and blows it in her mouth or smtg :D thank youu!!

Words: 0.8 k 

Warnings: Mentions of injury, Loss of Hostages, Smoking.

It was silent in the infirmary. Something that made your body stiffen and mind race in worry.

The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall, and the steady patter of raindrops upon the rooftops.

Your nail was in your mouth, already chewed to a pathetic nub. A nasty habit, something you had difficulty breaking. But you couldn’t help but worry. He told you it would only be a quick mission, forty-eight hours tops.

That was ninety-four hours ago.

You stared at the mug sat upon your desk. It became a tradition that after Simon returned from his mission the two of you would indulge in tea and comforts. It was something little, yet it still made your heart soar.

A heavy knock interrupted your staring, quickly you tore your eyes away from the ceramic mug and to the squad all packed in the doorway. Immediately you were on your feet, the office chair sliding back a few meters.

“Bumps and scrapes, Doc. We’re okay. All of us.” Soap had ensured, the weight lifting off your shoulders immediately as you ushered them in.

By the time you had finished stitching Price and wrapping a bandage around Gaz’s arm, the clock chimed. Alerting you that it was now two in the morning.

You rounded on Soap, the air silent between the two of you as you dressed the graze on his torso. His chest expanded with air, before letting it out as your needle pierced his skin.

“We were delayed with the storm, it was pishin’ a doon out there. Couldn’t see any of the hostages through the rain. One of them died before we got there.”

You hummed, finishing on the stitches with a simple tie.

“I’m glad you came back in one piece; I’d be awfully lonely without my favorite gossip girl around.” You teased half-heartedly, finishing the dressing before patting his bare torso.

“Fuck off.” Soap brushed you off, a broad smile on his lips.

“Where’s Ghost?”

“He’s off sulking, the hostage that died was in his quadrant. I tried to say it wasn’t his fault.” Soap mumbled, pulling his shirt over his head again.

“I’ll find him. Get some sleep, Sergeant. That’s an order.”

“Right away, Doc.”

He left your office quietly, and once again you were met in eerie silence. After picking up your messes and sanitizing the area, you shuffled to the stairs, tiredly climbing them as you pushed open the door that led to the roof.

He was there, his body slouched as his head was tilted up and looking at the raging storm. In all honesty, Simon Riley was a storm himself, his body tense and coiled like rumbling thunder, and his mind like flashing lightening, quick to protect those loyal to him, and to flash in anger when those did him wrong.

That’s what most didn’t understand about him. He cared, sometimes cared too much.

You shivered against the wind and stray drops of rain but found yourself standing next to his side robotically.

“You broken?”

“No.”

You tilted your head, taking a peek at him. His jaw was clenched, half his balaclava was rolled up to his nose, enough room for his burning cigarette to slip between his lips.

“You know it wasn’t your fault.” You softly reassured, but Simon said nothing, just brought his hand up to his lips, letting the nicotine escape through his mouth in a heavy wave of smoke.

“You’ll get sick out here, rain’s cold.” He grunted.

Thank you for coming up here.

His opposite hand reached around you, pulling you into his side. He wasn’t smothering you, but the warmth of his side felt nice against your body.

“You know what else gets you sick? Cigarettes.”

An amused huff escaped him, just as he tilted his cheek to rest upon the crown of your head.

“Cheers, love.”

You rolled your eyes, watching as he took one last pull before throwing down the stick and stomping it out with his heel.

He shifted, turning to you with a dazed look in his eye. His fingers maneuvered to the back of your neck, tilting your jaw up to his face as he bent into your personal space.

With a hum of pleasure, you pulled his lips between yours, but with wide eyes, you ripped away from him when you felt the rolling smoke in your throat.

A cheeky smirk was plastered across his face, as you coughed shorty.

“That’s how it’s going to be, huh?” Your hands gripped onto his belt loops, pulling him down to your lips again and tasting the remaining nicotine in his mouth.

Simon let out a surprised grunt but relaxed against your lips anyways. He pulled away, his finger tracing down your jaw.

“Let’s warm up inside, I can make some tea.”

[whiskeynwriting]

How the Boys Act With Their Brand New Babies

Captain John Price, John “Soap” McTavish, König, Simon “Ghost” Riley

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Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Pregnancy, descriptions of birth (natural and cesarean), breastfeeding, established relationships/marriages, mentions of drugs (during C-Section), godparents, and I think that’s it! 

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A/N: The baby fever is so real you guys. Also, the only one out of this group that screams “boy dad” is Price and no one can change my mind.

Thank you so so much to @thesleepingmusicneek for helping me with beta-reading and general plot additions with this piece and so many others I've posted recently 🥰🥰🥰

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Masterlists - Price | Soap | König | Ghost |

Join My Taglist!

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Captain John Price (~1k words) 

Benjamin Price

John’s base instinct is “protector and provider” and Lord does that skyrocket with your son.

“No.”

“John.”

“I said no, not happening.” Turning, he held your son out of your mother’s reach. “She hasn’t washed her hands.”

Chuckling, you crossed your arms. “Baby, I think it’ll be o -”

Reaching over to grab a bottle of hand sanitizer, he held it out to your mother. “At least sanitize.”

There was something ridiculously funny about John, your hardened soldier, holding onto this pudgy, little baby. And what made it even funnier, was that Benji had a straight face nearly the entire time; staring over at his grandmother as if to say, do what my daddy says. John and his son were two peas in a damn pod. 

Watching others hold his baby wasn’t an easy task. Regardless of whether or not they were family, it made his palms sweat, made his breaths shallow and fingers fidgety. What if they dropped him? Pinched him too hard? Bounced him too fast? Made him frown or cry? And by the time his thoughts started spiraling, he’d just get up and snatch him right back. 

While John was more than proud to show off your little family, he might as well have “look, don’t touch” painted across his forehead. Even his own parents didn’t have access to Benji unless they followed his standards. And family friends? Strangers at the park? Yeah, they can forget even saying hi to him. 

“He is a cutie, isn’t he?” John beamed, nodding along to one of your friend’s comments. “Hey,” He then said, holding out a hand. “What’re you doing?”

“Oh, I was just going to hold his little hand!”

“I don’t think so, Deb.”

“John, she’s only being nice.” Chastising him lightly, you tilted your head with sympathy. 

“Nice or not, she’s not touching my son.”

John acted as if everyone was out to snatch up his son and take off running. And he didn’t care if he hurt anyone’s feelings in the process of protecting him. 

“Love, you’ve got to be nicer.”

“Why?”

“Because these are our friends, our family!”

“Just keeping him safe,” He then turned to the chubby bundle in his arms. “That’s all.”

As per usual, Benji had that straight look on his face, expression matching that of his father. And Christ, do they look alike. He’s practically a carbon copy of John. 

Shaking your head, you chuckle. “You and your mini me.”

And John’s face lifts with the brightest grin, cheeks cherry red with happiness. “Handsome chap.” He says, bouncing Benji on his lap. 

Try as you might, there’s no changing John’s mind. In order to keep your baby boy happy and healthy, everyone and everything had to be clean. John ran a tight ship, something you’ve gotten used to in your marriage. And, you figure, in the end it’s only helping Benji. 

When it came to the birth of your son, John made sure to have a plan. You and your doctors discussed a scheduled C-Section beforehand, and the two of you adapted well to this. They informed you of every detail, and after that, you discussed things on your own end. Back at home, John helped you devise a game plan, a list of things that you’d need and the exact steps to take when the day came. And when the moment finally arrived, everything went surprisingly smooth. 

While it was difficult for John to see you under the influence of so many narcotics, that was the least of his worries. During your procedure, he focused on yours and the baby’s health. And even though you weren’t entirely conscious, he made sure to stay by your side. While you bore the weight of the most intense struggles, your husband intended to take on the burdens of every other task that he possibly could. That meant aiding in your recovery, and your son’s growth. 

Once home, John was your round-the-clock nurse. On a timed schedule, he’d clean your incision and make sure it was healing well. He kept your nightstand fully stocked with water and pain medicine, as well as your comfiest heating pad. The ensuite had all the postpartum pads you could need, and he never left you alone in the shower. When it came to Benji, John did all of the nighttime feedings, and all of the nappie changings. He didn’t want you lifting a single finger, not while you were resting. 

In the evening, John often cuddled in bed with you, bringing Benjamin along to nestle between your bodies. You both admired him, pet him softly and kissed his little hands and big, round belly. It was mesmerizing to you, the fact that you created this perfect, little soul. And while you focused your affections on your newborn son, you and John made sure to save some of it for each other, too. 

“Beautiful.”

“I know,” Cooing quietly, you smiled down at him. 

“No,” Shaking his head, John drew your attention back to him. “You, lovie.”

“I’ve been in bed for three days, this isn’t beautiful.” While you laugh, John tuts sadly.

“Don’t know how you could be so blind.”

But what you certainly aren’t blind to, is John’s unconditional love. And that is more healing to you than any medication on the market. 

Though, that doesn’t stop the rest of the boys from trying. In their thoughtfulness, Johnny and Kyle have brought you gift baskets full of after-pregnancy goodies. Snacks and sweet drinks, fuzzy socks and cute onesies for little Benji. They were even kind enough to include postpartum pads. 

“You guys are too much.” In the midst of it all, tears roll down your cheeks. 

Shrugging, Kyle just grins. “Least I can do for my godson.” 

Out of the entire group, John was the first to have a baby. And he wasted no time in making Kyle Benjamin’s godfather. And the boys understood; John and Kyle had a bond that exceeded brotherhood. 

Of course, Simon tagged along. But he wasn’t exactly familiar with babies. Soap encouraged him to bring a gift, but all he could come up with was an Amazon gift card. 

“I um, well… here. For his… things.” Ghost handed you the card awkwardly, but you smiled brightly regardless. 

“Thank you, Simon.” Bringing him into a firm hug, he released a soft grunt, eventually patting your back. 

“Alright, alright.” Johnny announces, “I think it’s time, Cap. Where’s that baby?”

Christ sake, John internally groans. “Have you sanitized?” 

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John “Soap” McTavish (~1.2k words)

Elsie McTavish

Is so excited about the baby that he sometimes forgets himself.

“I know, I know.” He’d respond, only half annoyed.

“Just, p-please,” Reaching out with shaky hands, you watched as Johnny swung your newborn infant around in his arms. “Watch her head!”

“Aye,” Johnny sighs, rolling those beautiful blue eyes. 

Pulling her to his chest, he lets her head rest on one of those broad shoulders, bouncing a bit as he pats her on the back.

“How’mie supposed to have fun with my daughter if ye won’t stop nit-pickin’?” 

“Baby, I’m just, I want her to be -”

“Safe, I know, bonnie. She is safe with me.” He then grins, turning to your daughter as he holds her up in front of him. “Aren’t ye, wee lassie? 

And you suppose he’s right. Being a helicopter parent isn’t fun for anybody. Besides, Johnny loves your daughter enough to keep her safe and you should trust him with her. 

“Ohh,” Johnny starts, and you think, here we go again. “Elsie and her daddy, say he’s a good ‘ole laddie. He’ll keep you safe and happy. We’ll play all day and sing away, yes Elsie and her daddy.” 

Your husband’s makeshift songs never ceased to put a smile on your face. Johnny was always a fun and carefree man, but with your daughter? He was the goofiest dad. 

Whenever you needed rest, he’d jump right to his feet, swooping in to take her to wherever she needed to be. The changing table for a new nappie, the kitchen for a bottle, or simply to the couch to give you some much-needed alone time. There was never a complaint, never a sigh or roll of his eyes. Oftentimes, you’d stumble into a room to find Johnny enjoying himself even more than Elsie. He became so animated when reading books to her, acting out scenes and making the noises of each animal. And it made her giggle wildly. He’d fidget with the toys on her playmat while she laid with him, roll the rattles around and build with the rings and blocks. But most of all, he’d interact with her. Regardless of her being barely two months old, Johnny had full-on conversations with your daughter.

“And then what happened?” He’d ask, sounding completely interested. And she’d babble back to him, as if she was truly joining in.

Nodding, he raised his brows. “That’s wild, lass. Shouldn't have to put up with that.”

Another babble, a little giggle. 

“Aye, nothing wrong with that.”

Sometimes, she’d slam her little hand, and Johnny would raise his own in defense. “Oi, no need to get political about it.” 

Johnny’s newest baby obsession is doing her hair. She was born with so much of it that he decided one day, he ought to do something about it. And so, he bought a pack of colorful bows, using them to make a little mohawk in her hair. You happened to walk in on him in the middle of it one day, your daughter sitting on his lap and cooing innocently while he made her look like a rockstar. 

When he looked up to find you in the doorway, he grinned. “Like it?” 

And you’d be daft to say it wasn’t the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Your husband truly embraced the excitement and general fun of fatherhood. He figured enough seriousness surrounded her birth, why not make the rest of her life as joyful as can be? 

It was an emergency C-Section, something neither of you were prepared for. There was no question of whether or not he’d be in the room with you, he simply put on the plastic hospital gown and cap and followed you in. His hand didn’t leave yours, not even for a second. Even though you were given medicine to dull the pain and any real feeling, he wanted you to know he was there. 

When your daughter was successfully taken from your womb, things finally started calming down. After that, your health went back to normal. You didn’t lose too much blood, your stitches went in properly, and you were wheeled back to your room to start your recovery. Johnny was thanking the Lord that the two of you made it out okay, that both of his girls were safe. And while he waited for you to wake up, he sat in the room with your newborn baby, laying her over his chest while she slept. 

“Little bonnie,” He whispered, kissing her head. “My Elsie girl.”

It was at that moment that she became his new best friend, his partner in crime, his perfect angel. He saw it as a privilege, really, taking care of you in your recovery while also caring for Elsie. Not everyone has this, he often thought to himself. My wonderful family.

And he couldn’t wait to show off his little clan. 

As soon as she was ready for visitors, he invited everyone he possibly could. Friends, family, an entire get together just for her. And she was definitely her father’s daughter, blue eyes bright with excitement as each and every person greeted her with delight. Ever the extrovert herself, she giggled for hours, bouncing on people’s laps as they each took turns entertaining her. 

“Oh, oh! And watch this!” Johnny says, setting down his glass and leaning toward his little girl. “Elsie, look at daddy!” And that’s just what she does, watching as Soap widens his eyes with his brows raised high. Perfectly, she mimics him. 

“The smartest little thing!” Her nanny cheered, clapping with pride. 

“Ah ken, ma!” Johnny responds to his mum, agreeing with her wholeheartedly. “She’s just a wee little thing, already clever as wits.” 

And your side of the family couldn’t possibly be more proud. They’d been waiting for ages to have a grandbaby, and knew if they waited for the right time, you and Johnny would give them just that. 

“Oh, what’s this about?” You chime in, frowning when Elsie suddenly begins to cry. 

“She’s hungry, eh?” Your husband chuckles, reaching out to stroke her mini hand. “Go on then, go to mummy.”

The two of you were lucky enough to have a respectful family, entirely understanding of whenever you needed to take her away for a feeding. And oftentimes, Johnny would come with you. He saw it as a bonding moment, for all three of you. When he first asked, he seemed incredibly timid about it, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But you thought it sweet; him holding you, while you held your baby, lulling her to sleep with your warm milk.

“She’s dozing.” Johnny whispers into your ear, head dipping to kiss your shoulder.

Together, you’d gone up to your marital bedroom, sitting up on your bed. Johnny’s back rested against the headboard, while your own rested against his firm chest. He’d butterfly his legs out, welcoming you between them and holding you close with every limb. And sitting like this, is when Elsie was the coziest. 

“You’re amazin’, bonnie.” Keeping his voice hush, Johnny rests his chin on your shoulder, admiring your baby from above. “Thank you, so much.”

“What for, baby?”

“For givin’ me her, our sweet Elsie. And just… bein’ with me. You’re everything to me.” 

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König (~1.2k words)

Gisela and Avelina

He had been enamored since the moment the test showed positive. 

The word paternal is the perfect description for him. Even before having a baby in his arms, König embraced fatherhood wholeheartedly. He read all the baby books, took you to all your classes and participated equally in them. Every night, he’d sit by your tummy and read, talk to the baby and sing German lullabies. He thought he had everything figured out, thought he was prepared in every way. 

That is, until he learned that there were two of them. 

“I… I can’t believe it.”

“Oh my gosh…”

Your collective shock made the doctor giggle, continuing to inform you that not only were they identical, they were girls.

“Daughters,” König then said, eyes widening. “Two daughters…”

Worry began to swirl inside your belly from his words, his hesitancy. Glancing up at him from your lying position, you asked quietly, “Are you not… you’re not happy?”

“My love,” Releasing a quick breath, he knelt by your side, immediately taking your hand. “I couldn’t be happier.” And he was beaming. “Daughters, Schatz. We’re going to have two little girls.” (Sweetheart)

And to prepare for their arrival, he bought nearly everything in sight. 

“Schatz, look! Look at what I bought for them.” (Sweetheart) 

Lumbering in with three shopping bags, he sat you down in the living room to show you everything he got to welcome your baby girls into the family. One by one, he pulled each item out, displaying multiple onesies, mini dresses, bows for their hair, new blankets and swaddles, the list goes on. 

“So cute,” He muttered to himself, holding up a purple dress. And just hearing this mountain of a man use the word cute made you smile from ear to ear. 

“Gisela will wear pink,” Your husband decides, “And Avelina, she will dress in purple. Matching, but different, ja?”

When König found out he was having two babies, he knew he’d have no problem giving them both an equal amount of love. He never once worried about having to devote time to each of them, make them each feel cared for and adored. In his mind, it wasn’t even a question. He knew he had more than enough affection to give to each of his girls. 

He’d even gone out of his way to stock up on the essentials - diapers, creams, wipes and bottles. And although the twins won’t be able to use them for a few months, he also took it upon himself to buy some toys - mostly soft blocks, rattles, play mats, and stuffies. 

“They’re going to be spoiled.” You grinned, not the least bit annoyed by your husband’s overzealous preparation. How could anyone be annoyed by that? 

And now that they’re here, König finally has the opportunity to truly shower them with all his love. Every nighttime feeding was, in his words, their best time to bond. When the world is quiet, and you are finally resting, it’s just him and his daughters. And with his imaginative and resourceful talents, König figured out a way to tie their bottles to their little rockers, pushing the chairs back and forth as they ate. He never wanted to feed them one at a time, he thought it cruel to have one watch their sibling eat while they themselves were hungry. 

Whenever the girls were done eating, he’d hold them, lay them both over his broad, bare chest, allowing them to feel his warm skin. It comforted the girls, cuddling with their father. You thought maybe one of them might favor you, but that hope quickly dwindled. They are definitely daddy’s girls. But it was hard to be jealous when every one of this trio’s interactions were breathtakingly sweet. Their bond was something that genuinely brought a tear to your eye, in both sentimental and humorous ways.

“GG!” He calls to her, holding up his phone. This nickname for your gorgeous daughter came quickly, along with Gisela-Bella, Ella, and your personal favorite… “Meine Schnuckel!”

“What does that even mean?” Chuckling to yourself, you watch as Gisela’s father attempts to take a picture of her. 

“My cutie!” He answers cheerfully, your daughter looking right at him as soon as he says it. 

“Yes! Perfect, my beauties.” And then he’s leaning over to show you. “Look, look at them. The cutest things. I’m so happy Ava was already looking.”

Avenlina’s nicknames consisted of Ava, Lina-Ballerina, and… “My little Spatzi.”

As if responding to her German name, Avelina babbles back to her father, just like she always does. Between the two of them, she was certainly the talker, always chirping away, König’s little sparrow. 

The photo he shows you prompts a small laugh from your end, a wide smile growing across your lips. He’d dressed them up in the most adorables outfit you’d ever seen, strawberry and blueberry dresses. GG wore the pink one, of course, with Ava in blue. Each outfit had a berry hat and matching shoes, too. 

Genuinely, he could never get enough of them. Whether it was spoiling the girls with presents or giving them every bit of his time, your husband did everything he could to be the best father. But there were times he’d have no choice but to hand them over to you, their daytime feedings being one of those scenarios. Although, it’s not like he didn’t join you. 

Laying beside you in bed, he shifts onto his side, watching with love in his eyes. You’ve gotten used to feeding them both, being blessed with the ability to produce enough milk to sustain them. And while sitting back against the headboard, you do just that, rocking the girls gently as they drink. 

“She has my eyes, don’t you think?” Reaching over, König taps little Gisela’s chin.

And he’s right; her piercing blue gaze is just like his. “Absolutely.” 

“Sie sind so schön.” Whispering, he stares up at his daughters with sincere wonder in his eyes. “You made them.” (They are so beautiful)

“I know.” Giggling, you nod in response. “Do you think Ava has my nose?” You wonder aloud, watching as their eyelids begin to droop.

“Of course, that perfect little button.” He adds, gently booping his younger daughter’s nose. Though, only younger by two minutes.

Unable to help himself, König then leans in, placing a gentle kiss to Avelina’s head, being that she’s closest to him. And then one of those large hands is lifting, petting gently at his eldest’s thin, blonde hair.

“Let me put them to bed, Schatz.” (Sweetheart)

“No,” Whining quietly, you puff out your lower lip. “I wanna.”

It was something the two of you often ‘fought’ about; neither of you could get enough of your precious daughters. Even while giving birth, he practically tried to catch them with his bare hands. He was the first to hold them, each of them, even before they were placed on your chest. It made for quite the special moment, though. It was him who laid them onto you, one at a time, your little family coming together as you finally held your daughters, your sweet babies. 

To König, there was nothing more inspiring than seeing you give birth to his daughters. You were fierce, powerful, and he was there to support you every step of the way. Hell, he was practically your birthing coach. He cheered you, doted on you until you’d insisted you were okay. In his mind, no one could care for you or your daughters better than him. And that caring instinct only continues to grow as your family does. 

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Simon “Ghost” Riley (~1.3k words)

Charlotte Riley

Isn’t quite sure what to do, and always looks to you for guidance.

It’s not that Simon doesn’t love his daughter, or isn’t interested in her, he’s just afraid. Afraid he’ll hurt her, make her cry or just do something wrong. He’s so big and she’s just so… little. She’s the most precious, fragile thing he’s ever seen and honestly, he’s wondering how he was even capable of making her. 

“Do you want to hold her, Si?” Your voice is gentle, looking up at him with encouragement in your eyes. “She wants you.”

“I don’t know, love.” 

The huge, menacing man you grew to love was quickly dwindled down to a nervous wreck when it came to your newborn daughter. He’d wring his hands, rub the back of his neck and constantly shift his stance. When Charlotte was with you, he was calm. But in literally every other scenario, he felt like he was about to lose his head. 

During the birthing process, Simon was sweating bullets. You were in an ungodly amount of pain and he had no idea what to do, there wasn’t anything he could do. But after a moment, his instincts kicked in. Thanks to his background and general personality, his body often chooses to take action in these fight or flight instances. And he figured the best thing he could do was to just be there for you. He leaned down, wrapped an arm around your shoulder and kept his head right beside your own, holding your hand with his free one and letting you squeeze and claw him as hard as you needed to. You called out for him, crying miserably through the pain. It tore his insides to shreds, it was heart-wrenching. 

“I’m here, I promise I’m here. And you’re so strong, sweetheart. You can do this, you can.”

And now, it’s your turn to reassure him. 

“I promise it’ll be okay.” Pushing your folded arms out toward your husband, you bring her just a bit closer to him. “You don’t want to hold your baby?”

“I, I feel like…”

“Don’t be nervous, Si. She loves you, she trusts you. You can do this.”

He gulped then, eyes floating down to the small bundle in your hands. Only, it’s not just a small pile of blankets. It’s his daughter, his Lottie girl. And so, with a sigh, he nods, straightening his stance. 

I can do this.

With a smile on your face, you watch as he gently, slowly, takes her from your arms.

“How, how do I -”

“Support her head.” Answering softly, you show him just how to do it, gently maneuvering his strong arms and large hands. “There you go, just like that.” 

At first, you were annoyed with him. Did he not pay attention in your parenting classes? Did he not actually read the books you gave him? But an honest conversation quickly put those worries to rest. Simon did pay attention, he did read those books, he had all the knowledge he needed to succeed at this. But he just didn’t trust himself with it, with her. None of those classes prepared for him an actual baby. He thought he’d surely and properly fuck this up if given the chance, but right now, he’s proving himself wrong. 

“Look at you, Si.” The reassurance in your tone makes his heart beat with happiness and pride. All he wants to do is please you, both of you. 

Glancing down at his daughter, Simon nods, uttering a quiet yet confident, “Yeah…” 

But a breath of air is quickly sucked in when he sees her squirm, his body stiffening immediately. You hold out your hands and pause, urging him to just wait. And within seconds, she’s calming down again, tiny body snuggling into his chest. 

“She, um…”

“She loves you, baby.” Stepping closer, you slide a finger over her little hand, cooing, “You love your daddy, Lottie?”

“Stop it.” He orders playfully, eyes unwavering from Charlotte’s sweet face. And when you quirk a brow at him, he continues grumpily, “Making me all emotional.” 

But what you said was true, he can do this. He wants to do this. 

And he does. 

It takes less than a week for Simon to get used to this, becoming so comfortable with your daughter that he openly scoops her up from your arms whenever he pleases. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of how to feed or burp her yet, but he has been helping you with diaper changes. He’ll watch you perform the task or explain a piece of it, and then he’ll do it, testing the waters a bit. It’s slow, but it’s progress. 

What helps with this is his best mate, having a baby of his own to demonstrate. 

“Hold the bottle like this.” Johnny instructs, showing Ghost how he holds his own daughter. “Yeah!”

“Alright,” Ghost nods, voice quiet and a bit shaky. 

Charlotte’s head rests on the bulk of Simon’s bicep, the rest of her body cradled on his lap. And with the bottle perfectly angled, she drinks easily and happily. Elsie does the same, but that’s nothing new. 

“Have you read to her?”

“Read to her? But… she doesn’t understand it, Johnny.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Soap shrugs, grabbing his baby’s backpack to pull out some of her favorite stories. Well, Johnny’s favorite stories. “Elsie loves it! Surely my little godlassie will, too.”

How that came about, nobody really knows. It sort of just… happened, the two of them being their daughter’s godfathers. Nobody fit the role better than them, it was just common knowledge. 

Opening an interactive tale about animals in the jungle, Johnny reads to the girls, their eyes watching him intently. Now that they’re done eating, they focus on Johnny and the way he’s speaking, his facial expressions and movements. 

“The monkey says… ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” Reaching forward, he quickly tickles their tummies, watching as they erupt into laughter. “Here Si, you give it a go.” 

Shoving the book into his hands, he watches his friend gulp. It’s as if an entire crowd is in front of him, and not his best friend and two baby girls. 

“The, um… the lion says… roar.” 

The girls do nothing, and Johnny rolls his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, put your heart into it! The lion says roar!”

Clearing his throat, Ghost nods, staring at the simple picture book. “The lion says… ROAR!”

But instead of giggling, the girls start crying, and Simon is tossing the book down in an instant. Scooping his daughter up into his arms again, he mutters a grumpy Christ while patting her back and bouncing her lightly.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Daddy’s sorry.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but Johnny can still hear him. And he smiles. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Keeping his chuckles to himself, Johnny then says, “Lottie’s got a great dad. I can tell.” 

“How in the bloody hell is this so hard?” His voice is still low, keeping his cheek beside her own in an attempt to comfort her. 

“You’ll get the hang of it.” Soap is resting easy, having calmed his daughter down in less than a minute. “What d’ya say we have a day together? Just us four?”

“And do… what?” Simon hasn’t yet mastered the art of interacting with his tiny baby. He doesn’t know what she’s receptive to. But how will he ever know if he never tries? 

“We can go to the zoo! Practice those lion roars.” Johnny jokes with a grin, watching his best mate roll his eyes. “Really though, it’ll be good for the girls.” And you, but he doesn’t say that part out loud. 

“That… actually sounds nice.” The hammering heartbeat in his chest has slowed now that his daughter has grown silent, only small coos slipping from her lips. 

Honestly, Simon doesn’t know what he’d do without you and Johnny. He’d be completely lost, and in more ways than one. But with your collective encouragement, he finds himself growing into his fatherly role more and more every day. 

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Bonus - Uncle!Price (~500 words)

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) Underage drinking, mentions of drug usage, partying. 

“You’re shitting me.” He says into the phone, dumbfounded. 

“I didn’t mean to, Pricey. Promise!”

Charlotte’s tone on the other end of the phone only makes the situation worse; she’s very clearly inebriated. The background noise doesn’t help the conversation, either, nothing but boisterous teenagers shouting and singing. 

“What pub are you at?”

“Not at one,” Hiccuping, she then swallows. “At a… party.”

“Christ, Lottie.” But he’s already walking out to his car and starting the engine. “Text me the address, lovie.”

“You won’t tell dad?” She whispers on the other end, as if Simon could somehow hear her.

“No, hun. But you’ve got to be better about this.”

It wasn’t the first time John had picked his niece up from a situation like this. Out of the group’s kids, she was definitely the partier. As soon as she hit her teenage years, she ran Simon up a goddamn wall. But she honestly didn’t mean to, she wasn’t a bad kid. She just sometimes got herself into bad situations. There had even been times at her friends' houses where she was uncomfortable and nervous, times when they’d bring hard drugs she wasn’t expecting or willing to experiment with. These situations made her far too nervous to contact her dad, fearing he’d just be angry with her. That’s where Uncle Price came in. 

Of course, if she was ever hurt or in serious danger, he’d tell her parents straight away. But in these types of situations, he figures he’s helping her dodge a bullet. He knows how harsh Simon can be, and after all, she’s just a teen. At the end of the day, she’s safe, and that’s what matters. 

“Thank you for calling me. Last thing we need is you driving like this, or driving with someone else like this.”

“Yeah…” Trailing off, she sighs. And in this small lull, John hears a familiar voice.

“Who -” He pauses, did he really just hear who he thought he heard?! “Who was that?!”

“Um… who?”

“You know who!” 

“Is he coming?” The voice then says, and Charlotte is quick to hush him. 

“Benjamin!” John shouts, eyes wide as he continues to drive. “You’re there too?!”

Handing the phone to her cousin, Benji gives the excuse of, “Had to look after her, da.” 

“Yeah, right job you did there.” His father returns, nodding. “Anyone else I should know about?”

“Well… maybe.”

“Elsie! C’mon! Uncle John is almost here!”

Christ sake. 

Groaning, John rubs the bridge of his nose. “You lot are out to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of fun!” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Rolling his eyes, he peers out the window while at a stop light.

Internally though, John is grinning. This entire situation is reminding him of his own memories, recalling the crazier nights of his youth. What an absolute shitshow, that was. And on top of that, he didn’t have the type of parents that could get him out of tough cracks, they just didn’t understand. He had to rely on himself. And now, he’s glad these kids can rely on him, too. 

[pahtoosh]

hey!! your work is so comforting and warm, and it makes me feel fuzzy. 🥰 I don’t know if you take requests, but if so, could I have little!reader who doesn’t want to have a bath/get ready for bed and how stucky react to that? reader’s insistent on staying up and will do whatever it takes to stop them from getting them to bed. thank you!! ❤️

stinky baby

masterlist

18+

wc: ~1000 words

warnings: steve and bucky call you a stinky baby😦

a/n: I absolutely take requests! it just takes me a while to get to them😅 thank you so much for your kind words and this lovely request🤍

pairing: stucky x gn!little!reader | dada = steve, baba = bucky, daddies = both steve and bucky

summary: bucky and steve resort to mild tricks and name-calling to get you in the bath.

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Compared to other kiddos, you were a bit…messy. Your room was often littered with toys and craft materials. You also refused to let anyone help you eat, so your daddies never left the house without hand sanitizer, a pack of wet wipes, and a change of clothes for you.

Your daddies didn’t love messes, but they got used to the small spills and stains for you. In the beginning of your relationship, they tried acclimating you to their strict cleaning regimens from the old days, but they stopped when they saw it was holding you back from being your happy and carefree self.

So while it drove Steve mad when you left stray socks around the house, he just took a deep breath and put them in the hamper for you because you were his happy, healthy baby and that was all that really mattered. You cleaned when Steve or Bucky asked you to, so they let the small stuff go.

One thing they couldn’t let you get away with though, was skipping bathtime.

For dinner, you decided that you needed to be on Bucky’s lap to eat your grilled cheese. Baba didn’t mind too much, he loved holding you after all. Bucky finished his sandwich so he scrolled through an article on his phone while you happily munched and left crumbs on both of your laps.

“Baba, where Dada go?”

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth, sweetheart. Dada’s just doing some work around the house. He finished his dinner early.”

“But,” you took a second to swallow. “Daddies say no leaving da table.”

Bucky and Steve usually didn’t let you leave the table until all three of you were done eating because family time was so important to them. Today, Steve broke that rule to get a bath ready for you without you knowing.

A bead of sweat ran down Bucky’s back. He had no issue deceiving people on missions, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell a single white lie to your adorable face.

“How ‘bout you finish your dinner and then you can ask Dada yourself.” Bucky mentally high-fived himself for his quick save.

“Okay, Baba!”

You finished your dinner, even eating all of the veggies on your plate. You wanted to run and find Dada, but Bucky told you to let the food settle before you moved around too much. He rubbed your tummy and chuckled at your pouty demeanor while you slouched in his lap.

“Did our little sweetheart finish their dinner?”

“Dada! Where you go?”

“I was getting something ready for you, you wanna come up and see?”

“Ooh, surprise! Surprise! Let’s go!”

You and your daddies made your way upstairs. Steve led you to the bathroom, which was confusing. What kind of a surprise goes in the bathroom? You opened the door and were met with a beautifully bubbly bath complete with lots of bath toys and a light that created stars on the walls and ceiling.

It all looked so fun, but you were not getting into the bath.

“Wow.”

“What do you think, baby? Are you ready to take a bath?”

“Um…” you scrambled your mind for an excuse. “Need a snack before bath!”

“But you just ate dinner, Angel. If you’re still feeling snacky later, you can have a snack after your bath.”

“Okay, but I…I don like dis soap.” You shook your head and pointed to the soap bottle near you.

“Lucky for you,” Steve kneeled down and booped your nose. “I didn’t use that soap. I used your favorite one!” He scooped up a small handful of bubbles and let you take a sniff. He was right, it was your favorite scent.

“No more excuses, baby. It’s bath time,” Bucky said.

“Okay.” You looked at the bath, sadly. In the corner of your eye, you saw Baba move away from the door and decided to make one last escape attempt.

“Dada, you have somefin’ on your shirt!” You put a couple bubbles on Steve’s sleeve and tried to run away. Unfortunately, Dada was too smart for your tricks and caught you before you could leave the bathroom.

“Nice try, sneaky. But you can’t skip bathtime. Don’t you wanna feel all fresh and clean? We’ll put you in some fun jammies and a nice lotion so your skin is soft and cozy.”

You shook your head. “No bath! No bath!”

Steve opened his mouth to give you a lecture on routines and hygiene and “daddies know best” but Bucky cut him off.

“Welllll I guess if you don’t wanna shower, you’re just gonna be a stinky little baby.”

“Buck, what-“

Bucky subtly poked Steve in the ribs.

“Do you wanna be a stinky baby?”

“N-no. Not stinky!”

“If you don’t shower, you’re gonna be stinky! Stinky baby, stinky baby.”

“Baba, I not stinky,” you said seriously.

“I think you are! Maybe we’ll just call you Little Stinky,” Steve joined in.

“Stinky baby, stinky baby,” Bucky teased.

“OKAY! I take a bath.” You brushed aside your daddies’ hands as you got undressed and went into the tub. You did not want their help. “Nodda stinky baby,” you muttered.

“At least not anymore.” Steve picked up a washcloth and helped you bathe.

“Our angel’s clean as a whistle after this bath,” Bucky chimed in.

You were still angry. “Daddies bad and called names.”

“We did do that, didn’t we, Buck?” Steve stopped his movements and looked at you guiltily.

“We’re sorry for calling you a stinky baby. It won’t happen again.”

“Promise.”

You huffed. “Still mad.”

“Awh. What can we do to make it up to you, baby?”

You took a moment to think. “Want cookies for breakfast and FOUR stories for bedtime.”

“As long as there’s a fruit with those cookies, we can do that.”

“And I want extra daddy cuddles today.”

Steve continued washing you. “We’ll cuddle all night with you, sweetie.”

At the end of the day, you were clean, had multiple bedtime stories read to you, and you got unlimited cuddles. It was a win for everyone.

[roe-and-memory]

sally but shes ALWAYS freezing cold.

no matter the weather, somehow shes cold Somewhere, and for the most part its her hands. her fingers get cold and kind of achy sometimes, and its a PAIN and she nor doc can figure out whats wrong with her - doc can chalk it up to something chronic, but not exactly what.

lightning, on the other hand, is Constantly warm. he is in a constant state of overheating at some point or another, and OH MY GOD she loves it. hes like her own personal furnace.

she’ll sneak up behind him sometimes and snake her cold hands up the back of his shirt, pressing them into his skin and he “HATES” it. it scares him every time because he never expects it. sometimes, to add her sweet little salt to the wound, she’ll hug him with her hands still under his shirt and effectively spread the cold from not only his back but to his chest too.

as much as he pretends he hates it, he seriously doesnt mind at all. he loves her so much he really doesnt care.

i think this cold chill has also effected how well she slept at night - piled under blankets that did nothing but make her uncomfortable - and she couldnt ever really sleep without tossing and turning. when lightning came around however, she could fall asleep with almost zero issue because she could just cling to him like a lifeline and he’d keep her warm. like, whenever they even end up napping on the couch, shes always sure shes holding onto him somehow (both for personal comfort of both him and herself, it helps him deal with his nightmares as well, as well as keeping her from getting Awful pain in her fingers and hands by dampening it).

she has little telltale signs of being uncomfortably cold too, and over the years he learns these and whenever he notices the trembling of her hands of the twitching in her fingers, he’ll hold her hands.

he also starts wearing sweaters/jackets around his waist or packing one into his bag so if she ever gets cold at a race or just Anywhere he can offer it to her. he doesnt wear sweaters much anyways.

and after races sometimes she’ll grab him by the face and kiss him and hes covered in gross boy sweat but also his cheeks are so red and warm from the sun and heat inside his car (and probably from seeing her) that she just lingers holding onto him (before promptly scrubbing her hands with hand sanitizer, and when she gets the chance, Soap. because that feeling of sweat sticks to her hands and makes her feel like she wants to scrub her skin off hashtag ocd girlie ((me cameo)))

[nejibaby]

between animosity and blurred lines

Pairing: Sanzu Haruchiyo x Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Description: enemies with benefits ft. sanzu

mentions of jealousy and sex (but nothing too explicit)

this is somewhat related to friends although you don’t really have to read it in order to understand this 😉

minors dni!

Your best friend fell for Sanzu Haruchiyo first, but he fell harder.

And it was a great trope, really. It’s one that you would have loved to witness as an onlooker. Except that Haruchiyo fell too late and when he did, your best friend had moved on and he watched as she found somebody else.

That, and the fact that you too had fallen for Haruchiyo.

If everything was up to you, you wouldn’t have wanted any of this to happen. But you’re no god, and you have no power over love or fate or tragedy, or whatever this was called.

It was a funny little thing in the beginning, meeting your best friend, that is.

What brought you two together was the fact that you looked so identical, people would mistake you as siblings. Sometimes you’d prank people telling them you’re twins and nobody would even question it. And because of these lighthearted jokes, eventually you got used to being addressed with her surname.

Becoming her best friend, you came to learn that she had been in love with her childhood friend, Haruchiyo, when you met her. You’ve heard tales over tales about the man, and thought “Ah, he seems to be a nice man.”

However, in hindsight you realize that to a person in love, their love interest would always, always seem to be a good person. So when you finally do meet the Sanzu Haruchiyo your best friend had always been gushing about, you’re flabbergasted.

Your initial impression of him is that he’s the embodiment of trouble. And for that, you came to dislike him.

He returns the sentiments of course. Although to be fair, it does seem like he detests almost everyone.

In due time, however, you noticed he grew more and more irritated with you. It probably had something to do with being — in his words — such a know-it-all.

“You’re such a fucking loser,” you mumble as you pass a shot to his lonesome.

“What’s your problem with me now?”

“Just confess to her and get it over with.”

He chokes on nothing once he hears your response. He slams his hands on the table saying, “Are you drunk? What are you fucking talking about?!”

You roll your eyes at him and motion for him to settle down. “You like her, just admit it.”

“I do not—”

“Friends don’t look at friends that way,” you cut him off.

Instead of coming up to refute you, he glares at you and walks away.

Or perhaps his annoyance with you is caused by his disgust with your hypocrisy and nosiness.

You’re just about to light your third cigarette when it’s suddenly being plucked from your hand and into Haruchiyo’s mouth. Frankly, you’re mildly surprised as you have never seen him smoke before. “That’s going to kill you, dumbass.”

He raises his brow. “You’re one to talk.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Well, I do too,” he says quickly.

And even if he didn’t admit just that, it’s quite obvious from the fire in his eyes.

“And what would that be?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Yeah, but that’s my cigarette you stole, so you owe me.”

“Why do you care?” He snaps.

“I don’t,” you say without missing a beat. “But she does, so you better get your act together.”

He falters when you mention her but that doesn’t stop him from smoking your damn cigarette.

There’s probably a hundred other reasons he could have hated you for — for calling him stupid for using soap on his hair, for not sanitizing your hands enough, for not using the coaster he’s laid out despite him reminding you every damn time — some are intentional, and some are honest mistakes.

The bottomline is he hates your guts just as much as you hate his.

But you’re not blind, so despite the bad blood with him, you have to acknowledge that he’s good looking. Extremely so. He’s got a charm and he knows it.

And perhaps it had been because of this charm that you somehow found a way into his bed, screaming his name at the top of your lungs as he shaped your body to his.

It’s supposed to be a one time thing, but like bad habits, messing around with him becomes hard to break. It’s nearly impossible to resist the way he kisses your neck, the way he gropes your ass, the way he kneads your tits. the way he eats you out, and most especially the way he fucks you until all you could think of is him and him alone.

He becomes a bit nicer to you too, but not because of this arrangement you have going on nor because he’s starting to like you. Rather, it’s because you’ve snitched on him once about his gang activities and he’s gotten into a big fight with your best friend over it.

Sure, because of that stunt, you had seen him in his angriest form, but due to that, he realized he shouldn’t mess with you, all in favor of saving their friendship.

So instead of directing his anger on you, (1) he becomes consciously nicer to you, (2) he uses his pent up anger to fuck you until you’re an overstimulated, sobbing mess, and (3) he tries hunts down your link to the delinquent world. Keyword: tries, because his efforts are in vain. You’re just simply too good at keeping your connections private, which is probably why you’ve been able to keep this physical arrangement with Haruchiyo last so long without getting caught.

However now, the morning after yet another escapade with him, it was quite obvious he wants to kick you out.

He isn’t subtle with the way he keeps checking his watch and glancing at the door. His fingers are constantly tapping against the countertop where you’re seated, eating the sandwich he made for you. It’s to appease you really. You get grumpy leaving with an empty stomach in the morning. And if he wants to evict you now, he has to get into your good graces first. But if you’re being quite honest, it doesn’t really do shit when he’s being so restless.

“Sanzu, I swear to all the gods out there, I’ll break your bones if you don’t stop drumming your fingers,” you threaten.

But he pays no heed to your words.

You sigh. “Fine, I’ll be out of your hair once I’m finished with this sandwich.”

This snaps his attention back to you. And you swear you can see the words “Thank you, Kami-sama” from his eyes.

“Would you mind if I borrowed this shirt in the meantime though? I really don’t want to change back into my dress. That’d take too much time.”

A white lie.

You’re not sure why these words slipped out of your mouth, let alone came into your mind. This was out of character and out of routine. And even though you’ve both crossed a lot of lines, this —borrowing shirts, or anything for that matter— wasn’t one of them.

Even Haruchiyo knows this, which is why he raises a brow in curiosity. He’s just about to ask you why when his phone alerts him of a new message.

Perhaps it had been the way he immediately snapped his attention to it that had you peeking at his phone. And then you see it. Her name. And of fucking course, the message had to come from her in order for him to react that way.

And now you feel your throat constricting and your nails digging into your palm. You’re upset. And you know you shouldn’t be, but that doesn’t change the fact that you are.

“You know what? I changed my mind. I’ll take the back door and leave now.”

But he isn’t paying attention anymore. Apparently he has better things to do, like respond to her message.

When you’ve closed the door to his apartment, you let yourself frown. You drag your feet away from him and let your shoulders sag.

Somehow between the animosity and blurred lines, you have fallen for Sanzu Haruchiyo.

And you hate yourself for it.

For misunderstanding his touches.

For being hungry for his heartache.

For not stopping the rhythm of wanting.

For letting him pull you in, over and over.

But some days, it’s just hard to resist when he does things that make you question his feelings for you. Like taking you away from Haitani Ran’s arms when you’ve gotten too close. Like making you coffee in the mornings after. Like letting you sleep on his side of the bed.

But then again, it’s your fault for ignoring the days when he moans her name instead of yours while he fucks you, and when he mumbles her name in his sleep as his arms wrap around you.

You know you shouldn’t settle for this. But what’s another name added to the list of people who call you by your best friend’s name anyway?

song reference/inspiration: blackberries by emily blue

Ran’s POV

a/n: hello my dear friend, angst 😙 i miss writing so bad skskksdj

[beepen]

A little thing i want to work more on, where ‘09 soapghost is stuck in the ‘22 universe, but ‘22 soap and ghost aren’t together, just two idiots pining for one another. it would be a getting together story for ‘22 soapghost; they figure it out after finding out Riley and Mactavish are lovers, and finally fall in love after some long emotional obstacles

this wip takes place two months after Riley and Mactavish arrive in the ‘22 universe, and they’ve been trying to keep their relationship secret as they find a way back home. but they finally snap when, for the first time, they’re actually alone together. and they fucking miss each other.

nsfw ‘09 soapghost. Riley and Mactavish are the names for ‘09, and Ghost and Soap are ‘22, to make it easier.

—————————

Laswell leaves the room and they’re…alone. Alone. The lab is eerily quiet when her footsteps fade down the hall, leaving only the occasional beep and that cold, empty air that seeps into one’s skin when left alone in a white and sanitized room. The buzzing in Mactavish’s head stops rattling his nerves, and for the first time in months he can breathe, a boulder lifted from his chest after crushing him for so long.

It’s different than the barracks, when he’s physically by himself in his room. Alone, yes, but fucking lonely and lying in a bunk that isn’t his. There was no Riley crowding his space, forcing him against the wall side of the bed and latching all four limbs onto him. A bed only feels like home when Riley is in it. Prying him off in the mornings is an essential part of Mactavish’s routine, and here, in this strange and harrowingly familiar world, he can’t get that. Nothing about this place, similar or not, feels like home, and he feels sick from it.

He’s only ever needed to be alone with his Ghost, needs to know that he’s here with him in this fucked up situation they’re in. Just a mark will do, a scratch or a bite, something to feel haunted by, and then maybe he won’t feel like the world is closing in on him when he lies alone in his bunk. He would’ve liked to share the room with Riley, almost begged for it, but in the single moment where he reached to grab a hold of Riley’s hand—for stability, to feel Riley’s tension melt away just slightly—they received looks from Ghost and Soap. Riley saw it too, flinched away from his touch. It hurt.

Mactavish couldn’t decipher what was underneath all that staring (confusion, longing, jealousy?) but decided it was best to play it safe. The base is trying to make them comfortable, accommodating for double the amount of Soaps and Ghosts. If they slept separately, it wasn’t wrong to assume that their doppelgängers did too. Mactavish understands that.

It still felt so wrong.

One would think that the distance between Ghost and Soap would make anyone want to respect that, avoid anything that is potentially uncomfortable. Yet all Mactavish wants is to hold Riley’s hand tighter, show them what they’re missing. What being a team could mean if they openly loved each other.

More than anything, right now and for the past couple weeks, he wants to fuck Riley, ruin him and tear away all this tension. Forget the longing in Soap’s eyes when his whorish flirting goes unnoticed by the brick wall that is his lieutenant, forget this alternate world where they’re not together, maybe never will be. Mactavish is sympathetic towards them, really. But he has his own aches and burns, and his very own lover. His personal Ghost.

And right now that Ghost is staring at him—Mactavish can feel it behind those dark sunglasses, searing desperate holes into the side of his head. He turns away from the doors still swinging on its hinges from Laswell’s retreat and lets his eyes roam over the rigid muscles of Riley’s arms, down to the gloved hands white-knucking the edges of his seat. His gaze travels back up, swallowing every inch of Riley’s body with his eyes alone. Everything he couldn’t touch for fucking weeks.

Riley is damn near vibrating when their eyes lock onto each other, Mactavish mining holes into those cursed sunglasses to reach an earthy brown hue. It’s dangerous to dig around in there, but what he gets for all his efforts is well worth any kind of gem.

Mactavish feels it only seconds before the attack, when the echo of Laswell’s footsteps stop bouncing off the chrome walls, engulfing the both of them and everything else in blissful silence. A prickling sensation at the base of his neck screaming for his instincts to wake up, danger is coming, fucking move. But along the edges there’s a familiar fog clouding his nerves and freezing him in place, like phantom arms encircling his body and squeezing him.

He’s missed this. God, he’s missed it so much.

Riley is on him before his brain can fully recognize the familiarity of the feeling, solid arms replacing the phantom ones and wounding tightly around his neck, yanking him close. Riley is in his lap as if he never left it, like he doesn’t belong anywhere else. The two months of no touching never happened with the way they fold into each other perfectly. It’s all muscle memory and familiarity—the right kind if familiar. No alternate world that shares a likeness to their home but in a way that’s only parallel to it. Riley is so right and perfect and his and he’s sucking the breath right out of him.

He doesn’t know when Riley’s mask is pushed up or who did it, just that real lips and teeth are tearing at his mouth. Their tongues slot together, Mactavish already drunk on just the heat of Riley’s breath.

He’s so fucking mean about it, eating him without waiting for the taste to hit his tongue, like he knows Mactavish will be more than enough to satiate the unfed pit in his stomach. Riley won’t let him pull away, not even for air, and the more Mactavish struggles to breathe the more Riley presses against him. And fuck, he’s all over him now. He’s got Mactavish trapped in his own chair, thighs straddling his lap, an arm wrapped around his neck, and claws tearing at his mohawk, keeping him in place, keeping him home.

“Simon”, Mactavish manages, inhaling a weak gasp of air before Riley is all but crashing into him again like a raged tsunami, nearly tipping the chair over.

He’s fucking growling.

It goes straight down his throat and further, down to his stomach and boiling his insides, and Mactavish has his hands all over him, can’t decide where to keep them. Everything he touches is too hot but not enough at the same time. It isn’t helping that Riley is writhing and rutting into him, like the skin under his clothing is hypersensitive to the way Mactavish grabs onto him. He’s uncontrollable right now.

Finally, Mactavish finds something to latch onto, his fingers digging into Riley’s hip, the other gripping the back of his balaclava. But Riley is still writhing.

“Stop moving,” Mactavish grunts out, cursing how weak he sounds, that Riley can do this to him so easily. Mactavish’s been able to keep it together this whole time, and it’s all falling apart right now.

His ability to stay collected these last two months under all the chaos and strangeness surrounding the situation has caught even Soap’s attention, his younger version displaying admiration and standing up just a little bit straighter when they happen to be in the same room. Mactavish originally boiled it down to Soap feeling that same static buzz in his neck and shoulders that he himself feels when the distance between them is too short, like the universe is telling them they shouldn’t both be here. But Soap’s been looking up at him, stars in his eyes, like how Roach does sometimes. Admiring his rank and the hardened tic in his jaw.

Would Soap still feel that way if he saw just how easily Riley can unwind the carefully placed barbed wire keeping others away and his sanity in check?

The question is violently pushed to the back of his mind when Riley finally bites him, teeth digging into the pad of his bottom lip, and Mactavish has to force down a withering shout.

“You—fucking—!”

Riley is not getting away with that.

No punishment could ever keep Riley from doing what he wants, but Mactavish tries anyway, pulling his muscles taut and pushing himself to stand. He makes it halfway before legs wrap around his hips, and Riley is using his weight to pull him down. It’s not pretty, the way Mactavish slams him onto the cold concrete floor, but he angles it in a way where his arms around Riley’s back and neck hit the ground first, cushioning the fall. It stings, it’s going to bruise his forearms, and Mactavish is going to tear Riley apart.

Something scatters across the floor—the sunglasses—and Mactavish manages to wrangle Riley’s arms away from where they’re wrapped around his neck and pin them above Riley’s head by the wrists.

Riley is tugging and wriggling, gets one loose to grab Mactavish’s hair and yank him down for another bite, but Mactavish stays where he is hovering above him.

“John,” Riley whines, tugs harder, then snarls when Mactavish isn’t budging. “C’mere.”

“No,” Mactavish says, but he wants to say yes, bury himself in whatever it is Riley wants to do to him. But he—he has to see. He has to see him. It’s been two months.

The struggling stops when he reaches down with the hand Riley freed himself from and cups Riley’s jaw, where his balaclava rides up and reveals his bloody mouth. Mactavish licks his own lips, tasting iron. His heart hammers against his chest, eager to see it the next time he looks into a mirror. He almost wishes Riley’s sunglasses were on, just to get a peak in the reflection of them.

He’s glad they're off though, thrown somewhere in the midst of all the violence that is a horny Simon Riley. Mactavish can finally see his eyes.

Two months. Two fucking months of Riley hiding them, too many strangers around to feel comfortable enough to relax and allow people to see how gorgeous they are. Sometimes Mactavish stares a little too long at Ghost’s eyes, tries to find any sort of similarity, only because he missed Riley’s so fucking much and couldn’t get to them. Their eyes are different; different shades of brown and a different story behind them.

Soap better be grateful he gets to see Ghost’s eyes. He better be fucking grateful.

“John. Johnny.”

Riley is whining for his attention again, doesn’t like it when Mactavish stares too long like this. He looks away, and Mactavish is chasing after him.

“Don’t.” He grips Riley’s jaw and forces him to look up. “Let me see.”

He needs his fill before their time runs out, before Laswell is back with whatever it is she had to go fetch—Mactavish wasn’t paying much attention to remember what it is.

He just needs to drown for a little bit longer in a sea of golden beryl.

Quiet, Riley lets him, finally melting underneath all the staring, something he…just doesn’t do with anyone else. The hand in Mactavish’s hair trails down his face, a thumb swiping at the blood pooling at his chin, and Mactavish can’t stand the material of Riley’s gloves. He wants skin, fights for it. He nips at Riley’s thumb until he has cloth pinched between his teeth, doesn’t let go even when Riley pulls his hand away and the glove is ripped off.

And then Riley is laughing, a delightful sound akin to a hum. It sends Mactavish’s brain into hysterics, static buzzing all the way down his neck and shoulders. He smiles around the stupid glove in his mouth, and that elicits another profound exhale of laughter. The buzzing is incessant.

“Spit that out,” Riley says, like he’s a dog, and Mactavish is bursting at the seams from the way Riley is grinning at him, the brutal scar at the corner of his mouth keeping it lopsided. A bare hand comes up to rip the fabric out of his mouth, giving it the same treatment as the sunglasses and tossing it somewhere like it doesn’t fucking matter. Like he’d strip himself bare for Mactavish.

The buzzing doesn’t stop, keeps going and going, and Mactavish has to duck down and kiss Riley or else he’ll die.

The wrist he still has pinned breaks free and again Mactavish finds himself tangled up in all four of Riley’s limbs. So much for punishment.

He gets lost so easily this time; Riley is extremely persuasive when he wants to be, has seen him break fingers and melt flesh right off the bone. Mactavish feels like he’s melting right now, into a puddle Riley could scoop up with his hands and drink. And that fucking static is still tickling his skin, almost like a warning. Everything about Riley is a fucking warning, and Mactavish just as easily ignores it like he’s always done. Because Riley is so much and everything all at once, things he missed and could never get enough of, even if he had him to himself all the time.

And fuck, he’s clawing at his scalp again while another set of nails rake down his back, probably tearing his shirt. Mactavish can’t feel his own lips, so bitten and bruised the way they are. Breathing is no longer a priority, just Riley Riley Riley. Buzzing buzzing buzzing….

Mactavish bites back, bruises just as hard, embeds his nails into whatever chunk of flesh he can get his hands on. And Riley is keening into him so nicely—their bodies click into place, quite literally made for each other. Everything is perfect except for the clothes, and Mactavish doesn’t remember why they can’t just tear the damn things off. He wants to be closer, he wants to be inside, feel Riley stretch and pulse around the only cock he’ll ever get for the rest of his life.

The buzzing is louder now, poking for his attention, and Mactavish growls, irritation blocking him from being fully immersed in this moment. Riley must feel it too, because he’s squirming and bucking wildly against him.

“John,” Riley wheezes, desperate, and there’s something in his voice that slices through the fog muddling his senses. Mactavish feels it then, the lack of claws in his hair, replaced by incessant pushing against his shoulders where the static is unbearable. The concrete is too harsh on his knees, and he thinks for a moment about his bleeding lip and what excuse he could come up with when Laswell gets back—

Laswell.

Laswell.

Static down his neck and shoulders, a buzz that doesn’t feel right, like he shouldn’t be here—

He sits up at the exact moment the laboratory doors swing open, doesn’t even notice Riley scrambling away from him and searching for something.

When Laswell walks into the room, stopping in her tracks with a surprised ‘oh’, Soap and Ghost are behind her.

[cu-taibhseil]

Dark Water in Folk Magic

Everyone is always talking about water in witchcraft and folk magic. I have never seen a post like this on Instagram, Pinterest, Tumblr, Threads, Facebook -- anywhere. So I'm going to stand on my little milk crate and yap at y'all awhile about dark water and how I use it in my folk magic practice.

All important information provided below the cut.

***Trigger Warning and Content Warning(s): animal remains, roadkill, collection of animal remains/roadkill, harvesting animal by-products and parts, and the general weirdness and grossness of "vulture culture."***

***DARK WATER IS NOT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION. Please for the love of everything green and growing do not consume dark water under any circumstances. DO NOT use dark water to water edible plants/herbs or indoor plants/herbs. Do not feed dark water to pets or other people -- the latter being a crime and biological warfare.***

If you read this and try to Dead-Dove-Don't-Open me, I'm going to scream. I made the warnings bold and in red and yellow for heaven's sake. PLEASE do not read or interact with this post if it's not your vibe or if any of this content is triggering for you.

I'm not going to dress this up or try to romanticize this at all: folk magic is messy, it's weird, and it can get pretty gross. Folk magic -- and witchcraft in general -- are not for everyone. Because of that, I hope this post finds the people who will enjoy it, and use the information in their own practices. I'm not taking sole credit for this idea -- a majority of the human experience is all similar and hardly anyone has unique experiences anymore so someone before me has done this, I'm sure of it. Just because someone isn't talking about something doesn't mean it isn't happening.

What is "dark water"? & How do you make dark water?

It has kind of a deceptive name, I'll admit. And, no, I didn't just collect it during a dark moon. What I consider "dark water" is what happens when you leave roadkill or the remains of an animal (any kind) in a tub of water and let nature take its course. The animal will degrade and break down into the water. And part of what comes out of that tub to replace the water and keep the animal decomposing is what I call "dark water." It's essentially water infused and/or combined with the remains of an animal.

How to harvest dark water once the animal is decomposed

Depending on where the animal came from: whether it was roadkill on the side of the road and you brought it home, a stock animal of some kind, or a pet (hey, I'm not here to judge - just giving information), you're ALWAYS going to want to follow these steps if you want to harvest anything from animals. ***Don't touch dead shit with your bear hands! And definitely don't touch dead shit without washing your hands thoroughly for at least 2 minutes with hot soap and water.*** Fucking wear personal protective equipment: gloves (don't touch your face with them), eye protection of some kind, a sharp knife, a mask to cover your nose and mouth, and do this kinda shit outside where the fumes of a decomposing animal aren't going to suffocate you. (And sanitize the shit out of whatever you use afterwards with bleach and soap!!!) (1) Don't just jump into parting the animal out. Give the animal's spirit time to leave its body. Whether you help the spirit along with some Bible verses, a prayer, a ceremony, or you prefer to leave the animal alone to leave quietly is up to you and yours. (2) Ask the animal's permission. USE DIVINATION. Whatever you're most comfortable with and will be easiest for the animal to communicate through. Ask it if you can use some of its by-products after its spirit has left its body. If the animal says "no" and you do it anyway, there will be consequences to that choice. I'm not going to divulge what those are, because it depends entirely on the animal, the circumstance, your folklore of your area, and the history of the interactions those animals have had with people historically. You'll find out what I mean, if/when you choose to fuck around. (3) Be respectful of whatever you harvest. It's not a game and it's not a toy. Harvesting should be done in a respectful manner and there should be intent to honor the animal's spirit when it's done. (4) As long as chemicals like poison haven't been used in the death of the animal, be sure to take care of whatever you're going to use respectfully and safely. Bury it a few feet down at LEAST 10 FEET AWAY from ANY water source that PEOPLE interact with (drinking, showering, etc.). Or you can drive it out to somewhere remote and put it somewhere where the animal's remains will be used by another animal to continue the cycle. I've never done this, but there's always the choice to burn the rest of the remains you don't use. Just please don't leave the animal lying there. (5) Don't store your dark water ANYWHERE NEAR anything you grow, you eat, you bathe in. It should be out and away from your house in a sealed jar where it's safe from being tampered with.

What is dark water used for?

I use dark water for lots of different things: offerings to the forest spirits, offerings to NON-edible plants that I DON'T EAT OR PLAN ON USING ON MY PERSON.* I use it in baneful works, in protection, in warding. For me and my practice, it's got the same versatility as moon water or river water. Don't water your edible plants or plants you plan on consuming with dark water. That's how you get poisoned or poison someone else. Don't die in a stupid way, please.

What correspondences do you associate with dark water?

If you've been following my blog or interact with me at all on Discord, you know that I'm very heavily anti-universal correspondences. Spells and workings are much more potent when a little bit of problem-solving and craftsmanship without inane hand-holding went into the creation process. I don't get my correspondences from a book. I build relationships with the plants and animals around me, and then go from there. If the relationship doesn't yield the results I want (i.e. wisdom into what the spirit of that thing can offer, I'll do research then). That being said, since I'm the one talking about it right now, here's what I personally think corresponds with dark water: Rot, decomposition, energy transfer from one form to another, gateways, and passages during longer bouts of travel. If you've got a working that is being done over a longer period of time to someone else, this type of water comes in handy to make the working more potent the longer the working is. You can also use it in ward-style protections to make sure if someone messes with your shit, they get theirs. Sometimes the water will have the essence of whatever animal decomposed in it as well. Whatever you decide corresponds with it is up to you.

I hope this little weird guide was helpful. I hope it gave you some inspiration. I hope you have the time, resources, and energy to get a little freaky with it.

(If I missed a trigger warning or content warning tag, please let me know and I'll update the post.)

[collection-bundle]

Hi! I absolutely love the idea of collecting things from the ground and would love to do it too, but I tend to be kinda anxious about dirt/bacteria etc so I wanted to ask how you handle that? Like getting your finds home without "contaminating" anything, cleaning the finds etc :0

For me personally I don’t have a problem with germs but I don’t like feeling “stuff” like dirt or whatever on my hands. To help with that I have a bottle of sanitizer in my bag and I use it very liberally! I also have a little plastic bag in my purse and backpack to put my finds in so they don’t make a mess on the way home.

My girlfriend, who has a similar situation to you, carries gloves with her so that’s another solution to try 💛

For cleaning I try to do the best I can with regular soap and water and again sanitizing my hands after handling my collection.

[jellig1rl]

안녕하세요 cutie patooties! Today I’m going to go over my hand care routine, both daily and weekly ^-^ hand care is so important and although you don’t necessarily need to do these things, I love doing it to keep my hands so soft and youthful <3

Let’s give these precious little paws the love and care they deserve with a super kawaii hand care routine! Here’s how to pamper your hands and keep them irresistibly soft and charming every day! 🎀✨

Morning Hand care routine ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Exfoliate and cleanse ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Exfoliation is a vital step in your morning routine to keep your hands looking and feeling silky smooth. I usually use my hello kitty scrub cause it’s hydrating too <3

Serum ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Serums can be a game-changer in maintaining youthful and radiant hands. Look for a serum specifically formulated for hands, packed with ingredients like hyaluronic acid or vitamin C to boost hydration and combat signs of aging.

After Cleansing: Once your hands are cleansed and exfoliated, take a small amount of your preferred kawaii hand serum onto your fingertips. Dot the serum onto the back of one hand, then gently massage it into both hands using upward motions, focusing on areas that may show signs of aging or dryness.

Hand Cream ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Using a nourishing hand cream in your morning routine is essential for maintaining soft, hydrated, and youthful-looking hands throughout the day. Look for a hand cream enriched with hydrating ingredients like shea butter, glycerin, or almond oil for maximum moisture.

SPF ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Don’t forget to extend your sunscreen application to your hands! UV rays can cause premature aging, dark spots, and skin damage, making it crucial to apply a dedicated hand-specific SPF.

Hand care tips <3

Regular Hydration: Keep your hands hydrated throughout the day by applying hand cream frequently, especially after washing your hands, to prevent dryness.

Gentle Cleansing: Use mild, moisturizing hand washes or cleansers to cleanse your hands without stripping away natural oils.

Sun Protection: Apply a hand-specific SPF daily to shield your hands from harmful UV rays and prevent premature aging and sun damage.

Cuticle Care: Nourish and moisturize your cuticles regularly with cuticle oil or cream to maintain healthy, neat-looking nails.

Exfoliation: Incorporate gentle exfoliation once or twice a week to remove dead skin cells and reveal smoother hands.

Wear Gloves: Protect your hands from harsh chemicals, cold weather, or household chores by wearing gloves to maintain their softness.

Balanced Diet: Consume a diet rich in vitamins and antioxidants to promote overall skin health, benefiting your hands as well.

Stay Hydrated: Drink enough water daily to keep your skin, including your hands, properly hydrated from the inside out.

Avoid Harsh Soaps: Steer clear of harsh soaps or sanitizers that may dry out your hands excessively, causing irritation.

Until next time jellybeans <3

- 젤리

[tasteslikevelvet]

Fleeceframe!! Fleeceframe!! I am so happy for you!! Im so happy that you are going to start working on a book, your stories are my absolute favorites and do keep us posted for all the stories and books you'll write (fanfic or not). If there are a thousand fleeceframe fans im one of them etc etc if there are zero fleeceframe fans, then i am dead

hello friend! literally this is so cute haha we got a true fleeceframe fanatic on our hands!!!

but seriously this is very nice and thank you for the kind words and the support! the book itself is gonna be less narrative and more essay style, I think, with leanings towards little philosophies and stranger personal things I’ve come to think about more as I’ve gotten older and examined my queerness in a new way. right now the vibe it’s giving is similar to “the bluebells blush when they sing” in terms of leaning into gender and sexuality and love, when those things are allowed to blossom without being inherently treated as transgressive, i.e. “I want it because I want it because I’m queer, not because I think my entire existence is a political move that needs to make social statement constantly.” like,,, i like thinking about being a girl and being a guy and fucking someone who is a girl and a guy!!!!! And I should say that!!!! And I think queer people should be able to wiggle their fingers into the sky of gods green earth in whatever way they want to, even if (especially if) it goes against the grain of the current sort of sanitization of queerness in order to make it more marketable to companies… okay I’m gonna get off my soap box now haha and either way, thank you again for the encouraging words friend, it means a lot :))

[notw1ththatatt1tude]

Me again! (Sorry I'm just really curious. Feel free to ignore any of my asks if you don't feel like replying.)

Anyway, I just really love Shinsou and Bakugou's dynamic so I was wondering how you think they get along when it's just the two of them at home? Or when they just hang out together. Also, have their arguments and bickering ever escalated a little too far? What happened?

Oooo, this is a fun one.

Bakugou and Shinsou get along pretty well at home alone because Shinsou is so good at seeing through bullshit Bakugou doesn't feel much pressure to keep up the tough guy act. That said, Eri's existence is what keeps them from getting too out of hand, so alone means their friendly antagonism goes unchecked.

It started far outside the house, in a mall bathroom.

"I don't think that's sanitizer"

"What the fuck else would it be?" Bakugou kept walking, Shinsou lingering at the sink behind him. The dispenser was weirdly far away from the sink, but it turned out to very much be soap and Bakugou had already stalked out of the bathroom.

Que Shinsou spending thr next 45 minutes watching Bakugou trying to work around soap-hands because he stubbornly refuses to admit his mistake. Shinsou nudges him toward every door first, encourages Eri to hand him things, suggests whatever activity will force Bakugou to use his hands. He finally caves when the paper wrapping of his curry bun sticks to his hands in a dozen fragments to be scraped off one by one.

"Fine, yes, it was fucking soap, you sadistic bastard!" He blows the sticky soap-residue and incinerated paper scraps directly at Shinsou with an unnecessary loud bang.

The next morning, there's hand sanitizer in Shinsou's shampoo bottle.

Then just a dash in Bakugou's water bottle.

Shinsou starts to get nervous when the retaliation takes too long. If Bakugou is taking the time to plan his vengeance, he's going to make it worth his while. Another day passes and the rest of the family leaves for the weekend. Some quirk counseling thing with Eri in Hokkaido. He starts to wonder if maybe Bakugou let it go. He's in the kitchen, eating cereal out of a mug while he waits for the dishwasher to run. Bakugou was usually obsessive about not leaving dishes to pile in the sink, but maybe refusing to clean up after him was a roundabout way of vengeance.

Then the dishwasher starts to leak. Bubbles pour out through the bottom, until there's a carpet of them covering the kitchen floor. He's about to call for Bakugou to help him figure out what the fuck is going on when he realizes.

"Goddammit."

Soon Bakugou is cackling at his misfortune, "What? I just switched soap with soap!"

They're mid-arguement when Aizawa calls, telling them they're coming home early.

"Oh, yeah, that's cool. Yeah, everything's good here."

And suddenly they're on the same side, scrambling to find every towel they own. They think they have managed to erase all evidence of their antics before the family gets home, except neither of them thought to actually open the dishwasher. So when Aizawa does, a small mountain of bubbles falls out.

"Care to explain?"

[theheadlesscrow]

Bath & Body Works Halloween Haul

It’s that time of the year again: the heat is unbearable, the humidity is suffocating … and it’s time to start hunting for Halloween. And true to the typical Halloween retail schedule, my first haul of the season comes courtesy Bath & Body Works.

This year, I approached Halloween having truly convinced myself that I’d be able to eliminate them from the list of stores I prowl during spooky season. I completely ignore them the rest of the year. Most of their scents are not for me. It seemed like an easy one to weed out.

Then the spoilers came out and I saw cats. Lots of cats. And those infamous witch hands were back, this time in 97,000 configurations. Then they sent me a 20% off coupon. Then a 30% off coupon. And I was doomed.

For me, the star of this year’s lineup is the black cat candle holder. And at $40, it’s one of the more reasonable offerings among B&BW’s sometimes preposterously priced items. With its green gemstone eyes and gold collar details, I could instantly picture this on the vanity in my bedroom, which has a black and gold color story.

The witch hand candle holder is back this year, only now her velvet sleeve is a dark green instead of black. Personally, I love the change, as that green sleeve will go perfectly amongst my bathroom decor.

With its sickly green glow and globe full of floating bats, the raven globe candle holder caught my eye the minute I saw it. Besides its whopping $80 price tag, the only downside to this piece is the audio loaded into it, which sounds straight out of a cheap ’80s video game. If there wasn’t the option to turn it on without that song playing, it would have been enough to make me pass on this one. But since I never have to hear it again, I think it’s a beautifully bizarre piece to add to my collection.

The witch hand is back in a big way this year, and my favorite of these additions is the ivy hand soap holder. Though it’s hard to capture in photos, the ivy has a beautiful iridescent sheen to it. This is another piece I know will go great blending in with my bathroom decor, and will pair perfectly there with the witch hand candle holder.

I picked up one wallflower plug this year: the witch cat. It has a velvety body, and its eyes glow in the dark when plugged in. Too cute!

Three pocketbac holders ended up coming home with me in 2022, my favorite being the witch hand. Sanitizing your hands is so much spookier now that she’s clasping the container.

Next up is the witch cat. With her fuzzy little head and glow in the dark eyes, you know I wasn’t going to leave her behind!

And last but not least: the skeleton. There’s something about this goofy guy that I find endearing. Picturing him jiggling around on my purse was too funny to pass up. His body glows in the dark, his eyes light up brightly, and now he’s going to be wiggling at my side while I continue the Halloween hunting season.

And that concludes my Bath & Body Works Halloween haul for 2022! Overall, I thought B&BW had a great collection this year, with a little something for everyone. If you wanted something cute and traditional, they had it. If you preferred something quirky, they had it. If you were after something creepy and dark, they had it.

I could have easily purchased more, but decided the above was the perfect assortment of spooky to match my personal aesthetic!

What did you pick up this year?

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