#idk it just feels a little by the numbers this one.. it's odd because it has a good cast. Davenport is always good value as a guest

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

AHA

I am not going crazy. Having excess beta brainwaves IS correlated to ADHD symptoms (in children and adolescents), specifically metacognition issues, inattention, and irritability:

[mariocki]

The Saint: The Rhine Maiden (3.16, ITC, 1965)

"If I'm not back by ten, drive to the main police station in Baden Baden and ask for Inspector Glessen. Don't tell him I'm in trouble or that you think I need help."

"Why?"

"Because he'd be delighted."

"Well, what will I say?"

"Tell him I'm robbing the Schreiber Clinic, that'll bring him."

[moondirti]

sorry to the soft simon lovers but i am fixating on the idea of him being too abrasive for greater society. no, hear me out. he can't be normal after what he’s been through. after what he's done.

cw: dead dove. sadism. inferred sexism and stalking. punitive harassment. idk guys he's gross. 18+ MDNI

he's just a little too odd, grim, ugly, cruel, rude. he stares too long and makes jokes that strike the wrong chord in most. he's into things that are not as sexual as they are humiliating to his partners, and can not be satisfied by any relationship his therapist would deem as healthy. even physically, he's torn in all the wrong places. his scars aren’t rugged but almost painful to look at. his hands are huge and calloused and 60 grit sandpaper against soft skin. his nose is crooked. his hair is shorn short. he has a mean smile, watery eyes.

the one thing keeping him from being completely ostracised is the flag on his arm, the one he fights for. but it's like putting a tarp over some horrible, disfigured mess – you can still see the general shape of it underneath. most shrug it off as fine, go figure. you teach a soldier to kill and they cope by being killers. it's funny because simon's issues began way before he enlisted – he spoors it back to conception, when his father gave him a part of himself that can never be scoured clean. the military is just where he resides to conceal the stink of miasma he'll never rid of. piss over piss. putting a reason to the barbarity.

for a while, it's enough. he sticks to the corners. for all his sadism, he's not keen on subjecting the general public to his complications. he's smart enough to separate good from what makes him feel good. he only interacts with others like him – price, mostly, who's better at playing pretend but has issues that bury their roots just as deep. or maybe he's able to see simon for what he really is, and the novelty of not having to bite his tongue is enough to form a gossamer bridge of friendship. he sleeps with masochists who don't know what's good for them, all of them men (though it never pays when they're into what he's inflicting). in between missions, he'll disappear to his shitty apartment that he pays for in cash and drink himself to oblivion as he scrolls through a deprecating XXX site.

if he gets inebriated enough, he'll open up tinder and swipe through the birds advertising themselves, as if he were the holy arbitrator of what's attractive. safe because he made it so that no one would match with him; his profile is blank. no bio, no age. Riley as his first name and a picture of a shutterstock german shepherd because having one photo was a requirement.

the lifestyle probably exacerbates his problems.

maybe that's why he reaches a point of no return when he gets a text late one night. he doesn't give his number to anyone, so the only app it could be from–

your dog's cute. what's his name?

it's to his sloshed astonishment that someone swiped right on him. not even him, but a barebones, dodgy profile he curated to keep everyone at arms length when he chooses to indulge in his destructive habits. you're cute too, suspiciously darling and a whole open book – five pictures, a colourful description and your city of residence. you cannot be short of options, certainly not enough to drive you to a point of desperation, so there's no mistaking what this is.

you're setting up a little pet project. something to bat at like a cat does a ball of yarn, with no intention to commit or ever see him in real life. perhaps you chose him because there’s nowhere to go but up. or because his disinterest seems glaringly obvious, and a simple risk assessment told you that you wouldn't suffer an obsessive stalker if you ever chose to ghost him.

unfortunately for you, that couldn't be further from the truth. that simple question is enough to push him over the edge.

he's tired of holding back.

[bookshelfdreams]

ofmd wasn't "profitable" enough but I didn't even get the feeling hbo wanted to make money off of it. They didn't promote it when s1 dropped, and the promo for s2 was erratic at best. They don't sell merch. Or physical copies. There's no bts documentaries other than what actors (shoutout to Samba ilu) make themselves in their spare time.

It took more than a full year for me to be able to watch s1 legally! I still can't access s2 legally anywhere! It's not that ofmd is unprofitable, it's that hbo refuses to profit off of it, because - well, because profiting off of it would mean investing work and money into it.

And like. Of course, when you compare it to the juggernauts hbo holds rights to, like GoT, ofmd is small fishes. But.

How on earth do these clowns think cult classics happen?

A Game of Thrones was first published in 1996 and didn't make it on the NYT beststeller list until 2011. The first edition of the first Harry Potter book was 500 pieces. And yeah, TV shows are different, but if you look at today's media landscape, would things like Star Trek, or Buffy, or Doctor Who stand the slightest chance? These things take time, is my point. A piece of media doesn't become a massively profitable, beloved classic over night. It takes time and effort to build that kind of franchise.

And the thing is! Nobody who makes these decisions even likes stories. I'm convinced that whoever is in charge at hbo, at amazon prime, even at disney, thinks storytelling is dumb and for idiots. They think it's enough to just slap the name of something people love on whatever garbage they spit out, for it to be profitable. They think it's the brand that sells: Look this has "Lord of the Rings" on it! Look, this one has "Game of Thrones", you like Game of Thrones don't you? Watch my show, boy.

But this isn't how this works. It's not the name that sells (unless, I suppose, you're the MCU, and even there one gets the impression the trick is finally stopping to work), especially not when the product is bad. People aren't idiots.

But it's not about making something good. It's not about making a meaningful piece of art, or telling an engaging story. ofmd served its purpose; it drew in all the subscribers it ever would, so there's no point in letting it go on. Even in the s2 that we did get, this is evident: the penny pinching is palpable, it's clear that the studio didn't want to spend any more money than absolutely necessary on it, and then cut the budget by 40%.

It's not about art. It never has been.

And it's not even about profit, because to be profitable eventually, stories have to be allowed to thrive first. You tell a good story first, and success happens later, often much, much later.

And ofmd was incredibly, astonishingly successful. It was the most in-demand series for weeks after the s1 finale. But even that wasn't enough, it's never enough, ofmd could have made record-setting profits and it still would have been cancelled, because -

Well, I don't know. Because we live in a bad time for art. Because Orwell was right, and stories have become commodities, like shoelaces. Because. Well. It's not about telling a story, is it?

What's the point of a story? What's the point of making something for the joy of making it? What's the point of a piece of art, existing, if it cannot be transferred into numbers for the stockholders?

idk how to end this. I hope David Jenkins finishes the story he wanted to tell, even if just for himself. I hope, against all odds, that weird, fun, heartfelt, beautiful little stories like ofmd continue to happen.

But goddammit.

[luviemax]

karma! (begin again part 3)

a/n: last part maybe??? idk... anyway here's song inspo -> oscar piastri x female!reader, ex!carlos sainz x reader, reader doesn't have a faceclaim

warnings: for plot's sake let's just pretend the mclaren in the earlier part of the season wasn't garbage... major irl divergence ig, logan being soooo america luver, logan being a great wingman :), more plot than being a smau... be forwarned, lily erasure... i'm so sorry i love her, all pics frm pinterest

part one, part two

masterlist

"Are you sure you don't want to walk in with me?" Oscar asks you. Again. It's the weekend of the Miami Grand Prix, after the break following the Azerbaijan race. Oscar seems to be excited to get back on track, especially with you accompanying him to the race. "Oscar," you begin. "Yes?" he gives you a cheeky smile. "If you ask me one more time I think I might just smack you." "Noted." Oscar barely has time to respond before Logan is bursting through the doors of the hotel room.

"Home race baby!!!" Logan announces, plopping himself onto Oscar's unmade bed. "You seem to be..." You take a moment to find the words, "jubilant." "Hell yeah!" he smiles, "red white and blue baby!" Oscar simply gives him a brief glance with a quirked eyebrow over his shoulder. "Whatever. Let's get some lunch," Oscar grabs the keycard from the bedside table and opens the door for you, "ladies first." "What a gentleman," you tease as Logan follows closely behind you, "what're we eating?" "Burger," Logan states. There isn't any debate from you or Oscar, "but please don't tell my trainer..."

As the three of you approach the restaurant, Logan insists that you sit with Oscar, which is odd as he typically likes to sit next to you. Oscar told you that he had come clean to Logan about the whole fake-dating situation, and apparently, Logan had taken it quite well, and was completely on-board with the whole "get revenge against Carlos!!" campaign.

The three of you eat in a relative, comfortable silence. It's something that comes after so many years of friendship. "We better head to the paddock now." Oscar states, slapping his hands on his knees. "Roger that. See y'all on the paddock." Logan waves, making his way out. "Wait... how's he gonna get there? Didn't he come with us..?" You make a perplexed face at Oscar, eyebrows furrowing with concern. "Ah, it's fine," Oscar waves your concerns off, "don't worry yourself about him, love." For some reason, despite you swearing that you and Oscar's relationship was purely platonic, the pet name he'd used for you set ablaze a slow, yet surely burning flame in your stomach. Nevertheless, you just ignore your feelings, because the two of you are just friends, right?

logansargeant has posted!

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 93,194 others

logansargeant: home grand prix LET'S GOOOOOO!!!!

yourusername: good luck king -> oscarpiastri: what about me ☹️ -> yourusername: good luck oscar :) -> oscarpiastri: oh thanks!! -> logansargeant: please take this out of my comment section

user1: LOGAN WHO ARE THE PEOPLE ON THE SECOND SLIDE?? -> user2: he knows something we don't... -> user3: he knows something that we'll never know.... -> logansargeant liked a comment!

"Seriously? Are you kidding me?" your outrage is apparent from the tone in your voice. "I'm sorry ma'am. If your pass doesn't work, I can't let you in." The security guard gave you a pitiful, close lipped smile. "Okay then, that's fine." Perhaps a little too passive aggressively. Yes, you were frustrated. But then again, at least he's doing his job properly? You pulled out your phone from your bag, and dialled Oscar's number. Almost immediately, after 2 rings, he picks up the call. "Hey, what's up?" "They aren't letting me in. I think there's something wrong with the pass." You informed him, and you can hear a little shuffling from his end. "I'm on my way."

You let out a silent sigh of relief when you see Oscar's familar figure approaching the security guard. "Hey mate, I think there's been a misunderstanding. She's with me." Before the guard can even respond to Oscar, he gently grabs your hand, interlocks your fingers with yours, and taps his pass on the reader to let you into the paddock. As soon as the two of you step into the paddock, you hear the unmistakable click of cameras flashing. Fuck.

f1wagsupdates has posted!

13,345 likes

f1wagsupdates: McLaren driver, Oscar Piastri, is seen with longtime friend Y/N Y/L/N months after her split with Ferrari driver, Carlos Sainz! This is the first time we've seen Y/N on the paddock with Oscar. I suppose that the 'mystery man' in her soft launches on her instagram page is no longer a mystery!

user1: huhhh

user2: #unexpected

user3: isn't this kinda an invasion of privacy... -> yourusername liked this comment!

Carlos is fuming. He swears that he's about to combust. He was having a... decent day. He was starting at P3, which was somewhat decent. Could've been better, could've been worse. Then, he's scrolling through Instagram in his driver room, and the post he sees makes his stomach drop. How could you move on so quickly? Not only that, but shove it in his face too by coming to the paddock? It'd been short of 2 months since the two of you split. Yeah, maybe he'd moved on himself, but it wasn't the same. He'd been seeing the girl for something like 5 months now. Nevertheless, how could you have moved on so quickly? His mind was racing. It feels like salt in the wound when he sees the TV stream pane to you in the McLaren garage. Y/N Y/L/N, Oscar Piastri's partner. He feels rage churn in his stomach, how could Oscar steal what was his? But he no longer has time to muse. It's time to race.

"It's lights out and away we go at the Miami Grand Prix!" Crofty's voice filled the garage, the raw enthusiasm and passion in his voice made apparent from the volume of his voice. "Carlos Sainz gets off to a poor start!" Martin Brundle exclaims, a hint of a wince in his voice for what could've been, "Oscar Piastri, on the other hand, is absolutely flying! The rookie gets off to an excellent start, overtaking everyone, climbing to the 6th position! Ahead of him is Carlos Sainz, with the gap between them being 5 seconds."

Everything is relatively peaceful, up until lap 15. Max has worked himself up to the first position, and really, is anyone shocked? However, the gap between Carlos and Oscar becomes smaller and smaller, and truthfully, you're kind of nervous for the inevitable.

"And-" Crofty begins, "Oof!" Crofty and Brundle both wince at the same time. Audibly, there's a loud screech from Mark Webber in the background. "Oscar Piastri attempts to take the inside line but Carlos Sainz doesn't relent! And Sainz pushes Piastri into the gravel, and Piastri spins off the track into the barrier! That looks like race over for Piastri. The race stewards are now investigating the incident." "Are you ******* kidding me?" Oscar scoffs, bewilderment apparent in his voice through the radio. "What is this idiot trying to do?" Carlos yells over the radio, accent thick and upset.

Crofty's voice is drowned out by the sheer panic that you feel. Is Oscar okay? You attempt to ask the McLaren pit crew, but all of them seem too preoccupied with the recent news of the collision, and they look to be equally as preturbed as you. However, in a moment of pure relief, you see Oscar climbing out of the car, seeming unharmed. He gets into the Medical Car, presumably on the way back to the garage. A Safety Car is called to the rest of the remaining drivers. "And that is a 5 second penalty to Sainz, presumably served in the pits if Ferarri makes a good call." Brundle states, with a hint of sass in his voice. Obviously, he was quite tired of Ferarri's shennanigans.

You hold your breath as the Medical Car approaches the McLaren garage. Oscar climbs out, looking relatively unharmed. Only angry. He storms into the garage, rapidly approaching your direction. He grabs your arm and drags you into his Driver's Room.

"Oscar-" your worry is drowned out when he slams the door of his Driver's Room and presses his lips onto yours. The kiss is sudden. Rough. Angry, even. But Oscar's always been cool. Calm, even. But there's nothing cool or calm about this kiss. It's filled with fire and passion. It makes you flush and blood flows to your cheeks. When the two of you part, you're both breathing heavily, and he pulls you into his chest. His arms are warm and he swears that he was made to hold you. He drags you onto the sofa, and instinctively, you crave the warmth of his body and curl into his side, peering up at him, quite shyly.

"Hit your head too hard?" You tease, stroking his face gently with your fingers. "If anything, it only brought me to my senses," He strokes your hair, making you croon with satisfaction. The tone of the room begins to shift, "You were made for me, you know that?" You say nothing in retaliation. You're speechless, but not in a bad way. "When I spun out, I thought of you. Who takes care of Y/N if I get hurt?" Oscar muses, peering down at you lovingly. "Hmm... I think Logan wouldn't mind filling your shoes...." You tease. "Hey, I'll kick you out." Oscar retaliates, but begins talking seriously again, "Every day, I wake up, and my first thought is you." "Did you crash into Carlos as revenge for me?" You chuckle. "Hey, if anything, he crashed into me. I swear, he has a vendetta against me. But just so you know, I'd go down defending your honour." "So cheesy," you hum, running your fingers through the short strands of his hair, "If anything, I'd be mad too. You pried his girl from his hands and made her heart yours."

yourusername has posted!

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant and 528,103 others

yourusername: karma is the guy of my dreams coming straight home to me!!!

oscarpiastri: do you know that girl? she's so gorgeous -> yourusername: idk but that guy is really hot -> logansargeant: guys ur so gross (this is adorable i've been manifesting this since i was like 12)

landonorris: congrats on the catch oscarpiastri 😔 -> oscarpiastri: ikr

user1: HARDLAUNCCHHHHHHH

oscarpiastri has posted!

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 715,391 others

oscarpiastri: a dissapointing end to today's race, but at least i've got my girl with me <3

yourusername: oscar you're too sweet 😭 -> oscarpiastri: you're the best <3

logansargeant: ewwww (you guys are the most adorable couple i've ever seen) -> oscarpiastri liked this comment!

fredrickvesti: omg

logansargeant has posted!

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and 412,294 others

logansargeant: guys. i was literally MADE for this day. like. anyway... here's the compilation of pictures i've collected from over the years 😇

oscarpiastri: i had no idea you took these... -> logansargeant: of course you didn't you were too busy paying attention to her

yourusername: omg these are sooo cute -> logansargeant: ikr

user1: omg couple goals 😭

user2: sleeping on the street tonight.

user3: oscar and y/n please adopt me

private chat: carlos sainz:

carlos sainz: y/n, are you fucking serious????

you: she can't come to the phone right now. she's busy.

this contact has been blocked!

[muzsmoux]

Reviewing tgcf characters because I have thoughts

I finished S2 recently and I need somewhere to put my not exactly hot but like warm (?) takes because it's taking up too much storage space in my brain.

🤍 Xie Lian 🤍

It's a good thing I'm not into guys because if I was I would be on my knees for this man in every sense of that expression and his pet menace to society would mince me up like garlic.

So I'll try to be brief about my overflowing feelings about him. Xie Lian is the best main character I have come across in a WHILE. He's the embodiment of compassion and kindness. And also a cold blooded murderer. A babygirl. A father figure. A terrifying martial god. A silly little guy. A pathological liar. The most genuine man you'll ever meet. He's everything, and Hua Cheng is 100% valid in his obsession. I'm right there with him.

Rating: 10/10

❤️ Hua Cheng ❤️

Idk if we ever figured out who wrote My Immortal but I'm pretty sure we have our culprit.

"Hi my name is Hua Cheng Crimson Rain Sought Flower Red-Robed Ghost King and this is my evil weapon of death E-ming. I've killed soooo many gods with it!! My dark power is I can summon storms of BLOOD and SUFFERING. I have my own scary city of DEMONS and they all love me and think I'm HOT but I only want my BOYFRIEND who's the only REAL GOD so STOP FLAMING HIM YOU POSERS-"

Needless to say I love him. Being the 8 time winner of the Loverboy of the Century Awards with unbeatable records in the yearning olympics is truly a remarkable feat.

Rating: 9/10

(Bonus: E-ming. Cute little guy. Likes his stepdad more than his real dad. Not afraid to show it's feelings even if it makes it look like a muppet, 10/10)

🧡 Feng Xin & Mu Qing 🧡

Tweedle dee and tweedle dum gets a shared rating because they would hate to be grouped together like that and that's funny to me. Their dynamic is great, they're good characters, I wasn't sure which one was which until midway through the second season. But then also I have a pair of 7yo twin cousins who I still can't tell apart despite them not looking even a slight bit similar so that might just be a character flaw on my end. Oops.

Rating: 7/10

🩵Shi Qingxuan🩵

I'm doubling the rating because she is best boy and best girl at the same time. I love that I can use any and all pronouns for him because he's literally a pride parade personified and therefore all of them are correct. You don't get that type of chaotic fun just anywhere.

He is truly living my dream, presenting as whatever gender they want depending on what's more convenient and/or funnier in the moment. Super useful, for things like gathering intel and terrorizing Feng Xin by being a woman.

And I personally think we should crown her the new emperor. She'd look significantly better on that throne, with her Barbie-like radiance and flourishing Kenergy.

Rating: 20/10

🖤 Ming Yi 🖤

Listen, I hate to say it because I like a sunshine x grump moment as much as the next gay but he's just... not giving what he thinks he's giving. Everyone is whispering ominously about him having some dark devastating secret but MY point is no matter how big his boobs are in his female form, Shi Qingxuan could do better. I'm sorry. She really could.

Rating: 4/10

💙 Lang Qianqiu 💙

Just an honest man with good intentions and a sickass fucking sword. He did NOT hesitate to attack the infamous Crimson Rain Sought Flower on SIGHT and I respect a quick decisionmaker, even if it shows some himbo tendencies. He also has the same distinct energy as Fred from Scooby Doo.

Rating: 6/10

💚 Qi Rong 💚

He's got some odd dietary and moral choices going on. Definitely. But he's just such a fun villain!!! Being Xie Lian's nr 1 source of migraines SHOULD make me like him less but I'm sorry, every time he was on screen I was LIVING. He would do numbers on reality TV. Someone put this guy on Kitchen Nightmares, I need to see him 1v1 Gordon Ramsay.

Rating: 7/10

🌚 Jun Wu 🌚

He has his emperor status & DILF card going for him but something about this man just ain't right. If he came to a party I was attending I would cover my drink is all I'm saying.

Rating: 2/10

🔥Pei Ming🔥

I don't know much about him besides he had that one shady empolyee or whatever (could not hear the plot over the deafening sound of Hua Cheng's yearning) but I'm partial to a good manwhore character. The thought of people praying to him like "Hugh Mungus, who art in heaven-" really tickles me.

I know he's probably straight but I headcanon him as at the very least bi-curious because you can't be that hot with that much game and not use it for evil. (That evil being causing large scale gay awakenings among his soldiers.)

Rating: 7/10

❓Pei Xiu❓

Unreliable, unimportant, unattractive, unemployed.

I remember not a singular thing about him besides fucking up Xie Lian's daughter's life and also being on my last nerve from the jump. If you're going to be evil at like least be memorable about it, you know? You can't be a bad person and a bad character at the same time. Pick a struggle.

Rating: 1/10

📚 Ling Wen 📚

I heard she committed some war crimes but honestly if I had to do an entire realm's tax returns by myself AND teach Pei Ming how to read (I refuse to believe that man is literate, just look at him) I would want to rage on occasion too. I hope she has a hot wife waiting for her at home to give her massages after carrying the whole system on her back all day. It's what she deserves.

Rating: 8/10

Thank you for reading!! Opinions might change once I read the books but as of now this is it. Remembering everyone's names has been a journey and a half so this post is sponsored by @kirstenly 's character cheat sheet go look at it! and everything else too!!!

[bella-rose29]

The Greatest Thing - Lockwood x fem!reader

requested by anon: Hi, I love the way you write! I was wondering (if requests are still open) if you could write a Lockwood x reader where reader's mother died when she was little for some reason, and by taking on a case reader and Lockwood find themselves having to fight the ghost of reader's mother ? And maybe even Lockwood calming Reader down after the mission? Feel free to change parts. (btw: sorry if English is terrible, I'm Italian, English is not my native language)

my lovely you don't need to apologise for your English, it's better than a lot of actual English people I know (myself included) <333

sorry this took me so long, but hopefully you enjoy!!

for reference, the song that's mentioned is specifically Nat King Cole's version of Nature Boy from 1948 <3

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: swearing (only a lil), brief mentions of cancer (not explicit though), idk if there's anything else

I did just copy and paste the tag list from DTH part 9 so feel free to not read this if you don't want to! <3

It was nearly one in the morning when the telephone rang. 

This was odd, because the phone had been broken for a little over twenty years. 

It was more sentimental than anything else, and it was kept as a reminder of someone long gone, as was the typewriter that sat on the shelves next to the telephone, on top of the case it came in so that it could be admired. There was a record player too, although that was in perfect working condition, unlike the other two objects. 

The ringing of the telephone woke up the inhabitant of the bedroom, and he groggily rubbed at his eyes as he sat up and turned the light on. The glare made him wince, but when he realised the broken telephone on his shelf was ringing, his eyes shot wide open. He scrambled for the working phone on his bedside table, trying not to panic too much and failing as he punched in the numbers. The line rang three times before someone picked up, and his breathing was shaky. 

“Hello? I think there’s a ghost in my bedroom.”

~~~

“Lockwood? You awake?” Y/n pushed open the door to the library, making note of the dim light that shone under the door. Her voice was quiet, just in case he’d actually managed to fall asleep, but as soon as she stepped inside she saw him sat in his usual armchair with a book.

“Everything alright?” he asked. 

“Not really. Dad’s just phoned me.” She took the chair next to him, watching as he put a bookmark in place and held the book closed on his lap. 

“Ah, that’s who was calling.” He frowned. “You don’t sound too happy about it.”

“He thinks there’s a ghost in his room. Said the old telephone that Mum bought ages ago started ringing just now. He wants us to come and check it out as soon as we can.”

“How do we know it’s not just… someone calling?”

“It’s broken, Lockwood. Has been for ages. Pretty sure it was broken when Mum got it, but she thought it looked nice.”

“Right. Well… you know the house layout, and where things are. And if you’re not too tired… I suppose we could head over now? Only if you wanted. Your father is welcome to stay here if he wants, too.”

“Thank you, Lockwood. I don’t know that I’ll be able to sleep, not knowing Dad’s in danger. And he won’t want to go outside at this time of night anyway, not without a safe route to somewhere else. You sure you’re alright with going on a case now?”

“Of course I am, Y/n. Especially for you.” She tried not to flush too much at how sincerely he had said it and pushed out of the chair. 

“Okay then. I’ll just… go and get changed.” She was still in her pyjamas from earlier. Lockwood was, predictably, in a suit, just without the jacket and tie. She was certain they were a second skin on him now. 

“Meet me by the front door in ten? I’ll get the kit ready.”

“Sure. Don’t forget the biscuits like you did last time.”

~~~

It took five minutes of quietly moving around the attic so as not to wake Lucy for Y/n to get changed. She wasn’t entirely successful in being silent, since the floorboards creaked every two seconds and she fell over trying to get her jumper on because she got stuck inside it and didn’t see the corner of her bed, but somehow Lucy slept through it all. Y/n headed downstairs, wincing when the steps groaned under her weight, and went to find Lockwood in the basement. He was nearly done packing up the bags, and when he caught sight of her his smile was blinding. 

“You all ready to go?”

“Yeah, think so. I’ve been thinking, about what the Source could be?” she said, although her voice lifted at the end to make it sound more like she was asking him a question. Lockwood nodded, zipping up the second kit bag and handing it to her when she reached for it. “I feel like the phone is too obvious, but if it’s some sort of Poltergeist it might be a good idea to check anyway. There’s quite a lot of things that could be a Source, actually. Mum loved collecting old stuff, said it reminded her of her childhood.”

“She wasn’t an agent, was she?”

“No. No Talent. Not with a capital ‘t’ anyway. She was amazing at loads of other things though.” They were in the hallway now, grabbing their rapiers out of the stand. Lockwood shrugged on his coat. 

“What do you know about the history of the house? Any murders or deaths that could result in a Visitor?”

“No. There was Mum’s, but Dad got the place sorted out as soon as he could. DEPRAC came in and cleared the room.”

“Well, we’ll see what we can find, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” she said when he opened the front door and gestured for her to go first. Lockwood must have called a cab, because now there sat one just in front of the gate. “I told Dad to get into the kitchen and turn the table lamp on, ‘cause a couple years ago he got iron strips put in the floor, so he should be alright in there. We can get this taxi to wait for him and bring him here, right?”

“Of course. That was a smart move, both the iron strips and your suggestion. We’ll make the kitchen our main retreat, then.”

Ten minutes later they were pulling up outside her childhood home, and as soon as the taxi stopped Y/n was opening the door and rushing to greet her dad. Lockwood was talking to the driver, paying him for the journey they’d just taken and asking if he might stay a little longer to take a passenger back to 35 Portland Row. 

“Hi, Dad, you alright?” Y/n breathed, wrapping her arms around her father. 

“Been better, love. I’m glad you and your boyfriend are here though.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Dad,” she said, feeling heat creep up her neck. “Lockwood’s my boss.”

“I just thought that since you talk about him all the time, y’know? Lockwood this and Lockwood that.”

“I’m gonna walk away now, I think. Have fun with the ghost!” she joked, knowing that she would never leave her father in a house where there was a possible haunting. “We, uh… we thought it might be best if you went to Portland Row for tonight while we work here. It’s a standard procedure to not have the clients in the house, but normally they’ve got somewhere to go and a bit more notice, and Lockwood said you can take his bed if you wanted. We have also got a sofa, but it’s not nearly as comfortable as a bed.”

“Alright, love. You’ll be alright, just the two of you?”

“Yeah.”

“I take it he’s keeping that cab for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then. I’ll see you in the morning, love.” He must have known that she would ask him to leave the house because he reached behind him and picked up a bag, hoisting it over his shoulder and planting a quick kiss on her cheek. 

“Bye, Dad!”

She watched as he sent a small wave over his shoulder, shaking Lockwood by the hand and thanking him for the offer of a place to stay, and then he was getting in the taxi and going back the way that she and Lockwood had come from. 

Lockwood had the keys to the house in his hand, and before he unlocked the front door (her father had locked it when he’d seen the taxi approach) he turned back. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

“I can do this, Lockwood. For my Dad. Besides, if something’s only just surfacing now from one of the antiques, it can’t be too bad can it? I mean, it didn’t hurt my dad.”

~~~

As it turned out, it was quite bad. 

Not in a holy-shit-this-ghost-will-kill-us way, but more in a holy-shit-why-does-this-house-feel-worse-than-a-graveyard-at-night? way. 

Y/n had grown up in this house, had only really moved out two years ago, and she had never once felt unsafe or uneasy. Walking around it now, though, doing initial readings of sensations and temperature, she wondered how her father had managed to stay positive. Most things she just got echoes of her own childhood, her laughter as she ran through the halls while her parents chased her when she was three, baking in the kitchen and licking the bowl when she was five, crying when she tripped and slid down the last couple of steps on the stairs and grazed her knee at the bottom, and her mother pressing kisses to her hair and a plaster to her tiny injury when she was six. But underneath it all there was a malaise, something unsettling that seeped into Y/n and Lockwood’s bones and made them cautious. 

“Does it normally feel like this?” he asked when they made it to the top of the stairs and around most of the rooms, one hand on his rapier hilt. They hadn’t drawn their weapons yet, but they knew it was only a matter of time. 

“No. Dad would have said something.” The thermometer beeped, alerting them of a drop in temperature. Lockwood checked it where it sat attached to his belt. 

“Minus two. It was three degrees just now.” They stood in silence on the landing, both looking at the thermometer. “Well, only one door left, I suppose. Do you want to do it or should I?”

“I’ll do it.” She made her way to the door of her parents’ bedroom and took a shaky breath before placing her hand on the doorknob. Immediately a rush of memories hit her, from when her parents first moved in after their marriage, to the day she was born in that room, to the countless times Y/n had crept in in the night because she’d had a bad dream, up to the point when her mother had last touched the handle. It went further, but the force of the memory of her mother made her push the door open and step over the threshold. 

Lockwood was right behind her, and she heard him draw in a breath and reach into his coat for his sunglasses. Y/n whipped around to look at him just as he pushed them over his eyes, catching the last of his squint while he warily studied the bed. “Why are you putting those on?”  she asked, not liking the wobble that accompanied it. 

“Death glow on the bed. Are…” he hesitated for a moment, and she imagined his eyes darting between her and the bed behind her. “Are you absolutely sure that your father got the house cleaned out?” His voice was soft, like he was trying to not agitate her too much, but she got defensive anyway. 

“Yes. He wouldn’t lie about something like that, not when he had a six year old living in a possibly haunted house!”

“But… and I’m not doubting you, or your father, I just need to know, were you here when the house got cleaned out after your mother passed?”

“No, Dad sent me to my friend’s house. He said it wouldn’t be good for us to be in the house while they were working.”

“So you never actually saw people cleaning out this place?” She froze, catching on to what Lockwood was getting at. 

“No,” she whispered, turning to look back at the bed. Her mother had died in it over ten years ago from untreated cancer, completely unexpectedly. She’d gone peacefully at least, in her sleep, but it had broken the two members of the family that had been left behind. Her father had told her that he’d call DEPRAC and get the house cleaned out, to keep the two of them safe, but now as she grabbed a hold of the doorknob again she realised there was no memory of people coming in to do that job. “Shit. Shit shit shit shit.”

“Hey,” Lockwood said, sunglasses still perched on his nose. “It’s alright. We’re agents, and we’re Lockwood and Co. I know… I know this won’t be easy, Y/n/n, but we can do this. You can do this. Just breathe in, and back out. Good. Right. Have a think: what in here could be the Source? Hey, focus, Y/n.” His tone grew a little harsher as he grabbed her shoulders, pulling her away from the door. 

“Why wouldn’t he clean the house?” Her breath was coming too quickly now, and her eyes couldn’t settle on any one thing. “Why, Lockwood? Why wouldn’t he do it?”

“Because sometimes we love someone too much to have them gone forever.” Her eyes finally stopped moving around, instead meeting his and making her draw in a breath at the vulnerability in his eyes. His voice had been rough with emotion, and immediately she thought of the door on the landing back at 35 Portland Row. As quickly as he had opened up, his walls had snapped back into place, and he was leaning back and smiling softly at her. “Let’s try not to focus on that too much, yeah? Maybe the phone?” As though he had summoned it, the old telephone on the shelf started ringing as soon as he finished talking. “Okay… that was weird.”

“It’s not even got wires attached to it,” Y/n breathed. 

“Visitor is definitely a Poltergeist then. There’s no apparition which is good, because no ghost-touch. That’s also bad though. No way of really knowing what the Source could be.” She tuned Lockwood out, knowing that he would just be talking himself through the situation they were in, and kept on staring at the telephone. It hadn’t stopped ringing. 

Music suddenly started blaring out of the record player, despite there not being any record to play. It was a song that Y/n recognised, although she couldn’t remember where from. 

“Is that… is that ‘Nature Boy’?” Lockwood asked, glancing incredulously at the record player. 

“Oh my god. Yeah. It was Mum’s favourite song, specifically this version.” Her mother would often be found with it playing on the record player in the study downstairs, and she’d told Y/n the story behind it a million times. She’d been adamant that Y/n never forget the words, and now as it played she knew it was her mother haunting this room. 

“I think it’s broken,” Lockwood said when the song skipped back to repeat the last section of the song. 

“The greatest thing…”

“No, it’s not. Maybe it’s the record player? Maybe that’s the Source?” The music stopped, and she knew she was wrong. “Okay… so the telephone is the Source?” At once the music started again, but from a different point. 

“But very wise…”

“Is… is your mother helping us?” 

“I think so.” 

“… Why?”

“Maybe she just wants to move on?”

“But very wise…”

“Okay this is freaking me out a little bit now,” she said, moving over to the telephone. It stopped ringing when she got close enough to reach out and touch it, and she glanced at Lockwood. “Silver net?” He wordlessly passed her one, his sunglasses still obscuring his eyes. His face was impassive and she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, but he was focused on the record player. It had continued playing from where her mother’s ghost had skipped back to help them, and was finishing up the last lines of the song. 

“The greatest thing… you’ll ever learn… is just to love… and be loved… in return…”

The room became silent after that, and both Lockwood and Y/n stood staring at the record player. Nothing moved until Y/n finally broke out of whatever world she had disappeared into, slowly placing the silver net over the telephone and wrapping it carefully. At once the temperature lifted, and just before she had finished containing the Source of her mother’s ghost she heard a sigh in the air, as though someone was finally being allowed some peace. 

“We should head over to the furnaces,” Lockwood finally said. “Unless you wanted to put it in a silver glass case?”

“I’ll talk to Dad about it in the morning.”

“Alright. Here, let me…” he stepped over and gently removed the telephone from her hands. “Why don’t you go and sort out the kitchen, get all our things together? I’ll get a taxi for us.” Y/n nodded, not taking her eyes off of the bundle in his arms. “Y/n?”

“Hmm?” She was unfocused, untethered to this world, and his voice was muffled. She vaguely noted Lockwood putting the Source down and coming closer to her, and then he was hugging her tightly, pressing her into his chest and his lips to her head when she drew in a shaky breath and sobbed. 

“It’s alright. It’s alright.”

She wasn’t sure how long they were there for, her crying into his dress shirt and him rubbing her back and whispering softly to her, but by the time she pulled back, her sobs reduced to slight hitches in her breath, her throat was sore and her eyes puffy. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Y/n.”

~~~

It was nearly three in the morning when the telephone rang. 

This wasn’t odd, because this time it was Lockwood phoning Portland Row to let them know that the ghost had been dealt with, and he and Y/n were coming back. 

Y/n had remained silent for the duration of the taxi ride back to 35 Portland Row, staring out the window with her eyes looking at something that Lockwood couldn’t see. He knew what it was like, to be in her position, but he had no idea how to comfort her other than just being here. She’d gripped him earlier, when they were hugging, like she thought he might be the next one to leave. It had broken his heart and made it swell at the same time that she had held him so tightly, but now he was left to wonder how else he might help. 

She was still silent when they walked through the front door. 

Her father came out of the living room to greet them, and Y/n had frozen, rapier mid-air while she went to put it away in the umbrella stand. Lockwood had put his own rapier away, and the sound made her snap out of whatever trance she had been in and finish her previous action before taking one last look at her father and running upstairs. Lockwood shrugged off his long coat, hanging it on the stand. 

“It was her mother,” he said, looking at the stairs instead of at the man he was talking to. “I think she’s upset that you lied to her, about clearing out the house.”

“I couldn’t-” he broke off, coughing slightly to clear his throat when emotion clogged it up. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“I know.” He could barely look at that door on the landing most of the time. He turned to face Y/n’s father. “But you made that house unsafe. You got lucky. She was a Poltergeist, but completely unaggressive like they normally are. Very lucky, in fact, because there was no chance of you being ghost-touched. But still, you should have told her.” The man nodded, tears starting to fall on his cheeks. 

“I suppose you put the Source in the furnaces then?”

“No, actually. I asked Y/n what she wanted to do, and she said she’d talk to you. You could keep it, so long as it was in a sealed silver glass box. You wouldn’t have to lose her again.”

“That would be great, thank you. Is it safe here overnight?”

“I’ll put it in the storeroom downstairs,” Lockwood smiled, one of his classic customer service smiles, and moved towards the kitchen. “Whereabouts did you decide to sleep in the end? The living room?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Well, goodnight, sir.”

“You’re a good lad, Mr. Lockwood. I can see why my Y/n likes you so much. Goodnight,” he waved, disappearing into the living room and closing the door behind him. Lockwood stood in the hallway, Source still wrapped in the silver net, and tried not to blush too much at the way those words had been said. 

~~~

“What are you doing in here?”

Y/n jumped at the sound of Lockwood’s voice, and immediately felt a little guilty for intruding on his personal space. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t want to wake Lucy up, ‘cause she hasn’t been sleeping well recently, so I came in here. Sorry.”

“That’s alright.” He went to grab his pyjamas, then did a double-take. “Is that my shirt?”

“Oh.” She looked down and flushed. “I didn’t… I forgot that by not going up to the attic I wouldn’t have anything to sleep in, so… yeah.”

“Oh.” 

She wished he would say more, because his gaze was as heavy as the silence that settled over them after that single syllable. 

“Lockwood?”

A pause. “Yeah?”

“I can leave-”

“No!” He swallowed thickly, then repeated himself. “No. I mean, no point waking Lucy up, is there? I’ll be back in a bit, just… going to go get changed.” She watched him leave, and then five minutes later she watched him come back. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” he answered, sounding anything but. He looked… nervous? Why the hell was he nervous? “You?”

“I’m alright.” She tried not to laugh, settling for an amused smile instead, and waited for him to get into bed next to her and turn off the light. Once it was dark (or as dark as it could be with the ghost lamp outside the window), she heard him shuffle around in his bed so that he was facing her. The outline of his face was barely visible, but it was enough that she could make out where his eyes were, and where his faint smile was. “Lockwood?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For earlier.”

“I already told you, anytime.” They went quiet, just enjoying the comfort of Lockwood’s bedroom. “I talked to your dad, by the way. He said he didn’t want to lose her again, so I’ve offered to sort out a case for the phone in the morning. I also told him off for lying to you, which terrified me, because your dad is not a small man.” Y/n let out a snort at the last part, and she saw the faint light from outside light up Lockwood’s teeth as he grinned. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I did. Back at the house, you were… well, I’m not really sure what you were. But you weren’t you, and it scared me. It’s like you went somewhere else, Y/n. I just can’t lose you, is all.”

“Oh.” Now it was her turn to not say much, and she could feel him fidgeting. 

“Your dad said something. About you.”

“What? What did he say?” Her heart was beating faster, not knowing if he’d said something good or bad. 

“He said that you like me a lot.” Now her heart was thumping for a different reason. 

“Well, yeah. It’s difficult not to like you, Lockwood, you’re a very likeable person, you know? Very-”

“Why are you nervous?”

“What?”

“You’re talking really fast. You do that when you’re nervous. Why are you nervous?” Damn him for knowing her so well. 

“Uh… I just… I don’t know.” She did know, but how could she admit to her boss that she had the biggest crush on him while they were lying in his bed together?

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have- it just sounded like he meant it in a… in a like like way.” She took a deep breath, and decided to bite the bullet. At least if it was dark she couldn’t see his face when he rejected her. 

“He did. I… I’ve liked you for a while, actually.” There was no response, and suddenly it all seemed like a terrible idea. “Lockwood?”

“How long?” There was no discernible emotion in his voice. 

“About two years?”

“So… since you got here?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“You’re telling me,” he started, frustration seeping through, and she shrunk in on herself a little. “You’re telling me that we could have been together this entire time?!”

“Yeah, I guess so. Wait,” she frowned, “wait what did you just say?”

“It took us removing your mother’s Source from your childhood home and your father telling me that you really like me for this to happen?!”

“… Yeah?” She heard him bring his hands up to his face and groan, and then heard him shuffle around again. A moment later his hand was touching hers, tentatively at first, then lacing his fingers through hers and tugging her closer to him when he realised he’d found her. She ended up curled into his side, her head in the crook of his neck, and his arms wrapped around her torso under the duvet. 

“Well I know you’re free after we wake up, so right after we get the glass case sorted out I’m taking you out for food.”

“Like a date?”

“Exactly like that.”

It wasn’t long after that that the pair of them fell asleep, and before she drifted off in Lockwood’s arms, she couldn’t help but think how her mother had been right about loving and being loved, and how it was the greatest thing in the world. 

tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @magicandrosewaters

[cantwritethetword]

Biceps? Really?

Fic Descript: Superman finds out Batman has a very odd ticklish spot, and of course has to tease Bruce half to death over it.

~A/N  - HELLO ONCE AGAIN

Look at me being somewhat consistent with uploads SDJFHKALSDFJHKH amazing what meds can do

I've had these requests in my inbox for aaaaaages (im so sorry) and I feel like I can finally write something for them.

Prompts were:

Please excuse the typos and the "it's ok that this will be s(H)ort" cause that was back when I was like super burnt out AND unmedicated lmao so I was like OH JUST A LIL FIC YOU CAN DO IT but this will be a proper one lmao

Also lmao forgive me for the super boring title I couldn't think of another one.

EDIT: ALSO AGSKAGSKAGD ILL HAVE IT BE KNOWN I USE DARK MODE ON MOBILE THIS WAS ON MY LAPTOP AND IDK HOW TO GET TUMBLR TO BE DARK MODE ON LAPTOP HENCE THE WHITE SCREENSHOTS THANK YOU THAT IS ALL

- Enoy! ~

Tag List: @constanteyeburn

Masterpost Link 

"I still..." Bruce huffed as he lay on the floor, glaring at his partner. "Don't get... why you're still so surprised... every time we do this."

Clark, the absolute puppy dog, was still beaming after launching yet another random tickle attack on Bruce. Since first discovering the Batman's hilarious (and quite frankly adorable) little weakness, it was like crack for Clark. Any time he had the opportunity, he launched himself at Bruce and just started squeezing. And, because Bruce was just that damn ticklish, the poor superhero couldn't last ten seconds before crumbling into a flood of chuckles.

"I don't know." Clark grinned. "You don't seem like the ticklish type, is all. Never have."

Bruce rolled his eyes, before starting to stand up. "I am not the ticklish type."

"Uh, oh yes you are!" Clark laughed, reaching to grab Bruce's arm. "And where do you think you're going?"

Normally, Bruce's response to this would be a swift bat (hehe) at Clark's hand to push it away from him as he stood, and an even swifter escape before Clark decided to go for round 2 (it had happened before, and Bruce swore he would've passed out if Clark hadn't taken pity on him).

But this time, whatever way Clark grabbed Bruce's arm, sent electric shivers coursing down Bruce's side. Bruce let out a yelp, and half-collapsed onto one knee.

Clark gasped, his face like a kid on Christmas morning. "No way."

"Clark." Bruce's eye's widened as he pieced together what had just happened. "That wasn't-"

"Wasn't what?" Clark interjected, pulling Bruce closer to him using the aforementioned grabbed bicep.

The tugging motion pressed Clark's fingers right into Bruce's muscle again, forcing a symphony of strange noises, squeaks, and choked laughs out of the absolutely screwed superhero. As Bruce fell, Clark expertly manoeuvered him onto his back (for the second time that day) so that Clark could kneel on his forearms.

"What the hell Kent?" Bruce grunted, pulling his tough-guy facade over his currently anxious and flustered self. "Let me go."

Clark chuckled. "Oh no, we're investigating this."

Bruce cursed under his breath. He remembered Clark's methodical tickle monster days all too well. When Superman himself had him pinned to the floor with no hope of escape, and took his sweet ass time tracing and prodding with various numbers of fingers on any tickle spot that came to mind.

This time would be no different. Clark began with his thumbs, massaging small circles into the very center of Bruce's muscle.

And holy fuck did it tickle.

Bruce's entire torso tried to lift itself off the floor for a moment, his eyes wide in shock at just how bad it was, before his body slammed back onto the floor and flailed. His legs kicked a ticklish drum beat as the highest pitched giggle either man had ever heard escaped his lips.

"Wow you're ticklish here!" Clark laughed over the noise. "I can't believe this is even possible!"

"SHUTUP!" Bruce shouted between bouts of hysterics, twisting his hips from side to side to alleviate the torturous sensations.

"Seriously though," Clark continued as if nothing was even happening. "Ticklish biceps? You've got to be kidding me."

"CLARK!"

Superman nodded to himself, resting his hands on his thighs. "You're right, you're right, it's time to move on to something else."

Bruce gulped in mouthfuls of air before registering what Clark was implying. "No-... wait-..."

Ten feather-light fingernails touched down right above Bruce's armpit and paused for a moment, soaking in the anticipation. Clark didn't have a chance to start moving before Bruce broke into deep streams of laughter.

"Really, Batman?" Clark taunted. "Breaking that easily?"

"Fuhuhuck ohoff."

Superman rolled his eyes, before trailing down Bruce's biceps from elbow to underarm. That singular smooth movement upped Bruce's laughter by a few pitches, a good sign for what was to come.

Clark lifted his hands and reset them back to their starting position on Bruce's arm, before letting his fingers begin their descent once more.

Except this time, each finger took its turn to softly trace up a few inches before lifting and straightening again while his wrist moved further to Bruce's elbow. Like two gliding spiders, Clark's hands pulled downright squeals from Bruce.

"NOHO!" The Batman pleaded. "I CAHAN'T- CAHAN'T TAKE IHIT!"

Smirking, Clark tutted. "Oh come on, you're usually so tough!"

But, now that he thought about it, Bruce was rather red by this point (and not just from sheer embarrassment). And while it certainly was fun tormenting the usually far too stoic superhero, the fun could wait for another day.

Clark wasn't forgetting about this any time soon.

[demxnicprxncess]

hey can i suggest any nsfw headcanons for the evans?? i love those types of drabbles and i think i would thoroughly enjoy whatever you decide to do w this request, since your writing never fails to amaze me 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

havent done request in a while but sure love

Taglist: @kitwalkersgfff, @yes-divine-ruler, @quicksilversg1rl, @charsdunkis, @eddiemunsonsbitch69, @dahmevan, @sultrysullen, @kaylaperiodqueenslay , @fuckedbykai , @mykie-way , @bxbyalixo , dm me to be added or removed dears.

TW: NSFW, opinions, and kai anderson, Smut.

Tate Langdon:

He likes having a sense of control, but still he enjoys being babied, def a switch.

If you tease him enough he gets a little whiney or possibly aggressive.

He IS a teenager so... he'll fuck you anytime, anywhere.

Can be a selfish lover, but he doesnt intend to.

Sometimes, he wants nothing more than to please you. No doubt.

Praise Kink, pain kink, possible humiliation, possible mommy kink. Maybe a small daddy kink, just cause its what he would see in porn. He def would mark you with hickeys and bites. BDSM (mostly his suit ngl)

He bit into your neck over the hickey before licking it softly as his thrust picked up in pace. "Say it baby." She whined gripping on the desk in the empty classroom he had drug her into her hands tied behind her back with his belt. "It feels so good" She'd choke between moans before he laid a smack against her ass. Feeling her clench around him as she came led him to pull out a paint her back in his cum. "There we go baby. Quit talking to that asshole." She nodded softly still tired before she heard the bell ring. "Come on."

Kit Walker:

He LOVES having control, however sometimes he'll let you take control so you can take care of him.

He might whimper, but mostly groans.

He'd fuck you anywhere in your house, or in his car but thats about it i feel like.

he isnt a selfish lover, he wants you cum at least twice.

He'd place your pleasure first no doubt.

daddy kink, breeding kink, maybe just maybe hes into hair pulling.

He kept his thrust steady as she laid back on the bed arching into his touch, "Almost there pretty girl. Just a lil' bit more fa me doll." He groaned into her ear as she clung to him slightly pulling his hair. This prompted him to slip his fingers down to her clit, moving in a figure eight pattern with a steady speed to match his thrust as he kissed all along her neck. "You'll look so pretty with my child in you" With his other hand he placed it on her stomach, "You want me to give you one baby?" She eagerly nodded beneath him as she came undone, prompting him to release his seed deep into her womb. He stopped and laid there his face in her boobs for a minute, "Ya got one more fa me baby?" She whined softly and shook her head, "I dont like odd numbers though baby, and four is our lucky number."

James March:

Hes in control but lowkey wouldn't mind being dominated, he'd just say it was him getting some love in a way.

He grunts and groans no doubt. Sometimes he whimpers.

Anywhere in the hotel is great of course but like he loves laying you on the bed and watching the way you sink into his sheets.

He is never a selfish lover. Maybe a tease, but never selfish. he'd please you no doubt.

Okay so knife kink, master kink (idk i just like the sound of master march.) blood kink hes into marking, loves hearing you scream, loves your tears, hes into bondage.

"Scream my name darling." His thrust were harsh and planned to torture you, triggering your release while he kept going. He wanted to reach his own orgasm while she whined beneath him wanting to hold him but not able to because of the handcuffs keeping her arms above her head, "James, please? I want to touch you sir." He looked down at her before undoing the cuffs letting her wrap around him in a kiss as he filled her with his seed. "Darling, you truly are something wonderful."

Part one since this bullshit has been sitting in my drafts for the longest.

[our-aroace-experience]

I feel like a defining aroace moment is when you realize that some people will look for ANY way to try and get together with someone, even when it doesn't seem remotely appropriate. This happened a little while before I figured out I was aroace and what particular labels fit me best, but it's one of my favorite interactions ever just because of how ridiculous I found it.

I was going grocery shopping and minding my own business when this guy came up to me to try to get my number. I politely declined saying I wasn't interested and made the mistake of not making up a fictional boyfriend in an effort to make him give up. He kept pestering me so I finally snapped at him and told him if I was looking for a date I'd be at a bar or club and not a damn store. Casanova then asks me which places I hang, which is literally zero. The end of the conversation went like this:

Guy: Well if you don't hang at any clubs then how am I supposed to get to know you?

Me: Exactly.

The unfortunate part is it was a little late so there weren't a ton of other people in the store and it was already dark out, so there's always a fear that people like him would try something, but thankfully he finally left me alone and I didn't see him again. It was just funny in a way because I'm thinking "Dude. Dude. I understand the whole shoot your shot thing but a miss is a miss. Why would you even be in a grocery store expecting to get a date?"

Is this... really how some people think? I go to the store to buy things and leave. Period. I don't wanna talk to anyone, I certainly don't wanna be harassed for a date by someone I don't even know. Maybe it's more the anti social in me rather than me being disinterested in dating but I just find it annoying if someone interrupts my business to bug me to go out with them. It's not even the fact that they ask in general, it's the way they just don't quit. Like this guy saw it as a personal attack that I didn't want to go out with him and had to find out why not. Idk, maybe I'm the weird one here. I just wanted to share this random situation because even now I still think it's funny in a way.

a supermarket is a super weird place to be weaker on a date! i’m glad nothing bad happened, as is possible in that type of situation, but that’s pretty odd. i don’t think you’re the weird one here, but as a fellow aspec i don’t think i have the best judgment lol

[emmalouloubean]

thoughts after ep 27

back before arc #3 started, I made a post of theories and predictions and things, and I already referenced it once, but here I am to reference it again (you don't have to go back and read that post, I'll reiterate all the important info here)

the two big things I'll bring up here are the politics of destroying the station of the Witch of the World's Heart and the tense collaboration between Mirara and Indri (warning: idk how to shut up so this is a little long)

I understand where they (Ame, Suvi, and Eursulon) are coming at with the numbers angle, but back in ep 15, Mirara said that the coven can act without unanimity and Grandma Wren said that they may act as they see fit without her approval. So I'm not sure how strong that argument is gonna be on its own. There is a difference between unanimity and majority, but I think that they might need something else on top of the issue with odd/even members.

Also in ep 15, Grandma Wren said that "there will be tremendous repercussions if you insinuate that any of the other stations are not incredibly significant to the nature of magic itself" and in Ep20, Sly tells Ame that "one of your sisters is going to make the argument that your existence threatens the nature of magic in the world of Umora. And the only way—in the majority of cases where you win that argument, you win it because in order to get rid of your station, they would probably magically have to get rid of another." I think the key points of both of these statements in the tie to magic, as if the thing that makes getting rid of a station in the coven is some sort of magical law/rule and not just a logistical one. I know Brennan was almost leading them away from that conclusion, but I really feel like they were onto something with the idea of balance. Plus, we haven't seen any of the "tremendous repercussions" that Grandma Wren mentioned. Maybe the repercussions are just Ame gets to take someone else with her, or maybe it's a bit of etiquette that Ame doesn't know yet and they're playing off her ignorance, like maybe Ame is allowed to do something in response and she doesn't know she's granted any sort of special reaction.

I'm actually pleasantly surprised that my theory that Indri is working with the Man in Black (MiB) seems to be coming true. I felt a little like the Pepe Silvia meme when I was coming up with it.

We got confirmation that the MiB is under Mirara's station and I think that based on Indri was talking during their argument that they are probably working together against the wizards. And by the transitive property, we can guess that Indri and the MiB are also allies.

I theorized Indri might be working with the MiB because one of the other titles for him is the Pilgrim Under the Stars, which implies that he moves around like people, walking around on the ground (at least to me). In the last memory Ame has in Ep15, Grandma Wren says that "he has been moving upon our world in a way that I cannot quite see" which I think we all clocked, but she also stated explicitly that it's only been like this recently (to quote directly: "for some time now, since you were a very little girl, in fact"). It's possible that perhaps the reason this changed was because Indri had aligned herself with the MiB and was aiding him in moving in a way that is no longer under the stars.

I wonder if Grandma Wren had somehow clocked this because in Ep2, Brennan said that "she sort of had a relationship with [the stars], like someone who spent time in their company" so maybe that's how she knew something was up or wrong with them. I wonder if she asked Steele for a book (the one about stars of the southern sky that was sent with Suvi along with the shape-changer diagrams) that categorized the stars or just listed them in an effort to compare the information of what the sky used to look like or how these things used to work with how they may have been changed by either Indri or MiB.

Let me know what you guys think! Were you guys surprised by the Mirara/Indri alliance reveal? I was a little caught off guard ngl, even though I've suspected Indri of not being on Ame's side before we even met her lol

[idolatrybarbie]

odd couple

pairing: established francisco "frankie" morales x reader

word count: 2.5k

rating & summary: explicit, mdni! | frankie can't cook, to put it lightly.

tags: no trigger warnings needed for this one, porn with (little) plot, rated e like woah, frankie needs a win, very unedited as of initial posting, stubborn!frankie, premature ejaculation, handjobs, cumplay, overstimulation, sub!frankie moments, multiple orgasms, spit kink/drooling, #petnames4frankie, praise kink, slight dacryphilia, reader calls frankie "wet" in this idk that might not be your thing i guess. look man it's been a hard week.

notes: it's not wednesday and i am struggling a lil' bit (might make a personal life update soon idk ?) but i am being such a brave little toaster about it! writing this definitely made me feel better. when it comes to music, this weezer song is a little generic within their discography but whatever, i like it. hope you enjoy! also everyone go read @wannab-urs sub!max phillips fic because i say so and it's awesome.

You listen to Frankie move around the kitchen from your spot on the couch, trying your very best to ignore the occasional clang and clattering noise that flows out from the distant doorway. Tonight, he has taken on the task of making the two of you dinner. Or trying to, anyway. You don’t cook much either. Your job, like his, doesn’t lend much time to it. Takeout is more than often what’s on the menu—Burger King, of all things, is his favourite.

You know how to cook though. Every once in a while you have the spare time to whip together something truly delicious; slow-roasted pork belly, or maybe a nice pasta with garnish. Frankie doesn’t seem to know his ass from the oven.

The two of you have had this conversation hundreds of times. You stating that he can’t cook, and him pushing back, insisting that he can. Or he could, before the service stuck him with single meal MREs for a number of years and he lost most of the culinary knowledge given to him by various tías, his abuela, and of course Mrs. Morales herself.

His stubbornness spurs the occasional urge to throttle him. It’s fine you can’t cook, you always tell him. Not like he can’t still learn. Still, he insists, and insists on insisting on top of that.

Honestly, you couldn’t be more of opposites. Even excluding skills of domestic labour, he and you are a bit of an odd couple. Frankie’s an early mornings guy, always, while you enjoy a sleepy Sunday—or just about any day that ends in Y. He hates the horror movies you fawn over, while you can’t stand the nature documentaries and sappy celebrity biopics that he eats up year over year. Frankie is highly detail-oriented, the engineer instinct in him always angling towards rigid preparedness; you’re a bit more goal-focused, letting any plan morph and adjust according to the situation.

Another such cooking conversation had taken place on the drive home after declining Frankie’s offer of McDonald’s for the fourth night this week, and now here you are: listening to the man curse under his breath, muttering complaints from the kitchen as he tries his hand at homemade spaghetti.

The kitchen is silent for a moment. You go back to channel surfing, clicking past reruns of Golden Girls and M*A*S*H*. Stopping at a channel playing the cinematic masterpiece Grease 2, you focus your attention on the open doorway behind you again. It feels almost too quiet…

A string of hushed, panicked curses from Frankie confirms your suspicions. Getting off the couch, you use the soft overhead light to guide you through the dark apartment. Frankie is standing over the stove when you see him, quickly moving away and towards the sink. Water splashes into it, surely scalding as steam rises into the air. Or maybe that’s coming from his ears?

You clear your throat in the kitchen doorway, and Frankie turns to you. His face is slightly red, a silver pot held in his grip by the towel-covered handle.

“Is everything okay?” You already know the answer to that question—aggravation rolls off of him in waves, permeating the space between the two of you like a mirage in the Mojave Desert.

Frankie opens his mouth to respond, but the words never come. He does this a few times, wracking his brain for the proper way to put it as he parts and pleats his lips, living up to his call sign.

Eventually, he settles on, “No.”

He heaves a deep sigh, tossing the pot onto the counter. Getting a closer look at it, you see the charred spaghetti noodles stuck to the shiny bottom.

“Don’t, okay?” Frankie says before you look up again.

“What?”

“I know what you’re gonna say. I told you so, blah blah blah. I know. You’re right. I can’t fuckin’ cook.” The words are rushed, like he’s half-embarrassed to even say it.

You frown, reaching an open palm out to him as you shake your head. “That’s not what I was going to say.” You motion for him to come closer and he does, slipping into your arms as you hug at his tense shoulders. “It’s okay. You can take a class, or we can work on it together. I think that’d be kind of fun,” you say.

Picturing making something with Frankie—maybe bowties and broccoli, something simple—has you smiling into his shoulder. For his birthday last year you made red velvet cupcakes with sour cream frosting. The recipe is a little more complicated, but baking them with him this time is a pleasant idea. You already know he’s the type of person to lick the batter off the beater.

“I don’t want to do that to you,” he says.

You pull back from the hug to look at him, those big brown eyes of his crinkled at the far edges. “You’re not doing anything to me,” you say. “At least, not right now.”

A small smile comes to his face then, creeping and dopey before Frankie gives you a soft kiss at the tip of your nose.

“They should really give you a Netflix special or something,” he says.

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all night,” you muse.

Still in your arms, Frankie glances over at the pot of blackened, noodle-shaped mush. “What are we gonna do for dinner?”

Right now, he’s in the closest proximity to you that he’s been all week. At least, while you’ve both been conscious. Work has you staying later and later at the office these days, while his shifts handling flight operations have him drained, in bed and fast asleep well before you even get home. Tonight is special even if it hasn’t gone the way either of you planned.

You hum, dipping your head to nose at the patchy beard along his jaw. “I’m thinking we skip dinner.”

“Come on, seriously,” Frankie says.

“I am serious.” Leaving a wet kiss on his cheek, you whisper, “Don’t you want your dessert, Francisco?”

A hum rumbles low in his chest. “Of course, but—”

“But nothing.” You move your left hand to cradle the side of his face, his skin smooth under your touch. He leans into its warmth. “I’m hungry.”

You know that he is too. At your words, Frankie practically jumps you, a kiss pressed to your lips hard before your brain can catch up with what’s happening. He holds you in his arms tight, like if he loosens his grip even a bit, you’ll float away. The pair of you move out of the kitchen and back into the living room, the horrible 80’s movie still dancing across the pixels of the TV.

Frankie falls onto his back, bouncing against the couch cushions. The remote is underneath him, the mute button conveniently hit upon his landing. The cheesy show tunes cut out immediately. You move to straddle him as he lays horizontal. Frankie cranes his neck a bit to watch you as you settle over the crotch of his sweatpants. He’s half hard under the fabric already.

Frankie pulls you down into another bruising kiss. You hunch over to meet his lips, his hands circling around your waist. You’ve decided to take the Frankie approach to tonight’s activities; cool and calculated in your plans and decisions on how this is going to go. Grinding your hips down, you watch his face carefully. He huffs out a breath, soft and peppery like the cinnamon gum he keeps in his car.

You reach between your bodies to feel him in his pants. Frankie kisses at your face, quick and sporadic as you palm at him. He moves to lift your shirt off your body and you let him, raising your arms to help him. He tosses the thing to the floor and lets his hands rove over your skin. Continuing your ministrations, you slip your hand beneath the elastic waistband of the grey sweats. Frankie has no underwear on, a pleasant surprise.

“Fuck,” he groans, nosing at your neck.

“What’s wrong, honey bun? Doesn’t that feel good?” you ask, slowly pulling your hand away.

“Yes, please. Do it again?” His voice strains deliciously, the muscles in his arms held taut.

Frankie relaxes only slightly when you return your palm to where he’s hot and achy, cock wet at the tip. You run your thumb along the head of his dick as he pushes his hips up into your touch. You slide the pad of your finger along his shaft, spreading the dampness.

“Aw baby, you’re already a little wet. Isn’t that sweet?”

You start to stroke him in earnest, the tight circle of your hand moving up and down his cock. The movement is a little dry, your skin dragging against the sensitive velvet of him. You push his shirt up his belly, pulling his pants to his knees easily. Then you spit into your palm, jerking him off easier this time.

“Fuck baby. Just like that,” Frankie pants. He’s moving his hips with your hand now, fucking up into it on every down stroke. With your free hand, you prod at the small dip at his hip, feeling the muscle tense beneath the skin.

“Bet you feel so good, baby. Nice and easy for me,” you coo.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.”

You twist your hand at the end of every movement upwards, fingers rubbing over Frankie’s tip as he leaks steadily onto himself. The glide is easy now, lubed with your saliva and his precum. The squelch makes your mouth water as you watch his cock disappear and reappear in the shadow of your fingers.

He puts one of his hands over yours, urging you to go faster. Your hands move together over Frankie’s dick, picking up the pace as the sticky noise turns into a slap with every thrust of his hips.

Frankie breaks pace, stuttering on a caught breath before he spills over your hand and onto his belly. You pause to watch his chest tense and then loosen, his eyes shut tight as he comes down. Raising your hand to your lips, you lick a bit of his cum from the edge of your fingers. It’s the first thing Frankie sees when he opens his eyes again, making him groan. The noise sounds almost painful.

“That was—”

“Amazing?” you supply.

Frankie wheezes a laugh. “Something like that.”

“What about a second helping?”

He furrows his brow, then looks down at his dick. It lays limp and spent on his stomach. “I don’t—”

“Please,” you implore oh-so-sweetly. Frankie sees big eyes batting at him, a twinkle of adoration. The intent behind it is a little more Kubrick, but he doesn’t know that yet.

He can’t say no to you, doesn’t want to anyway. Frankie nods, mumbling a yes at you. His cock twitches with interest when you drag a finger through the pool of cum on his belly and pop it in your mouth. You smile at Frankie as you take him in your hand, strokes slow as he hardens again.

Leaning into his body, you flick your tongue against the shell of his ear. “So, so wet honey. This all for me?”

“Yeah, shit—I can’t,” he mumbles.

“But it feels so good,” you say. “Wish you could see your cute little face. I love seeing you like this.”

Frankie’s face waivers between tightly wound and relaxed in pleasure. You’re using his own cum as lube now, hand practically sloshing across his cock. He tries to keep his eyes open, watching your movements as you sit patiently in his lap, jerking him off.

Your underwear is ruined, the cotton soaked through as you discreetly rock yourself against the rough seam of your pants. You’ll take care of yourself later. Right now, all of your attention is on Frankie. This reward is his punishment. It’s the slightest bit petty, but you can’t let his stubborn behaviour go quite yet. You aren’t an I told you so type of person, but this? This is perfect.

You stroke at him on autopilot, watching the middle distance between the fine thatch of hair at Frankie’s pelvis and his skin coated milky white. He comes with a flinch before you even realize, still moving as he hisses. He’s still hard when he’s done, solid under your touch, so you continue.

“You’re doing so good for me,” you say softly.

“Oh god,” he whines, eyes rolling back.

“Does it hurt baby?”

Frankie doesn’t speak, can’t, nodding frantically up at you.

“You want me to stop? All you have to do is tell me.”

He doesn’t—not with words or the shake of his head. He likes this, and both of you know it. Frankie gets off on the pain, a pleasure so hot that it burns; water blazing to the point that the sensation runs cold, delicate skin held close over a candle flame.

Frankie starts to squirm. You hold him down by the shoulder with your free hand, fingers spread over his overheated skin with a firm press. His whole body is sweaty, soaking a runway down the front top half of his t-shirt.

“Please, please, please.”

He breathes your name, barely getting the syllables past his lips. You never find out what he’s begging for. He probably doesn’t quite know either.

His dick and his mind can’t seem to agree on what they want. You watch this war play out, a losing battle. Every few seconds he presses his hips to the couch, trying to stay out of your reach. Then he slots his hips forward again, seeking out your hand directly.

Finally, Frankie seems to find his words. “Fuck, please. I can’t, I can’t. I’ve got no more, baby, please.”

“One more, honey. You can do that, can’t you? Just one.”

“Mm, shit. It’s—it hurts. It hurts,” he says.

“I know, baby. You’re so sweet for me, so good. I know you can do it,” you assure him.

Leaning down, you position your mouth over him. You let the spit sitting in your mouth pour past your lips, drooling onto his throbbing cock. The saliva slides down his length slowly as Frankie moans at the sensation.

The added slick makes everything wetter, truly soaking as you jerk him off faster. Frankie starts to babble nonsense between short, tripping moans. A split-second decision, you breathe hot air over the head of his dick. The slightest change in contact pulls his third orgasm of the night from him. Frankie cries, groaning loud as fat, wet tears roll down his cheeks. You hunch over him to give his face a kitten lick, collecting them with your tongue.

You let him go when he finishes coming, letting his dick flop against the plush of his tummy. Dragging your own shirt off the floor, you wipe at his skin and clean up your hands before tossing it back down.

Frankie finds the strength to tuck himself back into his sweatpants. He pulls at your elbow, sending you crashing gently into his side on the couch. It isn’t really big enough for the both of you to lay down. You squish yourself against his chest and shoulder, feeling his arm rest over the length of your back.

“How was that?” you ask after a while.

“A five course meal and then some,” he says. Frankie scoffs at himself, like he can’t believe what just happened. “Jesus Christ.”

You kiss his chest through his shirt, his body warm and solid against your cheek. “Nope, just me.”

[goldenrubygirl9]

Trying to figure out the exact species of the JATGP bugs (and also cool bug facts!)

(Warning: pictures of bugs)

I’m gonna start with ya boi:

Mr. Grasshopper:

First of all, I love him and I wanna be him

Grasshoppers are the only herbivores of the 6 bugs. Uh. Yeah.

Grasshoppers have camouflage! And they can fly just a little bit, but their strong hind legs do most of the work.

Since Mr. Grasshopper is green and British I’m going to infer that he is a Omocestus viridulus, AKA the common green grasshopper

Literally the same guy.

The common green grasshopper is from Britain, and, like the name suggests, common. Very common, in fact. I think they’re like the second most common grasshopper in Britain (most common one isn’t green)

Mrs. Ladybug!

She’s so sweet msmfjrjgjggjjgfjf

FIRST OF ALL, IN BRITAIN LADYBUGS ARE CALLED “LADYBIRDS”

WHICH IS STUPID BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT FUCKING BIRDS

In related news, ladybugs are actually a type of beetle. Sorry for ruining your life.

Ladybugs eat aphids and scale insects (little tiny insects idk) and also pollen and nectar. Not peaches though.

Anyways considering the fact that she is red and has black spots, I’m gonna say she’s probably a Coccinella septempunctata AKA the Seven-Spotted Ladybug. They are just THE ladybugs of all time.

Very cool. Also easy asf. These ladybugs can play dead when threatened and also they are real pretty.

Mr. Centipede:

Silly billy he’s always been my favourite especially in the book he has a goofy little smile

Centipedes are venomous and carnivores. They eat anything they can overpower with their venom. Centipedes are nocturnal, because they dry out VERY easily in the daytime. They usually either don’t have eyes or have shit eyesight. They also have no ears. They “hear” by sensing vibrations in the ground.

This one was a little bit difficult because centipedes don’t vary all that much, but I’m thinking Lithobius forficatus, AKA the garden/brown/stone centipede.

They have many names. They are also very common, especially in North America and the UK. Garden centipedes are born with 7 pairs of legs, and grow legs throughout their life, maxing out at 15 pairs of legs (they always have an odd number of leg pairs) They live under rocks, and if someone lifts those rocks, these centipedes are in luck, because they’re also very good at running. I THINK they have eyes, but if they do, their eyes can only discern light from dark.

Stone centipedes mostly eat flies, springtails, and, uh. Earthworms. But us JATGP Musical fans knew that

Mrs. Spider:

Y’all know spiders I will not explain them. Also I’m scared of spiders so I will NOT show many pictures of them *shudder*

Mrs. Spider could be literally any spider in France. The only spider that’s black with white stripes like this is a zebra spider (Salticus scenicus) and they don’t actually look like her that much. But they’re cute as fuck❤️

I wish I could show you a picture but mobile Tumblr has a maximum of 10 photos per post, but they’re really cute and fluffy.

Anyways, I feel like she’s more likely to be a Steatoda grossa, AKA Cupboard Spider, but they look more scary so I’m not gonna show photos.

But only the males are black and white.

Fuck uhh

Okayy she’s possibly an Araneus nordmanni, AKA Nordmann’s Orbweaver. They’re really scary and I wanna cry but I’ll try to describe them. Black with brown legs, weird white pattern, giant ass. These spiders do exist in France, but they are very rare. (Not just in France, but in general.) They are VERY GOOD at climbing and tend to build webs high on trees (like in a dead peach tree. Maybe with their mate.) They eat insects like gnats, flies, and wasps. Good for them. I’m still terrified.

Also female Araneus nordmanni are apparently the dominant party in the relationship so…

…yeah she’s definitely a Nordman’s Weaver.

Mr. Earthworm:

OH THANK GOD I CAN STOP LOOKING AT SPIDERS AND LOOK AT THESE CUTIE PIE WORMS!!!!

Earthworms are boneless, muscleless, eyeless silly billies. They’re also hermaphrodites (male AND female at the same time) and they can regenerate parts of their bodies (not always so please don’t go around cutting worms in half) They eat fruit, fungi, and anything decaying.

So, I don’t remember the whole movie or the book, but in the musical, Earthworm speaks Spanish sometimes, and his song is vaguely Latin-esque (our director gave him a mariachi jacket for Plump & Juicy. It might not actually be Latin-esque that’s just what I’ve been told if it isn’t then oopsies) so I always thought he was from like Central America, maybe Mexico?

How did a worm get from Mexico to Britain? Guess what: Most earthworms in Mexico are invasive and from other places! Which means it could happen the other way around, but also it means that doesn’t narrow down what species of worm Earthworm is! Fuck!

He’s probably supposed to be a Lumbricus terrestris (The common European Earthworm.)

They are the most common worms. Everywhere. But other than species and location, nothing connects this earthworm to THE Earthworm.

So I propose a much funnier idea: That he is some species of Amynthas.

There isn’t enough info about the Amynthas for me to figure out exactly which species of Amynthas he probably is, but look it has a smooth white clitellum like Earthworm!!

So there are 3 reasons why I feel like Earthworm is an Amynthas. 1. Appearance. 2. They are part of the family Megascolecidae, which are the largest family of earthworms (They do say he is a big worm, although that’s probably because he’s literally human-sized)

And 3. These worms are also called Jumping worms. Because they. Uh.

They jump. When they are scared. It’s REALLY funny.

Most Amynthas are from Asia, but somehow a bunch ended up in Mexico. And now I guess one ended up in Britain. And then New York. Invasive species behaviour. (Actually a lot of the JATGP insects are invasive)

Take your pick of worm!

(Also Glowworm is a Lampyris noctiluca, AKA common glow-worm. If you even care. Nobody cares abt Glowworm. How dare you. And James is probably a human boy.)

And that is all thanks guys heart emoji

[2knightt]

gwjgdkebdj ive never asked anything from u before but can you do the gang with a reader who stims a lot cuz like i often stim like with my hands or like vocal stims like squeaking or certain words and idk how would they feel about that because i do it alot :]

↳pharmacy’s rotting my brain!₊˚✧

──IN WHICH, the gang with a reader that tends to stim!。✦

||✰ — the gang, separately can be seen as both romantic and platonic.

Johnny Cade ;

probably doesn’t care.

he thinks is a little odd at first, but gets used to it pretty fast

if you tend to do it when you’re nervous, he picks up on it pretty fast.

like, if you were in a public space that’s crowded and you were to start stimming, vocally or not, he’d notice immediately.

he’d take you away from the area ASAP.

“you good?”

“ye-yeah. back there jus, scared me is all.”

“yeah. i noticed.”

i think he tends to like, play with his fingers when he’s nervous so…he makes sure you don’t feel alone or weird because of it.

you feeling insecure over something you cannot control is beyond him.

so, he tries his very best to help you in any way possible.

if you need him to hold your hand to stop you from stimming so much in front of new people, he will NOT let go.

“johnny we left, you can let go.”

“no.”

“okay.”

Dallas Winston ;

i don’t think he minds much.

but if anyone else had a problem with it, he’d have a problem with them.

“the hell are they doing?”

“is it a problem?”

“yeah, it’s annoying.”

BAM!

dead.

he tries to understand why you do it, but doesn’t.

“i’ve told you already, dal.”

“yeah but, why?”

when you like, squeaked around him for the first time, he was probably scared.

“AH! what the fuck?!”

gets used to it though.

“jesus christ, y/n. you sound like a mouse.”

“shut up.”

if you get nervous around him and start stimming he probably would throw an arm around your shoulder and rubs his thumb up n down your arm.

he tries to help, sometimes, but fails so bad.

you probably just end up laughing at him.

Ponyboy Curtis ;

honestly, i can see pony stimming too. just a little bit though.

so, seeing you stim too make him feel less lonely.

ponyboy probably stims when he’s alone only but when you came along you’re like, the only person to know.

“me too!”

“i know, y/n. that’s why i told you.”

“oh.”

he’s always there for you!! like always.

it lowkey gets kinda annoying but whatever.

it helps ponyboy stay calm knowing your alright.

Sodapop Curtis ;

will also, beat the shit outta someone for making fun of you.

“stop that.”

“they can’t control that.”

“so? it’s annoyi-“

knocked out!

even a broken jaw, perhaps.

he is your number one defender!!!

i can see soda stimming when he gets excited, like shaking him hands, all that.

he totally understands you!!

he doesn’t mind if you do vocal stims.

you and sodapop legit understand each other.

i feel like he gets you. idk.

Darry Curtis ;

scared. he was lowkey scared when you stimmed around him.

he doesnt know why you do it??

don’t even bother trying to explain it to him.

but he gets used to it, n’ that’s all that matters.

he doesn’t even bat n’ eye no more.

he’s learning so fast at his old age!☺️

jokes…maybe.

if your certain word was like fuck or something, he lets it slide.

i think darry’s the type of guy to go “LANGUAGE!” when someone swears.

but he won’t for you.

“what? you aren’t gonna yell at them?”

“no.”

“what???”

“don’t ask anymore questions, you hear?”

Steve Randle ;

will beat the shit out of someone too.

0 fucking hesitation.

ZERO.

he is swinging without a second thought.

but, i do unfortunately have to admit, he thought it was weird at first.

he didn’t understand why you would squeak, or move your hands constantly.

but, slowly but surely, he got the idea.

i don’t see himself doing it, but he gets you.

Two-bit Mathews ;

i can see two-bit playing with his hands when he gets too excited.

so seeing you stim, isn’t weird to him at all.

he lowkey thinks it normal.

he thinks your squeaking is funny.

“HAHAHA! y-y/n, who knew you could make such cute sounds!”

he means it in a good way.

i swear he does😭.

i think he picks up on playing with his hands like how you do if he spends enough time with you.

“jeez, y/n. i’ve been hanging out with you so much ‘m starting to become you!”

“oh, shut it!”

[phoenixyfriend]

Not Just a RomCom: CodyWan AU

This actually did start out as a vaguely normal modern AU but then we all got distracted. Set up with help from @bytebun and @catboydogma.

Single dad Obi-Wan has a pottery studio. (Technically he's parenting his siblings, but he believes he deserves the Respect of a successful single parent.)

Anakin is, as per usual, just. Being incredibly rebellious and uncooperative with Obi-Wan's attempts to be a parent. Anakin, on a rebellious streak (number eighteen of the year) decides to skip out on Obi-mandated college application hours. Yes he wants to be an engineer, but Obi-Wan's pressuring him right now, and he does not want to do what Obi-Wan wants him to do, even if the thing Obi-Wan wants him to do is meant to help Anakin do what he wants to do. Anakin uses his sudden free time to go to the mall and, seeing a pop-up stall for modeling, decides to give it a shot. He's a pretty guy, he can probably do this, right? Can't be that hard!

(You know. He's eighteen. Maybe nineteen. It's that age.)

(Also it is VERY hard.)

Enter Cody, who is not technically, in and of himself famous… but he is the top modeling agent in the country, by virtue of having sourced and negotiated all of Bly's top runway and editorial models, and the guy who is now 'discovering' Anakin Skywalker.

I feel like there's a specific energy to amputee male model Anakin Skywalker and I like it very much.

I was just. Rolling around 'people of similar ages and maturities who have vastly different life experiences, and going 'hm, this is why power/maturity differences are a way bigger issue with teens and early twenties but way less of an issue in middle-aged people.'

Obi-Wan isn't a Big Name With Big Responsibilities, but he has been more or less single-handedly raising his brother and sister. Like yeah his friends and stepsister help out sometimes, but he's been doing this mostly alone since he was twenty-five. He also runs a small business as an artist/creator, and does all the management for it (taxes, advertising, insurance) himself.

Meanwhile, Cody helped out with his own younger siblings, but he was never the primary adult in their lives, and he's got a position that works around communications and networking, and a lot of the management bits get delegated, so it's…. IDK

It's a weird balance that does work out but it feels very odd and strange to both of them at first, especially because there's a Big Difference in financial statuses and the whole 'you are my little brother's new boss, sort of.' I think they initially connect over the parenting-younger-siblings aspect of their lives.

I'm torn between "he does plates and bowls on a wheel" and "he does insane custom fantasy pieces like overly detailed dragons."

Come enjoy this completely normal romcom [take note of the dragons they will be important later]

I do know that, whichever it is, he does classes, including "Wine and wheel" nights where people come in on dates to take a pottery class while tipsy. It's like drunk painting nights.

I want Cody taking Obi-Wan out on the fanciest dates, like the kind of NYC restaurant where an entree is $200. Sometimes dinner turns into "bitching about Anakin" sessions.

Obi-Wan: I cannot help you. Cody: You raised him. Obi-Wan: Yes. But you are the one who signed a contract to keep him around. You made this bed. Lie in it.

"I inherited this can of worms. You grabbed it off the shelf, paid in full, and were then surprised that there were worms."

Side note I've decided that the head of his legal department is Padme. She and Rex (IDK what his actual job is?) are in competition to gain Anakin's affections. IDK how legal that is but Padme probably ensured it was fine before she got involved.

Alternately, Rex is a fellow model (he's using it to pay for college) and he can flirt with Anakin as much as he wants (which is usually not that much), and Padme can't.

She wants to! Anakin is flirting with her! But. Legally. She can't. (Yet.)

Padme: Until your position has been secured in such a way that I cannot influence it, I cannot date you. Anakin: 🥺

And now we get to the part where it is... not just a RomCom.

Because I was... trying VERY hard not to talk about The Last Dragon chronicles (you know, The Fire Within, etc.). And then I did. And now it's part of this AU.

Quiet subplot to the entire romance and Anakin's modeling journey is the fact that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are just making sapient dragon statues to hand out to their friends.

Obi-Wan: Okay Cody, as a symbol of my affection, here is a statue of a dragon. It's got some props that are related to your passions. It survives on your love. Cody: Aw, that's cute. Thanks. Cody, that night: [hears some small scraping noises and weird shuffling] Cody: [looks up and sees the dragon statue moving] Cody, whispering: what the fuck

HE THOUGHT HE WAS IN A ROMCOM WHAT IS THIS

Anakin is not very good at the dragonmaking. He tries, for Rex and Padme, but he's. Not very good at it, at least not compared to his siblings. Ahsoka has to go through it with him, step by step, so the dragons are Worth Giving.

They gotta be perfect.

Obi-Wan definitely makes other things as well but the Dragons are absolutely magical. (Vases and plates and whatnot are easier to sell, though.)

The one he made for Anakin (right after Qui-Gon and Shmi died) has a cyborg arm, because it just felt right. Ten years later, Anakin lost his arm in a freak accident, and everyone was like oh.

I feel like Obi-Wan's dragon might actually have a shield? Because he defines himself in large part around protecting and raising his siblings. His dragon is also less 'dragon' and more 'Boga the varactyl.'

Cody's needs to be something about connection and networking, since his whole thing in this AU is making connections and figuring out how to put people where they need to be. I'm partial to a spiderweb hanging from the end of the statue's raised tail, and also he's got a tie on.

Padme's comes with a fountain pen. Rex's has jaig eyes and feathered wings. Unrelated, I do think he's studying to be a social worker.

I'm not entirely sure what I want Ahsoka's role to be, insofar as what about her is reflected in the statue. I think I'm going to say she's a skater girl, so her dragon has a board and knee/elbow pads? Or possibly a paintbrush. IDK. Still poking her open.

A giant eastern dragon statue that watches over the house from a central location as a vestige of Great-Grandpa Yoda. It is in fact bigger than Yoda himself. It's one of those incredibly long and complicatedly coiled ones.

I think I really enjoy Anakin being just. Really bad at clay stuff compared to Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. Ahsoka is happily being primed to take over the family business one day.

What Anakin does eventually turn out to be incredibly, terrifyingly good at is steampunk dragon automatons.

Like this but it's real and it moves:

(Source)

And you assume it's just like. A windup toy? And it is... when you're looking. If you look away (or it trusts you), it moves on its own. When Anakin's dragons move, everyone just assumes there's a battery or something.

Anakin's just really excited that he can continue the family tradition but like in his own way. Fuck knows he can't really do anything on his siblings' level with clay, but he can do clockwork.

It's the GG fan in me popping out, nothing is cooler than steampunk automata with minds of their own.

[melonteee]

thoughts on how Zoro and Sanji sometimes seem to be connected?

Like we meet Zoro and his entire deal is '3 sword style', three earrings too. and then he meets sanji WHO IS NAMED AFTER THE NUMBER THREE?? probably oda didn't mean anything with it but idk 🤷‍♀️

Also, first time we meet Zoro we see him eating the onigiri even after helmeppo stepped on it, which follows Sanji's 'don't waste food' ideology even before they met

And then I think it was mentioned that Sanji was trained in sword fighting?

Sometimes i don't know if i'm overthinking it just because i ship it, but even in a friendship sense i see those two always connected somehow

sorry for the ask in case if it's annoying sdfdfgdad

I feel like the point of it is, even if they don't get along on the surface, we see all these little things regarding their character and morals that they perfectly connect with.

They both have soft hearts but a tough image. They both have a pride and passion in their craft. They both will forever put others over themselves.

It's a complete showing and connection of Luffy's wings, it's a constant reminder that even though they bicker and fight, they are extremely similar in heart and person. And we see it happen many times, where they agree with the other on an extremely serious topic while the rest of the crew is at odds. A major example is when Zoro yells at Luffy for wanting Usopp back immediately in Water 7, and while the whole crew (even LUFFY) makes Zoro out to be cruel, SANJI is the one who agrees with him and backs him up.

There's a perfect harmony they have when they're on the same wavelength, and while they're foils of each other in terms of demeanour, emotion and fighting style, they're complete mirrors of each other with their passion and care.

Zoro and Sanji will always disagree on the small things, but will always agree on the big things. They fight over something like the better flavour of ice cream or whatever, but they agree on the bigger picture and - ultimately - they respect each other for it.

They make Luffy's wings because they ARE their own selves, but they can also act as one - both to uplift Luffy and each other. So the connections Zoro and Sanji have will always be a reminder of how they're more similar than they are different, and shows that, beneath the teasing and arguing, there will forever be admiration and respect.