#just finished wor

[nauti-ca]

some little shallans with big blue eyes :o)

[taravangians-storming-balls]

listen. all I'm saying in that if you assume for a second that kalmoash is real (even bare minimum moash has a crush on kaladin), moash and adolin BOTH lost their partners when kaladin and shallan fell into the chasms in WoR. They both stood there, in full shardplate, and watched their partner fall to their supposed death while they couldn't do anything to save them.

And I dunno I think they should've dealt with that really unhealthily with each other

[otaku553]

I am bored and sad about schoolwork so I want to interact a little bit,,, please send me some asks!

Can’t promise any fancy pieces but if you want a small doodle of a character (preferably not ocs please) feel free to send in a request as well!

[bxriles]

Kaladin “honor is dead but I’ll see what I can do” Stormblessed has weaseled his way into my heart and has quickly become one of my all time favorite characters I have ever read.

Goddamn these books are so good omfg

[cassynite]

.

[moash]

🚨 calling all besties!! kill. 🚨

[enshrinedinspines]

Jasnah 😭😭😭😭😭

[aesthetic-uni]

Is anyone else just genuinely tired. And I don’t mean like tired from work or life (although very valid and me too tbh) I mean just never rested. I wake up and I’m tired. I take a nap and I’m tired. I eat and I’m tired. Take a shower, tired. Go for a walk, tired. Drink water or caffeine or vitamins, still tired. I genuinely don’t remember the last time I woke up and had energy. I don’t remember the last time I had energy period. Everything I do I’m tired and wanting to lie down and go back to sleep. I’m so tired.

[frogbitsalad]

oh man it was wild to go back through old webcomics i used to read nearly a decade ago

shout out to chirault!!!! shout out to cut time!!! im going to cry my eyeballs out now.

[dyedviolet]

Kaladin's theme song is tub thumpers except it's just "I get knocked down" on loop

[fortunatelyenchantingtaco]

I may have brain damage because of it but ma mama raised no quitter

[aestheticbutmemesarelife]

Also would love to cry at other people who've read stormlight archive and and and then we can give each other book recommendations and be buddies 🥺🥺🥺

[theworldgate]

I have to explain what is going on in the UK, because it is absurd.

So, this is Gary Lineker:

He's known for a fair few things over here. He was a very good (association) footballer, playing for England in the 1986 and 1990 World Cups, winning the Golden Boot in 1986, and managing to never get a single yellow card in his playing career. He played for Leicester City, Everton, Barcelona, and Tottenham, before finishing his career in Japan. But if you aren't in your mid 30s, you probably know actually know him him for a couple of other things. The first is the role of spokesman for another Leicester icon, Walkers Crisps (which are sort of equivalent to Lays, but hit different), as pictured above. Despite being a notably clean player, he used to play a cheeky serial crisp thief. I don't think he's done that for well over a decade, but his ads were on the telly a lot when I was a kid and it's a bit like learning that the hamburglar was an incredibly clean (American) football player or something.

The second thing Gary is widely known for is having presented Match of the Day, the big football program on the BBC, the sort-of state broadcaster, since 1999. He is, incidentally, very well paid for this (though with a consensus that he could get even more if he went to one of the non-free-to-view broadcasters because he is very good at the job). He also has a twitter account. And political opinions. So, the UK government has got itself dead set upon doing heinous stuff that will totally somehow work to prevent people who want to come to the UK making the perilous crossing of the Channel (between England and France). By heinous, I mean "openly advertise that they won't attempt to protect victims of modern slavery" stuff. It's very obviously using a legal hammer to victimise a marginalised group of people in order to win votes. And, uh, I should clarify that by "legal" I mean "using the passage of laws" - the policy is, in addition to all the other ways it's awful, probably incompatible with the Human Rights Act and the UK's international law obligations. Gary, top lad that he is, objected to this. On Tuesday 7th March, he made a quote Tweet of a video of the Home Secretary, Suella Braverman, bigging up the policy, he wrote "Good heavens, this is beyond awful.". This got a bunch of backlash from extremely right-wingers, and then he made the tweet that really got him in trouble (with right-wingers): "There is no huge influx. We take far fewer refugees than other major European countries. This is just an immeasurably cruel policy directed at the most vulnerable people in language that is not dissimilar to that used by Germany in the 30s, and I’m out of order?".

Now, I am not actually subjecting myself to watching a video of Suella Braverman bigging up a cruel policy to say whether the specific comparison of the language to 1930s Germany is accurate. But needless to say, Ms Braverman was amongst the many figures on the right of UK politics objecting to Gary's rhetoric. And here's the part where a fact about the BBC comes in: it is nominally neutral and impartial (and so, of course, is routinely accused of bias from all sides but particularly the right-wing), and has something of a code for its contributors to this effect. Now, that code has previously been applied to Gary Lineker, over a comment about whether governing Conservative Party would hand back donations from figures linked to the Russian regime. But it generally hasn't been applied too strongly to people like Gary, whose roles have nothing to do with politics (such as presenting a "here's what happened on the footie today" show), on the basis that, well, their roles have nothing to do with politics. However, when directly asked about whether the BBC should punish Gary Lineker for his tweets, government figures basically went "well, that's a them problem". But a couple of days passed, and it seemed like Gary's approach of "standing his ground because he did nothing wrong" was working and everything would die down. He was set to get 'a talking to' but not much more than that. The Conservative right, after all their fire and fury earlier, had gotten bored and moved onto something else. And then, on Friday 10th March, the BBC announced that he would be suspended from hosting Match of the Day this weekend. But it could still go ahead, because there are, like, other hosts! Except, well, funnily enough, when you take a beloved figure off air, for making a fairly anodyne tweet, no one wants to be the scab who actually takes up the role of replacing him. Gary's two co-hosts, Alan Shearer and Ian Wright, said that they would not appear without him. People who (co-)host Match of the Day on other days followed suit. The net result is that Match of the Day is currently set to air without hosts, BBC commentary, or global feed commentary. And the solidarity shown to Gary Lineker, over what is very flagrantly actual cancel culture and an attack on freedom of speech (the logic implied is that institutional impartiality requires that no one say anything too critical of the government ever), has continued to grow. The BBC has pretty much been unable to run pretty much any live sports content today, and has resorted to raiding the BBC Sounds archive to fill the sports radio channel. And, as of 17:30 on Saturday 11th March, the situation shows no signs of improvement, though some are calling for the Chairman Richard Sharp, who is separately facing corruption allegations, to resign (yes I linked to the BBC itself there, there is nothing, nothing, the BBC loves more than going into great detail about how much the BBC sucks).

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

12 / 1,147 words / for @141wh0re. happy birthday <3

nsfw, free use, rough sex, group sex ⬇

...

"Shut your bloody mouth before you broadcast our hiding place to every tango in a mile radius," Ghost snaps. He's got you bent over a crate, your nails digging into the old wood for purchase as his hips grind against yours.

"Then don't be so fucking rough," you snap, though it sounds breathy and thin even to your ears. You shift, feeling his hands squeeze your hips in irritation.

Ghost doesn't falter, but his eyes glitter at your backtalk. He claps his gloved hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds you're making. His other hand grips your thigh, forcing you onto one leg as he pushes your knee onto the top of the crate. He pulls out and slams back into you, getting back to railing you hard and fast.

“We need you on your sniper, Ghost,” Soap hisses from his spot at the far window. He’s peering down the scope of his own rifle. This building is only two stories high and small enough that any one of you could cross the room in three strides. The body heat alone is getting to you. Not to mention the way Ghost is fucking you like it'll save this mission, his pants pushed down to mid-thigh just as yours are.

"Get back to work, then, Ghost," Price tells him from the nearest window, eye leaving the scope of his rifle for a moment to take you in. "I don't need you two distracting my team."

Ghost grinds into you, a frustrated snarl muffled under his mask. You feel the muscles in his hands flex as he bites back his anger. "Fuck," he mutters. "Alright. Let's finish this."

On the other side of the cramped room, Gaz and Soap kneel at the largest window. They keep their focus, sniping marks with ruthless precision. As they do, Ghost's hips snap into you faster and harder. His teammates are focused on their task; he's focused solely on his.

"You're so tight," he growls. His hand slips away from your mouth, falling to your neck. "I've been wanting you since we--"

"Stop talking," you snap, hyperaware of the implicit warning in Price’s voice and the way Soap and Gaz are shifting in position, getting restless. You’re not sure if they’ve had enough, if they’re jealous, if they’d sooner throw you out the window than entertain another moment of this. "Get it done."

Ghost doesn't bother to argue. He pins you down with a hand between your shoulder blades as he fucks you, unceremonious and primal.

You bite your lip and try to stay quiet as Price's judgmental gaze falls over you again. Ghost flattens you even more against the crate and slams into you so hard and fast it creaks and squeaks against the floor. You cry out, writhing. His hips stutter, and then he's coming, slamming into you until you can't think. Your clit catches the rough edge of the crate. The sudden, sharp jolt is too much. An unexpected orgasm crashes over you, and you groan pathetically, clenching around Ghost.

Ghost curses. He slows down, still panting, and slowly pulls out of you. He runs a gloved hand down your back in a quick—but still noticeable—gesture of appreciation.

"Nice," Price mutters in approval. "Good work."

"She’s a good teammate, ain’t she," Ghost says. "Always wet."

You shiver, their words shooting straight to your core. You're sure you should be insulted, not flattered. But your body doesn’t seem to understand that.

Gaz nudges Soap and they glance over their shoulders at you.

“How long was that one?” Gaz asks Soap.

“I’m busy at the moment. You think I bloody timed it?” Soap snaps. 

Gaz looks amused. “Did you not?”

Soap swears under his breath, eye returning to his sniper scope. “Eleven minutes.”

Gaz scoffs. "Could do better."

“Alright, that’s enough,” Price says, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Ghost, take up position.”

He disappears from behind you. You pull yourself together and get to work.

...

This mission went tits up right out of the gate. If not for your teammates’ ludicrous skill and focus under pressure, you’d be dead. No doubt. But they’ve been in far worse binds than simply being pinned down inside a rickety, moldy shack by endless enemy gunfire.

Soon enough, the chaos is over, and no more shots ring out.

“Clear,” Soap says.

“Proper job,” Price says. “Regroup.”

You’re patching up a graze on Gaz’s forearm when Price returns three minutes later, frowning.

“Bad news. No exfil for another forty-five minutes.”

“How bloody long does it take to—” Ghost cuts himself off with a rough sigh. “We should keep moving. Find somewhere safer to wait it out.”

“After we regroup here, yeah?” Gaz says.

Ghost scoffs. “Why? You in the middle of something?”

“Oh, we’re about to be,” Soap retorts.

You’re hardly paying attention, fastening two butterfly bandages to Gaz’s laceration when Soap’s arm loops around your waist and drags you backward into his lap. He makes sure to drag your core over his thigh, knowing you’re still sensitive enough to feel it even through your pants. You grit your teeth, biting back a groan. He tugs the top half of your combat uniform apart and shoves his hand inside, groping your chest roughly. You gasp, grinding down on his lap unwittingly.

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl.” Soap’s breath is hot in your ear. “Real reliable.”

“We don’t have time for fun and games, Johnny,” Ghost says, sounding irritated.

“Easy for you to say. You had yours,” Gaz says. He slides closer to Soap, his eyes fixed on you.

Ghost throws a questioning look at Price. Price leans back on the crate you’d been bent over a few minutes ago. He shrugs, rolling around a fresh cigarette between his lips. “Not a bad place to sit tight. We’ve got a good view in all directions if more tangos approach. Relatively protected and exfil has a clear landing zone through those trees. We stay.”

“You heard him,” Gaz says.

“Arsewits, both of you,” Ghost mutters.

You’re staring at the cigarette in Price’s mouth, eyes half-lidded, when Gaz’s fingers take your chin and tilt your face toward him. “You don’t mind, love, do you?”

A frustrated growl rolls through Soap’s chest, but he pauses mid-squeeze to hear your answer too.

You stare at Gaz, then Ghost, then Price again. “Forty-five minutes?”

“We’ll make it work,” Soap says.

“I know.” You shift in his lap again. Your core is aching, your mind already clouded over with want. “Fine. If… if that’s what you need.”

Soap chuckles into your ear. “Away wi’ that. No pretendin’ you do this because it’s your job. You like it.”

“Fuck off,” you snap.

“Gettin’ to that.” Soap shifts you so he can get his pants and yours out of the way. He notices Gaz’s hand run down your neck enticingly, hears you sigh, and pushes Gaz’s hand away. “Wait your turn.”

Gaz scoffs. “You’ll hardly last long enough to wait on.”

“You can share,” Price tells them. Then he gives you a pointed look. “Saves time. You can rest on the bird, sweetheart.”

...

more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[luv4fushi]

cw: nsfw. fem!reader & afab!reader minors dni (block my nsfw tag) ageless blogs dni

thinking about 20-year-old megumi who looks so much like his dad that of course the boy has girls staring at him everywhere he goes. he’s got the same brownish green eyes as his dad, the same dark hair, and the same face—and it doesn’t help that his stoic personality is like a flame to a swarm of moths. he’s tall, well-built from his years of training, and essentially a carbon copy of toji—maybe a little bit of gojo, too, because he’d been raised by the eccentric white-haired sorcerer.

“you look so much like your dad,” gojo says every chance he gets. he shivers and then scowls st the memory of toji.

everyone else claims he looks like gojo—only because he’s so pretty that it makes sense to be compared to the man who had raised him and not the sorcerer killer.

but what everyone doesn’t know is that megumi isn’t a carbon copy of toji or gojo. he’s got one thing that sets him apart physically and it’s his hands.

megumi’s hands are gorgeous. his fingers are long and a little thin. they’re a bit veiny too, which makes you drool even though you hate to admit it. he’s got piano hands and you shamelessly stare at them whenever he taps his fingers on surfaces. his cuticles are always moisturized and his nails are trimmed—he claims it’s because his shadows need to be accurate in order for him to summon them, but you know he’s just secretly into self care.

he lets you paint his fingernails black, admiring the way your tongue sticks out in concentration as you try to not get any nail polish on his skin.

when he holds your hand, he’s always rubbing patterns into your skin. it’s like he can’t physically touch you without savoring you as much as he can! his hands are everywhere—your hips, your arm, tucked on your lower belly for some odd, perhaps primal reason.

he likes to move you out of the way (you’re usually unaware of your surroundings when he’s with you because he’s just so safe to be around!) by gently pulling you to his chest with his smooth fingertips, his hand being large enough to nearly cover your entire side.

when you cry, he brushes underneath your eyes with his thumb, wiping off your salty tears before kissing you. his hands are large enough to cup your face and cover it at the same time, which he likes to do when you’re acting a little difficult.

megumi likes to wrap his hands around your neck, not ever squeezing enough to cut any airflow—he just likes the way his fingers look when they’re gripping your smooth skin. he likes trailing his fingertips over each of the possessive bruises that he tends to leave on your sensitive skin. it’s like a reminder to him (and you) that you’re his.

you love the way his hands look when they’re digging into your skin, squeezing your plush thighs as he greedily laps up your release. your cunt spasms at the sight of his fingers wrapped tightly around your thighs. “n-no more! ‘s too much, gumi! can’t—!” he only caresses your skin and forces your legs apart with those pretty hands of his, holding your soft thighs apart. your skin dips around his fingers and the view is so pretty that you have to squeeze your eyes shut so that you don’t release all over his face again.

your favorite sight—and his too—is when his long digits are pumping in and out of your cunt. you’re breathless and mewling his name, watching as his fingers break you down into mush. “cum for me, baby, i know you can do it. such a greedy girl sucking my fingers right in, hm?” sometimes he wishes he could see the way his fingers curl inside your body, pressing up against the spots he knows has you shuddering for him. after you finish from his fingers alone, he loves to slowly pull his them out, admiring the glistening slick coating them. “see this, baby? just from my fingers, you sensitive little thing. do you like my hands that much?”

you love megumi’s hands. that’s one thing about him that’s strictly him—you wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

[ghostssweetgirl]

So, here’s the request lol

Fem reader x Ghost

Reader zones out a lot, doesn’t zone back in for awhile and keeps unfocusing their eyes. Ghost sees this and takes care off them.

Would be interesting to seee how König handles this too but that can be a post for another day lol

Have fun and stay hydrated hun 🤍

i'll be damned, i'm zoned out most of the time myself 😂 and i'm sure a lot of people relate as well, it's like i'm here but i'm not here lol. here have both 🤗

Reader x Ghost + König | How They React to You Zoning Out Often

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Even before you two were together, he noticed how you'd... go somewhere else. You'd sit there and stare off into space, in deep thought? No, you wish it was just deep thoughts. You couldn't really help your dissociation.

Sometimes you could respond to a quick question, but most times, you really were in another world.

He'd gently tap you on your shoulder and bring you back with his soft voice. "Lovie. Hey, come back to me. 'S alright."

Here lately though, it's gotten worse. You catch yourself zoning out more than usual, your eyes unfocusing as well.

You'd been sitting in the living room watching one of your favorite shows. Ghost walks in from work, happily greeting his lovely wife whom he loves coming home to. He took a shower and changed into casual clothes before he joined you, but when he walked in his happy expression turned into a worried one.

"Babe?" he called out, sitting next to you. No response. "Y/N...?"

You were staring off into space, not unusual, but you weren't responding - physically or verbally. He reached out to rub your back. You didn't even flinch. Just a few moments ago, you greeted him happily, even smiled at him. He leaves the room for a few minutes and comes out to you like this. It always worries him.

He sighs before he gets up and turns the lights off, closes the blinds to a point there's not much sunlight coming in and he shuts off the TV. He kneels down in front of you and grabs your hands in his.

"Y/N, doll, hey..." he reaches up to cup your cheek. Your expression still blank, though your eyes move, he leans up and places a loving kiss on your forehead. You finally start to come back and you take in a deep breath. "There she is, my sweet girl. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," you smiled. You're not exactly sure why you do this, it slightly worries you but it's clear it worries Ghost more than it does yourself.

"I get so worried about you," he sighed. "There has to be something or somewhere we can go to see what's goin' on, is there?"

"Probably," you nervously laughed. "But there's not much they can do about it... I don't like doctors... or any of that sort."

"Regardless, I'll be here for you," he smiled. "I love you no matter what and I'll always take care of you."

König

Before you got together, he thought he had upset you the first time you zoned out. You two were having an at-home date, and you zoned out in the middle of your meal. You didn't mean to, it just happened.

Once you opened up, he made it a point to make every environment as comfortable as possible in hopes it would help lessen your moments.

He was so sweet and understanding about it, too.

He'd kiss all over your face and hold you so tight until you came back to him.

He had taken you out on an evening picnic, away from people, but close enough to take in the view of the beautiful lake as the sun was setting and you watched some ducklings and their mothers waddle into the lake.

You both finished your food and here you were laying in between his legs, back against his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder while you talked about nature and how it was such a beautiful night.

"It's not as beautiful as my Maus," he complimented you while he kissed your forehead.

You giggled, humming in response before you both fell in a comfortable silence.

Moments flew by, it was getting dark, but you didn't know that at the time.

"Maus? Maus?" his voice echoed, although you couldn't make out his words.

"Oh, Meine Liebe (my love)," he cooed as he gently grabbed behind your knees, now cradling you as he placed soft kisses all over your face. "I'm right here. It's gonna be okay."

He rubbed your cheeks, rocking you back and forth in his big arms, shushing and cooing at you, trying everything to bring you back. He kept his eyes on yours, which were focusing and unfocusing, slightly darting back and forth but he knew that you were zoning out.

"Oh, my dear," he smiled, rubbing your cheek faster as he saw your eyes start to flutter, blinking rapidly to wet your eyes that hadn't blinked for a good moment. "Is she okay? Do you feel alright? Let's get you back home."

"Mhm," you lazily agreed, looking up at your boyfriend who made you feel so safe even in these vulnerable moments. There was no one else in the world you'd rather zone out around; with him, you were safe no matter the state you were in.

A/N - This was actually very comforting to me personally! I know zoning out isn't the exact same for everyone but I only hope I captured this well. Thank you for the request @almightywdm <3