#just silly writings of mine

[courfee]

Regulus finds a label maker. That’s useful.

Reg with a label maker from early morning, coffee cups by @alarainai stuck with me for some reason...

[willowser]

you don't know how much comfort your dragon king bkg drabble has given me ever since you posted it!! i keep reading it i love it sm 🥹

as it turns out, the man bakugou is — a bit harder to handle.

he sleeps like a heathen; you once thought the dragon bakugou to be a bit lazy, with how often he tended to curl up in the fields of grass, warm under the sun, but now — it would seem his little human form needs significantly less rest.

almost up all hours of the day, and when he does finally lay down, he's everywhere. a mess of limbs: one thrown carelessly out to the side and the other bent at an angle you can't believe doesn't hurt his joints. his head stays tucked into you somehow, either buried in your neck or pressed against your ribs — or you'll wake to find him nose-to-nose with you. he still snores like a dragon, however.

you're also beginning to wonder if there is a bottom to the pit of his stomach. he ate much before, whole fields of things, but you expected that appetite to dwindle, at least a little, now that his stomach has decreased considerably in size. and in number ? you're not even sure how many stomachs a dragon has; that's not something that was mentioned in the fairytales.

it burns through him quickly, gives him more energy than he needs, and it doesn't ever seem to affect his weight much. already, he's huge and thick with muscle and eating as much as he does never dulls the severity of his cut abdomen. not that you're looking all that much.

— not that you have a choice not to, as he seems to have little-to-no understanding of —

the door to the bathhouse kicks open, with enough force that you already know who it is without ever turning to look. you try not to shriek when you see him, because he seems to like that in some evil, impish way.

you've been alone to wash so far, thankfully, as the inn you'd managed to find was small and far enough out from the nearest kingdom that the occupancy was low — enough for you and your little brute.

the man bakugou comes to stand in front of the bath, blinking and huffing against the steam. finding clothes for him was — nearly impossible, and so the trousers you'd found hanging on someone's line outside fit above his ankles, a bit too tight around his waist. instead of a shirt, you've wrapped him in a scratchy linen, swaddled him up like a baby to cover the small smattering of scales that decorate his body, almost like freckles from the sun, though they gleam just as bright and red as they ever have. no matter his form.

a horn has started to sprout, on the right side of his forehead, and you've done your best to cover that, too.

you have no idea how long this man thing will last. if it's permanent or if he even has control over it. the last thing you need is for him to switch back, somehow, while you're in the middle of feeding him, absolutely demolishing whatever tavern you're in and calling all of king todoroki's guards to attention.

bakugou grunts, almost sleepy, and tosses a fat, weighty sack onto the edge of the bath. it jingles a certain jingle that makes your heart stop.

"oh, allfather—" you move for the edge, awkwardly keeping one arm against your chest despite the fact that he's seen it all by now. when you peek inside and confirm your fears, you lob it back to him furiously, as if it were a steaming potato. "where do you keep getting this stuff?"

things have started to turn up, miraculously. shiny things — like coins and rings and gems. things he could not have simply found rolling around in the dirt.

"go put it back!" you hiss at him, and the tone of your voice makes his frown deepen. you never realized how pouty he was, when he was still a dragon.

you think he understands you, and you're pretty certain he just chooses not to listen; instead of doing what you've told him in the slightest, he simply dumps the coin-purse to the floor, and then lets his linen and stolen trousers cover it as he unceremoniously undresses.

the biggest issue that you would say the man bakugou poses is — his complete lack of understanding of personal space.

"bakugou!" your voice wavers, shocked again by his nakedness. as if you haven't seen it all by now. "no, you — get out!"

but he does the exact opposite, which is hop into the steaming water, ignoring the arm you hold out to keep him away as he saddles up beside you. skin against scales, pressing a nose into your hair to huff out his annoyance, to make it something you can feel.

if anyone were to walk in right now, they would — probably think the lie you'd told the innkeeper was true. that you are a simple traveler and this is your mute, over-sized husband.

regardless, you think this behavior isn't polite. especially in a public bathhouse.

"bakugou," you try again, turning your face away as you speak to the wood-paneled wall. "i'm taking a bath, you have to wait your turn."

all you receive in response is another huff against your ear and a low rumble of disagreement from his chest.

he has yet to speak back, and has only used inhuman sounds as his points of conversation. the only word you've ever heard him utter is oi, which he does when he really thinks he needs your attention. you're starting to wonder if he's named you that in his head. oi.

curiously, you turn back to him and the movement has him pulling his face from your hair, just enough that he can look down at you, too. watch you, with the red-rippled sea in his eyes.

they're — amazing, you will admit. just as bright and detailed as they always have been. fit for a fairytale told by the fire, veiled by the soft-ash of his lashes. he watches you through them, half-lidded, and you wonder if it's something other than fatigue that has them so heavy.

"do you know what i'm saying?" you ask quietly, voice lacking the firm heat you want it to. instead it's heavy, too, weighted by something soft and unfamiliar and frightening. "can you even understand me?"

bakugou doesn't respond, not with a huff or a rumble or ever a purr, like the one he let out on the night he lay over you by the lake. you've only heard it sparingly since then, oftentimes in his sleep when his face is pressed into you.

you try not to frown at his silence, try not to let it disappoint you because it shouldn't; he's a dragon afterall, and you're not sure what it matters. the little horn protruding from his forehead catches your eye and you reach up to touch it gently, watching him blink away the water that drips from your wrist — and then he's turning into you again, too close.

beneath the water, you feel his hands skate up your bare thighs, wrap around your waist until your chest is pulled flush against his. you feel his huff, again, against the damp skin of your neck but it's slower, lighter. not laced with his frustration. some unknown thing you feel guilty for liking.

you drop your hand to his hair, rushing full force into all the damned things you've thought about doing but have been too afraid to. he's soft between your fingers, and you trace your nails lightly against his scalp until he groans quietly; a new noise, one you don't know how to translate.

your fingers stop when they brush upon little spines that have grown at the base of his skull, that have started to trail down the center of his back.

suddenly, tangled up in the bath with him, you wonder how much time you have left.

bakugou huffs again into your skin, a little fiercer this time, and it's because of his light jostling that you realize how rigid you've gone. you try to relax so that he will, too, though you must not do a convincing job, because a sharp nip comes to your earlobe.

"ow!" you squeal, but he doesn't let you go far, not even as you try to jerk away from him. in fact, the harder you try the more his teeth show: into your cheek and the point of your jaw and then dangerously low on your neck.

it's not until you finally freeze that he stops, huffing again, with a warmth that burns more than the steaming water.

and then, very quietly, he grumbles, "shitty wife," into your collarbone, just before biting you again.

[shitouttabuck]

oh my god nina!!! 8 for the bedsharing prompts if it takes your fancy <33

thank you sweet peach this scratched an itch !!!

bed-sharing prompts: whispering “Oh, you are going to be very embarrassed when you wake up.”

Eddie’s not old—he’s not even 30, despite the near-constant jokes about his senior citizen-isms he seems incapable of shaking. And he wouldn’t even say he’s a man of creature comforts. He just likes familiarity, and routine, and his own goddamn bed.

Quarantine has brought a lot of change: being away from Chris, living in a single-occupancy apartment with three other people, and sharing a bed with all six-foot-two of Evan Buckley.

Currently, this means waking up at some wretched hour and squinting in the moonlight filtering in through half-open blinds, because the aforementioned best friend has stolen Eddie’s pillow from right under his head yet again.

Eddie groans quietly, easing his neck out of the crick it’s cramped in. He glares at the enormous lump snoring serenely beside him and pats the mattress blindly for his pillow. Eyes adjusting to the dark, he’s greeted by the same sight he’s woken to at ungodly hours thrice this month already: Buck with his gigantic thieving arms wrapped happily around Eddie’s goddamn pillow as he clutches it to his chest, dead to the world.

“Fuck’s sake,” Eddie mutters, reaching out and tugging the end of the pillowcase to no avail. Buck’s vice-grip doesn’t falter even in sleep. Eddie’s usually able to coax it out of his grasp without waking him, but it takes a minute, and their last shift had been a full-body workout from hell, and Eddie just wants to go the fuck back to sleep with a single measly pillow supporting his exhausted head. Surely that’s not too decadent a luxury to expect.

He tugs again, harder and meaner than he normally would. The pillow inches out of Buck’s hold, and Eddie grabs a firmer handful to yank it away, grunting triumphantly when it pops free.

“Hrmmph,” Buck grumbles, crease appearing between his eyebrows. Eddie stills, holding his breath as he gauges Buck’s proximity to consciousness. He thinks he’s in the clear, but then Buck murmurs unhappily and rolls ever-so-slightly towards Eddie.

“S’your turn to be th’ li’l spoon,” he slurs, and Eddie freezes even further. “’M th’ big spoon t’night.” He pats half-heartedly at the mattress between him and Eddie, jaw going slack again after a few seconds.

Eddie grins, just barely containing the snort that bubbles up at Buck’s sleep-talking. There’s enough distance from Ali and even Abby, post-train debacle, that means he can wring weeks’ worth of teasing out of this. Whichever one of them it is Buck’s dreaming of, Eddie thinks multiple nights of interrupted sleep allow him a little good-natured—if merciless—ribbing.

He shifts onto his back, shoving the pillow under his head and shutting his eyes with a sigh, but the movement has Buck mumbling again. His face is mashed into his own pillow, words barely intelligible when he says, “Y’re littler than me. C’mon, lemme be big spoon.”

The snort sneaks out of Eddie then, just a bit. He barely knew either woman, but he can’t quite picture them indulging Buck in this line of conversation. It’s—sweet, if deeply mortifying for Buck himself to know anyone else has heard it.

Buck snuffles discontentedly, forehead scrunching as he reaches out in search of the pillow, still asleep.

“Oh, you are going to be very embarrassed when you wake up,” Eddie whispers, wondering if there’s more entertainment about to be provided and if it’s worth getting up to unplug his phone and catch the tail end of this on video.

“Urgh,” asleep-Buck responds, patting the bed a little more insistently when he’s unsuccessful in his pillow-retrieval endeavours. “Wh’re—c’mere. Eddie. Y’re li’l spoon.”

This time when Eddie freezes, it’s such a sudden locking of every joint in his body that his neck cricks in the opposite direction. He barely feels it, singularly focused on Buck’s latest garbled complaint, because—is Buck awake? Is Buck dreaming about him?

He’s frozen so still he doesn’t realise Buck’s questing hand is now well in range of Eddie himself, and he jolts back into his body when Buck’s strong, calloused fingers wrap around his wrist.

“C’me back,” he whines, tugging at Eddie while shuffling closer at the same time. Eddie holds himself carefully still, hardly daring to breathe as Buck slowly but surely plasters his long, long body along Eddie’s side, hitching one leg over Eddie’s thigh before flinging an arm across his torso and dragging him nearer.

“Mm,” he hums, brow smoothing out. His cheek rests on Eddie’s shoulder, face smushed but seemingly satisfied. Eddie’s arm is trapped between his own side and Buck’s stomach, and he worms it under Buck’s body almost on autopilot, more to get comfortable than anything else. This leaves him basically cradling Buck to him, and Buck gives one final happy grunt before burrowing his face into Eddie’s neck and going limp, a dead weight over Eddie’s right side.

Eddie makes his fingers relax where they’re clutching the back of Buck’s t-shirt. This is—fine. Normal and fine. So Buck isn’t dreaming about cuddling an ex-girlfriend, he’s dreaming about holding Eddie. They’ve been living out of each other’s pockets more than usual recently, leaning on each other a little heavier through a global pandemic and missing Christopher. Eddie’s told himself it’s because of constant proximity, and maybe it is, but whatever the reason, if Buck’s subconscious is embracing that vulnerability in this way, that’s fine. He’s an affectionate guy, and while it’s relatively new for Eddie to be on the receiving end of that from another man, he’s not one to shy away because of someone else’s archaic ideas of masculinity.

And—hold on. Y’re littler than me? Was that what Buck said? Eddie huffs indignantly, and then huffs again for different reasons, feeling his cheeks heat. He doesn’t know why, but he pulls Buck a little closer.

It’s still normal and fine, he finds, turning his head to press his nose into Buck’s curls. That surprises him a little, that there’s no freak-out of any kind accompanying—whatever this is. Buck smells like vanilla, because he used Chim’s fancy shampoo that’s actually Maddie’s fancy shampoo because both of them are missing her something fierce, and he’s definitely drooling onto Eddie’s neck, and now that he’s not sleep-talking he’s back to snoring like a motorcycle, and Eddie’s slipping under before he can marvel any more at just how normal and fine it all is.

When the moonlight is swapped for sunlight, Eddie stirs to Chim singing along to radio in the kitchen downstairs. Buck blinks awake right alongside him, cheek imprinted with creases from Eddie’s collar and turning pink as he hastily peels himself away.

“Oh, um, sorry,” he says, voice rough with sleep. He contorts his body in surprise trying to roll off Eddie’s arm. “Did I—sorry, Eds.”

Eddie works his arm back under Buck, easy and deliberate. “S’fine,” he yawns. “It was my turn to be the little spoon.”

In his peripheral vision, Buck turns a brilliant red, and Eddie gives him a reassuring squeeze before taking great joy in telling him just how embarrassed he should be about the contents of his dreams.

(Buck’s mortification is blessedly short-lived, since the contents of Eddie’s dreams are equally embarrassing in the very exact same way, as it turns out.)

[leverage-ot3]

love how we all went into redemption either wary of or expecting to hate harry but within two episodes we all collectively went, oh, he’s just some lil weird guy and we adopted him just like the leverage crew did

[bi-scottsummers]

Hi, hello, just came here to say that I love your fic "trending in Japan". I was wondering if you had headcanons regarding Kenji or Emi or interpersonal relationships and stuff. Many hugs for you.

hi hello, thank you for the encouragement and hugs! After some thought ive realized I do in fact have some hcs about some of the character dynamics in the movie as well as just kenji himself, cause hes captivated my entire brain:

Kenji & Emi

Emi does not have teeth but she does inexplicably have a teething phase. kenji is forced to hide all his (salvaged) fancy cars in the garage bc the corvette's already been chewed to hell and his heart is gonna give out if he has to watch any more classics get wrecked

he reads her bedtime stories. A lot of aesop's fables, because theyre short and fun and hes trying to raise his monster daughter with good morals. emi goes hogwild for these but its unclear if she actually understands what hes saying; kenji's pretty sure she just likes the silly voices he uses for different characters

they go flying together! they go first thing in the morning before breakfast - it helps kenji shake off the grogginess of sleep and emi gets to stretch her wings. shes not able to go very far for very long initially, but as she grows and gets those cardio gainz she almost gets to be quicker than him. they have races and play air tag :)

while she doesnt have the vocal range to speak english herself, it becomes clear that emi does understand it well. (kenji also develops an ear for her chirping/squawks, though body language & facial expressions play a big part in communication for both of them) during her (much later) rebellious phase she'll simply pretend not to know what's being said when kenji is telling her to do something she doesn't wanna do, which frustrates him to no end

Kenji

developed a pretty massive chip on his shoulder after moving to the states. it wasn't just bitterness over his dad staying behind, though that was a part of it. this is canon but he was picked on in school for "how [he talked], how [he looked] and what [he ate]." he felt like he had something to prove to both his father and the world. he threw himself into sports - specifically baseball - and his academics, and he did so well that it forced everyone to shut up about how he was different from them and focus on how he was better than them

^ playing off this: kenji had a bonkers fucking yonkers routine when he was a kid/in highschool. he'd get up hours before school started to practice his swing, go for a ~1hr run, workout, study, etc. He'd go to school, come home, and do it all again. this is exaggerated but my point is that this kid was DETERMINED and had the discipline to see that determination through to the end

didnt have many friends because of all aforementioned things. he had acquaintances, and he was invited to parties and outings and stuff (never went), but he spent most of his free time hanging out with his mom. he never really had a "parents are so embarrassing" phase. he always liked to do anything with his mother: going to the bank, going grocery shopping, watching cheesy telenovelas till ungodly hours in the morning, etc. she was his no.1 supporter, confidant, and best friend

he played for his university's baseball team and got scouted at 19. his mom forced him to finish his bachelor's first so once he graduated with his degree in kinesiology at 21, he was drafted to the dodgers

Kenji & Ami

both of them, up until meeting each other, were totally dedicated to their career (and child) so they had basically 0 time for friends. theyre both borderline losers but theyre juuust good enough at what they do for people to admire them instead of finding them sad and lowkey pathetic

kenji is way more into the idea of being friends than ami is. hes pretty enthusiastic about it; he thinks that they have a kind of rapport, since they share a similar work ethic and are both (unbeknownst to ami) single parents. he calls her to chat abt random things. ami initially isnt superrrr into it; she thinks kenji is kinda lonely and desperate for human connection, & it isnt until her mom points out that she has not spoken to anyone outside of work-related reasons in 10+ years that shes like oh shit, i am also lonely and desperate for human connection. so she grudgingly acquires a friend. theyre both really bad at it

need to clarify that in my mind their dynamic is 95% kenji yapping about work and drama in his personal life (circumventing the 8m baby kaiju hes raising) while ami goes "mhm mhm" and takes notes until kenji notices and is like What are you doing. at which point ami is like...... right . nothing. im listening. and forces herself to put the notepad away. she has a hard time disengaging from the reporter mindset and just hearing something intriguing without turning it into an article. the other 5% are the rare moments where theyre connecting super well - ami's psychoanalyzing the hell out of whatever kenji just said and hes like what are you my therapist. over time she starts opening up to him, too, and eventually theyre comfortable enough to be having philosophical discussions over breakfast just for funsies

before kenji reveals that hes ultraman, ami thinks hes in a gang. he keeps showing up to their lunch "dates" with like bruised eyes and fractured bones and gets all shifty when she tries to ask about what happened. when she eventually confronts him about it, hes so offended that she thinks hed be involved in something like that that he tells her about being ultraman

thats about all i can think of rn, though im sure ill think of more after rotating all the characters in my head for a while. thanks again for stopping in, i appreciate the support :)

[doctorsiren]

Woe! Fanfiction be upon ye!

[froggydrawz]

idea for the doai sitcom au

It’s kinda cringy but who gives a fuck

so, Veldigun go into hibernation, right? So what if during the "on the run" arc Clyde does everything it can to not hibernate because it needs to look out for cops and stuff, so it is tired all the time, which results in it being caught off-guard by some Lankmann foundation workers and captured?

what do y’all think about this?

[dodorimo]

something old, something new

Raphael x Tax is the main ship but this mainly features platonic Astarion x Tav

· · ──────  ❊  ────── · ·

They’ve been doing this for hours. Her forehead glistens with sweat and her legs threaten to give out at any moment. If they keep up this pace, it won't be long before she is a goner.

“Ouch!” Tav cries out as the needle pierces her skin and a lone drop of blood runs down the side of her arm. The seamstress glances up, horror in her eyes, then breaks down into a flurry of apologies, leaving the room with the promise to return with gauze to staunch the blood flow.

Astarion, lounging in the armchair with a book in his hands, perks up at the sight of her distress, suddenly interested in the scene playing out in front of him.

“Darling,” Astarion says the moment the door closes, looking at her up and down. “This isn’t the one.”

“I like it,” she says, touching the fabric of the dress’ lacy, flowing sleeves while being careful not to disrupt the pins. “It’s my wedding, after all.”

The fact that this even had to be said was absurd.

“It’s an outdoor wedding in Tuscany,” he emphasizes the word, as if she needed a reminder. “In the middle of summer, no less. And you look like you’re going to haunt some poor peasant family.”

A sigh of pure exhaustion leaves her lips. This was the third dress she tried on, and all of them have failed miserably to impress her current company, or herself, for that matter.

She had no idea what she was looking for when walked into that shop. Her only requirement was ‘absolutely no trail, of any kind’. She’d rather be a bride who can walk down the aisle on her own, thank you very much.

“You seem a little stressed.” Graceful as a fox, Astarion crosses the distance between them and leans in to whisper in her ear, his voice low and laced with promise. “If you'd prefer, we could take an extended break to help you take your mind off the matter…”

She tries to put on a stern face, but her smile betrays her amusement. “Astarion, I’ll be a married woman in just three weeks.”

“So what? I’m sure Raphael would understand. Think of it as your version of a bachelorette party.” Hot breath tickles her ear and she shivers in anticipation in spite of herself.

“You’re incorrigible,” Tav scolds, shaking her head.

“Don’t act so outraged. Why else would you’ve specifically requested my presence today—”

“Because none of my girl friends have the patience?” she offers.

“—if not for this?” His finger traces her collarbone, all the way down to her cleavage. The touch is slow, deliberate, and entirely devoid of passion, as one would expect from long-term friends.

“I can barely move around as it is.”

It was only half a lie. Even raising her arms was proving too tall a task, let alone doing anything else.

“Your loss,” Astarion finally concedes, throwing up his hands in the air and returning to his chair; his voice never losing its playful lilt. “You can make it up to me in other ways. Like answering my questions, for one.”

There’s a wicked gleam in his eyes when she catches his gaze in the mirror. She braces herself for the worst.

“Is our mutual friend a good lover? He definitely looks the part.”

Tav does her best to mask her hesitation, but like blood on the floor, he picks up its scent nonetheless.

“Oh,” is all he has to say.

“It’s nothing like that. It’s…” she tries to make up for her blunder, to no avail. It’s complicated, she wanted to tell him.

“Say no more.”

Glad to let the subject drop, she turns her attention to her reflection in the mirror.

It was no surprise that Raphael took on the burden of wedding planning. But his methods could be… overwhelming. Everything had to be perfect: from the venue and the canapés to the music played at the reception (his own compositions, incidentally enough). Tav had no doubt that her list of potential guests would be returned with several names crossed out.

“I made up my mind. This is the dress. If he doesn’t like it, well… trust him to buy another one.”

“Hm. I suppose there’s some charm to it. A gift ready to be unwrapped.” He gestures with both his hands, as if tracing her curves. The dress flared at the top before narrowing at the hips, leaving little to the imagination. Was it trumpet or mermaid-shaped? She can’t remember. Either way, better to keep it in mind not to stuff her face full of wedding cake when the day finally comes.

She arches an eyebrow at him. “But I thought you hated it?

“You can say I was only playing devil's advocate. Now, I assume you’ve set aside enough time in your schedule today to buy the rest of the outfit?” he asks in a conversational tone, as if he’s commenting on the weather.

For several moments, she can only stare at him, confused, as he leans in to pop a candy into his mouth. What else could she have missed?

She still had to schedule hair and makeup for the big day, not to mention sort out some last pending details for their Caribbean honeymoon. She isn't cut out for this job. When it came to party planning, she was as helpless as a floundering baby in the middle of the ocean. How other women took joy in this experience was a complete mystery.

Astarion presses his hand to his face. “Oh gods, darling… the lingerie! What else? Arguably the most important part. There’s a reason there’s a store just down the street.”

Maybe she would be a goner after all.

[novadragoness]

A builder who totally understands where X is coming from, collecting all those shinies for Coco, because she also likes shiny things, and has been secretly leaving pretty rocks on Unsuur's porch for weeks now.

[carpisuns]

@lollytea you have been a good sport about my teasing so I figured I owed you this lol

from her amazing fic There’s Sunshine in Your Smile, which changed my brain chemistry!!!! i know people have already drawn this scene a hundred times but…here is 101, as a treat:)

[plistommy]

”You guys wanna see something real good?”

Steve’s question made both of the guys perk up and cut their conversation short as they turned to look at the stairs where Steve was currently walking down.

Eddie and Billy shared a knowing look between each other, because they knew what that ’real good’ meant with Steve.

It was usually a surprise of some sorts. Usually with Steve having something really fucking hot on him so he could tease the two guys until their dicks felt like they were on fire with how hard they were.

It always ended on them both fucking Steve silly.

They got more comfortable on the couch and spread their legs apart so Steve could see the outline of their dicks better. So he knew how he was making them feel.

But when Steve walked to the living room with his regular pajamas on and sat down between Billy and Eddie with such a big smile and a paper in his hand, they knew they were so off.

”Keith finally gave me the same shifts as Robin! Full time! And even though he’s a total asshole and I shouldn’t care what he thinks, he actually told me I’m getting really good at this job.” Steve explained happily while glancing between the other two and occasionally showing them the paper that had the shifts and a small star sticker on it that clearly looked like Robin put on there as their victory.

Eddie and Billy were glancing at each other while Steve kept talking, both clearly trying their best to let their dicks go soft, but they had already gotten so turned on by the idea of Steve coming with those tiny shorts on and kneeling down before them while he sucked both of them off and then them fucking him and—

”Hey? Guys? Are you even listening to me?”

Billy cleared his throat and turned to look at Steve.

”Yeah, yeah, congrats, baby.”

Steve gave him a look.

”Yeah, that’s so cool, babe!” Eddie chimed in and Steve gave him a look too.

They were all quiet for a while until Steve sighed and rolled his eyes.

”You were waiting for the Scoops Ahoy outfit, weren’t you?”

”Noooo—”

Steve stared at them for a bit before cracking up and laughing at the other two.

”Dickheads.” He stood up and started to walk back to his room, but not before turning to look at the other two.

”Coming?”

He didn’t need to ask twice as Billy and Eddie were already running after him.

[courfee]

@jilymicrofics | april 1 - prank | wc 100

“How the fuck do you wordle?” Lily looks up from her phone. “You put in a five letter word, click enter, and work with the information you’re given.” “There’s no other five letter words, this sucks.” “What was your first guess?” “Balls.” Lily stares at James incredulously for a solid minute. “Of course it was.” “Mhm, then adore, briar, kraut and wrack. Just one guess left.” “You got this one.” It’s another minute before James types again, then– “Fuck!” “You didn’t get it?” James shakes his head. “Out of all the words I thought you’d not get, prank wasn’t one!”

[mumblesplash]

man i’ve had pretty serious art block before in the past but it was always more a lack of inspiration/irl stuff draining all my energy, currently Not having art block but getting hit by my first bout EVER of feeling like i just straight up can’t make anything that’s good enough and oh my god how do people deal with this

[ssruis]

Her name is emu otori and she has 3 million mental illnesses. some of which have never been discovered before.

[northern-passage]

this was one of the first snippets i posted back on patreon in 2021, with Lea and Merry. i've edited it a bit (a lot) before reposting it since it was a few years old, and it was fun to see how much more confident i am now with writing intimate scenes than i was back then.

i imagine this would take place sometime while the gang is in Highfell, maybe the first few nights or right before they're setting out to leave again. enjoy~

Lea glances back as Merry quietly steps out onto the balcony, a sudden wave of heat washing over them from inside before the door closes and the cold night air chases it back out. They shiver a bit, eyeing the bottle in Merry's hand as she walks over to where they sit balanced on the railing, their back towards the inn, their feet dangling over the long drop down to the beach below. They take a deep inhale from their pipe, tasting it for a long moment before exhaling slowly.

Merry leans against the railing beside them, her arms crossed over the cold, damp wood, clutching the bottle still in her hand, tapping it lightly with her nails.

"You going to stay out here all night?" Merry asks, peering up at Lea, who just shrugs. "You're wasting that expensive bed in there," Merry scoffs, turning out towards the water and taking a quick drink before setting the bottle aside precariously atop the railing.

"I can't sleep," Lea says simply, staring out at the dark water, fidgeting with their pipe in their hand.

"There are plenty of other things you can do in a bed like that than just sleep," Merry smirks.

Lea huffs, rolling their eyes as they raise their pipe to their lips again.

The waves roll gently out across the beach, the black water shimmering as the full moon reflects its light across the choppy surface, with a soft green glow on the distant horizon from the northern lights. Merry and Lea sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and Lea finds themself glancing sideways, staring at the woman beside them, the soft light of the inn filtering through the balcony windows and igniting her auburn hair in a dreamy glow, clashing with the dark shadows and white, pale light coming off the water.

"What?" Merry says, giving Lea a coy look out of the corner of her eye.

Lea scowls, shaking their head and turning away, lifting their pipe only for Merry to pluck it from their hand, tilting her head and leaning in close as she takes a deep breath, holding the pipe between her lips. Lea doesn't move away, even as Merry exhales, the smoke curling in the small space between them.

"Smoking is bad for you, you know," she says.

"So is drinking," Lea shoots back, and Merry just smiles, holding the pipe in her mouth, her lips curling around the mouthpiece as her teeth flash white in the dark.

Merry slides closer along the railing, her eye roaming over Lea's face, flicking to their lips, and she can’t suppress the thrill she feels when Lea doesn't move away, a sudden nervous energy pulsing in the air. Slowly, Lea reaches out, gently taking the pipe from Merry's mouth, and she lets them, holding their dark eyes in her gaze as they do it, her lips parting just enough for the mouthpiece to slide free. Lea is the one that looks away first, a slight blush creeping over their face, glancing down and fumbling with the pipe in their lap.

Merry is feeling bold, either from the alcohol or the tobacco or both, and she closes the remaining space between them, her hand gently brushing over Lea's thigh - but they go rigid at the contact, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her hand away.

Merry quickly steps back, recoiling, and Lea releases her, their eyes widening.

"What are you doing?" Lea asks, their words coming out too fast, clumsily swinging their legs back over the railing and dropping down onto the balcony. They clutch their pipe to their chest, blinking slowly at the captain, their eyes still wide and wary.

"Sorry, I clearly misread the… situation," Merry says, raising her hands, giving Lea an apologetic look. "I thought you were interested."

Lea hesitates, glancing out at the water, before forcing themself to look back at Merry.

"I - I am," they say quickly, grimacing before dropping their hands and setting their pipe down beside Merry's bottle on the railing. They struggle for a moment, scowling at the pipe and wringing their hands, anxiously twisting a thumb ring that Merry has never noticed before.

"I'm sorry. I just… are you sure?" they finally say, and they can't look at her, their face burning, wishing the floor would just swallow them up. Lea just finds it hard to believe that a woman like the captain would be interested in them - after everything. Of course, there's been flirting and teasing between them, but Merry seems to be like that with just about everyone. And even Lea wasn't sure sometimes if they really meant it - but right now, just the two of them, it feels more real. More tangible.

"I'm sure, Lea."

Merry tilts her head at them, studying their face for a moment. Lea is handsome, and their features look even more severe than usual in the unforgiving moonlight, their eyes flashing as they return her stare. Lea takes a step forward then, but stops short, opening their hands, palms-up - waiting for her.

Merry approaches them as if they were a skittish animal - she doesn't want to spook them again. But Lea gives her a little nod, and soon enough they're so close that she can smell nothing but that tobacco on their breath.

Merry takes their hands, guides them to her waist.

"I'm sure," she says again. "I like you, Lea Chen," she whispers, and Lea bows their head, their jaw set. Merry raises a hand and gently presses her palm to Lea's cheek, and they let out a long sigh, melting into the touch, closing their eyes for a moment before turning their head - just enough to brush their lips against Merry's inner wrist, feel her warmth and taste her pulse.

The gesture seems to ignite them both simultaneously, Merry's other hand tangling in their thick hair, cradling the back of their neck and urging them forward while Lea roughly grabs at her hips pulls her close. Their bodies lock together as their lips meet, teeth clicking against each other and lips splitting painfully in their haste.

It's a messy first kiss, both of them hungry for it, enthusiastic, clumsy, and a little bloody - metallic with the sweet spice of tobacco and alcohol making Lea's head spin as they taste Merry's tongue in their mouth. Merry rolls her hips against their thigh, pulling at their hair and sucking on their bottom lip, ignoring the ache in her teeth as they kiss and kiss and kiss.

Eventually they have to break apart, both of them breathing hard, Merry still gripping a handful of Lea's hair, their bun hanging loose with long strands falling across their face and tickling Merry's lips as they pant together over the sound of the waves.

"The bed," Lea says, breathless, and Merry nods, pulling them back towards the door, and they reach around her for the doorknob, throwing it open hard enough that it slams into the wall and makes both of them wince. But Merry just laughs.

"Sorry," Lea says sheepishly, ducking their head as they gently push it close. It's scorching in the room, from the woodstove, or just from the two of them together, hot and heavy hands roaming and groping as the two kiss again, slowly backpedaling towards the bed.

Merry shrugs out of her jacket, letting it drop to the floor before reaching for Lea's belt buckle. She pulls at their shirt, untucking it from their trousers, and Lea watches as Merry pulls their belt free in one quick motion, tossing it over her shoulder with a smirk. Her hands are surprisingly cold now, slipping beneath their shirt, Lea grunting from the touch as she trails her fingers across their stomach.

"Okay?" Merry prompts, looking up to search Lea's face, and they nod quickly, leaning forward to pepper kisses along Merry's jaw, down her neck, all while her hands explore beneath their shirt, tracing the plane of muscle over their ribs before slowly drawing her nails down their back.

Merry tilts her head back, Lea's lips brushing against her pulse, sucking gently, teeth grazing over her flushed skin, their hands reaching around to slide down the curve of her ass, squeezing roughly until she gasps. Merry pushes their shirt up then, fumbling a bit as she tries to unbutton Lea's trousers, and they laugh, the sound reverberating through Merry's chest before they relent, pulling back so Merry can actually see what she's doing. The buttons are no match for her now, and she gives Lea a coy look through her lashes.

"Take off your shirt," Merry says, her fingers curling around the front of Lea's trousers, partly pulling them open, admiring the glimpse of their lower stomach as they raise their arms to tug at their shirt. They jerk it off over their head, tossing it aside with their belt, and Merry drinks in the sight of them, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks over their exposed torso, their chest and their scars, and all the beauty marks adorning their skin. She releases their trousers to run her hands over their chest, their shoulders, squeezing the swell of muscle in their arms before pulling them back in for more kisses, open-mouthed and still hungry. Lea makes a sound in the back of their throat that sends a spike of want lancing hot up Merry's spine, and she grinds herself against them, her hands tightening around their arms hard enough to bruise. She breaks their kiss then to desperately press her lips to the hollow of their throat, breathing them in and dragging her tongue across their collarbone before blowing cool air over their pulse and making them shiver.

Lea pushes Merry farther into the room, tangled together and nearly tripping over each other until the back of Merry's knees hit the bed.

She drops down, pulling Lea down with her, though they catch themself, a hand on either side of her, palms pressed to the bedspread. They lower themself slowly, sliding their thigh between her legs and flexing it a few times and dragging it up along the length of her until she’s squirming, her fingernails leaving little half-crescents indented in their shoulders.

Lea pushes her shirt up, exposing her stomach, caressing her with a gentle hand before sliding low to kiss her just above her navel. They follow the scattered trail of freckles, their tongue snaking out and leaving its own glistening trail as they slowly make their way down to the waistband of her trousers. Their hands follow close behind, teasing her breasts before sliding down her stomach to her thighs, pushing them apart and opening her legs wide as they take their place on their knees. They pause for a moment, kicking their own shoes off before pulling at Merry's, followed by her trousers, with Merry laughing and wiggling on the bed all the while.

The laughing stops, though, when Lea presses their mouth against her, her breath catching in her throat as they kiss slowly at her inner thighs, sucking on the soft skin and carefully testing her with their teeth. Merry reaches down, fingers twisting through Lea's hair, her body arching back against the bed as Lea drags their tongue over her cock, hot and wet and attentive.

But they stop, pulling back to kiss her some more, on her stomach, her hips, biting at her thighs, all while her hand tightens around their hair until she can't take it anymore. Her thighs clench around Lea's head, breathless and giddy, her long hair starting to stick to the sudden sweat along the back of her neck.

"Lea," she whines, and then she inhales sharply as they finally wrap a hand around her base and press a wet kiss to the tip of her cock, staring up at her as they do, their other hand gripping one of her thighs. They open their mouth, taking a little at a time, bobbing their head as Merry gasps and pulls at their hair. Lea eventually grabs her hips, pressing her back into the bed when she starts to buck reflexively, their movements slow and agonizing as they keep stopping and starting again, kissing her stomach and thighs, reaching up and teasing her nipples through her shirt.

When they wrap their lips around her again, they let her hit the back of their throat, Merry loudly moaning their name, both hands tangled desperately in their hair now as they move up and down a few times and then slowly draw back, their tongue flexing deliciously against her before they let her fall from their mouth with a gasp. Strands of spit and fluid drip from their open mouth, and Merry tugs impatiently at their hair, sitting up then to meet them with a kiss.

Lea holds her face in their hands, their thumb stroking her cheekbone, tentatively touching the fabric of her bandana, still wrapped around her head and hiding her eye from them.

Merry pulls back, Lea's hands still cradling her face, and she reaches up, touching their wrist before taking their hand in her own, guiding their fingers to slide beneath the cloth, giving them a nod when they hesitate, their brow furrowed with concern.

"Take it off," Merry says, though her voice is soft, not a command like earlier - but a request. She nods at Lea again, sliding her hand down their arm and giving it a squeeze. The first time with someone, Merry usually keeps the bandana on - she's protective of it. It's not like it's some big secret - anyone can see the scars beneath the bandana, the way she hides behind it. Maybe they can even tell that she's hiding more than just her damaged eye. But she wants Lea to see. She doesn't know why, but she wants them to see her tonight.

Lea carefully lifts the bandana off, untangling some of Merry's hair twisted through it, setting it atop the blankets. Merry casts her gaze sideways, avoiding Lea as they take in her fully exposed face, her drooping eyelid and her milky white eye. They don't say anything, instead just reaching up again and tracing the scars there, the ghost of a touch along her cheek.

Merry closes her eyes, bowing her head for a moment. When she opens them again, she can't quite meet Lea's stare, so she looks down at their chest, at their own scars, and she mirrors their touch, her thumb caressing the raised skin that runs horizontal just beneath the muscle. Lea takes her in their arms then, pulling her close, humming softly as she touches them there.

"Merry," they breathe, their lips against her neck, and for a moment she just lets them hold her, kissing her throat and cradling her face while she strokes their chest.

Eventually, she slowly pulls back, slipping out of their arms and pressing her hands to their chest, pushing them back onto the mattress, her long hair falling over her shoulders and tickling their face. Sitting between their legs, she touches them with her hands first, caressing their face, the curve of their neck, then feeling the strong muscle of their shoulders, down to the swell of their chest and those long scars. The muscle over their ribs, the soft skin of their stomach, their hips, squeezing their thighs. She stands from the bed and takes off their trousers, dropping back down and starting again, her hands first, slow and deliberate, and then she follows with her mouth, kissing their jaw, the hollow of their throat, trailing along their collarbone before sucking on their chest, massaging and kissing along their scars, drawing a low moan from them before taking one of their nipples in her mouth and teasing them with her teeth. She sucks gently while Lea strokes her hair, pushing it back out of her face, gathering it in one hand and pulling it over her shoulder while their breath quickens with pleasure.

Merry kisses their scars a few more times before sitting back up, licking her lips and running her hands down their stomach and over their thighs again. She slowly draws her hand between their legs, and Lea's hips twitch, longing for her touch, pressing themself against her while they watch her through half-lidded eyes. She pulls back, getting an indignant huff from Lea, licking her fingers before she reaches down to touch them again. She drags her thumb over their growth, moving her hand in a slow circle, Lea's head rolling back against the pillows as she does.

"Fuck," they grunt, gritting their teeth and grabbing at the blankets. Merry stares down at them, pressing a palm to their lower stomach as she strokes their opening, playing with their growth until she's satisfied by their panting and moaning. Lea tries to stay quiet - it embarrasses them, it makes them feel too vulnerable, even more than someone touching them like this - but she doesn't let them. Lea bites their lip, swallowing loudly, sweating and twisting in the sheets until they can't resist it anymore. Her hand works faster and harder, until they finally moan her name, and then she slips a few fingers inside.

Merry pays attention to the spots that make them moan even louder, their body trembling from her touch, her fingers curling slowly inside with delightfully obscene sounds as she thrusts her hand faster and faster, hot and wet. By the time Merry moves her hand away and eases herself inside of them, they're both begging for it, Lea's legs shaking as they lift their hips to accommodate her.

They finish quickly together like that. Skin on skin, grunting together as Lea hooks their legs around her and touches her stomach, lifting her shirt up to grab at her breasts, holding her tight until she has to pull out to come on their stomach. It takes her a moment to recover, Lea pushing her hair back out of her face again, and then she returns her attention to them, working her hand against their growth just like before until they finally come undone completely beneath her. She strokes them gently a few more times before she untangles herself from their legs, standing from the bed and fetching a towel from the washbasin in the corner. She cleans them up, and then collapses on top of them, both of them hot and sweaty and clinging to each other. Lea takes a deep breath, wrapping their arms around her and holding her tightly against their chest.

"Hmm," Merry presses her lips to their flushed skin, giving them a few lazy kisses before tucking her head beneath their chin. "I told you I liked you, Lea Chen."

Lea smiles softly, reaching up to pet her hair, kissing the top of her head and feeling a sudden rush of affection that nearly makes their breath catch in their throat. They gently comb their fingers through her hair, neither of them quite knowing what else to say - until Merry is eventually lulled to sleep by Lea's gentle hands.

They take the chance to study the scars on her face, the slow rise and fall of her breathing, the way her body curls around them with her hands grasping at the blankets, grasping for them, even in her sleep. They notice a few grey hairs this close, and then they start to count her freckles when sleep alludes them.

Eventually they relax, leaning back into the pillows and staring up at the ceiling. They keep brushing their fingers through Merry's hair as they wonder how long it will be until they regret this. Only a few more days left here - only a few more days with her. It will be a clean break, at least.

They glance down at her again, clenching their jaw before turning their head to stare out the windows to the balcony, watching the distant northern lights dance across the water. At least right now, in this moment, they have this. Merry's steady heartbeat pressed against their own, the calming sound of the ocean outside, the heat of the woodstove making their eyes grow heavy - they feel warm and content as they finally pass into sleep, even when Merry slips out of their arms, and out the door.

[muirmarie]

Some ideas about Substances and Vulcans [suggestive]:

(yes this is just tos mcspirk not-fic i yam who i yam)

If two Vulcans partake of alcohol (or another mind-altering substance) and then mind meld, they will both become intoxicated. It's an intimate exercise.

If a human is intoxicated and their Vulcan mind melds with them, the Vulcan will feel the affects (Amanda and Sarek discovered this one, and Spock gets SO pissy about it lmao)

If, say, two humans are bonded to a Vulcan and each other, and the Vulcan mind melds with one of them, and the one the Vulcan mind melds with is intoxicated, it turns out both the Vulcan AND the other human BOTH become intoxicated.

Ask Jim Kirk how he found that out. It's a funny story about his two boyfriends getting freaky in their quarters while he had an important video meeting with an admiral. It's a very funny story, don't let Kirk tell you it's not, he doesn't know what he's talking about.

Okay yes, Kirk will lie and say the time they discovered that aphrodisiacs ALSO transfer quite nicely through the bond in the same way is funnier, but that's just because he's a sadist who still thinks it's funny that Kirk and Spock accidentally had McCoy hiding a boner while trying to give a presentation at a medical conference.

"He was light years away, Bones!!! How were they supposed to know what would happen!!!"

Bite me.

Also Spock found out, to his chagrin, that if he gets a little too high on Vulcan weed (oh, sorry Spock, sure, "special herbs that Vulcans inhale in order to find inner calm in mediation during high stress times", right) – if Vulcans get a little too into their CALMING HERBS (wink wink) and meditate a little TOO hard about how much they miss their boyfriends (oh sure, sure that's definitely not what you were doing Spock, our bad), they can in fact somehow transmit a contact high through the bond to BOTH of their boyfriends, even though neither of them are in a mind meld, if both boyfriends just so happen to be human. Isn't that neat. Isn't that a neat thing. Isn't that a neat thing to find out while we're on a practice landing party training new recruits.

Jim, should we kill him?

Actually Spock, Jim makes a great point. We're both gonna get drunk and then focus really really hard on the bond while we fuck and see if we can't manage to tip the scales towards the humans ruining their Vulcan boyfriend's life for once!

Okay, I mean, Spock, the point was to see if we could affect you through the bond, if you come in here and watch, that's not –

I mean if you're touching us it's obviously –

Ugh fine, FINE, just get naked and get in the goddamn bed, we'll experiment a different time.

THAT'S NOT THE TYPE OF EXPERIMENTATION WE –

You're SOOO smug thinking that you always get your way. Laugh it up, pal, your day is coming.

I said your day is coming, not –

[sigh]

Yeah, yeah, I love you both, too.

Unfortunately.